Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance

by Christina Clark

  I didn't know what to say. Aiden jerked his head away from me, but I could see the glister he was trying to blink out of his eyes. My arms were aching to reach over and hug him, but I just kept my hands on my lap.

  “You're a good kid, Aiden. I see where you're coming from, but –”

  “No,” said Aiden in a small voice. “I'm a fucking pussy.”

  “What are you –”

  “There's something I need to show you.” Aiden unplugged his phone from the charger. He flipped his phone over and over again in his hands, bouncing his leg. “Look. I think – no, I know I've got something. I just couldn't show this to anyone else.”

  “What is it?”

  “I thought the restaurant was empty – my father wasn't there, and I had this guy over. Well, my father showed up, and we were trying to sneak out through the back door, but long story short, we ended up hiding out in the Iron Bamboo room – it's one of our private dining rooms. And we weren't alone.”

  His shoulders shuddering, Aiden unlocked his phone and pulled up a video file. I leaned over, narrowing my eyes at the screen. The shot was unstable and hazy, as if the person recording it didn't want to be found. Finally, the camera was set on the floor, capturing half of the table and the figure seated on the far end. I gasped.

  It was Daymond.

  “– cool your damn jets. You're stressing me out. All the I's are dotted, all the Ts crossed – everything's covered. My man works for Warner's cousin, Vinny's shop. He called me last night to give me the OK – distracted Vinny and took care of the seatbelt. When this all blows over, guess who they'll be looking at first?”

  When the second voice interjected, I thought I was going to be sick. I dug my nails into my knees, watching in disbelief. The man's face was never shown, but I knew who it was right away.

  “But what if one of the other guys decides to ride shotgun that day?”

  “Relax. With Whitaker's size, you really think they're gonna let him sit up in the back with them? And I mean, if Warner takes the seat, all the better.”

  “I don't know about this – what happens if we get –”

  “Then we lawyer up – with your old man's money, what we gotta worry about? I mean, it's not like a football player ain't ever got away with it before –”

  The shot jerked once, and the clip ended.

  “I didn't get the other guy's face. I didn't know how to tell you this – I mean, I didn't know how you'd react – you guys were dating, after all. But it was –”

  “Xavier.”

  “Yeah, it – wait, Ms. C, what are you doing?”

  I staggered over to my purse, fished out my phone, and slammed it against my ear.

  “Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up...”

  Chapter Eleven: Ace

  2016

  “Warner!” Coach barked from behind me. “What are you doing here so early?”

  I turned around to face him, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Coach strolled over to me, his chest puffed out and his hands locked behind his back. I looked straight at him, doing everything I could to ignore the weirdly large nipples poking out of his shirt.

  “Left my phone here yesterday – thought I'd come by a little earlier and get some breakfast while I'm at it.”

  Coach stayed quiet, the dark triangle of hair over his upper lip twitching as he eyed me up and down.

  “That run at that Steelers game was perhaps one of the most impulsive and reckless plays I've seen in a long, long time.”

  “I'm sorry, Coach, I –”

  “But it was spectacular to watch, and ultimately, it did pay off,” Coach finished gruffly. “I'm not saying luck had anything to do with it, but if you ever try anything that reckless again without running it by me first –”

  “It won't happen again, Coach.” I breathed out sharply. “Listen, Coach, about what they're saying about me –”

  “I don't involve myself in hearsay,” Coach answered simply. He turned away from me. “I reserve judgment until evidence is presented. I'll see you at practice. Keep up the good work.”

  “Right. Later, Coach.”

  I headed off in the opposite direction and started towards the locker room. Walking through the swinging door was like entering a sauna. Thick clouds of steam billowed out from the showers and into the locker area. And when I heard the sound of a strange woman's giggling moan, my eyebrows perked with my ears.

  Nonetheless, it was none of my business, so I did my own thing. I walked up to my locker and pulled out my phone from the top shelf. But as I clicked on the home button, my screen stayed blank.

  “Damn.”

