I get up to leave.
"Have an awesome day everyone, and direct the rest of your questions to my guys here." I place my hands on their shoulders. "The best players in the game today."
I'm starting to wonder if Myra's problem is that she's always had a thing for me. When I get up to leave she watches me as if the real story is wherever I'm going. Like she's dying to follow me. She packs up her things to leave too, so she obviously has no interest in asking Kimball or Cooper any questions, which is stupid. They were a big part of why we won today.
I'm already on a high because we beat Texas, in their own house, but that feeling only mushrooms once I see her pretty ass. I have to forcibly restrain myself when she approaches because standing right beside her are four of Carson Financial's finest, including that nutsack Jason. Gah! This royal pain in my butt has been sniffing up her ass so hard lately; it's taking every bit of self control I have not to say something. But I know I can't. I've promised Sabrina that we'd keep things private and professional at work. So why the fuck did she bring her coworkers to my game then?!
"Hello, everyone."
"Hey, Mr. Stevenson!" Kate waves.
Everyone says hello and congratulates me on the win. Sweet little Kate describes their flight in great detail and how lovely it was to fly first class.
"And we had mimosas for free," she says. "And a nice chicken sandwich."
"I'm glad you liked it, Kate."
I notice that both Sabrina and Jason are a little quiet, but I leave it alone for now.
"I thought you guys could get cleaned up at the hotel and then we can go to dinner and maybe to this karaoke bar next door," I say.
Something I had Brad arrange when I thought it was going to be some of Sabrina's college friends. I was going to win them over with good food then some of my bad singing.
"Can't wait," her friend Marisol says.
"Thanks, Saint." Is all Sabrina manages to say. It's bugging me how quiet she's being.
"You're welcome."
Jason looks silently between us with a sullen look. I wonder what that look is all about.
"You coming, Jase?" I blurt out.
"Wouldn't miss it," he counters.
Chapter Twenty-One
SAINT
On the way to the hotel ...
Jason: By the way, I met a friend of yours.
Saint: How'd you get my private number?
Jason: It's in the file at work.
Saint: What friend?
Jason: Her name is Adrianna
Saint: Why are you talking to her?
Jason: She's a friend of a friend.
Saint: Well she's no friend of mine.
Jason: That's not the story she's going to tell Sabrina.
Saint: I haven't seen that bitch in years.
Jason: She says differently. So Sabrina's off limits to you. You picked the wrong girl to play games with. Go find another.
Saint: You're about three years too late, asshole.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SABRINA
I've come to the distinct conclusion that people tell you not to shit where you eat for a good reason. Messing around with a client is bad business. I'm living this huge lie. I'm miserable. And now Jason is involved.
On the flight to Houston, Kate sat with Marisol, Samuel sat next to a business traveler, and Jason and I sat together. After the stewardess served us lunch and a drink, we started talking ...
"Are you a nervous flier?" he asked.
"No, do I seem nervous?"
"Yes, but I'm starting to think it might not be due to flying at all. You've been kind of distant with me lately."
"How so?"
"I mean I guess you’re busy right? Now that you have Spin."
"Totally busy. They have so much going on it's unbelievable. I had no idea it took so much to take care of three grown men."
"Yeah," Jason chuckled. "I guess it was a good thing you got a little experience working with Saint under your belt."
"Right! It's like three Saints plus all of these other people in their lives."
"So what are your thoughts about possibly leaving the sports division now that you have Spin full time."
I lifted my head off the window and turned it completely towards him.
"I didn't have any thoughts about leaving. Is there a problem?"
He sighed.
"A little one."
"What? I thought I've been holding my weight. I got Saint three major endorsement meetings, and all three sent over pretty decent proposals. I mean you should know all of this seeing as how it's documented to death."
"Don't get snippy, Sabrina." He looked around to see if anyone was listening. "I'm just trying to have a conversation with you."
"Is this coming from both you and Sam?"
He sighed again as if our conversation was so painful for him.
"I know all about Saint Stevenson specifically requesting you be his account manager," he said in an almost accusatory tone.
"Peter told you that?"
"He's worried."
"Not worried enough to say no to Saint's demands."
"Why didn't you tell me something? I could have helped you."
"With what?"
"Sabrina, this is all a game to someone like Saint. I've worked with all sorts of players before, and while I wouldn't stereotype all of them this way, a lot of them can be real pieces of work. This guy's probably never heard the word no his entire life."
"I thought the same thing at first, but the more I get to know him, the more that I think I've misjudged him."
"What are you saying right now? He's the poster boy for it! That stunt with him taking you to his family's house. He was trying to convince you that he was a good guy. Meet the family. Trust him. I know it seems farfetched and ridiculous that he would go through all of this to get in your pants, but he's used to women who will do anything to get into his. He wants a challenge so badly, that he signed over a year of his life to Carson just to get it."
"You guys all right up there?" Marisol tapped the back of my seat.
