Rule Play (Saints of Love Book 1)

by Elizabeth Perry

  I finish cleaning up the last of the hair from my last appointment of the day, when the front door to my salon flies open, and Sophia hurries inside. “It’s freezing out there!” She shivers, pushing the door shut against a gust of wind. “It feels like it’s going to rain any second.”

  “Perfect.” My voice is nothing short of melancholy. “I hope it lightnings. I was just thinking about taking a metal rod outside and hoping for the best.”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d commit you for that kind of talk.” She shakes off her jacket and tosses it across one of the chaise lounge chairs in my waiting room. “And you’re welcome, by the way, because legally, I’m mandated to report people for saying stupid shit like that, but I’m going to let you slide.”

  “Commit me.” I groan, emptying my dustpan into the trash and brushing off my hands. “It’s got to be better than this. Anything is better than this. Just make sure that I’m committed during the class reunion. That way at least I’ll have an excuse not to show my face.”

  “Well aren’t you a little ray of pitch black, today?” She reaches into her oversized bag and produces a brown paper bag. She twists the top off of it and downs a gulp before handing it to me. “Here, have a drink, and lighten up a bit. I have a plan.”

  I’m never mad at some fireball, plus it’s Friday, and it’s almost five o’clock. I down a huge gulp without thinking twice, ignoring it as it dribbles down my chin. “I’m not in the mood for any plans. I’m just going to go home, to sit alone and wallow in self misery.”

  Sophia rolls her eyes.

  “As your best friend, I can’t let you do that. Plus, I’ve been going crazy over the last few days trying to figure out how in the hell we can make that big old lie of yours come true. I think I’ve figured it out.”

  “Oh, dear God.” I groan, throwing myself down on one of the chairs. “You can’t be serious. Soph, that is never going to happen. Just to be really sure that he was unattainable, I googled him. Let me just tell you, there is no freaking way that he would date me. I’ve seen the pictures of him online. He dates tens. Plus, I don’t even know where I would meet the guy. It’s all just insane. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut.” Sophia nods her head, agreeing with me, which is slightly irritating, but she’s totally right. “I couldn’t even keep Brett, a nobody lawyer from Middleton, Minnesota. How could I possibly snag an NFL player who is hot as absolute hell?”

  “All true, except for the Brett part. Because fuck that guy.” Sophia snaps her fingers in my face. My god, I really hit the jackpot in the best friend’s department. “But still. I think we’ve got a chance.”

  “I’ve got about a chance in hell.” I mutter, letting another gulp of fireball burn my throat on the way down. “I’m just going to let the ship sink, Soph. I told a lie. A big, fat, stupid lie. And now, Michael Ann has one more thing to laugh at me about. I really hate that bitch.”

  Sophia doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. She hates Michael Ann just as much as I do. In fact, nobody really likes Michael Ann. Except for Brett, who has already proven that he has shitty taste.

  “Focus, Mia. I’m telling you, listen to my plan. It’s a good one, and it literally fell onto my lap.” She beams. “My co-worker is supposed to be at the stadium tonight representing our youth foundation. She has strep throat, so she asked me to step in. Tonight, is youth night at the stadium, and I happen to have a list of all of the kids allowed on the field. Each child can have one adult accompanying them, but these kids are little and it’s going to be absolute chaos. It always is, which is why I never volunteer to attend these things. The kids will storm the fields, and the moms frantically chase their kids. You have a nice face. You look honest, so they’ll let you through. You just have to be, ah…” She tsks her tongue while she studies the sheet of paper that she just pulled out of her pocket. “You will be Courtney Plum, little Tommy Plum’s mom.”

  “Ok,” I chew on my lower lip for a little bit. “But what if Courtney is already on the field?”

  “Courtney won’t be. I scoped all of these parents out, and Courtney seems to be our best shot. She’s got six kids and looks stressed AF in all of her Facebook photos. She’s got too many kids to accompany just one onto the field. She is our girl, Mia. Courtney Plum is our in.”

