Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  “Well he has some games coming up,” Beth says, and I smirk at her. She’s been paying attention.

  “Great. Be at all of those. Take pictures before, during, after, whatever. Open a joint bank account,” he advises, handing us both a list of instructions.

  I glance down at the document and the heading reads ‘Tips for a happy marriage.’ I suppose that’s one way to cover his tracks. The tasks are basic enough and the list itself looks like it could have been created by either of us.

  “Just be believable. I’ll get all the paperwork in order for the interview.” He walks over to the table and takes a sip from a small glass of water.

  “There is one other thing that we need to discuss, and it is the matter of the prenuptial agreement. Beth, as you can imagine - ”

  “Collin, feel free to skip the lecture and the justification. I don’t want anything other than what was agreed on from Maverick. I’ll sign the prenuptial agreement.” She shrugs and her face twitches, betraying her silent irritation.

  “Well I do advise that you read it before signing it, and you have direct access to me if there are any questions.”

  “I’ll return it when we come for the next visit,” she says matter-of-factly.

  It’s all business with her and I’ve come to respect her laser focus, even if it is annoying.

  She takes the manila envelope from Collin and rests it in her lap. I can’t stop glancing over at her. She seems so zoned in on this mission. So determined to win. I know she’s doing it for herself, but there’s a silent part of me that is grateful that we’re both gunning for the same thing.

  Chapter

  Beth

  After we left Collin’s office, Maverick dropped me off at his place. A part of me is surprised he’s actually allowing me to roam free in his prestigious “flat” without him being here. As my fingers slowly trail the coolness of the granite countertop in the kitchen, I find my smile broadening. There’s so much that I could do with a kitchen like this. I have no idea if he’ll ever let me use it the way it was meant to be used, but as I start to salivate over the smart oven, I can’t help but hope that he does.

  A quick rummage through his cupboards and fridge reveals a reality that is actually laughable. If I don’t use this kitchen today, I’m sure to starve. All my options are alcoholic and I value my liver enough to know that I best not turn to alcohol in order to fill my belly.

  Eyebrows in a furrow, I search some more because honestly, who doesn’t have actual chewable food?

  Was this deliberate? It might very well be.

  Maverick has training all day today so there’s no likelihood of him returning soon with sustenance, though let’s be fair, I would probably starve with him here just the same. It’s already been a couple hours and the granola bar I had for breakfast has long since left my stomach.

  After pacing the marbled floor of his heavenly kitchen, chewing on the inside of my cheeks for a few minutes, I decide to do a quick supermarket run.

  The likelihood of me being spotted in this zip code is pretty slim; at least I’m hoping it is.

  I drag on some sweats and a hoodie, pairing the outfit with sneakers before Googling the closest supermarket and ordering a Lyft to get there.

  As I casually push the shopping cart through the aisles, I realize just how little I know about Maverick. For a moment, I consider sending him a text to ask what he likes to eat but just as quickly eliminate the idea.

  I’m sure he won’t appreciate the gesture. Still, it feels like the right thing to do. Do I even want to do the right thing? I’m not sure. The thought rests in the back of my mind for a while as I continue to stroll through the grocery story. Minutes go by and even though I’m starving, I’ve only plucked a few items off the shelf - none of them what my stomach craves.

  On a sigh, I scroll through my phone list until I land on Maverick’s contact and hover for a few seconds over the call button before pressing down.

  It rings without an answer for ages and I’m about to hang up when a surprised female voice answers the phone. “Beth? Hello? Beth?”

  Shit. Who is that? Why does she have his phone?

  Maverick is such a rookie. His number is saved as ‘pain in the ass’ on my phone but apparently I’m just Beth on his. I suppose wife would be worse.

  I hang the phone up and slide it back into my pocket before crashing my cart into the person across from me.

  “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” My heart leaps into my throat. A lawsuit from an uptown local is the last thing I need right now.

  “Beth?” Jeanne shrieks eyeing me from head to toe. “What are you doing here?”

  Ah geez. I think maybe starving would have been a better option.

  “Hey Jeanne,” I smile. “You live around here?” I ask and she chuckles.

  “Yep, I’m a few blocks up, but I’m pretty sure you don’t so…” her voice trails off as she eyes the contents of my shopping cart.

  Luckily I’ve only picked up a few items. Nothing overly suspicious. It’s not like there are condoms and lube sitting pretty on top of the chicken breast and orange juice.

  “I was in the area and thought I’d make a quick stop before heading home.”

  “Oh. I can give you a lift home if you want,” she offers, and I smile. Besides using me to meet her diversity quota, Jeanne isn’t inherently an evil person, but I’ve seen what a crush can do to people and she’s the last person I want finding out about me and Maverick. She’s been obsessed with him since I met her, not that she’s ever said anything to him. She and half the school’s female population seem to think he’s some kind of untouchable God.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, traces of suspicion lingering in her eyes and I nod.

