Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance

by Christina Clark

  The medics started to wheel me off the field. They were talking, but I couldn't understand a word they were saying. There was a strange echo to their voices, almost as if I was listening to them from underwater. I tried opening my mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sad gurgle.

  My vision began to haze. But before they sagged shut, I caught a glimpse of the number “87” through the gap of a medic's arm. Whitaker trotted up to the field with his right hand raised, saluting the crowd as they roared his name. The sun bounced off of him, bathing him in glorious light.

  So this was what the beginning of the end feels like...

  “Mr. Warner. Mr. Warner, can you hear me?”

  My eyes cracked open slowly. As I blinked, adjusting to the harsh white lights, the fuzzy figure above me gradually solidified. A young woman with big green eyes and a beak-like nose stared down at me.

  There were humming monitors, beeping machines, and IV stands on both sides of my bed. I looked down at the loose white gown I was wearing. Tubes were hooked up to my arms, and there was a paper tag around my wrist. My mind started whirring. It was all falling in place.

  “Y-yeah. I hear you.”

  I groaned, every sore muscle in my body constricting as I pushed myself up with my elbows. The woman reached over and stacked 2 pillows behind my head. I grunted at her gratefully.

  “I thought I heard you stirring. My name's Audrey and I'm a medical student here,” the woman continued with a hushed, soothing voice. “You're okay – you were knocked out cold. When you were brought in here, your BAC was off the charts, which was most likely how you've managed not to break anything. You're a little scratched up, that's all. But please, try not to move too much. Do you know where you are?”

  “San Francisco?”

  “That's right. You're at Zuckerberg General Hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?”

  “I – I think so.” I cleared my throat, flinching at the sharp jab in my neck muscles. “We were going down Fillmore, and there was this truck, came outta nowhere...Where's everyone else? Are they o –”

  “Mr. Hardwick has a broken leg, and Mr. Baldwin has a herniated disc and a grade-2 concussion, but they should be fine. Mr. Wilcox, the driver, is still in surgery.”

  “And what about Whitaker? Jonathan Whitaker? He was in the pass –”

  “I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Warner.” Audrey touched my arm, lowering her eyes. There was a sympathetic crease between her thin, pale brows. “Mr. Whitaker was ejected from the vehicle upon the collision. He died on the scene.”

  “What?” I croaked, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking as they stood. The monitors picked up the sudden spike of my heart rate. I turned away from her, shaking my head. “Naw, that's impossible. I just saw him this morning, and he was fine –”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Warner. I know it's difficult to hear, but you need to relax –”

  The door to the room creaked open. A bald, doughy man in a doctor's coat strolled in to the room with 2 suited men in tow. The crotchety doctor swung around at Audrey, glowering at her.

  “I thought I told you to let me know as soon as Mr. Warner wakes up –”

  “That's alright, Dr. Pan.” The man with the blue and black tattoos spanning his neck gestured to the door. “We'll take it from here.”

  When Audrey and the doctor left the room, the older man in the wrinkled brown suit and tattered 49ers snapback stepped forward.

  “Mr. Warner? I'm Detective Bassinger and this Detective Schwartz from the SFPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

  Chapter Two: Brooklyn

  2016

  “Come on, Brooks, you're missing the best part! Lisa just told Madeline her stretch marks make her look like an albino zebra – it is officially about to go down!”

  I grabbed the bowl of popcorn from the microwave and plopped down next to Tabitha on my sofa. With her eyes still glued to the screen, she reached into the bowl next to her, squawking with laughter. She tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and promptly spit it back out.

  “Ah, ah, crap! That's hot.” She stuck out her tongue, fanning her mouth.

  “Um, doy. I just took that out of the microwave.”

  I don't think Tabitha heard me. She slapped an arm over her chest, laughing uproariously and spraying projectiles of shredded popcorn everywhere. I propped my head up with my elbow on the armrest, reaching for the popcorn piece by piece. It smelled like buttery goodness but tasted like stale cardboard and lies, much like everything else I'd eaten all week.

