by Alexa Martin
“It couldn’t have been that big of a shock. I’m with you every chance I get, and if I’m not next to you, I’m on the phone. I’m smitten, Marlee. Those articles may have been right in calling you a seductress.” He winks at me, effectively getting my mouth to function again.
“I’m not a seductress,” I tell him without any fight in my voice. “I’m just in love with an amazing man.”
When I’m finished speaking, the only noise in the room is our elevated breathing. Neither of us make a move to say something else or to touch each other. Instead, we stare at each other, taking in this moment. Both of us knowing after tonight, our relationship will never be the same. Knowing this isn’t a casual fling for either of us, emotions . . . hearts . . . are on the line.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” Gavin breaks the silence. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to make love to the woman I love. The woman who loves me back.”
“That was so much better than calling me a sexy rhino,” I say and watch his dimple appear.
“Lay back, Marlee. I told you I love you, now I’m going to show you.”
He’s standing in front of me, every perfect, chiseled inch of him on display. His erection standing large and proud, as if it too is declaring it’s love for me. He’s giving himself to me in a way I’ve never experienced. Unselfishly. Without wanting anything in return except to let him love me.
So angry mob and pitchforks be damned. The outside world is no longer so much as a memory in my head. Because Gavin Pope loves me and I love him right back.
I do as he says.
The second my head hits the pillow, Gavin’s body is covering me. His mouth hits mine and lacks the usual gentle touch. These kisses are frenzied, demanding. The power of his need is being poured out through his lips.
The angry mob and the dancing GIFs all fade to black, and I’m left alone with their football god, who spends the rest of the night worshipping me.
Twenty-nine
HERS is packed when I walk in the next afternoon.
We usually have a decent lunchtime crowd, but nothing like this.
New Year’s just passed, maybe it’s women spending time together at the end of the holiday season? Either way, I don’t care. I’m in love, and I’ve already had two orgasms this morning. Nothing is messing up my good vibes.
I’m making my way toward the employee room when I spot Brynn across the dining room. She’s smiling and talking with a customer, her hands flying all over the place, the expressions on her face changing with every word. I stop outside of the door, waiting for her to head my way when she’s finished taking the order. She sticks her notepad in the pocket of her apron and turns toward me. Except when she does, she doesn’t smile and yell a greeting across the room like she normally does. Instead, she stops in her tracks and her eyes grow to the size of quarters before she sprints toward me, just missing other waiters and diners as she does.
When she reaches me, she opens the closed door and pushes me inside so hard, I almost fall on my ass.
“What the hell?” I ask once I catch my balance.
“I had to warn you!” she shouts into my face as if I’m not only a foot in front of her.
“Warn me about what? That you’re really a Powerpuff Girl?”
“Did you see the crowd? I think they’re here because of you.”
“Really? You think the new promotions we put out brought them in?” I ask, despite Brynn’s mild freak-out.
“No! I mean, you know I love your promotions, but the majority of the people out there asked if you worked here the second they walked in. I think they’re all here because of the stuff with Gavin.”
Okay.
So something can mess with my good vibes.
#PleaseDontKillMyVibe
“Please tell me you’re messing with me to get back at me for the time I poured you vodka instead of water.” I fold my fingers together and bring them to my chin.
“I wish I was.” She reaches for my hands and wraps hers around them. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure most of them are just lookie-loos and want to get a gander at Gavin Pope’s girlfriend, but I’d understand if you wanted to head home.”
“You’re sweet, but no,” I tell her with steel in my voice. “They can say whatever they want on the internet, but here? In my job? They have another thing coming if they think I’m going to run and hide.”
“You’re a rock star. Let me know if anyone gives you a hard time though. I told my dad what was going on, and he offered to come in and sit at the bar like your own personal bodyguard.” Mr. Sterling, as nice as he is, would be a terrible bodyguard. He’s all of five foot seven and one hundred and sixty pounds. My smile must hint at where my mind was heading because before I can respond, Brynn starts talking again. “Oh. And he said he’d bring your dad too.”
Oh.
Shit.
My dad has a heart of gold and is as sweet as sugar . . . until you mess with his little girl. Then? #DaddyDontPlay
Like one time, this boy in third grade, Derek Fuller, decided I was going to be his next target. It started with the occasional tug on my pigtail and then grew to pinching. Then he started with the words. And I know they say words don’t hurt. But you know what? Screw them. Words hurt the worst. He would tell me how my hair was ugly and that I was fat. What a little asshole, right? Who calls someone fat in third grade? He would chase me around the playground yelling how stupid I was and how nobody liked me. Then, one day, he called me a half-breed and told me my dad shouldn’t be allowed to marry my mom. I went home that night in absolute tears. I mean, I won’t say I was color-blind—I loathe that term—but when I saw the different colors in my family, I felt nothing but lucky. And Derek tarnished that.
When I told my dad what happened? Shit. Hit. The. Fan.