"Yeah, we're good," I answered when I was anything but.
It's not like I hadn't thought about any of the things he was saying. I'd raised the same questions to myself over and over. I fought what I was feeling for so long and now that I've lowered my defenses, I wonder. Have I made a mistake?
"There's a reason why you asked me to go to this game, Sabrina. Just like there's a reason why your best friend back there doesn't know anything about what Saint has been up to. You know it's wrong and you want me to stop you."
"That's crazy," I angry whisper. "I invited you all here, because I thought the sports division would like to go to one of our client's games, and because Marisol and Kate are my friends. There were no other hidden meanings behind the invitation."
"You sure about that?"
"I'm sure."
After that I turned my head back towards the window and stared at the various cloud formations we were flying over. Playing every doubt Jason managed to dredge up over and over in my mind. After about ten minutes, he spoke again.
"I'm sorry. I'm just looking out for you."
"I know."
"I really like you, Sabrina. I have for a very long time. I didn't want to complicate our work relationship by starting anything serious, but I'm starting to see that may have been a mistake."
I turned my head back in disbelief.
"What?"
"You can't possibly think I would drive all the way to Brooklyn every Sunday just to teach you about football. I wanted to spend time with you outside of work, and I was using any excuse to do it."
"Why wouldn't you just ask me for a date?"
"I was being respectful of our work relationship. Like I said, I may have handled things wrong. But that's over now. I'm throwing my hat into the ring. I'm asking you to consider having a real and honest relationship with me. One where we grow our careers and our lives together in a true symbiotic w
ay. One that you can tell your friends about. One that you can talk to your partner about work with. One that's going to last. One with me."
Saint didn't string together more than five sentences to me before dropping us off at the hotel. I've never seen him so annoyed. I'm starting to become paranoid. Wondering if by some magical way he knows all about Jason's confession to me. Of course he doesn't. But now that I've let Jason get into my head, I'm losing my grip on reality and questioning everything.
Gunslinger: Be downstairs at 7.
Me: Okay
Gunslinger: You're going to eat right?
Me: Yes
Gunslinger: What's with the one-word answers?
Me: Just tired
Gunslinger: I'll see you in an hour.
Dinner is at a five-star steak and seafood house. Everything is char-grilled over an open fire (not really sure how they do that), but it tastes really good and the room is beautiful. The restaurant has unique very long family styled tables that can seat up to five or six dinner parties depending on the size. The only thing I didn't care for was the moose head on the wall but I try my best to pretend as if it wasn't staring at me all night.
Jason stays close to me through dinner although we don't say much to each other. I didn't know what to really say after he threw down the gauntlet like that. It would have been nice to hear all of that a year ago, but now? Not so much.
Things have changed.
Saint is being his usual outgoing self. Flirting with waitresses. Ordering drinks. Graciously giving autographs to the line of people that seemed to recognize him. Yet through it all, I can feel him watching me carefully out of the corner of his eye.
When it's karaoke time, I'm ready to go back to my room and go to sleep. I don't feel like singing, but there was no way Marisol or bubbly Kate were ever going to go for that. They were in Texas, and they wanted to party.
Sam goes first. He's a quiet man. Married with two kids and he keeps to himself, but I could tell that this was a trip he couldn't wait to tell his buddies all about. He's oblivious to all of our drama and seems to genuinely enjoy the evening and Saint. His song selection is the old classic Hall & Oates song "Private Eyes." An appropriate selection for the evening.
Next up is Marisol. She's miffed that they don't have any current salsa hits by balladeer Marc Anthony to choose from, so she settles with "Rhythm is Gonna Get You" by Gloria Estefan. Marisol can actually carry a tune and is probably going to be the best singer of the night.
Kate steps up next and thankfully brings the room into the twenty-first century with "Ex's and Oh's" by Elle King. She drags me up kicking and screaming for the latter part of the song, but I'm glad that she does, because it raises my spirits and temporarily gets me out of my own thoughts.
Jason asks me to sing the "A Whole New World" duet from the Disney movie Aladdin, but when I decline, he decides to pass on performing a song altogether. Then sits there with a screwed up face.
Saint on the other hand is feeling no pain and it's almost as if he's chomping at the bit to sing. I know this is going to be bad. I just didn't know how bad. His song selection is Ginuwine's "Pony." Complete with raunchy stripper moves and dedicated especially to me.
He's a little angry.
And a lot drunk.
I know the best thing would be to cut the night short and get him back to the hotel where he can sleep it off.
But after his last pony gyration in front of my face, and a lot of Marisol and Kate's whooping and hollering to add fuel to the fire, Jason can't take it anymore. So he stands up and yokes Saint back by the neck.
Then fists started flying.
Sam tries to get in between them and accidentally gets clocked in the eye.
Kate is screaming.
Marisol runs out the room to get some help.
And I am literally on Saint's back.
"Get off me!" he yells and swings.