  Still, I munched on vapidly, watching as Madeline snatched off one of Lisa's hair extensions and began whipping the housewife over the head with it. When a screeching Lisa finally got away from her, Madeline chased her around the $50,000 kitchen, the extension swinging in her hand like a diseased fox tail. The only thing missing was the Benny Hill theme song.

  “Okay, I swear I know Madeline's got more than a few screws loose, but I freakin' love her.” Tabitha cleared off the popcorn debris around her and took a sip of her mimosa. She turned back to me, her smile ebbing. “The housewives not doing it for you today, huh? That's okay. We can watch something else. Wanna watch some horrible singers get ridiculed on stage in front of millions of people?”

  “No, that's okay. This is fine.” I sat up and plastered a grin on my face. “Sorry, I know I've been in a crappy mood –”

  “Tell me about it,” said Tabitha, cocking an eyebrow. “You've been so mopey the last couple of weeks, plants wilt when you walk past them. It's time you get out of the house and get some of that fresh air in your system. Clear your head.”

  “I have been getting out of the house,” I pointed out, crossing my arms stubbornly. “I've been going to work. And the studio. So, ha.”

  “You know what I mean,” Tabitha snapped, switching off the TV. She turned around to face me, tucking her legs under her. “I was at Sparxx last night, and Mario said he hasn't seen you in nearly a month.”

  “Yeah, well, not really in the mood to be around all those people. Don't wanna be a downer.” I shrugged, blowing away the strands of hair sticking to my cheek. “Besides, I'm being thrifty. I'm probably saving tons by drinking at home.”

  “Whatever, don't act like you don't get free drinks all night from random guys, anyway,” Tabitha retorted, pursing her lips. “The kids can see it too, you know. They're not blind, or stupid. Thumper and Maria have been calling me all week, asking about you. I mean, get this – Bill the Newsstand Guy didn't even try catcalling or hitting on me when he saw me today. He genuinely wanted to know if you were alright!”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. I appreciate the concern from all of you, really. I just need a little time alone, and I'll be good as new. Promise.”

  “Well, don't do it for us. Do it for you, dummy.” Tabitha sighed. She leaned her head against the couch so that she was looking me squarely in the eye. Up close, the bold black wings on the corners of her glistering eyes were absolute perfection. “Come on, Brooks. You can't tell me you didn't see this coming. You've been trying to come up with ways to break it off for months. Shouldn't you be feeling – I don't know – relieved?”

  “I am, but I'm on the verge of disconnecting my phone lines.” My nose rumpled. “Xavier's been calling me non-stop, and he won't stop showing up at work. I had to call security on him last Tuesday.”

  “Ugh. What an obsessive, sad little man,” Tabitha scoffed, curling her lip. “I can't stress enough how glad I am that you finally dumped his ass. I've been telling you to do it for ages. Well, at least now you know why he was so Level 10 Looney-Tunes and accusing you of cheating all the time. The asshole was deflecting. His conscience must have been eating him alive.”

  “Not sure he had one with all the shit I found on his phone, but sure.”

  Tabitha slanted her head to one side, sucking her teeth.

  “Um, that reminds me. Did you get yourself –”

  “Yup. Got myself screened first thing the mo
rning after I ended things,” I answered her tonelessly. “I'm clean, so I guess there's that silver lining.”

  “Right. Keep counting those lucky stars.” Tabitha smirked, reaching for the remote. She turned on the TV and started flipping through the channels. “Anyway, thanks for letting me crash here. I never thought I'd say this, but staying from one hotel to another is getting a little old. I kinda miss making my own bed... Eh, on second thought, not really.”

  “Of course. I'm glad you're here.” My lips tugged back in a small nostalgic smile. I meant it, too. It was nice having Tabitha around. It brought me back to all those sleepovers we used to have when we were kids. “I could really use the company, anyway.”

  “Great, so be good company and lighten up, would you?” Tabitha grinned, kicking my leg playfully.

  I grinned back at her, retaliating with a kick that nearly knocked her off the couch. But as Tabitha settled back into her seat, my chortles quickly ceased. That pesky little voice in my head just wouldn't shut up.