Not only was he in school with me the next day, setting up a meeting with teachers and the principal and Derek’s parents, he called out of work for a week and sat at the back of my class, watching and making sure Derek didn’t so much as look my way. Some kids might’ve been embarrassed to have their dad at school, but not me. I loved every single second he was there. I loved the way Derek’s smug grin turned to pure fear when he walked into class the next day about to shout more poison at me.
And even though I’m a grown woman, I have no doubt in my mind that my Dad will call out of work and sit at the bar waiting to unleash on the first person who looks at me wrong.
“Oh no! Did Mr. Sterling call him?” I pull the door open, looking around for the giant black man completely out of place at a restaurant cluttered with Housewives pictures.
“Not yet. He said he’d call him if you’re getting a lot of grief and needed backup.”
“Oh thank god. Because unless you want my name in the news again because my Dad beat up some guy at HERS for accidentally coughing my way, it’d be for the best if we left him out of this mission.”
“I’m not going to stand here and sit by while some skank runs her mouth or some psycho football fan comes at you. If I have to call in our dads to make sure it doesn’t happen, you aren’t stopping me.” Her mouth is set and her arms folded across her chest. Dammit. She’s assuming her power pose.
“Fine. But let’s hold off on our biologically mandated protection until we know how things are going to go, okay?”
“Okay, but the first sign it’s getting bad, I’m calling.”
“Thank you,” I say. I head to my desk to get some marketing work finished before I join them on the floor. Maybe if I work back here for a couple of hours, the crowd will die down enough for me to do my job in peace.
#AGirlCanDream
I was right.
People have a lot of courage when they’re hidden behind their computers or phones. When they have the chance to say things to your face though, they don’t have the nerve.
Not that I
’m complaining. I talk a big game when it comes to dealing with the trolls attacking me at every chance on every article they can find—I lost an entire day of my life arguing with them. But I’m pretty sure if somebody said the crude, awful things being said about me to my face, I’d crumble to the floor and start sobbing.
* * *
• • •
I WALK INTO HERS before we open on Wednesday morning for a quick meeting. I don’t know what it is about Wednesdays and meetings, but they seem to follow me everywhere I go. We talk about the sales, the marketing and promotions I’m working on, and any new ideas we may have thought about over the previous week. However, unlike the meetings with the Lady Mustangs, we get shit done. They’re productive and I actually look forward to them.
“We have a reservation for twenty this evening,” Brynn says. “I asked where they heard about us and they said a friend recommended us. How exciting is that? Our first big party!”
“So exciting!” I give her a high five. “I’ll be in the back, but let me know if you need any extra help.”
The afternoon passes in the blink of an eye, and once I’m caught up on emails and the new project I’m working on, I join Brynn out front. The sun has already set and I see a few snowflakes falling in front of the streetlights. I’m counting our bottles at the bar when I hear the front door open and a familiar voice calling my name.
“Marlee!” Naomi says.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” I’m excited to see her, until she gets closer and I see the look of terror on her face. “What’s wrong? Is Dre okay? Is Gavin okay?”
“Where’s your phone? I’ve been calling you for hours!” She ignores my question about our guys and causes my worry to increase. My heart races, and my palms sweat as I prepare for her to tell me Gavin was injured at practice or Dre’s recovery went south.
“It’s in the back. I don’t check my phone when I’m at work.” I rush the words out, only thinking about one thing. “Nay. Are the guys all right?”
“Oh, honey, this is so much worse than a football injury,” she tells me before the front door opens and giggling fills the room. I look over her shoulder just in time to see Courtney walking in with Madison.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whisper, my teeth clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried! Up until this afternoon, I thought we were going to the sushi place by my house. I’m guessing they held up telling me so I couldn’t warn you. Are you going to be okay?”
“Dammit. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be long until they showed their faces here.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. I refuse to give the reaction they’re hoping for. “Okay. I’m fine. Here, I’ll show you to your table.”
Naomi watches me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, but even under her disbelieving stare, my plastic smile never wavers. She sits in her seat at the same time Brynn arrives at the table.
“Hey, Nay! What are you doing . . . ?” Her eyes widen as she figures out the answer to her question before she even finishes asking it. “Oh shit. The Lady Bitches are our big party?”
“Yup. Batten down the hatches, cause I have a feeling shit is about to get ugly.”
And right on cue, Madison and Courtney appear at the opposite end of the table.
“Marlee? Oh my goodness. I totally forgot you worked here.” Courtney should really ask Naomi for some acting tips because this fake surprise thing she’s trying to pull off is about as inspiring as Mariah in Glitter.
Madison, on the other hand, doesn’t even try. Her annoyingly perfect face doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. Fine with me. This is the first time I’ve seen her since she info-dumped my life to all of the crazies on the internet, and I’m pretty sure if she said something snotty to me right now, I’d ninja leap over the table and kick her in the face.
Disclaimer: I don’t know how to ninja leap, but I feel like it’d just come to me.
