Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance

by Christina Clark

  Honestly, a part of me was thankful that Aiden hadn't brought up what he “knew” about Whitaker's death yet. For one thing, I wasn't even sure if I could take him seriously. I mean, Aiden was only 17 after all, and teenagers often came up with the most absurd theories sometimes, mostly due to the misguided belief that they knew it all. Even if Aiden really did know something, there was that unremitting fear living inside of me that Ace's name would come out of his mouth.

  I jerked my head to the right. Madonna's vocals were interrupted by the loud beep of a text message. Reaching for my phone, I paused the track and opened the message. As my eyes darted back and forth across the screen, my eyes rounded.

  “I'm in Manhattan. I need to see you. Can you meet me at Central Park in about half an hour? – Ace.”

  My thumb hovered over the “Reply” button tentatively. The thoughts in my mind were hurtling back and forth at what felt like a thousand miles a minute. But I held my breath, typed in a quick reply, and hit “Send.”

  As Aiden and Thumper gave each other a quick hug by the doorstep, I headed back into my apartment. I slipped on a loose cardigan, snatched up my purse, and headed out the door. But when the elevators opened the doors to the lobby, I crinkled my nose like a spooked skunk had just scurried past me.

  “Hey, Brooky-bear.”

  Xavier was waiting for me next to the doorman's desk. He sported a dashing black blazer he wore over a navy-blue vest, and his wavy dark hair was freshly cut and gelled back. My eyes fell from his camera-ready smile to the 500 purple hyacinths and pink roses in his arms.

  “Well, fuck me sideways,” I groaned under my breath, trudging out of the elevator.

  “I've waited out here for you all morning.” Xavier looked at me with wide, puppy eyes.

  “I'm sorry, Ms. Cunningham,” Mr. Emanuel piped up from behind his desk apologetically. “I've asked him again and again to leave, but he wouldn't –”

  “That's okay, Mr. Emanuel.” I nodded back at him with a small smile. “I got this. Thanks.”

  Mr. Emanuel shuffled off to the front doors to give us some privacy. I turned back to Xavier. He tried to hand me the bouquet, but I took a step back from him. The beam on his face wavered.

  “Xavier, I'm sorry, but I can't accept those.” My tone was short, but civil. “I don't want things to stay like this between us forever –”

  “Good, baby, because I can't take any more of this –”

  “Let me finish. What I meant was – all this hostility and bad blood between us now – I'm hoping we can both move past this one day. Maybe even stay friends in the future, but this isn't the way to –”

  “No,” said Xavier simply. He stared at me unblinkingly.

  “No?” My upper lip twitched. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I –”

  But when I spotted the hooded figure slouching through the doorway, I called out to him over Xavier's shoulder.

  “Hey, Aiden! I'm heading out for a little bit – not sure when I'll be back, but there's still some of that beef stew I made last night in the fridge. Heat it up when you get hungry.”

  Aiden gave me a halfhearted wave, not even bothering to look back at me. His face was still hidden in his hood. Instead of waiting for the elevators, he pushed his way through the door of the emergency exit and galloped up the stairs 3 steps at a time.

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  “What?” I hissed, shaking my head. “None of your business, that's who –”

  Aiden swung the flowers around wildly as he ranted at me, showering the marble floors with floating petals.

  “Is that why you wouldn't move in with me?”

  “Uh, no –”

  But Xavier raged on with his diatribe, his bulging eyes flashing with fire.

  “I should've seen this coming – you were waiting on that little fuckboy to move in with you. Your fuckboy's a little pussy bitch, too – don't even got the balls to show his face. Christ, Brooklyn, I didn't think you were such a slut –”

  “Okay, we're done here.” I wiggled my fingers and strode away from him, my chin up and my shoulders pushed back.

  “No, we're just getting started–”

  And as I marched out the front door, I made sure to add with a voice loud enough for Xavier to hear:

  “Next time you see him on the premises, Mr. Emanuel, please don't hesitate to call the authorities.”