  After a few more sips of Fireball, Sophia’s plan actually sounds like it could work. And after a few more sips?

  I’m in.

  3

  Mia

  I’m a wee bit sloppy by the time that we make it to the field. We stopped at my place to change into some warmer clothes, since the weather is turning darker by the minute, and had a few more shots that I probably didn’t need. Luckily, the rain has held off, so my hair and makeup are still on point. If it rains, we may have to cancel plan get Adrian Malone to date me, because I won’t be so appealing to him looking like a drowned rat.

  Who am I even kidding, anyway? I’m not sure that me at my absolute best would be enough to make the guy want to date me, but the angel on my shoulder is telling me that it’s only my current lack of self-esteem and self-loathing talking.

  Adrian Malone would be lucky to date me.

  I’ve got a little pep in my sloppy step, because Sophia blasted some Lizzo on the ride over, and now it’s got me amped up and feeling like a bad bitch. Even though in all reality, I’m just a drunk bitch. But whose keeping track?

  After stumbling around a bit, Sophia and I find our seats. Her hand immediately raises, snagging us a couple of beers that cost an arm and a leg, and then, we settle into our seats.

  I will be the first to admit it, I don’t really know that much about football. I like the games, and I like the atmosphere, but I’m the type of person that cheers when the crowd cheers, and boos when the crowd boos. That’s about the extent of knowledge that I have of the game. So, while we wait for the game to start, I pick up my phone, and start to do a little bit of digging on Adrian Malone.

  I start with his Facebook page, but it’s mostly a fan page, so there’s really just a lot of stuff on there about the things that he does on the field. I need to dig a little to find out about what he does off of the field. I stumble across some news articles, linking him to a few local boys and girls clubs in town that focus on getting kids active in sports.

  “Adrian does a lot of charity work.” I show Sophia my phone. “That’s pretty cool. We have that in common.”

  Sophia snorts mid sip of her beer, and then goes into a coughing fit. “You do not have that in common. What kind of charity work do you do?”

  “I gave someone half off of their extensions last week because her boyfriend also just dumped her.” I wink at her. “Nothing but charity over here.”

  “Yeah. That’s the first thing that comes to my mind when I think about you.” Sophia rolls her eyes. “You are so charitable.”

  She knows me too well, although, I will say, that while I haven’t done much for charities in my days, I’ve always thought about it, and thought that it was something I would like to do. That has to count for something, right?

  I scroll a bit more, digging into all that is Adrian Malone, and then, begin to practice how I’ll approach him. I practice batting my eyes, while flashing a sexy smile. I run through my lines in my head, and after downing a couple more beers during the game, I’m filled with false confidence. I’m certain that it’s going to go my way. I’m certain that he will want to accompany me to my high school reunion in a month. He’s going to fall for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  Well, you know what they say about best laid plans, right?

  Yeah. Me too.

  My head is pounding when my eyes finally open. Fluorescent light blasts down on me, making my head spin and my eyes ache. I’m immediately disoriented, because I’m not in my own bed. In fact, I’m not on a bed at all. I’m laying on a cement slab, inside of a musty room that smells like stale urine and body odor I manage to lift my head just enough to glance around the room, and as my eyes adjust, my b
lood runs cold.

  I’m in fucking jail.

  This would be a good time to pinch myself, and wake up from this nightmare, but as the events from last night come flooding back to me, everything that happened hits me like a ton of bricks. And this is no nightmare that I’m waking up from. This is my reality.

  “Omigod.” I sit up on the edge of my cement jail cot, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that hits me as soon as I’m upright. Every muscle in my body is pissed off at me. I have deep, red welts around my wrists from where I was handcuffed. My vision is still crap, and I’m so dizzy that I worry I might actually pass out.

  This is hands down, the worst hangover that I’ve ever had. Fuck you, fireball.

  “Jacobsen.” A female guard growls, causing my attention to shift. “It’s your turn to go in front of the judge.”

  “In front of the judge?” I squeak, looking frantically around my cell for any signs of Sophia. “Where is my friend?”

