by Erica Hobbs
“That will come in time.”
She sipped her coffee and glanced at me over her cup.
“If you’re safe and happy, it’s good to try again.”
I nodded. I understood that. Logically, it was easy to figure it all out. If he is nice, date him. If he is not, then don’t. But it was never that simple when emotions were involved. It was never that easy when you didn’t know yet if the person was nice, but your emotions decided to take a leap anyway.
“What can you tell me about him? What does he do?”
I shook my head. “If it’s okay, mom, I don’t want to share too much, now. I’ll tell you when the time is right, I promise. For now, I just want to feel it out.”
She nodded, looking down. “I get it. I’m curious, but I get it. Just be safe, okay?”
We both knew she meant more than just physical safety. Emotional safety was also important right now. But I would be careful. I knew what I was doing.
I sipped more of my coffee and tried to convince myself of that.
When I got back to my room, there were three missed calls and a voicemail from Tanya.
“You have to tell me what happened!”
I smiled and texted her. “Lunch at Zig Zag. Bring Grace.”
Chapter 19
Jake
I don’t think I’ve ever felt the way I did when I woke up the next morning. The night had been just like any other night out with the upper crust of society. Everything had been the same. Except for Alyssa. She had made everything look different. Nothing about her was predictable. Every time I expected something from her – a reaction to a situation or an expectation from me – she would shock me with her character that shone through like a diamond in the rough. She wasn’t with me for my money, even though she had to know how much I was worth.
And she wasn’t self-centered and pretentious; the way all the women who followed me seemed to be. Alyssa was, in fact, the most modest, humble person I’d ever come across. She appeared to think almost nothing of herself. She had the kind of confidence born from certainty about your future plans, not confidence born from vanity.
And she seemed genuinely surprised I would be interested in her at all.
This, of course, made her the most beautiful thing on two legs I had ever seen. Her beauty wasn’t just on the outside, it radiated from her soul. And she mesmerized me.
I needed to see more of her. I wanted to be around her all the time. If I wasn’t with her or talking to her, she was on my mind, distracting me from the trivial bullshit that made up real life.
I wanted her to know how special she was. I wanted her to understand what I saw when I looked at her. I had the feeling she had no idea what she looked like. I wanted her to see how beautiful she really. How much she was worth.
The only way to do that was to show her the side of me I kept hidden from everyone. I understood where she was coming from. She needed to know I would be there, that I wasn’t just going to disappear the way she seemed to fear I would. She needed to know she was safe with me. I wanted her to trust me with her heart and open up to me. It was only fair that I do it for her, first. That way she would be able to see that I was serious.
I didn’t like bringing people to my place. No one knew where I lived, and for a good reason – it was supposed to be private. I didn’t want any of the women in my past catching up with me, I didn’t want the cameras to take snaps during my downtime, and I didn’t want fans to break down my door.
For Alyssa, I would make an exception though. I wanted to bring her home and have dinner with her. And not just any dinner – I wanted to make it myself. Any superstar could pay the best chefs in the world to prepare a meal that was an aphrodisiac all by itself. It took a lot more of a man to feed his woman by his own hand.
And I wanted to do that for her. I wanted to show her my word – the one I lived in, not the one everyone saw through the eye of a lens.
I dialed her number and glanced at the clock. Was it too early?
She answered in a sleepy voice. I could picture waking up to that voice.
“Morning, beautiful,” I said, and I could practically hear her smile.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said.
“I don’t phone girls this early in the morning.”
“Why me?”
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “I guess that’s what you do to me. So… I know you’ve had next to no time to recover after seeing me, but I want to cook for you tonight. Do you want to come over for dinner?”
I heard the rustling of sheets like she was sitting up.
“To your place?”
I wasn’t sure if the question was as loaded as the suggestion had been.
“Yeah.”
She was quiet for just a moment before she agreed. “I’d love to. Will you send me an address?”
“I will.”
This was a first for me. We ended the conversation, and I hung up, feeling my stomach turn as if I was in high school and the girl I had a crush on remembered my name.
After spending the morning looking for recipes on Google and downloading enough instructions so I was sure I would know what to do, I got into my car and drove to the grocery store. I needed to get the ingredients I didn’t have – when Francois cooked for me the allowance for the groceries he bought were added to his fee. By the time I saw the ingredients, they had already been put together into edible art.
I hadn’t been inside a standard grocery store since I’d left Aunt Maureen’s place to live alone. When you have the money, it’s easy to get someone else to do the shopping, the cooking and the cleaning for you.