  I took out my charger from the bag and found a socket next to Baldwin's locker. Stooping down to one leg, I plugged my phone in. A flashing battery appeared on the screen, and my phone started up on its own.

  “Stop, Daymond, you're so bad!”

  Daymond and a ginger chick with sloppy-huge cans strutted out of the showers, buck-naked and dripping onto the carpet.

  “Yo, Warner.” Armstrong slapped the chick across her titties, showing off their jiggling capabilities. “Wanna join us?”

  My cock stirred as the chick started tracing the butterfly tattoo on her inner thigh with her fingers.

  “Nah, I'm alright.”

  “Psh.” Armstrong grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Suit yourself, fag.”

  “Says the dude with his dick out.” I smirked, turning away from them. “You kids play safe.”

  As Armstrong led the chick back to the showers, I reached for my phone and punched in my password. Instead of my Scarface wallpaper, 3 notification windows flooded my screen. 12 missed calls. 10 new text messages. 3 new voicemails. All from Brooklyn.

  I scrolled through the messages. While my eyes darted back and forth through the walls of text, I could hear the chick's gagging and Armstrong's loud and vulgar moans in the background. It felt like someone had their foot down on my chest, squeezing the air out of me.

  “Fuck yeah, baby, just like that – Yo, Warner, you sure you don't wanna get in on this?”

  Chapter Twelve: Brooklyn

  2016

  A dozen others trying to beat the rush hour waited with me at the red light. The other drivers were probably just as antsy to get out of this heat as I was. Some of them were fanning their faces with their hands. Others were slumped against their headrests with their visors down, looking like they'd just given up.

  I tapped my thumbs against the steering wheel. It was most likely all in my head, but this felt like the longest red light ever. I reached over to my phone, which was mounted against the AC vent. A selfie of Tabitha and I in sexy pirate wench costumes stared back at me, but there were no new notifications. Why the hell hadn't Ace called me back yet?

  When the light finally flashed green, my phone started ringing. I glanced over at the screen excitedly, but when I saw Mom's name on the screen, I groaned. I hit the green button. The radio playing from the speakers switched to the sound of Mom's voice and some crackly background noise.

  “What's up, Mom?”

  “Honey, where are you? Why do you sound so far away?”

  “You're on speakerphone. I'm driving, so I can't talk long –”

  “Wonderful! Are you on your way here?”

  “On my way where?” I sighed exasperatedly, keeping my eyes on the road.

  “To Xavier's apartment, of course!”

  “Oh, in that case, hell no.”

  “But Brooklyn! We promised Xavier we'd come to his party months ago, and we Cunninghams stay true to our word –”

  “Really?” I snorted, shaking my head. “Since when?”

  “I don't know what you mean by that. Just get here right now – you don't want to disappoint us, do you? Everyone's here – we even got your grandfather out of the hospital just for –”

  “Grandpa's there?” My grip around the steering wheel started to loosen.

  “What? Oh, yes, yes he's here. Come on, honey, just stop by. Yo
u don't even have to stay long.”

  “Fine. 5 minutes, and then I'm gone.”

  “Wonderful! Oh, and honey, if you could just swing by your house and get changed, maybe that gorgeous gold Givenchy gown Xavier got for you for your birthday –”

  “No.” I looked down at my ratty hoodie and sweats, feeling a tiny wave of triumph. “I'm coming as is.”

  “But Brooklyn, don't you think –”

  “I'll see you in around 10 minutes. Bye.”

  XXX

  “...singing my life with his words,

  Killing me softly with his song,

  Killing me softly, with his song...

  Killing me softly...with his song...”

  I leaned against a corner in the elevator. But as I watched the floor indicators lighting up one after another, I felt this unnerving shiver creeping over my body. It could have been the fact that I was once again back in Xavier's building after staunchly promising myself never to step foot in here again, but something told me it was more than that.

  When the bulb landed on the “PH” button, the elevator doors opened. I stepped out of the elevator, and as I walked up to the single door at the end of the hallway, I started to fidget with my fingers. The little voice in my head just wouldn't shut up.

