Big Baller : A Hero Club Novel

by Katrina Marie

  “So, what you’re saying is, you need me to be a pack mule.”

  “You won’t be the only one. She’ll have my arms full, too.”

  We arrive at the hotel and step out of the car. Even if I’m carrying his wife’s stuff, it’ll be better than sitting at the hotel waiting for a phone call, or text, that’s probably never going to come. “Sure, I’ll join you.”

  “Thank God,” Jordan sighs in relief. “You have no idea how much I was dreading going by myself.”

  “Are you sure Vanessa won’t get mad I’m tagging along?”

  “I’m sure. For some reason she actually likes you,” He gives me a once over, “I can’t see why. You’re arrogant as hell.”

  “When you’re good, you’re good. Can’t fight nature.”

  “And that will be your downfall. The wrong girl will come sniffing around, and you’ll chase that whim until you’re screwed.”

  He doesn’t seem to think highly of me sometimes, and the criticism stings. He’s the only one on the team that’s accepted me and knowing that he thinks so little of me, makes me wonder if he does truly like for me to be around. “That’s why I don’t jump into serious relationships.”

  “And what is this flight attendant? I’ve seen women throw themselves at you for the past week, and you haven’t batted an eye at them.” He opens the door to the hotel and walks toward the elevator. It’s late and there aren’t many people in the lobby. “That’s not like you. The Bentley I know is very much action first and asks questions later. Do you think holding out on who you are will make her want to be with you? She clearly already has an opinion of you, and nothing you do is going to change that.”

  “I’m not trying to jump into anything serious with her. She’s an objective. Never in my life has anyone ever turned me down, especially now that I’m semi-famous.”

  “That, my friend, is dangerous territory.”

  “Nobody said it wasn’t, but I can’t get her out of my head. Maybe it’s because she won’t give me the time of day.”

  “Good luck, man.” He pats me on the arm and heads to the elevator. “I’ll see you bright and early. If you want, you can get Vanessa’s opinion on Jolene. I’m sure she’ll have a lot to say.”

  “No, thanks. I have a feeling she’ll chew my ass out more than you have.”

  Laughing, he presses the button to slide the doors open. “You’d be correct. See you tomorrow.” He walks in the elevator and the doors close behind him.

  There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, even though I’m usually exhausted after playing. There’s light music coming from the hotel bar, and a drink sounds perfect right now. Heading toward the bar, I pass a few couples going to their rooms, and as much as I don’t do relationships, it’d be nice to have someone to celebrate my minor accomplishments with. I pull out one of the bar stools and wave the bartender over, “Can I get a Crown & Coke?”

  “Sure thing.” He rounds the bar and works on my order. My eyes find the television in the corner of the room playing highlights from the game tonight. It’s surreal seeing myself on a sports news broadcast. I’m no stranger to watching myself on video. Hell, it’s how I’ve improved my game over the years. Seeing exactly where you messed up, and what you need to fix, is how you end up in the Pros. He slides a glass in front of me. “Here you go, sir.”

  “Thanks.” I stare into the glass, wondering how I ended up drinking alone in a hotel bar, before I take a long drink. Oh, that’s right, because I’m trying to get a girl that has no interest in me to go on a date.

  Damn, Jordan just had to make me doubt my plan for Jolene. Being a straight up asshole isn’t my goal. I genuinely want to go out with her. She’s not afraid to speak her mind and has zero issues going toe-to-toe with me. It’s refreshing. The only other woman who has ever done that is Gabby, and she doesn’t count because she’s my sister.

  He’s right, though. I should nip this thing in the bud and not pressure this woman to go out with me. At some point it has to be creepy, right? Lana seemed to think it was a good idea, though. Surely her best friend would know whether I’m pushing my limits. Most women try to protect their friends from someone they think is a jerk, not push them together.

