Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  A body-long shivers shakes me to the bone. "Gracie...where's Daniel?"

  She sighs, hauling the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. The twinkle that used to be ever-present in her eyes has been dimming over the past few months. And now, it's vanished, plain and simple. "He's gone..."

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?” I ask trying to control the shake in my voice.

  She rests a cup in front of me and sits in the chair across the table. “I asked him to leave,” she says in a quiet, sad voice. I know that the two of them have been fighting over the past few months. I didn’t know that it had gotten this bad.

  “Gracie –”

  “Look – I’m not ready to talk about it,” she says as the first tear sprints down her face. She wipes it away with frail-looking fingers. “Not today.” Her voice cracks. “Today, I want to hear about New York.”

  I momentarily consider pressing her on the issue. I want to know what’s going on and I also don’t want her sitting around, bottling shit up. Stress wrecks havoc on the body and on the mind. But at the same time, I know that I have to respect her request for space. She’s obviously going through something painful and she probably needs time to process it.

  She sits there watching me with expectancy in her feeble stare. She’s waiting to hear about my Christmas in the Big Apple. I’m going to have to tell her the truth. I can’t hide it anymore.

  I clear my throat nervously, focusing my eyes on the baby as I speak. “Uh, I didn’t go to New York…”

  Her heavy stare bores into my flesh. “Okay?”

  Finally, I grab my proverbial tits and woman up, staring her in the face. “I didn’t go to New York for Christmas. It was never the plan.”

  Her eyes hold a mix of shock and curiosity. “I don’t understand…”

  “I made plans to go to Hawaii. With a man. A man I met on the internet.” I speak quickly. At this point, I just want to get this humiliating moment over and done with. “We were supposed to meet on our flight from LAX to Honolulu. But he wasn’t who he claimed to be. He looked nothing like his picture. Basically, I got catfished.”

  My sister’s eyebrows are knotted as she leans in over her steaming mug of tea, her attention focused solely on me. My cheeks heat up. I’m so fucking embarrassed. I feel so stupid.

  “Anyway, I way overreacted when I realized that he’d fooled me. I got kicked off the flight and in the commotion, I lost my wallet,” I sigh, “so basically, I couldn’t get back home because I didn’t have any ID. Keeland’s brother picked me up from the airport and I was with him in L.A. until I got my temporary drivers’ license in the mail.”

  Gracie sits frozen, her eyebrows arched high, her lips slightly parted, staring at me in disbelief. I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the lecture. I’m ready to hear how irresponsible I’ve been. I’m ready for her to scream at me about how badly I fucked up.

  But instead…she bursts out laughing.

  Loud, ruckus, uncontrollable, howling laughter.

  And out of nowhere, I’m laughing, too. It’s like all of a sudden, the ridiculousness of my life just hits me like a truck. I’m laughing so hard that tears are rolling down my face. And Gracie is crying and laughing, too. Sebastian looks confused as his gaze bounces between his mother and me.

  “Wait – there’s more,” I say between snorts. “Keeland’s brother – Maxwell – forced me to pretend to be his fiancée so that he wouldn’t lose his job. So, I’ve been parading around L.A. with a fake diamond he bought me at some seedy strip mall kiosque.”

  Gracie is bent over, clutching her chest and slamming her fist into the table now.

  I clamp my hands over Sebastian’s ears. “And he’s so fucking good in bed. All we’ve been doing is fucking and fucking and fucking and pretending to be engaged and fucking.”

  Laughter shoots out of Gracie’s mouth and she reaches wildly for a napkin to dab the tears from her cheeks. “Ohmygod – I’m sorry but I'm pretty sure I haven't laughed in a month. I really needed that."

  It takes a while for us to both calm down but when we do, I know that there’s one last confession that I need to make. “Gracie?”

  “Yes?” she looks over at me as she dries her eyes with the napkin.

  “I’m in love with him…” I admit soberly. “I’m in love with Maxwell Masters.”

  Chapter 30

  Faith

  Work has piled up like crazy over the few days that I've been gone. Ashley, the community center’s three-days-a-week secretary has been filling my shoes to the best of her abilities during my absence, but let’s face it – I do the work of three people so expecting a part-time employee to replace me is a touch unrealistic.

  So, even though I’m home much earlier than expected, I came down to the community center today to start plowing my way through the heap of work. Because I’m a good employee.

  And because I’m looking for a distraction from the nagging, twisting feeling I get in my chest every time Maxwell crosses my mind. Which is every 10.4 seconds.

  Talking to Grace about my predicament did nothing to help sort though the confusion that I feel. She’s in destroy-all-men mode right now and that’s understandable since she just got separated from her husband.

  I'm hunched over Ashley’s desk helping her sort through permission slips for an upcoming field trip for the fifth graders when I feel a presence looming just outside the room. I glance up and broad, tanned shoulders fill the doorway. My eyes travel up miles of steely muscles until they connect with a pair of pastel blue eyes.

