Dirty Quarterback: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Blitz Book 1)

by S. J. Bishop

  When Hannah had finally gone, I rounded on Olivia.

  "What the hell were you thinking sending me those pictures?"

  She looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you’d like them. Why are you so mad?"

  I opened my mouth then shut it again, suddenly aware that I didn’t really have a good answer to that question unless I was ready to tell her about Ava.

  "Because the press could have gotten a hold of them," I finally said. "And besides, those pictures make it look like we’re engaged, which we’re not."

  "Oh come on Carter," Olivia said, standing and walking slowly towards me. "Why not? You gave me the ring."

  "Yeah, and we broke up the very next day."

  She shrugged. "You’ve never asked for it back. I just assumed the offer was still good."

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was playing me now. Olivia knew perfectly well there was nothing to that engagement. Why was she suddenly determined to behave as if this were an old secret we’d settled upon keeping until the right moment to spring it?

  "Where were you last night?" Olivia suddenly asked. And finally everything made perfect sense. The naked pictures, the ring, Olivia was jealous.

  "Out," I replied.

  "Out where? Not with that slut?"

  "I don’t know any sluts. Except maybe for you." If there was one thing I didn’t like, it was being manipulated. Olivia didn’t love me and yet I continued to go back to her, for the excitement, for the prestige of being with a supermodel. But when I stripped that away, what did the two of us really have?

  Her eyes widened and I wondered if maybe I’d gone too far. She didn’t really deserve that last remark. After all, I wasn’t any better than she was.

  "So what is this?" Olivia asked. "Are you breaking up with me? For good?"

  "Yes. No. I don’t know." Why wasn’t this easier? I didn’t even really like Olivia, but she was the only consistent thing in my life. Yes, we broke up time and time again, but she was always there for me when I needed someone. And Ava was acting so strange. I couldn’t tell whether she really liked me or whether she was just lonely. When I left Dover Chase and went back to San Francisco, who was most likely to still be around? Ava, who seemed as though she’d never leave this place, or Olivia, who’d already traveled the world with and without me.

  Olivia sighed and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Honey," she said sweetly—a little too sweetly, "you don’t need to make any decisions right now. You look tired, why don’t you go lie down?"

  I consented, more to get away from her than anything else. I left Olivia and went to my room to be alone, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, somehow, I was making a huge mistake.

  23

  Ava

  I walked into Piccadilly’s still reeling from my fight with Carter. The nerve of him! But could I really blame him entirely? I knew that Olivia was not out of the picture, yet I’d slept with Carter again anyways. Oh sure, I had tried to convince myself that Carter cared for me and only for me, but he hadn’t exactly told me that, had he?

  Still... engaged? It was one thing to be in an on again off again relationship with someone –like what Carter and Olivia’s relationship seemed to be if one believed the tabloids—but to be engaged to that person... did that make me a homewrecker?

  I shuddered as the door closed behind me and paused. Something wasn’t right. Waiters and waitresses were huddled together in small groups in deep discussion. Though we were open for business, only a handful of people sat around eating, and those people kept watching the scene before them. I saw Terri in one corner of the restaurant, her face white. Myron was in the opposite corner. He came up to me when he saw me.

  "Myron, what’s going on?" Then a thought struck me. I remembered my phone call with Mrs. Brewer. Our boss had been in an accident. "Did Mr. Brewer... did he die?" I hadn’t cared much for him, especially not after the way he’d propositioned me, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead.

  "No," Myron said. "He was in a car accident. The police are investigating it." He looked away and scanned the room.

  "Investigating? Why? Was it a hit and run or something?"

  Myron shrugged. "Not really sure. They haven’t told us anything yet. We’re all just waiting around to be questioned. They’re questioning everyone. Hey," he looked at me suddenly, his eyes bright, a smile on his face, "how’s that class you’ve been taking? The online one? You know, I could help you study for tests and things. I’m real good with stuff like that."