I weaved in and out of the aisles, looking for milk and flour, choice grade minced meat and packets of pasta, not the pre-cooked frozen stuff. I needed herbs, too – Oregano, parsley, and garlic. Mozzarella cheese and Parmesan.
In the sauce aisle, I stood in front of rows and rows of glass jars, each with their own label. Different brands for the same thing and I didn’t recognize any of it.
“Well, aren’t you domesticated?” a woman asked behind me, and I turned around. Amanda stood behind me with a shopping cart. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a bun. She wore cutoff jeans and a sweater that was supposed to look negligee-arranged, but I knew she must have put hours into it. I groaned inwardly.
“Even famous people have to eat,” I said and turned back to the sauces.
Amanda laughed, and it was a pleasant sound, no trace of force.
“Yes, I suppose you do.” I felt her eyes watching me for a moment. “Are you trying to decide on a sauce?”
I knew what would come next. She was going to ask if she could help, or just offer it. I didn’t want that from her. I couldn’t exactly say ‘no, I’m not looking for a sauce,’ when I was standing in front of the shelves staring at the labels like I couldn’t read them.
“I uh… I’m making lasagna.”
She pulled an impressed face. Irritation itched under my skin, and the sensation was familiar – I always paired this feeling with Amanda.
“Well, you want to look at Mince sauce for that,” she said. “Ignore the cheese stuff…” She glanced into my basket. “You already had flour, you’re going to make that yourself.”
I looked at the section she was pointing at.
“If you add tomato sauce it will taste much better,” she said. “No one can resist a tomato base. That’s why pizza is such a hit.”
I looked at her and back at the sauces. “You’re offering advice? For free?” I asked. It came across rude.
She snorted. “I’m not always after something, you know.”
I pulled the same impressed face she’d used on me earlier. She laughed again as if I wasn’t picking a fight.
“You haven’t changed one bit,” she said. “Good luck with your lasagna.” She pushed her cart away, hips swinging, eyes darting over the shelves as she passed them. I watched her go until she turned the corner and got out of sight.
>
What was that all about? The Amanda I knew was a pain in the ass, clingy and impossible to get rid of. This Amanda had been… agreeable. I wouldn’t have gone as far as thinking she was nice, but she hadn’t been unpleasant, which was a huge step in the right direction.
She’d been popping up a lot lately and that had started making me feel uncomfortable. If she was trying to make a move on me again, I was going to stop her in her tracks in a bad way. But this encounter had almost been a good one. It made me think that maybe she wouldn’t be a problem after all.
At least, not as much as before.
I left the store feeling on top of life. I had nailed grocery shopping, and I was going to make killer pasta. Everyone loved pasta. And Amanda hadn’t been a problem.
Today was a good day.
***
I’d just put my grocery packets in the kitchen when my phone rang.
“Bernie,” I said when I pressed the phone against my ear. “We don’t talk enough.”
Bernard Brock had been my agent when I’d just started out. Now that I’d been in the game long enough, I didn’t need someone to take care of my affairs anymore, but we’d kept in touch, and it was great to hear from an old friend from time to time.
“From what I can see, you don’t have a lot of time to catch up with old friends.” He chuckled. “If it’s not the game it’s the player.”
He was referring to my escapades off the field. It wasn’t new that I cycled through girls.
“Football is everything to me, you know that. It’s going well right now. And the girls… well, that’s looking up, too.”
“Yeah, she’s quite a looker,” he said. I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Bernie cleared his throat. “You know, the new squeeze the tabloids are on about. You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. A sinking feeling formed in my gut and I tugged on the neck of my t-shirt like it would somehow help me breathe more easily.
“Anyway, I wanted to call to check in. Your performance in the game has been sublime lately. With this kind of results, I would have been tickled pink if I were still your agent.”
“Thanks,” I said, only half-hearing him. My head was spinning, and my tongue felt too thick for my mouth. The tabloids? What was it now? I hadn’t done anything to look for attention in a while.
“You should drop me a call sometime,” Bernie said, ending the conversation. “Don’t be a stranger now that you’re rich and famous.”
I chuckled without emotion and hung up after we ended the call. I put my phone on the counter and stared at the screen for a moment before I picked it up again and let my fingers find their way to the usual tabloid pages.
She was all over it. Alyssa’s face; unsure, beautiful, innocent, and I was looking into her eyes. ‘Powerhouse’s New Plaything is really Something.’ I cringed when I read the words. After everything she’d told me, after confiding in me that she’d been treated badly before, this was worded in the worst possible way. It was the photo in the maze. The photographer had actually managed to capture the moment and twist the whole thing around.