  The sad thing is…I’m not a hundred percent sure how we would even date if it ever went past the first one. Jordan is right. This is stupid, and I should let it go. There are plenty of women jumping at the chance to go out with me. I shouldn’t be so focused on this one woman who can’t even stand me.

  The bartender comes back around to me, and nods toward the now empty glass. “Want another one?”

  I have to meet Jordan in the morning, and it’s probably not a good idea, but who cares? It’s not like I absolutely have to go. “Sure, thanks.”

  The bartender returns a few moments later with my drink. “Here you go.” He glances at the TV and then back at me. “You played one hell of a game tonight, even if you’re not who I was rooting for.”

  “Thank you?” It comes out more like a question. It’s the weirdest compliment I think I’ve ever received, especially coming from a fan of the opposing team.

  “You have a pretty solid game considering you’re a rookie.” He leans an elbow on the bar, and glances around to make sure nobody else needs anything. “How are you so good at such a young age?”

  I laugh. As odd as this conversation is, it’s nice talking about the sport I love with someone not on my team, or in my family, for that matter. “A lot of practice. I’ve played since I was a kid and trained every chance I could when I was in college. Even during off season.”

  “It shows.” He nods his head toward the TV, “I’m surprised they don’t play you more.”

  “You aren’t the only one,” I mutter under my breath, hoping he doesn’t hear me.

  A man in a suit waves his hand across the bar to signal he wants a drink, and I feel underdressed. The hotel is fancy. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to staying in places like this. One day, maybe, but today is not that day. My joggers and t-shirt definitely have no business in this setting when other patrons are dressed to the nines.

  The bartender raps his knuckles against the bar top. “If you need anything, wave me down.” And just like that, our court talk is over. I’ve had a lot of crazy conversations, but that one…it popped out of nowhere and ended just as abruptly.

  Sipping on my drink, the events of the day flash through my mind. The only one that stands out is Jolene’s hand wrapped around the paper with my phone number. Either she’ll call, or she won’t. If she doesn’t, that’ll be my sign that I need to give up my farce. I already booked my flights for the next few weeks, and they all happen to have her working them. If it doesn’t work out in my favor, I’ll play it off as wanting to make sure I get to my games early. It's not a total lie. I like arriving for the games well in advance. It gives me a chance to get in the right mental space and prepare myself for success. Or at least give me more of the coach’s approval. If there’s one person I’ve always looked up to, it’s whoever is coaching the team I’m on. It could be because they are like a father-figure to me since I didn’t have one growing up. Who knows? But their thoughts of me are part of what fuels me.

  I pull my wallet out of my pocket and throw some bills on the bar. This is turning into a woe is me pity party, and it’s something that should not be done in public. A yawn escapes my lips, and that’s the next signal that I need to go up to my room.

  Halfway across the lobby, my phone dings and my heart skips. It’s either Jolene or Jordan. I’m hoping for the former, but it’s most likely the latter. Sliding the phone out of my pocket, I check the screen. Unknown number. Hmm, it’s definitely not Jordan. I open up the screen and grin.

  Unknown: I guess I’ll go out on a date with you.

  Bentley: Don’t make it sound like I twisted your arm.

  I take a moment to save the phone number to my phone. Now I have a way to get a hold of her directly.

  Jolene: You kind of
did. But I’m free until around lunch on Sunday.

  Bentley: Lunch tomorrow?

  Jolene: Sure.

  Bentley: Just tell me where and I’ll be there.

  Jolene: Let me see what’s in this town and I’ll let you know in the morning.

  Bentley: Sounds good. Goodnight Jolene.

  She doesn’t respond, but I know she’s interested now, and that’s all that matters. So much for Jordan's words of wisdom on the ride over from the stadium. He and Vanessa are practically high school sweethearts. How would he know what works in the dating world?

  The text from Jolene is all I needed to give me a boost of energy. I don’t know if I’ll go to bed for different reasons now. I know nothing about Chicago and foresee the rest of the night spent on google searching for things to do. But first, I need to text Jordan.