  “My pleasure, Ms. Cunningham. You have a good day now.”

  Chapter Five: Brooklyn

  2016

  “I'll have another snow cone, thanks.”

  I exchanged a 5-dollar bill with the vendor, wandering away from the ice cream truck with a rainbow snow cone in hand.

  As I licked the syrupy, icy treat, I glanced at my watch for the fourth time. It was 3:15 in the afternoon. Ace was an hour and 15 minutes late.

  I hadn't arrived until 2:10 myself, thinking I was the one running late. I expected to see him posted up on a bench somewhere. However, halfway in to my 3rd circle around the park, Ace was still nowhere to be found. I'd been blowing up his phone with text messages and calling him up nonstop, too, but the only thing giving me any time of the day was his voicemail.

  I trotted off to find the nearest bench, plopping down next to a nice old man in a puffy vest. He reached into his pockets continuously, sprinkling an assortment of breadcrumbs and seeds for the 6 pigeons pecking away at his feet. But the longer I sat around the musical coos of the happy birds, my pursed lips started to relax.

  With all the chaos and sudden changes that's been going on lately, I'd been on a short fuse. I'd been quicker to snap at those around me, quicker to get frustrated when even the simplest things weren't going my way. It wasn't just exhausting – Tabitha was right. The kids were starting to feel it, too, and that was the last thing I wanted. But now that I'm sitting here, grinning like an idiot as more birds came hopping towards us, their soft, fluffy feathers grazing against my exposed toes, I knew Tabitha was right again. There really was some magic behind fresh air.

  I took out my compact mirror from my purse and checked out the blue and violet stripes stained on my tongue. But as I wagged it around, something in the reflection of the round mirror snagged my attention. I closed my mirror and stuffed it back into my purse, turning around slowly.

  Across the street lay a manicured grassy courtyard behind a tall, iron-wrought fence. Men and women dawdled out the doors of the lemon-yellow building. They set up in the shades of the maple trees with cool drinks and ice cream swirls. Some whipped out decks of cards, board games, and colorful books. Others flipped open their sketchbooks and went to work with an array of crayons. A few in wheelchairs were wheeled out by staff in matching sky-blue polos and khakis. Another handful of men and women in uniforms roamed the courtyard with their arms behind their backs.

  My eyes swiveled to the entrance. When I saw the familiar face walking out of the front gate, I rose to my feet. I chucked the rest of my snow cone into the trash and jogged across the street, flailing an arm as I caught up to him.

  “Daymond!”

  Daymond stopped in his tracks. He swung around in his brown leather Guccis, his eyebrow arched. Behind him, the copper sign of the building winked under the sunlight – “Lemon Pines Group Homes.”

  “Hey, Brooklyn.” He licked his lips, stepping off the curb. “What brings you to this part of the city?”

  “I was supposed to meet up with a friend, but I'm pretty sure he's not coming.” I ripped my eyes away from the sign and flashed him a rueful smile. “Were you here to see your br –”

  “A friend.” Daymond cleared his throat, forcing a stiff smile. “I was here to see a friend. Anyway, since we're both here – wanna grab some coffee?”

  “Um.” I checked my watch again and peeked over my shoulder. “Yeah, you know what. Sure. Let's do that.”

  Daymond and I walked into the first coffee shop we came across and grabbed a table next to the window with a clear view of the park.

 
“So.” Daymond rested his arms against the table, leaning over with a low voice. “About that day at the bistro – I just realized I never got a chance to apologize –”

  “That's okay. You ran into me at a bad time. Let's just start over.”

  “I'd like that.” Daymond lowered his mug, stroking his stubble. “I didn't realize you'd just ended things with Xavier. I didn't even know you were seeing each other. Hell, according to Warner, he didn't find out about it himself until about a month ago. Was it supposed to be some kind of secret?”

  “No, but that doesn't matter. It's over.”

  “Well, no offense, but the dude's sort of a tool. Good riddance, am I right?”

  “Right.” I smiled coyly, blowing ripples on my macchiato. “So, you and Ace seem pretty chummy. When did that happen?”