  I wondered what could make Myron think of a thing like that at a time like this. I didn’t even remember telling him about that class. "I dropped it," I said, turning away from him. The words left a bitter taste in my throat. I wasn’t in the mood discuss it.

  "Ava," Steven, my assistant manager, shouted from across the restaurant. A policeman stood beside him. All eyes turned to me. Steven waved me towards him. I looked at Myron and shrugged.

  "Hi, Steven," I said, my eyes moving to the policeman beside him.

  "Ava, could you step into the office a moment please?"

  "Er, sure," I said. "Should I clock in first?" I was curious what they wanted to talk to me about, but I was more concerned about not getting paid.

  "Yeah," Steven said. "Go ahead and clock in then come into my office. Don’t knock, just come in, okay?"

  I nodded and turned, hiding the smirk on my face. I couldn’t believe Steven had just referred to it as "his office." It was Mr. Brewster’s office, and I was pretty sure Mr. Brewster wouldn’t care for the implication that Steven was now in charge. Unless of course... I’d been right and Mr. Brewster had died. But that wasn’t possible.

  When I returned to the office and stepped inside, there were three men in there who I didn’t recognize. One was the uniformed policeman I’d seen standing next to Steven. The other two were detectives. I was no expert, but I’d watched enough crime drama on TV to know a detective when I saw one. They always wore suits and had close-cropped hair and were clean-shaven.

  "Ava Hart?" one of the detectives asked. I nodded. "I’m Detective Reynolds, this is Detective White. We’re investigating a car accident involving your boss, Mr. Brewster."

  I stared blankly at them. What could this have to do with me?

  The detectives looked at each other."Do you know Carter Stone?" the second detective asked.

  "Yes."

  "We understand you were with him at the hospital after his own car accident."

  "I was at the hospital with my daughter when Carter—Mr. Stone—was brought in. Why?" I didn’t like being questioned like this, especially without understanding why they were questioning me.

  "Mr. Stone claimed that his brakes had failed him and that was the reason for his accident."

  I waited. I already knew this.

  The detectives sighed. "Mr. Brewster’s claiming the same thing happened to him."

  "Are you saying..." My heart started to pound. "Are you saying that someone tried to kill Mr. Brewster... on purpose? And Carter too?"

  Detective Reynolds leaned in towards her. "The fact is, Miss Hart, we’ve checked the brakes on both cars, and it looks as though someone has tampered with them."

  I couldn’t believe what they were saying. "Have you talked to Carter?"

  "Someone’s talking to him now," Detective White said.

  I leaned back in my chair. "So why are you talking to me? You don’t think that I...?"

  "No, no," both detectives jumped in at once. "It’s only that you know both victims and we thought you might have something useful to contribute to the investigation. Perhaps you know of a common enemy they both share?" They looked at me hopefully, and I realized they were at a standstill in their investigation. They must not have any leads.

  "I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt them both. I’m sorry." It seemed so absurd. This was Dover Chase, sure there were barroom brawls—Carter didn’t have a monopoly on getting drunk and stupid—but people di
dn’t try to kill people here.

  Detective Reynolds removed a card from his pocket. "It’s alright, Miss Hart. If you do think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call us."

  "I will." The detectives excused me and I walked back out to the floor. Terri and Myron both came running up to me.

  "Well?" Terri breathed. "Is it true? Did someone really try to kill Mr. Brewster?"

  "Yes," I said, still reeling from the news.

  Myron let out a long, low whistle. "Gee," he said. "That’s too bad. What kind of monster would do something like that?" But something about Myron’s tone made it appear he wasn’t entirely sad to hear the news.

  24

  Carter

  The police left and I stood staring at the wall. I couldn’t believe what they’d spent the last twenty minutes talking to me about. Cut brake lines? I felt like I was getting punked. I kept looking around to see if anyone was going to jump out at me with a camera and a microphone. They couldn’t be serious. I couldn’t think of anyone who wanted to kill me.