  “The friend here to bail you out?” She crosses her arms and holds my stare. “She’s sitting her own drunk ass in the waiting room, waiting for your bail to be set. Now come on. The judge doesn’t have all day to wait around on you.”

  I’m now in a full blown panic. Never in my life have I been arrested. This is a new low, even for me, which honestly, is saying a lot right now, because the entire last six months have been filled with poor decisions, made by yours truly.

  I vaguely remember arguing with a police officer last night, but I have no idea how it started, or why it happened. The last thing I remember, I was sitting in my seat and watching the football game. Obviously, things took a turn for the worst.

  Shocking, I know.

  I’m led out of my cell, feeling pretty close to death, and pulled down a dark, dimly lit hallway. Just as we reach the very end of the hall, my shoulder is pushed down and I nearly tumble into a plastic chair, in front of a television screen.

  “I thought that you said I was seeing the judge?”

  “It’s Saturday.” The deputy snarls at me. “Ain’t no judge in house on a Saturday. If you’d prefer to see one in person, I’d be happy to throw you back into that cell until Monday. In fact, I’d be more than happy to.”

  She’s grumpy, and she doesn’t like me, but I bet that she doesn’t like herself that much, either. I can relate. The last thing that I want to do is sit here any longer, so I quickly apologize, and point towards the screen.

  “I’d like to see the judge now, please.”

  Within a few seconds, the screen clicks on, and an older woman with a short, graying bob fills the screen. Her lips are pressed together, and she doesn’t look happy that her Saturday morning is being interrupted by the likes of me.

  “You are Mia Renee Jacobsen?”

  I nod once, and instantly regret it, as the room spins even more. “Yes, your honor.”

  She gives me a firm nod.

  “You have been charged with drunk and disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. Are you aware of these charges?”

  My heart accelerates in my chest.

  “According to the police report, last evening, you attempted to impersonate a child’s mother, in order to gain access to the Minnesota Saints football team. You attempted to flag down one of the players and offered yourself to him. The officer noted that you also lifted your sweater at some point, but since the children did not witness it, you were not charged with indecent exposure around children.”

  Oh, dear God.

  “Upon your arrest, you resisted, and continued to scream out for the player whose name I do not have record of. You were found to be heavily intoxicated and blew a .2 upon your arrival to jail. Does any of this sound familiar?”

  My head hangs. All of it sounds vaguely familiar and is downright humiliating. It’s all in bits and pieces in my mind, and as it turns out, my alcohol induced bravery came back to bite me right in the ass.

  “To be honest, your honor, I don’t remember much about those events. I will take full accountability for my actions, though. I was not in a very good state of mind last night, and for that, I apologize.”

  I watch as her face changes, from hardened stone to something just a tad bit softer.

  “I have never been in trouble with the law, and I’ve certainly never been arrested before. I own my own business, and I own my own home. I pay all of my taxes, even though honestly, most years, it feels like I’m getting robbed. I still pay them though.” I rush on. “The last few months have been a bit rough, and I’ve been drinking more than I normally do, which has led to some not so great choices being made. My fiancé just left me for someone else, someone that he had been cheating on me with, and my world has, frankly, been in a tailspin. It’s no excuse for my actions, and I’m really sorry. Last night, I had way too much to drink, and quite honestly, was trying to get back at my cheating ex by snagging a date with a football player.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It didn’t quite pan out.”

  Her lips turn up into a small smile, and she nods her head once.

  “I see. Thank you for your honesty, Miss Jacobsen. I must say, that is refreshing. I am sentencing you to one hundred hours of community service, to be served at a location chosen by me. Your bail is set at three hundred dollars. Once your community service is complete, there will be no charge left on your record. Consider this your one free pass, Miss Jacobsen. The next time, I will not be so generous with you.”

  “Thank you, your honor.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”

  “This is a side note, but please treat it more urgently. Get a handle on your drinking, before your life spins even further out of control. No man is worth any of that.”