My stomach turned, and anger boiled under my skin. I threw my phone down on the counter, walking away with my hands on my hips. Was I never going to get a break from this shit? Was I ever going to be able to live my life without the whole of America’s football fans watching my every move?
Of course, the answer was no. This was the price to pay. Fame and fortune always had a downside. Before, it hadn’t bothered me because I hadn’t cared about them. But Alyssa… I cared about her. A lot.
I took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the tension building between my shoulders. I had to tell her about this. If I was the one to break it to her maybe it would soften the blow a little. Maybe it would make it okay. Not that it was okay, but it was the least I could do.
I picked up my phone again, checking that the screen was still intact before I dialed her number.
I listened to the calling tone. The longer it rang in my ear, the more irritated I got. I felt like I was going to implode. I rubbed my sternum with the tips of my fingers, trying to get the feeling of frustration to go away.
It just got worse.
By the third time, I felt like I was starting to look bad. She was obviously busy, and I was in danger of looking like an idiot. God, what if she read it without me talking to her first? What if someone else showed it to her? I could just imagine her friends pointing it out to her. I was willing to bet her friends had her back. It had been apparent at Lemon that night – I was sure they would let her know the moment they saw it. It was just a matter of who saw it first.
I didn’t want people to think that way of her. I didn’t want her to see that was what they thought of me. What if she didn’t want to be seen with someone who had that image?
Worse, what if she believed that this was who I really was?
Chapter 20
Alyssa
Jake woke me up with a phone call for another date. When I’d told him he could call me I hadn’t thought it would be before I’d even managed to wake up.
A part of me twisted and curled with delicious heat at the idea he had done that. I felt like a teenager again, completely love struck. It was dangerous. I was aware of that. But the feeling was beautiful, and I couldn’t exactly stop it from happening. Jake was a great guy, and something about him attracted something inside me so deep that I didn’t want to stay away from him. I didn’t want to say no.
When I got up, there were more messages I hadn’t seen yet. They were all from Tanya – questions about the evening, where we were, what we were up to, if I was going to ignore her all night, etc. I chuckled and phoned her. She would be up, or she would wake up for this especially. Curiosity killed the cat.
“You’re a total bitch for leaving me hanging this long,” she said launching into her accusation before saying hello.
I laughed. “I’m reaching out to you now, aren’t I? We can do breakfast.”
“And you’ll tell me everything?”
“Of course.”
She squealed and hung up. I shook my head, smiling, and got out of bed. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I still looked the same. Blond hair around my face. Dark eyes. Pale skin. It was impossible to think I would still look the same after there had been such a monumental shift in my life. I felt like a different person. I felt like I was someone else now – attractive, desirable, unique. Jake made me feel that way. But I still just looked like Alyssa, the same girl staring back at me for years.
I got dressed. Jeans and a tank top, a light jacket, ballet flats. I didn’t bother with makeup. Tanya knew me inside and out anyway.
“You’re running out the door early,” my dad said when I whirled through the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. Matt was strangely absent. Weird, that hardly ever happened. I frowned, only letting myself think about it for a second before I glanced at my dad. “We have stuff to talk about.”
My mom smirked. She knew it would be all about the mystery man. She knew me too well. I was relieved she didn’t find it offensive I would tell Tanya and not her. There was a reason I could be this close to her, though. She was cool that way – she let me live my own life and come to her in my own time. She never forced me to confide in her.
I believed it was the only way to parent children. I would do the same one day.
I left the house and arrived at Zig Zag. Tanya was already sitting at a table in the middle of the room, alone.
“Where’s Grace?” I asked, hugging her before taking a seat myself. The three of us were always together except of course when we were at work, in which case it was just Tanya and me. It was weird for Grace to be absent, especially if there was juicy gossip to be had.
Tanya shrugged. “She had to do something. She was vague. I don’t know.”
She waved at a waiter who saw her and brought us the menus.
/>
“So, tell me everything,” she said, ignoring her menu. I opened mine and glanced over the contents without reading. I couldn’t help smiling, and I tried to hide it. When I looked up at her, she was leaning forward, the epitome of eagerness.
I chuckled.
“He sent me a dress. He swept me away in a limo, and we attended a masquerade ball with the upper crust of the social elite.”
Tanya asked all kinds of questions, and I told her everything. I had to go into detail about the dress, the mansion, the people, the food, the music. The more I talked about it all, the more I realized how surreal it sounded. Jake had literally transported me to another world.