  I laughed immediately at the naiveté of my thinking. Who was I trying to kid anyhow, except maybe myself? I’d had a lot of fights and made a lot of enemies. Ava was right. I drank way too much and I got into trouble every time I did. There was probably a list a mile long of people who would like to see me dead, including some of my teammates and even a few girls.

  The door to my bedroom banged open just then and Hannah came barging in. "What’s going on?" she demanded.

  I told her what the police had said about the cut brake lines.

  "The police think someone tried to kill you?" she asked. Her face paled. "I didn’t even know the cops were here. When did they leave?"

  I was confused; why had she come into my room demanding to know what happened if she didn’t know about the police? "You didn’t know they were here?"

  She swatted my arm. "Serves you right," she said. "I’ve told you time and again to stop picking fights with people. Now look what’s happened!"

  I stared at her with disbelief. "What the hell? Someone tries to kill me and you act like it’s my fault."

  "It probably is," she retorted. Something had gotten under her skin. "Now are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I gonna have to... to... hide your car keys till you do?"

  "They’re not my car keys, they’re Dad’s, remember? I crashed my car when someone cut my brake lines." I didn’t know what had gotten into Hannah but she wasn’t making any sense. "And what exactly is it you want to know, if it’s not about the police?"

  "Olivia came to talk to me," she said.

  "Oh?" I wondered whether Olivia had really gone to talk to Hannah, or whether Hannah had sought out Olivia to pry out some information. "So what?"

  "She says you’re having an affair with Ava. Is that true?" Hannah’s eyes were wide. I knew my sister well enough to understand that she was both angry at the idea I could be keeping something like this from her, and angry at the idea I had somehow seduced her old best friend.

  I hesitated, not sure of what to say. It seemed best to avoid the subject altogether if possible. "I tell you someone tried to kill me, and all you’re worried about is my sex life? That’s twisted Hannah, even for you."

  I turned my back to her and she almost fell for it. "I am worried about you. Of course I don’t want you dead." She came around to face me and saw the smirk on my face. Now I was screwed. "But I want to know what’s happening between you and Ava. Now."

  "Why do you care?" I asked, turning back around and facing her. "You haven’t even talked to Ava in like three years. Suddenly you’re best buds again?"

  "Hey, I tried to keep in touch," Hannah shouted, defending herself. "Ava’s the one who blew me off. I’ve never understood why, till now."

  "What does that mean?" I asked, my face going red.

  "It means that she must’ve realized then what a demented individual you are."

  "What exactly did Olivia tell you?"

  "That you’ve been running around with Ava behind her back. That you’ve probably been having an affair for years."

  I erupted with laugher. "Hannah, I haven’t seen Ava in the last three years any more than you have."

  Hannah took a deep breath. "So it’s not true then? You’re not sleeping with Ava?"

  I hesitated for just a moment and Hannah caught it. "No," I said. "No, of course not. Olivia’s just jealous because... because she’s Olivia. She’s always jealous of someone or something."

  "I’ve never seen her jealous like this before."

  "Then you haven’t been paying attention," I snapped.

  "Why are you and Olivia sleeping in separate rooms?"

  "She snores," I replied automatically. That was actually true too. Hannah couldn’t help the giggle that rose up. But she forced it away and her face immediately hardened once more.

  "Fine," Hannah said. "If you’re telling the truth, then I suppose I owe you an apology."

  I nodded, settling back down.

  "But if you’re lying to me," Hannah said. "I’ll find out. And then you’re gonna be in some real trouble. You think someone was trying to kill you before, just you wait." She slammed the door to my room.

  25

  Ava

  The area behind the register at Y-Mart was uncomfortable; the floor was too hard and the lights too bright. The counter enclosed me on all sides like a prison. There was a small wooden bar that ran across the counter, connecting the front to the back; you had to pull it up so that you could push the little swing door open and get out.