  Bentley: Slight change of plans for tomorrow. I can hang out until lunch. Then I have a date.

  Jordan: Did you pick up a girl from the bar?

  Bentley: Nope. SHE texted me.

  Jordan: Cool. Can I go back to sleep now?

  Bentley: Sure, old man.

  The middle finger emoji is all that shows up when he texts me back. I’m doing this skip walk thing as I head toward the elevators. There’s nothing in the world that can wipe the smile off my face. Tomorrow will be epic.

  Eight

  Jolene

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. What sane woman, who has sworn off men, agrees to a date with a guy they don’t even know if they actually like? Oh, that’s right…me. What does one even wear to a lunch date? It’s been so long since I’ve had to get dressed for an actual date. With Carter, things were different. We shed out of our uniforms and jumped straight into bed. No outings or formal dates. That should have been my first clue he wasn’t as serious about me as I was about him.

  I wish him nothing but the best, I just don’t know that I’ll ever stop comparing everything, and everyone, to him. Or how long it’ll take me to truly see the new him. The one that is in a relationship full of love and adoration. It looks good on him. I only have to remember that Bentley isn’t him. This date is just that…a date. There will be no wondering about our future, or clinging onto him because he’s showing me attention. I can do this. I can have fun without becoming dependent. I have to do it this way for my sanity.

  “You aren’t wearing that, are you?” Lana walks into the room we’re sharing at the airport hotel.

  “What’s wrong with it?” It’s a three-quarter sleeve floral dress that has a small bit of give to it. It doesn’t cling to my body or make my body look unflattering.

  She laughs and quickly covers her mouth as the door shuts behind her. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy.” She waves her hands up and down my body. “Nothing about that dress screams sex appeal.”

  “That’s kind of the point,” I argue. “I’m not trying to land in his bed and be another notch on his bedpost.”

  “It also defeats the purpose of having fun. I know damn well you aren’t frumpy and that’s what this monstrosity portrays.” She crosses the room to her suitcase and flings the top open. “If you don’t have any acceptable clothes, we’ll either have to go on a quick shopping trip, or you’ll have to wear something of mine.”

  “There’s no way your clothes will fit me. I’m taller than you and my boobs are bigger. Anything you give me will make me look like I’m trying to dress like a teenager.”

  “Looks like we’re going shopping then.” A sinister smile crosses her face and I don’t like whatever she has planned.

  My eyes lock on the alarm clock sitting between our beds, and I shake my head. “There isn’t time.” Is my dress really that bad? I don’t think he’d have an issue with it. My thoughts flash back to the gossip sites I saw him on. In almost every single one of them the women he was with were in skin tight dresses and dressed to the nines. Surely, he isn’t expecting that from me. “Besides it’s only a lunch date. It’s not like we’re going out for a night on the town.”

  “That you know of,” she winks at me.

  “What do you mean?” My words are rushed and now I’m freaking out.

  “I mean,” she grins, “if you end up having fun on your lunch date, who says it has to stop there? It could continue on throughout the rest of the day. You might want to be prepared for that.”

  Not. Going. To. Happen. He’s a player and I would be an idiot to think our date will go further than that. I’m using this as an excuse to fulfill my curiosity. That’s all it is. Once I see that he’s exactly the way I have him pegged, despite calming little girls and helping old ladies with their luggage, I’ll be free to dislike him once and for all. Especially if my reasons are valid. “Remember how you told me to take it one step at a time and do what feels right for me?” Her eyebrows furrow, not sure where I’m going with this conversation, and she nods. “This is me doing just that. I will not change myself to go on a date with him. He either likes me, or he doesn't. Forcing myself to fit into what I think he might like is going against what I’m comfortable with.”

  “But…” She begins, but I hold my hand up to stop her.

  “No ‘buts’. I’m not like you. I don’t do well in any situation. If I happen to enjoy his company, then we’ll see where it goes. But I’m not going to plan for anything more than meeting him to eat lunch.”