  Get out now.

  I paused, the heels of my sneakers scuffing the hardwood floor. And just as I backtracked, the handsome double doors opened. The soft melodies of classical string music poured out into the hallway.

  “Brooklyn?”

  Breathing out jaggedly, I turned back around and plodded back to Xavier's front door.

  “Hi. Listen, I'm just here to say hi to...”

  The rest of my sentence never made it out of me. I was dazed, too busy gawking past Xavier's shoulder. Sensing how stupefied I was, Xavier stepped aside, smoothing out the lapels of his tuxedo.

  There was no party. In fact, there was no one there at all. The dark suite was lit up with dozens of golden taper candles on beautiful brass candlesticks. Music flowed out from the record player hidden in the shadows. From the door, red roses alternated with white tealights were set up to create a path. It led to another set of pink tealight candles arranged in a massive heart across the white floor. Enclosed in the heart, colorful petals spelled out the words: “Will You Marry Me?”

  “Wanna come in?”

  I gazed back at Xavier's wide, hopeful eyes. I could see him reaching for the ring-box-shaped bulge in his pocket. My heart squeezed with what felt like pity.

  “I'm sorry. I have to go –”

  “What – don't you like it?” Xavier asked, his voice quavering with hurt. “What is it, the music? I mean, I planned this all week. I even had your mom come over this morning –”

  “No, it's not that,” I said softly. “It's beautiful, really. But you and I both know why this isn't a good idea –”

  “Please, Brooklyn.” Xavier took a step towards me, the corners of his mouth drooping. I could feel the anguish swimming in his intense, narrowed gaze, but I stood my ground. “I'm gonna go. I'll see you –”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?” I wrinkled my nose at him, stalking away from him. “Bye, Xav – oh my god – let me go!”

  Xavier seized my shoulders from behind and yanked me through the door violently. I toppled backwards, my purse flying off my shoulders. As I landed on the floor with a resounding crash, my purse skidded across the floor. It struck the leg of a stool, the contents of my purse bursting through the magnetic snaps.

  Xavier kicked the door shut.

  “Xavier – what the fuck do you think you're doing –”

  “Shut up, bit –”

  Our eyes snapped to my purse at the same time. Half of my buzzing phone was peeking out of my purse, and Ace's name was flashing on the screen. I shoved myself off the ground, but Xavier beat me to it. He pounced on my phone, snatching it off the ground.

  “You better make yourself comfortable, Brooky-bear, 'cause you're not going anywhere...”

  Part 4

  Chapter One: Brooklyn

  2016

  Moonlight spilled into the study from the round sunroof above me. Hardbound leather books with wavy yellowed pages sat on the handsome bookshelf to my left. The floor was covered in blue-and-gold Victorian carpet. A sparkling diamond orb chandelier dangled above an elegant wooden table and chair set.

  Blown up black-and-white portraits of wealthy looking individuals were hung up in gold and silver frames all around me. They were all good-looking, the dapper men in old-fashioned suits and the women cloaked in fur and their hair done up in luscious curls. All featured the same stiff smile on their faces.

  Yet as beautiful as this place was, my cold flesh was crawling something fierce. The sweet operatic voices of Leo Delibes' “The Flower Duet” swelled behind the locked door. I spread my fingers apart and looked down at my hands. All the strenuous jiggling of the doorknobs had turned the beds of my palms pink and blistered.

  I turned to the polished bar cart sitting next to the stone fireplace. It was the only thing in the room that actually looked like it was used. The double-decker cart was filled with silver goblets, crystal glassware, and expensive bottles of wine and liquor. I raised my eyes to the jewel-studded mirror above the cart.

  I looked like hell. My eyes were wet and bulging with terror and my usually neat bob mussed and stuck to the sides of my face. Sweat blobs were peeking out from under the arms of my gray hoodie. The corners of my mouth felt like they were splitting open, they felt so dry. I raised my aching hands, caressing my throbbing throat.

