Reaching up, I dig into the neck of my T-shirt, taking my necklace out and grip the key Becks gave me. It feels like my lifeline to her. I’ll do anything she wants me to do. She possesses my soul. If I had only shut my mouth and used my dick instead, knocking her up, we’d be having a totally different conversation now. But no. I had to swing a sledgehammer into my own nuts.
I hoarsely relent, “I’ll give you time. I’ll leave you alone for a couple weeks.”
I don’t have a choice.
“Not completely alone. We can still talk at night on the phone. Kind of like how we used to when we were first getting to know each other.” Can I really go back to having that little contact with her? I thought seeing her merely on the weekends was hard enough.
“Alright,” I grudgingly mumble. I have to do it, but a couple weeks are way more than I can manage. I have to be able to sustain my hunger for her somehow. Someway.
I can’t fathom how Becks could be so calm as if she was reading the damned news. I could probably get her a job as an anchor. We’d actually see each other more than we do now—not a bad idea. I’d love flirting with her on Air and making her squirm in embarrassment. I’d love it so much I’d never get around to my highlights.
She changes subjects, though my mind is determinedly trapped on the former. “Do you really want to be our coach?” Coach? Not the topic I care about at the moment.
“Yeah, why? Don’t you want me to?” Is she going to take that from me next? Though, if she’s going to break up with me, there’s no way in hell I could see her after that. I would be the worst coach ever because instead of paying attention to the team, I’d be too busy watching Becks or groveling at her feet for her to take me back.
“It’s fine. In a way, we’ll get to spend more time together. However, I don’t want you giving me special treatment or showing me any kind of favoritism.”
“Favoritism? I don’t even like you.” Becks softly giggles and I reluctantly chuckle.
“There’s my funny boyfriend.” Will I still be your boyfriend in a couple weeks?
“That’s me. Funnier than a box of one-eyed clowns.” I again revel in hearing her laugh.
“I love you, Sparks. I want you to remember that.”
I lean onto my legs, hang my head and close my eyes. “I love you more, Becks. I don’t want you to forget that.”
Not really in the mood for company but definitely in the mood for drinks, I ultimately make my way down to the hotel’s lounge, keeping my head down and avoiding contact in case I’m recognized. It happens no matter where I go, especially in bars with Ricky. Women would throw themselves at me, which when I was single, I thought was rather flattering and sometimes tempting; however, most just wanted to get to know me as a potential father to their future children or because they saw me on TV. Thankfully, I managed to not fall into the lifestyle Ricky seemed to live for. I didn’t condone his behavior, but who was I to condemn it? I’m by no means perfect.
Casual dating—if that’s what you would call what Ricky used to do—is awkward and tedious, usually leading to mindless sex with random women. That may be a dream come true for a lot of single bachelors, but not for me, which was fine with Ricky since it meant more pussy for him. Nevertheless, he teased me, calling me “virginal,” making fun of me because of the lack of notches on my belt, but honestly, I can’t just sleep around like he did. I have to feel at least something for a woman first, even if it’s only friendship.
Before I met Becks, I didn’t date much, but I did have a kind of unspoken arrangement with Mavis, a waitress who worked at a bar Ricky liked to frequent, Jake’s. After she would finish her shift, we’d go to her apartment and have fast, meaningless sex. I wasn’t in love with her and I craved more. I was restless. I wanted something I didn’t know I could have someday, or would have.
I hadn’t been with that many women, which surprised Becks when I told her. She was my sixth, not including the blow jobs I received my junior and senior years from Justine Cress. We had an agreement. I would do her English comp. papers and she’d blow me. It wasn’t the most PC deal, but it was what it was.
Despite my so-called reputation as a ladies’ man, I never could have a one-night stand. It’s just not me. It’s funny because people have these preconceived notions about who I am that just aren’t true. I like to flirt with fans of my broadcast, but that’s as far as I ever let it go. It’s all in good fun, a part of my job to uphold the TV personality people think I am in real life.
