Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection Book 3)

by Leigh James

  Now my sister had done an end-run around me to Chase's soon-to-be-ex-wife. She was going to ruin everything. No wait, I thought, you're the one wrecking everything. You're the hooker.

  You're the problem, and you're the one that's going to ruin Chase's life.

  I had to get out of his house and away from Chase. I couldn't do this to him. I believed that deep down, he cared about me, but no one wanted this sort of destruction. He put his career first, and I just wasn't worth the risk. I came from nothing and had nothing to offer him, except for his downfall.

  I ran up the stairs and started packing.

  * * *

  CHASE

  I came back from a team meeting, starving. I wondered if Avery wanted to go to the North End for pasta all'Arrabiatta and steamed mussels. And fresh bread. And cannolis from Mike's Pastry…

  "Babe?" I called. She didn't answer. I poked my head into the kitchen, and not finding her there, I bounded up the stairs. "Ave? Are you up here?" I opened the bedroom door and saw her raggedly zipping up a suitcase.

  My heart stopped. "What're you doing?"

  She wouldn't look at me. She kept wrestling with the zipper, finally getting around the corner and securing the suitcase. "I have to go."

  "Go where?"

  She looked at me wiped the sweat from her forehead. Then she put her hands on her hips. "To my boyfriend's."

  I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut, hard. "What?"

  Her eyes were cold, distant. "I said, I'm going to my boyfriend's house. My real boyfriend's house."

  I opened my mouth and closed it. Then I took a step back and leaned against the wall for support. "What the fuck are you saying to me?"

  "I have some other bad news for you," she said, and now her voice was shaking. "I saw a picture of Jessica and Pax today. I think my sister's at their house."

  I opened my mouth again to speak but nothing came out.

  She took a step toward me, her eyes softening a fraction. "I am so sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I don't know what she's doing, but obviously, it's going to be terrible. I didn't tell you…she asked me for money. Lots of money. Or she said she'd tell the press about me."

  "How much?"

  "Two million dollars."

  "When the hell did she do that?"

  Her eyes searched mine. "A few days ago."

  "Babe." I slumped back against the wall. "Why didn't you tell me? At least give me the opportunity to do some damage control?"

  "I didn't want you to know." Now her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't want you to hate me."

  "I could never hate you—"

  "But I heard you. On the phone with Eric. Talking about me and Lila."

  I shook my head. "So? I told him that I didn't trust her, and that I thought she was taking advantage of you—"

  "I heard you say it was a bad idea," she cut me off. "That hiring me was a bad idea."

  "That was Eric. And that's not what he said. Not exactly." My heart was pounding in my chest. He said he was worried you were becoming a liability. Which was exactly what I'd been thinking. I could feel myself turning red with shame.

  "It doesn't really matter. You know it's true." Her voice shook.

  "No it's not—"

  "You don't even know all the bad things about me. About my family," she said, cutting me off again. "And you don't want to know." Now she was crying.

  "Of course I want to know—" I reached for her.

  She took a step back and wiped her face roughly. "Really? You want to know that my mother was a junkie? That she overdosed my senior year of high school? That she used to bring home dirty men to have sex with so they'd pay for her drugs? Doesn't that make me just perfect for you, Mr. Golden Boy?"

  I felt as though my heart was going to break. "Babe. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Please."

  "Of course you didn't know! Why would anyone want to know something that ugly?"

  "I want to know. I care—"

  "Even your own mother said that you aren't thinking straight right now. That nothing's more important to you than football."

  I raised my hands in exasperation. "My mother loves you. And you already know there's nothing more important to me than football."

  She took another step back and nodded. "You're right. I do." It was as though an iceberg had erupted between us, shooting up from the floor.

  Chase Layne was royally fucking this up.

  She grabbed her suitcase and headed toward the door. "I'm sorry about my sister. She wants to talk to me. I'll see what I can do to make her come to her senses." I could see the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed. "I know you'll never be able to forgive me for this, but that's nothing in comparison to how I feel about myself. So I'm going now."

  Oh, fuck no. This was spiraling out of control.

  I stepped in front of her. I felt terrible about Avery's mother, but I also felt desperate. And angry. "So you're running off to your boyfriend's house—your real boyfriend's house—to lick your wounds?" I watched her face as her chin wobbled a little, her resolve cracking. "I don't believe you. That's fucking bullshit."

  Avery gripped her suitcase. "We hadn't figured out an exit for me, but this seems like a good time. It's probably better for me to get out before the news breaks. Maybe you can say you didn't know the truth." She started toward the door again.

  "Not so fast. Your real boyfriend can wait. Right now you have some explaining to do to your fake one."

  She straightened herself. "You can come up with a story to protect yourself. Tell them Eric hired me without your knowledge. Tell them you had no idea I was an escort. But if I'm here, I won't be able to lie. They'll be able to see the truth."

  I took another step toward her. "Just like I see the truth right now? You're lying, babe. There's no one else but me."

  "I have to go." She tried to walk out again and I moved to block her. "What I don't have to do is see your life ruined and know that I'm responsible for it."