I'm not sure if he is yelling at me, Jason, or both of us but I'm not budging. I hope that if I don't get off of him, he'll eventually stop. I can't even believe they are scuffling this long. That's how I know Saint's drunk. Sober he would have been able to put someone like Jason down with one swing.
"Stop it, Saint," I beg.
"Fuck that!" he roars. "I'm sick of this motherfucker."
Marisol comes running back in and speaks to the room like a high school principal.
"The police are going to be called in three minutes if you don't stop right now, Mr. Stevenson. Is that the kind of press you want after the game you've had today!?"
Saint stops moving, but is still holding Jason by the collar.
I'm still on Saint's back relieved that they've stopped.
Jason puts his hands down, but is glaring at me now.
"Have you already slept with him?" he asks incredulously. "You couldn't be that stupid."
And that's when Saint knocks Jason to the floor with one strong jab. Face first. Jason's mouth hits the tile floor and a tooth flies out and slides across the floor.
"Don't you ever fucking talk to her like that again."
I'm stunned.
Completely stunned at the mess I've created.
I slide down Saint's back and run out of the room.
Marisol follows me.
"What just happened in there?"
"I'm not totally sure."
"You know more than I do."
"I'm sleeping with Saint."
"Oh my God!"
"And Jason just told me on the plane that he has feelings for me."
"Double damn."
"And I think they're both angry at me at this point."
"You think?"
"I know what you're thinking, Marisol."
"No you don't, and it doesn't matter what I'm thinking. All that matters is that first my friend is all right and second that you'll have a job on Monday. I'll talk to Jason after I get him to an emergency dentist."
"I'm not sure it will work. I think Peter and Jason are in cahoots."
"Peter does whatever is in Carson Financial's best interest. You just might be more valuable nowadays than any of us."
"Really? Because I feel like a bad luck penny. I don't know what I'm doing, Marisol."
"Do what your heart tells you to do, and I promise you that things will always work out as they should. "
God I hope that's true.
Chapter Twenty-Three
SAINT
"My fucking head."
I know a hangover when I feel one.
"I bet it hurts."
"Where am I?"
My voice sounds scratchy.
"In your luxurious hotel suite that I hope the league pays for."
I'm in my room, but I don't remember how I got here. I do remember getting into a fight with that tiny-tot Jason over the traitorous woman lying in my bed right now. I hope I put that slug in the hospital.
"Where is everyone?"
"They decided to fly out this morning."
"Everyone?"
"Yes, everyone."
Guess I didn't put his ass in the hospital.
"Why are you here?"
"What kind of question is that? Here take these."
Sabrina hands me a glass of water and two pills.
"I can't see what these are. It's dark in here. Are you trying to kill me?"
"The drapes are shut. It was inevitable that you were going to need to sleep in after the night you had. And all it is, is some water and some painkillers. The same thing you did for me three years ago in a hotel room in Georgetown."
"I didn't spend the night though."
"Well, I'm slutty like that. So I stayed."
I want to laugh, but my head still hurts.
"I shouldn't be in this much pain. I had three drinks. "
"Three times three."
"What was that last night?"
"What was what?"
"What the fuck is going on between you and Jackson?"
"Nothing is going on between me and Jason
. I thought something was going on between me and you."
"Don't try and sweet talk me now, Freshman."
"Why?"
She climbs on top of me. She's so damn beautiful.
"I'm not in the mood," I lie.
She looks down at my morning wood.
"Something tells me you're always in the mood, Gunslinger."
"That's just biology. Don't flatter yourself."
"What are we doing, Saint?"
"Well, you're crushing my legs right now."
"I'll move up higher then."
She's trying to seduce me, but I'm still angry, probably most at myself.
"Don't sit on that. I have to pee."
"Ugh! Then go pee."
I go to the bathroom and look at myself. I look like death warmed over. I can't believe I let that little shrimp get into my head, but as I sober up, I'm starting to realize why.
I'm in love with Sabrina White.
I love her so much that I was scared shitless that he was about to snatch her away from me. I wouldn't put it past Adriana to tell whatever lies she wanted to, to fuck with me. Especially after she came crawling back to me a month after she left me at the altar, and I shut the door on her. Literally and figuratively. It's incredible how the guilty ones can hold a grudge the longest.
I splash some water on my face and take a piss. I know I've got some hands to shake and babies to kiss to make this go away for Sabrina. Her job means everything to her. I fucked up last night. I outed us and fought one of her coworkers all in one night. I'm surprised she's even speaking to me.
"Did you work your way through school as a stripper?" She asks through the bathroom door.
"I didn't have to work my way through school, Freshman."
"Oh that's right, you come from a chicken farm where the chickens get to live forever."
I open the door.
"You're real funny."
"Am I?"
"You're real pretty too."
"Am I?"
"The prettiest."
"I'll ask you again. What are we doing?"
Saint: A Football Romance (The Nighthawk Series Book 1) Page 14