  “I’m a disorganized shopper. I have a few more laps to do before I’m ready to go. I could be here for a while. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “It really wouldn’t be a problem. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. I want to know what’s happening with you. We should catch up. You’re always working, I feel like I never see you anymore.” She gushes and I inwardly cringe at her peppiness, not caring whether or not she’s being sincere.

  “We will,” I commit off-handedly.

  “Okay. I’ll see you at school then.”

  Not so sincere then. I nod and she leaves with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s in hand without so much as a backwards glance. I circle the isles a few more times before heading to the cashier and calling another cab.

  It’s strange ordering cabs when all my life I’ve been hailing cabs, but here I am, blending in with the uptown folk.

  I linger by the door with my cart, waiting for Amadu to arrive. Occasionally I scan the area for schoolmates who would be all too happy to remind me publicly that I don’t belong here.

  My eyes land on a vision standing close by scowling into her phone. Her hair is beyond enviable and her legs look made in Germany or wherever they manufacture stunning machinery. She is beautiful, aside from that scowl on her lips and I suddenly feel very inadequate.

  I check the phone to see how far away Amadu is and do a silent cheer when I realize he’s close by.

  “I don’t care,” I hear her growl. “It’s not hard to do, just don’t be too obvious and we’ll be fine.” She sounds irritated with whomever she’s talking to and I try not to pry, but I can’t stop staring at her- she looks vaguely familiar. They all look alike though, don’t they? This side of town feels like a battle of the blondes. Long legs, bleached out hair and teeth to match.

  “Listen. I didn’t expect to be dealing with this either. I thought it was a done deal. No, I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything. It’s annoying.”

  I believe her. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but her eye roll is so bloody dramatic, even I’m impressed. I want to chuckle but then it would be too obvious that I’m eavesdropping, so I check my phone again and make a face at the car icon randomly spinning in the middle of the road on my map. I wasn’t aware that I h
ad ordered a spaceship.

  The leggy beauty is standing close by a bench and I need to sit so I walk over to her and take a seat.

  “Hey,” I say politely, and she pauses long enough to actually scorn me.

  This bitch.

  ‘Sorry for having good manners,’ I think to myself.

  “Whatever Jaye. I really don’t give a shit, and neither should you. If he makes it to State you’re done anyways so find a way to get it done.”

  A knot forms in my stomach.

  She could be talking about anything really, but everything inside me tenses at the mention of the word State and I’m suddenly very interested in her conversation, but my phone buzzes to inform me that Amadu has landed the spaceship just outside and I have to go and so I leave, her words still vibrating in the back of my mind as I journey back to Maverick’s place.

  Even as I climb the elevator, make my way into Maverick’s suite and deposit the grocery bags onto the counter the mean Barbie’s words still bounce around in my head. Everything in me was screaming that she was talking about Maverick and if her aim was to keep him out of the state games then I don’t give a shit how toned her legs are, I’ll break them both if it stops her from ruining his future. For now, our futures are woven together, which means nobody is allowed to mess with Maverick beside me. Hell will have to freeze over before I allow another uppity bitch to pitter patter with my life.

  ‘Whoa there,’ I raise an eyebrow at myself.

  Where did that come from?

  I mean, it’s all about the money. If she screws this up for him, she screws it up for me. Right? Right.

  When I’ve finish packing away the groceries, I wander into the living room and start studying Maverick’s book collection. I’m in the middle of tracing my finger from title to title when I spot his iPad nesting in its holder on the mantle. Deciding that I’m not quite in the mood to get lost in the pages of a book, I walk over to where the iPad sits, power it up and start looking for something soothing to help calm me down and cheer me up while I cook.

  I’m surprised at the collection that he has, but even more impressed by the quality of his collection. I wouldn’t have pegged him for the kind of guy who’s into classical music at all, but there are some really good classics here.

  The surround sound system seems like the kind of thing a party-animal like Maverick could use to do some serious damage.

  I press play and smile as Bach fills the room.

  Resting on the mantle close to his iPad is his tablet and I glance over my shoulder like a thief, before swiping the screen. Needless to say, I’m rendered speechless by what greets me.

  I’ve never seen myself like this before.

  I remember feeling like a whole different person on the day of our fake wedding, but seeing us here, smiling, polished and dressed to perfection makes me more emotional than I’m sure it should. I swipe through the pictures and a feeling of nostalgia blooms in my chest.

  Is it nostalgia if you’ve never had it?

  Maverick’s eyes look softer than I remembered them, as he looks at me and for a fleeting moment. I let myself believe that that kind stare is real and actually meant for me. I feel my shoulders sag and my heartbeat picks up slightly the longer I stare at him, so I swipe again to escape these treacherous feelings, but it’s just more of us and more of these feelings.

  I place the tablet back on the mantle and head back to the kitchen.

  I won’t let starvation give way to madness. This is Maverick we’re talking about.

  It’s not like there’s anything there. I mean, why would there be? These are just pictures! Beautiful, heart-tugging, pixie dust and fairytale type pictures that every little girl dreams of having parked by her bedside to greet her in the morning when she wakes up beside the one who put it there. These pictures are a beautiful sham and proof that sometimes the million words a picture tells are all lies.