  "So which one is it?" I asked, my eyes searching her face. "Are you leaving to go to your real boyfriend's house? Or are you leaving because you think you're going to protect me?"

  "I'm going to my real boyfriend's house." The words sounded dead coming from her lips.

  "I don't think so." We looked at each other for a beat. "Tell me you don't love me."

  She looked as though she was going to start crying again. "I care about you. You've been very kind to me since I've been here. It's been an honor getting to know you."

  "Babe. Look at me." I took a step closer. "Tell me you don't love me."

  Avery looked at me. "I don't love you," she said. Then she walked around me and out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AVERY

  With the money remaining in my wallet, I'd bought five boxes of Kleenex.

  And five bottles of wine.

  I was in bed, empty bottles on my nightstand and a wad of crumpled tissues spread out all around me. I felt like Lila.

  Fucking Lila.

  I laughed, and then I started crying again. Laughing reminded me of Chase.

  Tell me you don't love me. I'd been so cruel. The look on his face when I'd walked out the door was going to haunt me forever.

  But he'd told me the truth: football was the most important thing to him. And because I loved him, I had to walk away. He couldn't have his football and eat it, too. Or whatever.

  I blew my nose loudly.

  I'd known this was going to end badly; I just hadn't known it was going to end this badly.

  I blew my nose again. And opened up another bottle of wine.

  * * *

  CHASE

  I woke up the next morning and realized something.

  I am a fucking idiot.

  I told her that football was the most important thing to me. That's because it always had been. I loved football. It was my whole life.

  But something wasn't adding up. If football was my whole life, why did I feel as though my whole life was decim
ated this morning?

  This got back to the part where I was a fucking idiot. This whole time, I'd been withholding myself from Avery. Keeping one foot out the door. Because of my precious fucking season and my precious fucking reputation. As if I was too good for her.

  As if she might be a liability.

  But none of that mattered to me right now. Just the fact that she was gone.

  Which meant…that I was a fucking idiot.

  * * *

  AVERY

  I'd stolen one of Chase's Warriors T-shirts and stuffed it into my suitcase. I smushed it against my face, inhaling his scent, and then roughly put it on.

  I missed Chase Layne. I missed his big, meaty hands and his smile. I missed him asking me to make him a snack. I missed snuggling with him and watching our show. I missed him referring to himself in the third person, even though it was seriously annoying sometimes.

  I thought about crying some more, but my tear ducts felt dry. Damn them. At least I felt a spark of anger—that was better than sobbing.

  I decided it was the perfect time to try my sister again.

  "Ave?" She surprised me by picking up on the first ring.

  "Where are you?" I asked immediately.

  "Out-of-state," she said nonchalantly.

  My stomach dropped. I hadn't seen any more pictures, but I was taking an educated guess that she was still with Jessica and Pax. She was probably living in their house and making an absolute mess out of it, smoking, sponging off of them and drinking their booze.

  A sick part of me hoped that was the truth. They all deserved each other.

  "What about you? Have you been keeping busy pretending to be a Boston socialite?" she asked.

  "Something like that," I said. "How're you doing for money?"

  "I already told you what I needed."

  "And I told you that you couldn't blackmail my client." I winced, thinking of Chase. "I can send you some money, if you need it. Just tell me where."

  "I'd take you up on your offer, but another lousy thousand dollars isn't going to help me," she sniffed. "I need more than that. I told you."

  "For what? Another new pocketbook?"

  "No," Lila said icily. "For some self-care that I've been putting off for far too long."

  I was getting a Lila headache. "What sort of self-care?" What the fuck is self-care, anyway?

  "Botox for my lips. They're too thin. And I was thinking I need a breast lift, too."

  The silence between us stretched over the phone. "You want plastic surgery?" My sister was twenty-five years old, and she was stunning. "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I know you live in a bubble, Ave, and that you have a gorgeous millionaire taking care of you now, but the rest of us aren't living like that." My sister paused dramatically. "Eighteen-year-olds have their lips done now. Haven't you watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians recently?"

  "No. I haven't." Thank God.

  "Well," Lila continued, "I need to do these things so that I can feel good about myself. I spent my whole life feeling bad about who I am. Don't you want me to be happy? Don't you want me to have proper self-esteem?"

  Honestly? I was pretty sure she didn't want to hear my answer at the moment.

  I took a deep breath. "Where are you?" I asked again.

  She didn't answer me for a minute. "I'm down South," she said, noncommittally.

  "Down south where, Lila?"

  "In Tennessee."

  "With Jessica and Pax?"

  "I'm not with The Tooth Fairy," she said.

  Even though I'd already known where she was, my stomach still sank like a stone. It still crushed me that she would take this step. That she would betray me so blatantly.

  "Why don't you ask Jessica for the money to get your lips plumped up? It looks like the sort of thing she knows all about." An image of Lila and Jessica getting their lips injected side-by-side came to me. "You know what, Lila? I hope you're having fun with her. She seems about your speed."

  "Actually, she's kind of bitch," Lila admitted.

  "No," I said, in mock surprise. "You don't say."