“Hey, Court!” I call across the table and watch with joy as her smile fades a tiny bit. “I hope you enjoy your dinner. I’m at the bar tonight, but I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Before she can respond, I turn on my heel and hustle my way to the bar, which is where I stay as Amber, Dixie, and the rest of the wicked wives bring themselves in from the cold.
Brynn and Paisley both work their table. They’re always great about good service, but once they realize who these women are, they take it up a level. After they take their orders, I make sure to have them put in an order of our street tacos for Nay. No way is she only eating a salad with me nearby.
Once their meeting comes to an end, I bring them over a few bottles of Skinny Girl on the house to sip on while they gossip. Even when I know most of said gossip is going to be about me. #BiggerPerson
“So . . . you’re a bartender?” Courtney asks, disdain evident, before I can make my escape.
“I’m the head of marketing, but I help with the bar when I get a chance.”
“How nice for you. You look much more at home behind a bar than you do at the games.”
I know she was making a jab at me. It’s just too bad it makes no sense. I know this is my opportunity to get away, but instead of taking it, I climb into the mud with her. #NotTheBiggerPerson
“How are you feeling today? I know Sunday must have been pretty hard for you.” I pull my eyebrows together and try to look as concerned as possible. When I notice the smile on Naomi’s face out of the corner of my eye, I know I’m successful.
She isn’t expecting me to come back at her. Only a minute in and I already have her color rising. I know I’m supposed to be all customer service and kindhearted, but they bring out the ugly in me. After the game Kevin had, I can’t believe she has the audacity to try and stir shit up with me.
“I was going to ask you the same question. I’ve been reading the articles they’ve been posting. People are pretty upset with you.” She tries to mirror my expression, but all the Botox makes it impossible.
“You read?” I ask at the same time Naomi takes a sip of her water, causing her to spit it across the table and onto Dixie’s empty glass.
“Shit,” she croaks out in between coughs. “I’m so sorry.”
“Really, Naomi. Get a grip,” Madison—MADISON!—says.
Oh. Hell. No.
It’s one thing to come after me, I can handle it. But go after my friends?
No, bitch.
“I’m sorry, Madison. Do you have something to say?”
“Not to you.” She crosses her arms and looks at Naomi instead of me.
“No. I think you do. First, you give my personal information to anyone who will print it, then you show up at my job, and now you’re being a straight-up bitch to my best friend. What’s your deal?”
Now, I may talk a lot (like tons) of shit in my head, but it’s rare for me to say it out loud. Confrontation isn’t my thing, but sometimes it has to happen. And this is one of those times.
“You’re not worth my time, Marlee. You’re nothing but a pathetic cleat chaser, and I have no room in my life for someone like you.” Her arrogant tone carries across the room and causes all the chatter at surrounding tables to stop.
“Madison.” Naomi tries to wrangle her in. “You need to stop.”
“Was I talking to you, Naomi?”
Here you go, ladies and gents. Dinner and a show. There’s a two drink minimum and please, don’t forget to tip your waiter.
“Really? Someone like me? You’re dating my ex. You’ve chosen a profession centered around athletes, and I’m the cleat chaser? Do you hear yourself?” I can’t decide if I want to laugh, scream, or cry, so I settle on a mix of all three. It might not be the best option, but at least it gets her to look at me.
“Loud and clear. You date Chris, you slept with god only knows how many of his teammates, then, the se
cond you see an opportunity to get in with a player who makes more money, you leap at it. Playing victim, acting like Chris was the cheater, faking a mugging. All some pathetic attempt at getting your greedy hands on Gavin.” She stops and points one manicured finger at me. “You. Are. Trash.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor when she’s finished with her rant, and the ninja skills I was hoping for never kick in.
“What in the actual fuck are you talking about?” I’m dumbfounded. How she can say all of those things as if they’re absolute facts is either disturbingly impressive or just plain disturbing. “Did someone tell you those things, or is your pretty head so screwed up all you do in your free time is fabricate these outrageous stories about me?”
“You hate me because I see you for what you really are, don’t you? That I don’t buy the innocent, naive victim story you’re selling.” Her face is all scrunched up, and for the first time, her outside starts to match her inside. “You should count your blessings I love Gavin and didn’t want him to hear the truth about you in the paper.”
“And you should count your blessings nobody’s caught on to your brand of crazy and locked your ass up.”
“Screw you, Marlee. Just you wait,” she carries on, oblivious to the camera phones around her. “Gavin’s going to wake up one morning and realize you’re the biggest mistake of his life. And I’ll be there waiting.”
“And you’re going to be Grandma Barbie waiting that long because . . .” Pause for drama. “It’s. Never. Gonna. Happen.” I roll my neck with each word.
“You’re a toy for Gavin—a fetish.” She cuts me with her tongue. “His sister’s my best friend. She doesn’t trust you. His parents are best friends with my parents. Our mothers have planned our weddings since we were in diapers. Do you think his family is going to welcome you with open arms? And does Gavin seem like the kind of guy to choose a girl like you over his family?”