  I bring my focus back to something that matters – the hunger grumbling in the pit of my stomach. Despite Maverick’s obvious underuse of this kitchen, it’s remarkably outfitted and I soon have three of the four burners fired up and working overtime to fill the flat with fragrances I’m almost sure it’s never experienced.

  As the music changes, my mood lifts until I find myself prancing around the room to Georges Bizet’s Les Toreadors in Carmen Suite No 1. I haven’t felt this liberated in a long while and prancing gives way to plies and pirouettes. When Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of flowers begins, I politely ask myself for a dance with a bow and graciously accept with a curtsy before waltzing all the way into the living room.

  I haven’t had formal lessons in a few months due to all the financial gymnastics happening at home and I suddenly feel guilty about how good a time I’m having here. This isn’t meant to be a celebration of any kind. I walk over to the iPad to turn it off but the song changes and for a moment I am a child again.

  This one isn’t a well-known classic; still it’s one of the most beautiful solo piano renditions I’ve ever heard. Something about the technique feels familiar yet incomplete. In my ears, I can hear Eloise playing alongside the keys and the longer I listen, the more the desire to join in burns inside me. I run to the room for my violin and restart the piece before placing her beneath my chin and taking a deep, cleansing breath.

  As my fingers wrap around her, I can feel my heart racing and as the bow greets the strings with a melodic hello, tears well up in the back of my throat and my eyes flutter to a close.

  I haven’t heard this song in years.

  26

  My hand hovers over the handle of my door with a tremor running from my fingers all the way up into my arm. I clench my fist and try shaking it off but it’s still there.

  I can feel run away trains screaming along the railroads of my ribcages and I can’t breathe.

  I try to open the door again, but my heart won’t let me.

  The music from inside the flat that is no longer mine is clawing its way out into the hall through the door, paralyzing me.

  Of all the songs, Beth, why that one?

  I need to get inside. To stop her, but I can’t move.

  Leaning my forehead against the wall, I slam my fist into the space beside me and my knuckles sing out in pain.

  I roll over and lean my back against the wall, trying to catch my breath, but the darkness is racing towards me and my hands are still shaking.

  I need to stop her.

  I have to stop her.

  There’s a reason I never play that song and this anxiety attack, threatening to take suffocate me is exactly it.

  With a deep breath, I bring both hands up to the handle and swipe my card before pushing it open. My brain tells my mouth to say the words, but I’m greeted by everything at once.

  There’s an aroma in the air that screams the word “home” trying to tunnel its way through the darkness to comfort me, but the vision before me and the sound in the room overpowers comfort and reaches down my throat, curling long string-like fingers around my thawing heart, squeezing tightly as if trying to take my life and reviving me at the same time.

  I can hear a voice that I haven’t heard in almost a decade calling to me with a melodic smile in her tone.

  “What’s wrong ,Maverick?” she asks softly, “Can’t sleep?” I can see her smile. I can always see her smile, even though I can’t see the rest of her.

  My knees buckle slightly as I walk towards the living room, trying to muster up a show of hardness, but I’m sure my face is just as raw as my heart is with the emotions I’m trying not to embrace. I can feel scales falling away slowly and I’m a child again.

  When I enter the room, I’m transfixed by the vision of Bethany. Her hair cascades over her shoulders in a wavy display of beauty that is only accentuated by the warm light in the room.

  Her shoulders lead her body as she sways with each note she plays, and I can’t help but feel like this is how this song was always meant to be played. The melodic keys seem more powerful with
string accompaniment and her voice returns.

  “Let me play you a song.” Her smile brightens the room before disappearing again.

  “Turn it off,” I growl at Beth and my voice sounds like sandpaper being dragged against rough wood in my own ears. She doesn’t hear me over the crescendo which she plays beautifully.

  It’s too much. I march over to her. What little control I still have is falling apart at the seams. My hands are on Beth in an instant and I grab her shoulder.

  She jumps, but when she turns to look up me, her expression mirrors mine. Her cheeks are soaked with tears and for a brief second, it’s not Beth I see. Instead, it’s her. I. See. Her. She’s hidden somewhere in the warm autumn leaf flecks of gold in Beth’s eyes and I take a step back, my breath tripping over itself in my lungs.

  “Turn it off,” I say again, this time my voice is barely a whisper.

  She apologizes as her clumsy fingers shuffle to turn the iPad off.

  I head for my room before she has a chance to see just how broken I really am.

  This isn’t how I saw tonight going, but when has anything ever gone as planned with Beth?

  Why the fuck would she pick that song? Nobody knows that song. There are so many classics on the damn thing. If she wanted to play along to something, why the hell couldn’t she just choose one of those?

  I grab the lamp closest to me and hurl it across the room. It crashes against the wall and shatters into several pieces. Right now, those pieces seem to be the most relatable thing in this room. The vase on the night stand is the next victim and I keep throwing things across the room until I’m all out of glass and the only thing left in the room to completely shatter is my fragile will to remain unbroken.

  I pick up the photograph by my bedside and sink to the floor where I lose the fight.