  “There's actually something I haven't told you yet.”

  “Yeah? What's up?”

  “I'm not exactly as innocent in all of this as I'm making it out to be. It was just that one time, but Christ, I'm no better than Xavier –”

  “Wait, wait, slow down.” Tabitha cut me off mid-ramble, lowering the remote. “What are you talking about?”

  I exhaled from my mouth and held onto my knees.

  “The day before I broke up with Xavier, I bumped into Ace. We got to talking in my car. I don't know what happened. I couldn't help myself – I just threw myself at him. We haven't talked since, and it's driving me crazy, but I know I shouldn't. I mean, it's probably for the best, right?”

  A massive weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but Tabitha said nothing. She just stared at me in complete silence, her brows knitted together and her lips slightly ajar. The only sounds came from the TV playing in the background.

  “When we get older, our minds are not the only things that go soft. It happens to even the best of us. But fear not, one tablet of Durus Daily Use is just what you need to restore that confidence...”

  “Tab, are you okay? You're not saying anything.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Tabitha closed her mouth, turning away from me. “I know it's Ace, but I'm just surprised, is all. You know, after everything he put you through.”

  “Believe me, I know. It's not the smartest decision I've ever made, that's for sure. Which is partly why I haven't said anything –”

  “Oh my god, Brooks. Look.”

  Tabitha leaned forward urgently, cranking up the volume.

  “–Baldwin and Dylan Hardwick, wide receiver for the New York Jets, suffered minor injuries, but are set to be released within the week. Gary Wilcox, the driver, suffered several injuries including a fractured spine and a broken leg, but is expected to make a full recovery within the week. Sadly, the crash has claimed one victim, the Jets' very own quarterback, Jonathan Whitaker. Whitaker was thrown over 25 feet from the vehicle, where his head collided with a utility pole, killing him instantly.”

  “Oh, no...” I clapped a hand over my mouth.

  But when the camera switched to the footage of a handcuffed Ace being ushered through a throng of rabid reporters, my heart plunged to my gut.

  “Investigators have found sufficient evidence to suggest that Whitaker's seatbelt had been tampered with, and this case has officially been classed a homicide. In a daunting twist of events, second-string quarterback, Ace Warner, has been arrested on suspicion of the crime...”

  Chapter Three: Brooklyn

  2004

  “And now, the moment you've all been waiting for – the award ceremony for the UCA National High School Cheerleading Championship 2004! 5 finalist squads, but only 1 will walk away with the grand prize trophy and a whopping check for $50,000.”

  The emcee's voice boomed across the vast, brilliantly lit space of the Jostens Center auditorium.

  “This is it, girls. This is it!” squealed Daphne Barnes, the captain of our squad. “All of the blood, sweat, and tears – it's so worth it!”

  “It totally is!” Nadine Long, our co-captain, gushed. She leaned in close to me, squeezing my hand. “Remember – next year, this could be you. I've talked to Daphne, and we're definitely nominating you cheer captain next year. You're super talented and by far one of the best flyers this squad has ever seen, so if you play your cards right and kiss a little ass here and there, you've got this totally locked down.”

  “Wow, Nadine, that is such an honor –”

  “Oh my gosh!” Nadine shrieked. Her false doll lashes nearly leaped off her bulging eyes. She slapped me on the arm delightedly, pointing at the bleachers across from us. “It's my sister, Natalie! I can't believe she's here – she's supposed to be in Prague for school!”

  A girl with feathered dirty-blonde hair waved at Nadine from the bleachers. She held up a large poster with a cutout face of Nadine and the words, “We Love You Nadine! Go Bay Valley Lions!” emblazoned in glittery lettering. Nadine's resulting smile was infectious.

  I looked around at my squad. Daphne blew kisses at her boyfriend, who was shooting her a kiss with an imaginary bow and arrow from across the room. The rest of the girls around me struck up cutesy poses for their friends and family members, who were busy blinding us with one flash after another from the sidelines.