  "If you and Chase give me the money, I won't do what she's asking." Lila sounded earnest, and I knew from a lifetime of experience that meant I was about to be played.

  "What's she asking?"

  I could picture Lila twisting her hair, calculating how much money she could haul in from all of us. "She wants me to go to the press with your story."

  "Lila. The only way Jessica knows about my story is because you got in touch with her and told her. And I'm sure you're trying to get a ton of money out of her, too, while you're busy sponging off them and simultaneously calling me, looking to double-dip."

  Lila sighed. "If you don't help me, she's the only one I can turn to. You know I don't have anybody else."

  I didn't know what to do with my sister. She was the only family I had left, but she made it seriously hard to love her sometimes. "I'll get back to you." At the moment, that was all I could promise.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CHASE

  When I was this upset, there was only one thing that could make me feel better. So I took matters into my own hands.

  I called Reggie and asked him if he'd meet me to play catch.

  I wanted to call Avery as I drove out to the field. But I felt desperate, off-balance. And in my book, that was the opposite of desirable. I couldn't let her see me like this. My face was still red and puffy from…you know.

  I wouldn't see her until I got my shit together.

  I threw the ball repeatedly at Reggie, but my head wasn't in it.

  "What's going on?" he asked. "You forget how to throw a football?"

  "No. I think I just suck today."

  Reggie shook his head. "What are you, hungover?"

  "No."

  "You stay up too late with that beautiful girlfriend of yours?"

  I shrugged, feeling grim.

  "Whoa. Seriously, what's your problem?" Reggie looked alarmed. "Is Pax coming back or something?"

  I groaned. "Jesus. I hope not."

  "So what's up?"

  I tossed the football up and caught it, and then I did it again. And again. "Avery's a hooker." I threw Reggie the ball.

  Reggie seemed to consider the football for a moment and then lobbed it back to me. "For real? They have hookers that look like that?" Reggie had been married for over twenty years. He appeared baffled.

  I nodded. "For real. Eric hired her so that Jessica and Pax wouldn't make mincemeat out of me in the press and ruin my season. Our season."

  Reggie motioned for the ball and I threw it to him. "So is she a hooker…or is she your girlfriend?"

  "She's a hooker. And she's also my girlfriend." I shrugged. "Maybe my ex-girlfriend."

  Reggie scowled at me. "She was your hooker first, and then she was your girlfriend. But now she's your ex-girlfriend. Got it."

  "That's right. I think it is, anyway."

  "You don't seem happy. So what're you going to do about it?"

  "I don't know what I'm doing about it," I admitted.

  Reggie jogged toward me and tossed me the ball. "But you're doing something about it." He seemed pretty sure of himself.

  "Definitely." I swallowed hard. "But I'm worried that the press is going to find out about her."

  Reggie nodded and caught another pass easily. "Of course they will."

  I searched my friend's face. "Does it make me a dick that I'm worried about what's going to happen to my reputation?"

  "Naw," Reggie said, ever loyal. "It only makes you a dick if you leave that poor girl because you're worried about it. If you really fell in love with her, and you're man enough to face her past, to me, you're a fucking hero." He grinned. "You're my hero, anyway."

  "If I haven't told you lately, Reggie, you always make my day."

  Reggie ran out for another long pass. After he caught it, he bowed to me. "You're Chase Layne, for Christ's sake. Nothing to be ashamed of. Show everyb
ody what you got. If you're cool, they'll be cool. Right?"

  There was a reason Reggie had been married for over twenty years. He knew when to grease the wheel, and he knew how to love someone after he'd seen the cracks in their pavement.

  "Right," I called.

  * * *

  The next phone call I made was to Tennessee. To Pax.

  "Huh?" he said when he answered the phone.

  "It's Chase. Don't hang up."

  "I know who it is. But…seriously?" He went quiet for a second and I heard some muffled moving around.

  "What do you want?" he finally asked, his voice low. "I just went out back. If Jess hears me on the phone with you…"

  "Oh, trust me—I know. Bitches be crazy," I said.

  He laughed and then, remembering who he was talking to, stopped himself. "What do you want?"

  "I want to talk to Lila."

  "Why?" Pax asked.

  "Because I want to take her off your hands. I'll let her blackmail me instead. You won't have to give her the fuck-ton of money I know she's looking for."

  He sighed. "I don't think Jess'll let me do that."

  "So don't tell her. It's not like she's planning on using her money, anyway. Am I right?"

  "She wants me to give Lila a million dollars so she'll do an exclusive interview with us," he admitted. "I told her it's not a good time, with the trade and all…"

  "Don't do it," I said. "I'm not even saying that to screw you or to protect myself. I'm serious. It's the man code. Jess is taking so much of my money—trust me, she could afford to pay Lila herself. But she doesn't want to use her money. She wants to use your money."

  Pax groaned. "You know, it doesn't matter. Even if you give the sister what she wants. Jess knows the truth now about your girl. And trust me, she's not going to let it go."

  "You let me worry about that. And dude…"

  "What?"

  "Get a pre-nup."

  Pax grunted. "We never had this conversation."

  "Fine. Just put the sister on the phone."

  * * *