  Isn’t that the truth.

  The screen clicks off, and I’m left with the Deputy who hates me. Even after hearing my story, she doesn’t like me any more than she did, not that I can blame her. I’m not a real big fan of me right now, either.

  I’m returned to my cell while Sophia makes my bail. She hauls me into a cab, hands me some Advil and a bottle of water, and by ten am, I’m back home, in my bed, sleeping the nightmare that has become my life away.

  4

  Adrian

  “That pass, man.” Wyatt Anderson grins at me while kissing his fingers and signaling perfection. “It was so good, I swear, I heard the angels sing.”

  I lift my chin at him, and wink. “You know it, baby. This arm is ready to win the Superbowl this year.”

  “Hell yes.” Wyatt gives me a high five, and then falls into step along side me as we make our way out onto the field. Since we’re coming off the high of another win last night, the press is ready and waiting for us today, to fire out questions about how we feel about our upcoming games. This is about the last place that I feel like being today, but I don’t have much say in any of it. If the cameras are on, I must be here, ready to cast a smile and talk a big game.

  “Malone, Anderson.” Coach glares at us, as we casually make our way across the field. “How nice of you two to join us.”

  “We’re on time, coach.” Wyatt quips back. “You said to be here at three. It is exactly three o’clock, right now.”

  “To be on time, is to be early.” Coach counters back, and then jerks his thumb to the rest of the team. “Now get your asses over there and smile pretty for the cameras.”

  It takes a very confident man to talk to men of our size the way that coach does, but he’s never faltered his words to us. That man can either make me feel like a king or feel like I’m two feet tall. It all depends on how well I play this game. This season though, at least so far, I’ve been on fire, so he’s been kinder to me than usual. I have every intention of keeping it that way.

  Within seconds of joining our team, the cameras begin to flash. Questions are fired at a few of us, and as if on cue, we step forward, becoming the spokesperson for our team.

  A few years ago, I would have tried to stay in the back of the group, praying like hell that no reporters shoved a microphone in
my face. My palms would be sweaty, and my heart would race in anticipation of having to be on camera. I’ve always valued my privacy, so having my face blasted everywhere was something that I used to hate. But as the years have gone by, I’ve gotten better with these types of things. And as my career has soared, I’ve had no choice but to get used to smiling wide and answering whatever questions are fired at me. There’s definitely no hiding out for me, anymore. I’m in the big time, now.

  “Adrian.” My attention shifts to Tracy, a reporter from SNN who has managed to push her way through the group and now has a microphone directly in my face. “Tell me what you were thinking about, as you prepared for that throw, knowing that you only had fifteen seconds left in the game to take the lead. What was going through your mind?”

  I smile at Tracy, which makes her blush and breathe a bit faster. That’s nothing new though-I’ve made Tracy breathe really fast a time or two, and I’ve made her scream out my name and God’s intermixed.

  “I was concentrating on my form and focusing on Anderson’s location on the field. When I saw him break free, I just let it ride. The rest of it you can watch on the film.”

  The questions that they ask are almost funny, and they’re the same tired questions game after game. I wonder how they’d really react, if I told them that right before I make a throw like that, I ask my dead girlfriend for her guidance in my head. I wonder what they would make of that little tid bit of knowledge. Honestly, the truth would probably be the end of me. They’d make me out to be a damn joke.

  But I see nothing wrong with it. Her death is actually what fueled me to focus on football, anyways. Kat died my junior year of high school. Up until then, football was just something fun that I did on Friday nights. Something that made all of the girls in high school want to drop their panties for me. Not that I was going to even give them the time of day, though. My focus was solely on Kat. But after she was gone, I needed an outlet. Something to fill up my time, so that I couldn’t concentrate on the immense sadness that I felt over losing that girl. Something to fill up that gaping hole that was in the center of my chest. In college, I’d hit my knees and pray, begging Kat to stick by my side through the games, so that I wouldn’t take a career ending blow. Now, I do the same, and also add in for her to help guide my arm.