  This was a bad dream. It had to be. Whatever it was, I just wanted to get the hell out of here. My heart leaped to my throat. I turned back to the glossy wooden doors, charging head on. I clenched my fists, pounding on the doors with all the force I had left inside of me.

  “Xavier – fucking get me outta here!”

  I flinched, my throat stinging. My voice sounded harsh, like I had a terrible case of the flu. Outside the door, he cranked up the volume. My chest tightened. All this space in the study and I still felt the air draining out of me. I flattened my hands on the door, the wood squeaking as I dragged them down the varnished surface.

  “Please, Xavier. Just unlock the door. Let's – let's talk –”

  Still nothing.

  The song ended with a soft click. For a minute, I breathed out in relief. But when I heard the crackling static on the record player, followed by the same soulful soprano voice, I banged my forehead against the door. If I had to hear this song one more time, I was going to gouge my eyes out. My mind was so laden with conflicted and panic-stricken thoughts, it was literally weighing my head down.

  I spun around and crumpled to the floor. Resting my back against the door, my head fell to my hands. I've always known Xavier was possessive – above a whole other range of issues he refused to acknowledge – but this was beyond my comprehension.

  I saw the glaring red flags and I ignored them. This was horrifying, but it was a horror I should have seen coming. How could I have let myself get here?

  But as I sat there, wallowing in self-pity, I shot right back up. This was no time to feel sorry for myself. Yes, it was both painful and baffling to think – despite what problems we had – that a man I'd been with 2 years was actually capable of any of this. But that very same man could be on the other side of the door this very second, plotting exactly how to get rid of me. Did that sound a little extreme? Maybe. Am I taking any chances? You bet your ass I'm not.

  I cocked my head from left to right, taking stock of my surroundings. My wandering gaze fell back on the bar cart. I pushed myself off the floor and grabbed the largest bottle. At the rise of the crescendo, I smashed the bottle against the handle of the cart. I jumped back, my chin quivering as glass shards and dark red wine bled into the rug.

  With the broken bottle in hand, I crept up to the door and pressed my ear up against it.

  “Xavier, please,” I spoke as calmly as I
could. “Just open the door. I've had some time to think, and I just really want to talk.”

  I took a shuddering pause.

  “Maybe we can work things out.”

  The music ceased. I straightened up and listened carefully. I was trying desperately to keep my shit together, but the turbulence in my gut was making it impossible.

  “You mean that, Brooky-bear?”

  I jolted back at the sound of the groaning armchair. The music halted. I spaced out my legs and tightened my clammy fingers around the neck of the bottle. The footfall on the other side of the door was getting louder and louder.

  “Because that's all I wanted. Good you finally came to your – ” The doorknobs started shaking as Xavier unlocked it from the other side. The door flew open. “senses...”

  Xavier reeked. His tuxedo jacket and his collar were unbuttoned, and the black strip of his bow tie hanging loose around his collar. His wide, reddened eyes darted back and forth from the mess behind me to the broken bottle in my hands. The change in his demeanor was immediate. He took a sinister step towards me, his jaw clenched and his nostrils rounded in disdain.

  “You stupid bitch – what the fuck did you do that for? That was a $5,000 bottle of wine –”

  “Step the fuck back.” I wielded my weapon with both hands, thrusting the jagged teeth of the bottle in his direction. “You're going to let me out right now, or –”

  Xavier lifted an eyebrow, snickering.

  “Or what?” he challenged me, his mouth now settling in a wide, cocky smile. “You're going to kill me? Don't kid yourself, Brooklyn. Put that thing down. We both know you'd never –”

  I took another step forward, shutting him up.

  “If you think I'm going to let you lay another finger on me, you're even dumber than you look.” I was about to pass out from the near-crippling fear taking a hold of me, but by some miracle, I stood my ground. “Let's hope it's a rabbit foot that you've got jammed up your ass, because this really isn't the day to be testing me.”