  Normally, I was a very conscientious employee. A hard worker. But at one in the morning, no one was around to see me lean against the counter and close my eyes. I started to dream of a wedding. Everything was white and beautiful. Lily was there. Her heart was fine.

  "Ava," a voice said.

  My eyes snapped open. I was staring at Hannah. I blinked, thinking that maybe I was still dreaming, but Hannah didn’t go away. "Oh, hey Hannah," I said, feeling uncomfortable. Though I still loved Hannah, I just didn’t know how to act around her anymore. Hannah was a movie star. I was working night shift at Y-Mart.

  Hannah smiled sweetly at me.

  "How are you?" I asked. How’s Carter? I heard about the police."

  "How did you hear that?" Hannah asked. Her face was almost glowing and I wondered what in the world was going on with my friend.

  "The police talked to me at the restaurant. They talked to everybody."

  "Oh," she said. "Carter’s fine," she was still smiling. "The one good thing about someone trying to kill you is that the police take what you tell them a little more seriously. They dropped the charges against him from when he hit that tree, so that’s good."

  "That is good." As angry as I was at Carter, I didn’t want him to be unjustly punished for something he didn’t do.

  "Yeah, except of course his lawyer is still billing him as though they’d had to go to court." She laughed.

  I started to fidget, I might not have been in touch with Hannah for the past three years, but I remembered her well enough to sense that she had an agenda. I looked around to see if a customer might come up to check out soon and interrupt us, but there was no one around except for a couple employees stocking shelves and a manager who was probably asleep in his office right now.

  "So..." I said, shifting my feet.

  "So," Hannah replied, staring at me.

  "Er, did you need something?" I finally asked after a minute of awkward silence.

  "Yes. Answers."

  I stared at Hannah, not understanding.

  "Are you having an affair with Carter?" Hannah suddenly asked.

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  I tried to regroup. "No, of course not. What are you... why would you even ask me something like that?"

  "Because," Hannah said. "Carter’s my brother and you’re my best friend and I’m nosy."

  "Well I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  "Is that
a fact?" Hannah asked, leaning towards me so that our noses were almost touching. This was an old trick Hannah had employed frequently when we were growing up. She thought that if she got close enough to my face, she’d make me so uncomfortable I’d either confess everything or get dizzy and fall down, in which case Hannah would know I was telling the truth. It seemed like a silly thing to do, but strangely, it worked.

  "Hannah, I haven’t seen you in three years," I said, stepping back and bumping my butt on the wall behind her register. "You don’t have the right to act like everything between us is just how it used to be."

  Hannah’s smile faded. "It’s not my fault," she whispered. "You stopped returning my phone calls. Didn’t answer my emails." She started to tear up and then I could tell she was getting angry.

  "I know," I said, avoiding Hannah’s eyes. "I’m sorry." I was too. Hannah had been like a sister. After I’d gotten pregnant, though, I just couldn’t face her.

  "Why did you stop talking to me?" Hannah asked. "Was it something I did?"

  I moved away from my register then and started stocking bags and receipt tape at all five registers, hoping if I seemed busy Hannah would go away. "No," I told her, "you didn’t do anything. I just... my life changed. I had Lily and I just... everything changed, that’s all."

  Hannah brushed away the stray tear that had fallen down her cheeks. "Lily’s three now, right?"

  I nodded. I shot a quick glance at Hannah whose mind seemed to be working overtime. I didn’t like the look in her eyes.

  "When did you start sleeping with Carter?" Hannah suddenly asked, excitement in her voice.

  I realized that my friend was sharper than I’d been giving her credit for. "Never," I blurted quickly. "I’ve never slept with Carter."

  Hannah looked at me dubiously. "So everything that Olivia told me—"

  "Olivia is a jealous bitch who doesn’t deserve Carter," I snapped before I could stop myself.