  As I turned back to the audience, my smile started to waver. I stood on the tips of my toes and squeezed my eyes to slits, scouring the countless unfamiliar faces in the crowd. I could see Whitney's family, standing front and center on the ground-floor bench of the bleachers. They were all on their feet, dressed in our gold-and-black school colors, with temporary tattoos of the Lions logo on their cheeks.

  It looked like the entire extended family of Alana, one of our bases, had shown up, too. They sat in the far back, taking up the entire upper-left corner of the stands, honking their air horns and whacking their stadium bangers. Nope, no sign of Mom or Dad there, either.

  “And in third place, from Trinity High School in Grand Rapids Michigan, the Trinity Jackals!”

  The squad next to us flared up in a frenzy of crazed screams and enthusiastic air-lassos. 2 giddy cheerleaders in red-and-white uniforms scurried up to the stage to accept their bronze trophy. The rest quickly followed suit, parading across the stage to pose for a round of pictures. I clapped along distractedly, my eyes still working the crowd.

  “Now, in second place – and believe us, this was a tough decision, as all judges have agreed there were 2 teams who did exceptionally well this year...”

  Family members and loved ones were seated in different sections of the room, so maybe Mom and Dad had gotten their seats mixed up. Come to think of it, I don't think they'd ever been to a place where they weren't personally escorted to their seats. But as I started a second sweep of every section, whatever hope I had left of seeing them fizzled out.

  “And now, our runner-up... From New York City, New York, the Bay Valley Lions!”

  “Fuck yeah!” Godric, one of our spotters, kicked off the commotion.

  Though I noticed a flicker of disappointment in Daphne and Nadine's faces, the rest of the squad bounced all the way up to the stage. I found myself a spot between Nadine and Whitney, automatically sticking my hand on one hip as flashes and shutter sounds went off in my direction. When the photographers and video cameras finally retreated, everyone zipped off in opposite directions and into the arms of their loved ones.

  I weaved in and out of the foot traffic and slipped out of the auditorium, making my way towards the locker rooms. Grabbing my duffel bag, I politely thanked the strangers congratulating me and headed back to the bustling hallway. As soon as I found myself a quiet corner next to a water fountain, I sifted through the junk in my purse for my phone. I don't think I'd ever been more crushed to see no new notifications in my entire life.

  With a heavy sigh, I hit the “Call” button and pressed my phone to my ear.<
br />
  “Barbara speaking,” the voice singsonged on the other end of the line. She sounded distant, her voice muddled by upbeat samba music and snooty laughter.

  “Mom? Didn't you get any of the messages I sent you this morning?”

  “Honey, sorry, you're going to have to speak up – oh, why yes, thank you, I'd love another glass. And why don't you fetch me a hot towel while you're at it. Rose-scented would be preferred, but I suppose I could settle for citrus.”

  “Mom?” I cupped a hand over my mouth. A knot formed in my throat. “Where are you guys?”

  “We're in the grand ballroom of the Queen Mary II – I'm sorry, honey, did we forget to tell you? Kelly Davenport and her husband invited us last minute – we've been on the waiting list to stay at the Royal Penthouse Suite for months now, and there was a sudden vacancy, so we packed up and left straight away this morning. Can you believe our luck? These opportunities don't just come very often, you know –”

  “Really, Mom?” I breathed in sharply, my nails digging into my palms.

  “What's wrong, honey? Are you upset we didn't invite you along? Grow up, Brooklyn, you're 16, for Pete's sake. Besides, you were already gone this morning –”

  “We came in second place, in case you were wondering.”

  “Second place? What – oh! Oh, honey.” Mom gasped in realization. “Sorry, was that today? It totally slipped our minds –”

  “It's all I've been talking about at the dinner table for the last month and a half, but okay.”

  “Well, congratulations! We'll celebrate when you get back. We'll do anything you like.”

  Mom's empty promises were so old, they were growing fungus. And by “anything you like,” she always failed to clarify that it actually meant anything she approved of. She was, after all, allergic to free, “poor people” things. At least Tabitha, who had an important callback of her own today, sent me a monster bouquet of good-luck flowers.