  The wind gets knocked out of me. “Maxwell!” When I left him in my bed this morning, I hadn’t expected to see him until dinnertime. But now, here he is – shirtless – at my job.

  “Hello Faith.”

  My gaze bounces from Maxwell's bare chest to his face and back again. "Wha-what are you doing?"

  He gives me a grin. God, I’ve missed that cocky grin and it’s only been a few hours. “Keeland teaches an art class to the seniors twice a week. I got bored at your apartment so I tagged along.”

  I shake my head, still flabbergasted. “No, I mean, what are you doing?” I wave my hand around, motioning to his naked torso.

  "Ah,” he says with a chuckle as he reaches for the royal blue football jersey draped across his shoulder. That’s when I notice that he’s also wearing football pants and cleats. “Played a quick game of touch football with some of the kids and now I'm sweating my a—” he stops himself mid-swear and glances around before continuing. That makes me smile. “I’m sweating my bum off.” He winks at me as he uses the milder term. “I’m about to go grab a shower."

  “Oh,” I say. I can’t help but lick my lips at the idea of following him to the locker room and helping him soap that spectacular body down.

  I won’t act on the idea, obviously. I work here, after all. But working girls have dreams, too.

  “Anyway, there’s this burger joint up the block. Billy’s…”

  “Yeah, of course I know Billy’s. Best burger in town.”

  He nods in agreement. “They have this secret sauce they slather on the bread. It’s fucki—I mean, freakin’ phenomenal. I was wondering if you wanted to go grab an early dinner.” He leans against the doorjamb and waits for my response. He actually looks anxious to hear my answer.

  “Sure,” I say with a small shrug hoping that I’m doing a better job than he is at masking my nerves. “I love the secret sauce.”

  The edges of his lips arrow upward. “Great. I’m gonna go rinse down.” He points his thumb over his shoulder as he backs away from the door. His eyes stay locked on mine.

  My heart is fluttering around in my chest right now. “Showers are at the end of the hall,” I say keeping my voice steady. “Last door on your right.”

  He nods then he disappears. I stand there for a long time, staring at the space he just vacated. Feeling this way over him, that can’t be good for me. I fall too hard, too fast. I get attached. I make proclamations of love to men
I just met. I’m fucking crazy. I’m crazy for him, a man who’s made it clear that he’s committed only to his bachelorhood. Why do I do these things to myself?

  I shake myself free of his invisible hold and turn back to Ashley. I find her sitting with her hands clasped over her heart, a dreamy expression on her face. “I just want to squeeze his arm,” she sighs, biting her bottom lip.

  I roll my eyes, although I’m smiling. “Focus, Ashley. Focus.” I wave the stack of permission slips in her face.

  Chapter 31

  Faith

  Twenty minutes later, Maxwell and I are outside of Billy’s Burger Joint. I lead the way up the front stairs and he holds the door open for me with a grin. His gallantry always has a way of making my stomach flip-flop. I take a seat by the window as Maxwell orders a shitload of food at the counter.

  After he’s placed his order, he slips into the booth across from me. His eyes scan my face before grazing my cleavage and rising back to me with a smirk. “Hey…” he drawls as he playfully taps the toe of his sneakers against the side of my boot.

  “Hey…” I reply tapping him back.

  I feel a quiver low in my stomach. This guy really knows how to work his magic on me. With those eyes and that smile.

  “Can I tell you something?” He spins the saltshaker around on the table without taking his eyes off of me.

  “What’s that?” I say.

  He leans in and whispers conspiratorially. “I missed you today.” I’m sure he can see the riotous blend of flattery and trepidation and confusion beaming through my chest. He quickly corrects himself. “I mean, I missed hanging out.”

  I feel my spirit deflate, but I keep my smile firmly in place. “I missed hanging out, too.” I change the direction of the conversation to deflect attention away from my disappointment. “So, how are you dealing with everything? Career wise, I mean.”

  He shrugs and leans back in his seat. “I don’t know. I haven’t been in contact with anybody from the team.”

  “Really?” I say as I rearrange the scuffed-up silver utensils laid out on the table. It’s a poor excuse to keep my hands occupied. “Don’t you think you should reach out to them? I mean, they have no way to contact you since you got rid of your phone and you just disappeared on them.”

  He expels a breath. “I need some time. To decompress. The last few weeks have been stressful. I just need some time.”

  Just as I’m about to try and convince him that contacting the Boomerangs is the responsible move to make, the kitchen door swings open and Billy Jenkins comes tromping out. “Maxwell Masters! Reyfield’s own NFL hero!”

  All eyes in the packed diner shift to our table and a chorus of curious whispers rings out. Maxwell gives a quick salute. “Hey man.” From the look on his face, I can tell that he doesn’t want the attention right now but he’s being a good sport about it.

  A huge, burly dude in a trucker cap sitting at the counter spins around on his stool to face us. “So, you got dropped from the Boomerangs, huh?”

  Sue, the waitress, glances our way as she refills the trucker’s coffee mug. “Oh, I didn’t hear that.”