  “Yeah, well, funny story, I've known the guy since high school, but I never really took the time to get to know him until...you know – the accident.” Daymond shrugged, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Figured he could use a friend, with everything that's been going down lately. Turns out he's an alright dude. A little rough around the edges, and you know, off, but he's alright.”

  “Off?” I could feel the blood turning to ice in my veins. “What do you mean?”

  “Don't worry about it.” Daymond lowered his eyes. “I'm not trying to freak you out, considering your history and all –”

  “Yeah, but that's exactly what it is. History.” I gripped my elbows, hugging myself. “What is it?”

  “I don't know. It's hard to explain – I don't really know the dude, so who am I to judge, right?” He rubbed a finger across his bottom lip thoughtfully. “But even with the few times we hung out, he's been acting a little...shady. He leaves my place or kicks me out from his at random times 'cause he's got 'somewhere to be', locks himself in a room with his phone. Working double-time to keep everything on the down low, know what I mean?”

  “I – I see.” I swallowed hard, suppressing the quiver in my voice.

  “Yeah, but then again, maybe it's nothing. Like I said, what do I know?” Daymond added hastily when he saw the torn look on my face. “You know the guy better than I do, that's for sure.”

  Not quite. At one point in my life, I thought I knew Ace inside and out, more than anyone could ever know someone else. But lately, it was looking like that clearly wasn't the case. I said nothing and reached for my mug once more, filling the heavy silence with my fingers drumming on the table.

  “So, how's Tabitha?”

  “Good, I hope.” I set down my drink and licked the foam off my lips.

  “You hope?”

  “We're actually in the middle of a thing right now,” I admitted, my shoulders sagging. “We had this stupid fight that kind of got out of hand, and she hasn't been answering my calls.”

  “Bummer. Sorry to hear that.”

  “No worries. I'm sure we'll hash things out in no time,” I replied in my most casual voice, but I think he had trouble believing it as much as I did.

  “I've been told I'm a pretty good listener,” said Daymond gently. “Wanna try me?”

  “Thanks, but like I said, it was nothing. She'd been staying with me while she was in town. We both got a little carried away – she wasn't cleaning up after herself or her dates, and I got a little loud with her –”

  “Her dates?” Daymond shook his head, laughing dryly. “Figures. That's why she hasn't called since that night at the club.”

  I straightened up in my seat.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –”

  “No, don't worry about it,” Daymond brushed it off, grinning. “It's not like I've been waiting around for her to call – actually had to run down to Ann Arbor last week to see this chick. Was just worried about Tabitha, that's all.”

  “Yeah...” I crossed and uncrossed my legs under the table, unable to sit still. “But enough about all that – why don't you tell me about work? How'd you get into the Jets?”

  But Daymond wasn't interested in talking about work.

  “You know, I think I finally get why Warner's so hung up on you, even after all these years.”

  “Oh. Okay... What does that –”

  He leaned forward with a dangerous glimmer in his green eyes, tickling circles on the back of my hand. A crawling sensation spread over my arms, the hairs perking on their ends. It was like my hand had been bolted to the table.

  “I mean, I always thought you were pretty cute in high school, but seeing you as a full-grown woman...” He tilted his head, sucking his teeth loudly. “Damn. You sure did fill out the back of those jeans nicely –”

  Feeling his hand on me, I finally reacted, slapping his hand away from my thigh.

  “Yo, Brooklyn, relax –”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I scowled at him, grabbing my purse. “I don't know how to make this any clearer than I already have, but I'm not interested. Man, and I actually thought you'd grown out of being that pervy, low-life prick they all said you were in high school, but I guess some people just never change.”

  And with that, I threw enough money to cover both our drinks on the table and left.

  Chapter Six: Daymond

  1999

  I was 11 years old now, and I knew that I was getting too old for the swing, but I loved it. When I was coming down on the swing, I pushed my body forward so I could get even higher. The cool wind blew the hair out of my face. My stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels, but I didn't mind. It almost felt like I was flying in the air.