  “I guess.” She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “But you have to fill me in on everything when you get back to the room. I want every juicy detail.”

  “I promise.” It’s not like I have anyone else to tell. I haven’t talked to my parents in ages, and I’m not close to my siblings either. As far as I’m concerned, Lana is my best friend and family. “Have your phone handy in case I need a quick escape.”

  She pulls it out of her pocket and waves it in the air. “Of course, just like the old times before you let one man zap the fun out of you.”

  That was a low blow, and her eyes widen in shock once she realizes what she said. “I have to go or I’ll be late.” I point at the phone in her hand, “And don’t forget to answer that if I text or call.”

  “Got it. Now, go have fun. Live a little and let your hair down.”

  I hate that saying. Like having it up somehow makes you uptight all of a sudden. Oh well, I don’t have time to think about the semantics of a stupid saying. I need to get this show on the road. The sooner I’m done with this date, the sooner I can come back to the room and binge watch Netflix.

  The pizza parlor is packed, and I’m regretting my choice for lunch. I tried to pick somewhere close to downtown. It’s easy access for both of us and I can hightail it back to my hotel if I need to. I’m unsure of where exactly I’m supposed to meet him. It’s something I forgot to mention in our text messages.

  Jolene: I’m walking in. Are you here?

  Bentley: Yes, I have a table in the back. There are a ton of people in here. Want me to walk up front to get you?

  Jolene: I’m capable of walking in there on my own.

  Bentley: Too late.

  I look up and Bentley’s smiling face is right in front of me, separated only by the glass door. “Hi,” he yells through it and waves.

  Angling my head toward the ground to keep him from seeing the grin I’m wearing; I shake my head. This man is full of surprises, and I’m not sure if that is a good or bad thing. Bad. Definitely a bad thing. If he worms his way into my heart, I’m not sure I can stop myself from catching feelings. Now that I’ve composed myself, I lift my head and open the door. “Hi.”

  People are milling about, but as we walk in, they stare at us. I lean over and whisper in his ear, "Why are they looking at us?"

  He shrugs his shoulders as if he has no idea. "Maybe they aren't used to seeing such a pretty face." He smiles at me as he says that, except I know a bull crap line when I hear one.

  It’s part of the job as a flight attendant. So many men try to smooth talk their way into free alcohol or try to get in our pants. I've heard ev
erything, and his statement does nothing but put me on high alert. "You should probably be a little more original."

  "I am as original as it gets. I've never tried being something that I'm not." His voice is gruff with a bit of sadness mixed in.

  I didn't mean to offend him, but come on who says that to a woman they've literally just met? "If you say so." He continues leading me through the throng of people until we are at a table in the back corner, just like he said.

  "Which side do you want to sit on?"

  "It doesn't matter to me. One side is no better than the other." He walks around the table and pulls out the chair closest to the wall, waiting until I sit down before going back around and sitting with his back to the rest of the restaurant. "It's strange that you picked that seat."

  He picks up the menu and begins scanning it. "Why do you say that?"

  I pick up another menu from the table and lift it until it covers most of my face. It's not because I'm nervous, well, not completely. I just don't want to give away too many facial expressions. Shrugging my shoulders, I look over the menu. "I don't know, most of the men in my family, or even men I see at restaurants, rarely like to sit with their backs facing the door."

  He smirks but doesn't lift his eyes from the laminated paper in his hands. "Normally, that would be true. But, since I began playing pro, it's a lot easier for me to get through a meal without being recognized if I'm not facing the entire restaurant."

  Huh, I guess I never thought about it like that before. Then again, I've never gone out on a date with anyone that has had any celebrity status. Unless you count Carter because he was popular with all the flight attendants. "That makes sense. What do you do when you are recognized?"

  Now, he sets the menu down and looks into my eyes. "When it happens, I wait to see what they're going to do. Sometimes it is to talk or take a picture. Other times they will come up to me and ask for an autograph."