  “Yeah,” Trucker Cap says, “they made the announcement this afternoon.”

  I look over at Maxwell, his jaw is ticking but he’s doing his best to keep cool. We knew that this was coming but that doesn’t make it suck any less.

  “Fuck those Boomerangs!” Billy declares. “Next season, you’ll play for Chicago and those L.A. suits will regret it!” He claps Maxwell on the shoulder with his large, greasy hand.

  Sue looks confused. “I really didn’t hear that you were dropped. Don’t you have to do a press conference or something for that kind of announcement?”

  Maxwell shrugs. “I skipped the fucking press conference.”

  Trucker Cap growls. “You skipped the fucking press conference? So, you’re just gonna leave your fans hanging with no explanation?”

  A murmur spreads through the room before quickly mutating into a roar. These people are getting mad. Maybe they have every right to be. If they’ve been following Maxwell’s career this whole time, then maybe he does owe them an explanation. Maybe he can’t expect to just fall off the face of the earth without inciting mutiny among his fans.

  I clear my throat and stand to my feet. “Y’know what? You guys want a press conference? We’ll give you a press conference.”

  Maxwell throws me a curious look but the smile slowly spreading across his lips tells me that he’ll play along.

  “C’mon, Masters,” I prod. “Your fans are waiting. Speech! Speech! Speech!”

  The crowd chants, too. “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

  Maxwell stands slowly and moves to the center of the room as everybody cheers him on. I pull out my phone and start to record as he climbs atop a table and clears his throat dramatically.

  “Y’know what,” he says. “You guys are right. I can’t just fade into the fucking mist. My fans deserve better. You guys deserve to hear from me. Yes, the Boomerangs have decided to terminate my contract.” Loud boos and heckling resonate throughout the burger joint. “No, no, no. Simmer down guys.” He gestures for the crowd to relax. “Yup, I’m disappointed. Actually, I’m kind of pissed.” More hooting and table-pounding. Maxwell continues, “but I’m also grateful. I’m grateful to have played for the Boomerangs. I’m grateful to the Boomerang’s establishment and to my former teammates for shaping me into the best fucking quarterback in the whole damn league.” The room erupts into cheers. “I’m grateful for my teammates. They always had my back on the field no matter what was happening off the field. And I’m grateful to my fans. To the people of Los Angeles, thanks for adopting me and taking me in as one of your own and for letting me shine. And to my fans from Reyfield, thanks for cheering me on from a far for so many years. This is and always will be my home. And you all are my family. No matter where I end up, you’re all my family.”

  Maxwell steps off of the table into a sea of hooting and applause and pats on the back. I lower my camera, wiping a tear away from my eye. I’m dazzled by how much he’s grown in the short period of time that I’ve known him. The guy I met back at LAX, he wouldn’t have been so gracious. He would have done some bad-mouthing and some mud-slinging and dug himself into a hole. I’m really proud of this new and improved Maxwell Masters.

  I upload the video to all of his social media accounts and within minutes, the ‘likes’ and ‘shares’ start pouring in. By now, it’s a roaring party inside of Billy’s small burger joint. With the level of excitement buzzing through the room, you’d think that we were at a stadium and that the home team was crushing the ‘other guys’. Maxwell is signing autographs and taking pictures. Football fans are streaming into the place just to catch a glimpse of the hometown hero.

  “You’re about to break the internet!” Sue announces holding up her phone in the air.

  “Nearly a thousand ‘likes’ on your Facebook video already!” someone else yells from the far corner.

  Maxwell glances across the room and his eyes hook on mine. And even with all the commotion going on around us, the glint in his eye makes it feel like there’s no one but him and me for miles.

  Chapter 32

  Maxwell

  A neatly-dressed server aims a champagne bottle over the lip of Faith’s glass. Just as the girl is about to pour her refill, Faith sticks a hand out to stop her. "No, thank you," she says, batting her eyelashes sweetly. "I’m not much of a drinker."

  A booming laugh explodes from my chest. "Are you serious right now?"

  She turns to me, clearly offended. “What?” Her blood-red bow lips form the perfect pout, her voice straining to rise above the loud house music pumping through the room.

  I look to Sammie. "Did she tell you about the drinking game she forced me into in Vegas?"

  Sammie looks intrigued. "No, what drinking game?"

  “Long story short, it involved this girl –" I point my thumb over my shoulder at Faith, “–kicking back at l
east a dozen random shots and trying to figure out what each one was.”

  Faith folds her arms over her chest but I know she’s not as angry as she’s pretending to be. “Oh really, you’re gonna put me on blast like that?” she protests.

  I cup my hand around my mouth and speak to the server. “It got really, really bad. Had to babysit her all night.” The girl stifles a laugh, trying to remain professional.

  "Come on!" Faith whines between giggles, "You're exaggerating. It wasn't that bad."

  I shake my head in disbelief that she’s actually trying to downplay how smashed we got that night. "Um, you woke up the next morning asking if you’d gotten married the night before. I'd say it was pretty bad."