On the contrary, I’ve always been a private person, not letting people delve into my personal life since I already have to share enough of myself with strangers. However, all of that flew out the window when I met Hadley Beckett. Before I left the ER, I knew I wanted to actually date her, to get to know her. I knew she was different than any other woman I had met, and we hadn’t even talked beyond what having a broken bone was like.
Looking around the dimly-lit and somewhat crowded room, I see Cara, Reed and Milo sitting in a booth in the back of the room, and I more than unenthusiastically walk over to them.
Reed, a director, boom operator, a producer and our jack-of-all-trades, looks me up and down as I slide in next to Cara as she makes room for me. “What’s the hell’s up with you, Wilder? You look like you just lost your best friend.” God, I hope not.
Not bothering to remove my black leather jacket, I glance to the bar, needing to get a drink. Distracted, I agitatedly utter, “Nothing.” I’m not telling them that my world may just have crashed.
“Didn’t think you were coming,” Milo says picking at a plate of cheese-laden French fries.
I mutter and rub my fingers around my eyelids, moistening my dry contacts. “I had to make a phone call.”
Reed looks at me before taking a drink of his beer. “Shoring up another dare?”
I move my hand to my lap and lean over the table, pointedly looking between the two of them. “No, but speaking of a dare, I have a doozy of one.”
Milo gasps. “You’re actually going to jump off the New River again?”
I blink twice, not expecting that guess. “Um, no. I do need to make an hour’s detour on the way home though.” Milo nods as if he was already expecting that.
Reed lightly pounds his fist on the table. “Any other bridge? A building? A stage? A candlestick? Anything?”
“No.”
Reed twists his mouth in bafflement. “Then what? For a long time now, your dares have been…tame.”
I look away from his intrusive grayish-green eyes and thin, graying hair as a waitress stops at our table, her eyes wide and seemingly glued to me, recognition glowing in her stare. Shit. Not trying to flirt, I slap on a polite, work smile, and she stammers. If I were in a better mood, I’d have some fun with her. Instead, I order a beer and she nearly runs into another waitress as she makes a nervous exit.
Milo says, “Easy, Wilder. Let’s not kill the poor girl.”
I testily frown at him before turning to Reed. “I know my dares have been lackluster, but I can’t do some of the heavier shit anymore.” Becks and I had been dating seven months before she saw me jump off the New River Gorge Bridge, and even though I had a parachute, she had a hysterical shit-fit when she saw me do the jump at the Bridge Day Festival, which was featured on The Wild Side. I had only told her that I was doing a special report from the bridge for the festival. I omitted telling her I was actually jumping off it. I know I should’ve told her instead of her finding out on live TV, but I didn’t want her to try and stop me, thus also the reason why I didn’t ask her to go with me. I had imagined her trying to stop me, live on the Air. When I came home, she gave me an ultimatum: her or the bridge—along with anything else taller than me.
The waitress returns to deliver my beer, her hand shaking, but she makes no mention that she knows who I am, to my relief. Cara stirs her drink while tightening her gaze on me. “Why have they been tame?”
Reed jumps in. “Shit. You’re only in your late 20’s, early
30’s. Don’t tell me you’re getting too old for it!”
Milo grins, his dark mustache spreading across his upper lip. “No. It’s because he promised his woman he wouldn’t.”
Reed frowns. “Oh, yeah. How’d you succeed in keeping a girlfriend secret for what was it, two years?”
I chomp on the inside of my cheek and sit back, dragging my beer with me. “Three.”
Reed shakes his head and adjusts his glasses. “Three. How in the hell did you do that? At least I didn’t know about her. Did you?” He looks at Milo.
Milo shrugs. “I did, but I only found out a short time ago.” That’s not true. Milo knew from the very beginning I had fallen in love with someone. Before that, he probably thought I was a manwhore and slept around like everyone else assumed. “Wilder’s good at keeping secrets,” he states, quite accurately.
Reed asks, “Why did you keep her a secret?”
“Because my private life is just that. Private. I don’t want to have it scrutinized by everyone I run into. End of story.”
Reed appears confused again. “But don’t they scrutinize it even more if you try to hide it?”