  I was still swinging way up in the air, but I opened my eyes. The playground looked like it was coming closer and farther away, closer and farther away. I was starting to get dizzy, but I held the chains real tight.

  It was pretty dark out, so the park was empty. Most of the lampposts around the park were broken, and those that were working were flickering and making crackling noises. I used to get real scared about the scary lights and shadows in the park, but I'm not a kid anymore, so I'm used to it now.

  On my right, there was a dirty woman sleeping on the bench. She had a broken cart full of things next to her. I've always seen the woman around here, but I didn't know her name. All I knew was that she always had that cart with her.

  In the house on top of the slide, there was a raccoon fast asleep in the corner. Huge chunks were missing from the paint on the slides and the jungle gym. This place was a real dump!

  The only other person with us was my big brother, Derrick. He was sitting inside the sandbox next to the slide. He looked like a giant inside the sandbox, but there was this big goofy smile on his face. There was nothing that made him happier than playing in the sandbox.

  He could play with his bucket and shovel and make sandcastles all day and never get tired of it. I got too old for the sandbox when I was about 6, so it was kind of weird that Derrick liked to play there so much. He was already 14!

  When I was 6 years old, I stole some money from Mom's purse when she was sleeping on the couch to buy him the bucket and shovel. I knew it was wrong and I was so scared Mom would find out for ages, but she never did. But now, I didn't feel so bad anymore. I knew it made Derrick happy, so it made me happy too.

  All of a sudden, this big white moving van came down the street. It parked right outside of the Miller house. The Miller house used to be as big a dump as this playground was when the Millers moved out a few years ago. Now, it looked a little better. It was brown, 2 stories tall, and had a new gray roof.

  A smaller red van followed and parked behind the moving van. And when I saw who came out of the truck, I started to slow down on the swing. A girl around my age hopped out of my car.

  I kicked out my legs and stomped on the ground to stop the swing.

  The girl was beautiful. She had curly, bright red hair, and she was wearing a pretty pink dress with polka dots on it. There was a big pink bow on her head that was the same color as her dress.

  Then, this older woman came out of the driver's side of the
car. The woman didn't look anything like her. She had a plain brown ponytail, and she was wearing thick square glasses, but she looked really friendly.

  Suddenly, the girl gave the woman this big smile. Seeing that smile made my stomach do tumbles, and it was really weird. I wasn't even swinging anymore! But then I felt bad. She probably wouldn't like me, just like all the other girls in my class. They called me “Smelly-pants,” and they were right. I haven't changed my clothes in many weeks.

  The girl skipped into her new house. 2 men came out of the moving van and followed her. They carried big cardboard boxes with marker writing on them. As I watched the house, I noticed that the girl didn't have a father, too. She was just like Derrick and me. Our dad left us when I was still in Mom's belly.

  I saw the woman and the girl at the doorway one more time. They were holding hands and they had warm smiles on their faces as they gave instructions to the moving men. It made me feel jealous. I couldn't remember the last time Mom held my hand, or Derrick's. Or the last time she hugged us.

  Mom never really talked to us at all, and it made me feel both angry and sad. Sometimes, the only time I heard her open her mouth was to yell prices at the TV when “The Price is Right” was on. She didn't like to go out of the house, but she never liked to sleep in her own bedroom, and I had to beg her to take showers sometimes. Mom liked to sleep on the sofa. She also liked to eat there, cry there, and watch TV all day long. The only time she left was to go downtown to a government office every week or to get herself more beer and other stinky drinks.

  Sometimes, it made me feel like she wasn't a real mom at all. Sometimes, I wished for a new mom to come take us away. Sometimes, I wanted bad things to happen to her. I was tired of being hungry. Why did we always have to eat ramen and plain bread, and how come she gets to have all the beer she wants? I was tired of finding things to eat in the fridge for Derrick and me and cleaning up all the bottles and cans around her every morning. But then I feel really bad. At least I have a mom. Many kids out there don't even have a mom AND a dad!