“Yeah, but I don’t give a shit about all the speculation. I only care about the truth and I know what that is.”
It’s Cara’s turn to be intrusive. “You said you’re not living with her. How’s that good for a long-term relationship?”
I warily scowl at everyone. “What’s with all these questions?”
She quickly counters, “What’s with all the hedging?” I indignantly roll my eyes and drink my beer.
Cara leans on me. “Well, we’re all your friends. You can talk to us.”
I keep the bottle close to my lips. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not. Why don’t you ask Milo about his girlfriend?”
Cara straightens and glances over at Milo. “I already know about Elsa. I know that she’s a loan officer at a bank, a vegetarian, allergic to cats, drives a Honda and wanted to be a dancer growing up.” She looks at me and I look away. “How about Hadley? Tell us about her.”
“What about her?” Why can’t she leave me the fuck alone?
Cara turns her body towards me. “I saw her from a distance at Chimborazo. She’s not ugly, and you said she’s not an FBI agent, hooker, blow-up doll or ghost.”
Milo laughs and grabs his beer. “Ugly? His Becks is quite pleasing to gawk at.”
Reed elbows him. “Are you saying she’s hot?”
“Hey, watch it,” I warn and irritably grip my beer bottle. I already want to go back to my room.
To Richmond.
To my Becks.
Milo nods. “Well, she is. She’s very pretty, Wilder.” Pretty? A sunset is pretty. Becks is gorgeous, beautiful and yes, hot, but I sure as hell don’t want any other man calling her that. Becks is mine to gawk at, and I do…that is, whenever we’re together. She complains I stare at her too much. I can’t help it. She’s the only woman who can render me rock hard without even trying.
I look at all three as they wait eagerly for me to fill them in. I solemnly frown and shake my head. “I lied, Cara. Hadley is an ex-hooker-turned-FBI-agent ghost with a blow-up doll as a partner.” I overplay my rueful expression and mockingly angle my head to the side. “How’d you guess?”
“Smartass.” So I’ve been told.
I nod and take a swig. “Yep.”
“Wow. I cannot believe how much you refuse to talk about her.” Cara turns her attention to Milo. “What else do you know about Hadley?”
“She’s nice.”
Cara presses her shoulder against my upper arm and leans her face closer to mine. Her perfume is strong, not unpleasant, just more than I’m accustomed to. “Do you have a picture of her with you?”
“No,” I lie again. I’m not giving her my phone to show her a picture of Becks in what she was wearing last Sunday or in a wedding gown, or the other 25 pictures I self-shot of us smiling and playing around, making weird faces at the camera. Those are extremely personal and are off-limits. I told Becks I would tell people we’re together, but that’s it. I’m not opening up our entire relationship for everyone to discuss and pick apart. My love life is nobody’s fucking business anyway. I don’t even tell Ricky all the intimate details about my girlfriend that she thinks I do. Not about her body, at least. Those are mine alone to know.
“Maybe there’s trouble in paradise,” Reed suggests, instantly putting me on the defensive.
“What makes you say that?” I snap.
He shrugs and steals a fry from Milo’s plate. “I thought I’d mention it and gauging your reaction, there seems to be.”
I look away and catch the waitress’ eye. I hold up my beer and she widely grins and nods, instantaneously regretting I didn’t ask for a bourbon instead.
Cara moves her hand along the seat, next to my leg. “Are there problems?”
I grind my teeth and grip my empty bottle in front of me. “Nobody cared before about my personal life and now that everyone knows I have a girlfriend, everyone wants to know all the details. There’s nothing to tell. I have a girlfriend. Period. Moving on,” I declare grouchily. Glancing at the bar, I sigh and turn back to my captive audience and try changing the subject, since I have their undivided attention. “So, what did you guys think of the station here? I know we weren’t there for long, but I think they’re running things a little better than we do. Thoughts?”
Milo nods. “I agree. More efficient, more organized, better staffed, and their Sports guy is nice-looking eye candy. That’s probably why their ratings are through the roof.” Everyone laughs and I scowl at him as my beer arrives, chugging half of it right away. “Hank will want a full report on what we need to improve. Do you have your dare of the week finished?”
I shrug, and realize Cara is still up against me. Marginally irritated, I move my arm and she sits up. “Almost. I have to finish editing it. I wanted to get it up and running as soon as possible since it’s sort of a sequel to last week’s. Tomorrow, we can tape my segment here and then put it together for Friday.”
Reed asks, “Why is it a sequel?”
I transiently gnaw on my lip, loving that Becks is part of another dare, yet hating that she’s… a part of another dare. It’s a no-win situation. “Sort of. It’s a follow up from a previous dare.” I hope they don’t ask for more details. They’ll find out soon enough. I honestly have had my fill of exposing my private life tonight.
Reed asks, “So, how does Hank let you get away with not doing the big dares anymore?”
Sighing in respite, I sit back and shrug. “He’s okay with it. It’s never been a requirement for me to do any of it. I just did those because I love doing them. Actually, I think he likes me not doing them for insurance reasons, but I think that’s why he wants me doing more dares in general, to make up for me no longer doing things like sky diving, paragliding and bridge jumping.”
Milo asks, “Did Hank ever ask you why you stopped doing those?”
“No. I don’t think he wants to ask because he’s afraid it might make me want to do them again.” I shake my head and take a swig of my nearly empty beer.
“I think he’d rather have his star alive than splattered on the pavement,” Reed observes. I contritely smirk before I finish off my beer.
Milo adds, “You haven’t walked on fire yet.”
“Hell, no. That’s one I don’t think I could ever do.” Or get laser surgery to fix my eyes. There’s a lot of shit I can’t do… I’m not infinitely daring. I have my limits.
Reed checks his phone. “Walking across hot coals? You won’t do that?”
“Nah. Third degree burns don’t particularly appeal to me.”
Reed rolls his eyes and scoffs, “You wouldn’t get that burned. Don’t be such a pussy.”
I frown and point my empty bottle at him. “Then you do it!”
He grimaces. “Hell no! I’m a pussy too!”
Cara stirs her mixed drink with a swizzle stick and taps my bicep with the other, laughing. “You never even told us! What’s the big dare you mentioned earlier?”
I clear my throat and set the bottle down, staring blankly at the brown glass. “I’ve been dared to coach a softball team.”
“What?” I peer up to Reed’s face falling in disappointment. “That’s all?”
I pithily inhale and prepare for the next barrage of personal questions. “I’ll be the head coach. I already talked to Hank about it and he said I could do live segments from the ball field. I emphatically look at Milo and Reed. “I’d need you there. I’m going to include footage from practices and games as part of my weekly report too.”
Milo nods. “Okay. What kind of team is it? High school? College?”
I chew on my lip again, thinking how to describe it without giving too much away. “Community. It’s a law firm I’ll be coaching. They’ll be playing against other businesses.” Our waitress must’ve read my mind, seeing I’m in desperate need, because she delivers another beer. I lift the bottle and between sips, shrug. “It’ll be fun.” That’s not why I’m doing it though.
Cara crosses her legs and brushes one against mine, and I move so she has room. She asks, “Who dared you?”
I briefly glance at her. “A friend of mine.” If I’d call Greg Rodwell that.
Milo’s eyes skeptically scour my face as I try to appear indifferent. “A friend dared you to coach a softball team? Is this something you actually want to do or are you doing it out of obligation to your friend?”
“I want to do it,” No. I need to do it, “but I can’t do it alone. Since the team is small, nobody from the firm will be able to coach; therefore, I’ll need some assistant coaches to cover me when I can’t be at practices or games because of work.”
“I used to play softball in high school,” Cara speaks up.
I sway my head to face her. “You did? What position?”
“Third base. I loved playing. I’ll help you coach, if you want.”
I contemplate that. “Really? I played first base in high school.” I nod. “Yeah. That’ll work. A buddy of mine would also be a good coach, but I haven’t talked to him yet. I think two assistants are plenty. You’d really want to help me coach a softball team?”
Daring the Wild Sparks Page 35
