I frowned. “That’s about what time you rang my doorbell, fool,” I admonished, then tipped my head to the side. “So… hmm… I guess you have a good point.”
Joan gasped. “Are you calling me trouble, Sloane?!”
“Hell yes,” I agreed, laughing. “Baby go on upstairs and call your little friends and tell them your good news before you spend all night texting Lang,” I told Madison, dismissing her before her father could confuse her any further.
“I wasn’t finished talking to her,” he scolded me as he turned off the grill and we headed inside, to the dining room.
“You absolutely were,” I countered. “Why are you giving her a hard time, she’s a good kid.”
“She is, but I don’t know that lil’ nigga, and I don’t know what he has her out in the streets doing.”
“What did you have girls doing when you were his age?” Joan asked, and the look on his face – and Miles too – said it all.
Garrett shook his head. “She can’t see that boy again. Absolutely nawl.”
“Madison is a smart, responsible girl. She’s not going to let that boy get her in any trouble, not with rugby, and a driver’s license, and my Gucci glasses all on the line.”
“Keep that energy when she comes through here with a baby on her hip,” Garrett quipped as we grabbed dishes to take to the dining room.
“Wait,” Miles chuckled. “How are you leaping from a nine o’clock curfew to a baby, man? Just skip the whole pregnancy, huh?”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Common sense,” Miles answered, making us all laugh.
It went on like that, shifting away from Madison’s little teenage love affair to whatever random topic came up, until hours had passed, and Joan and Miles excused themselves to head home. I joined Garrett in the kitchen afterward, intending to help him clean up – his task, even though this was my house, since this impromptu dinner party was his idea.
With us working together it didn’t take long, but it was still nearly midnight when we finished. And, in a move that surprised no one, once everything was clean, and everyone else was gone, and Madison had fallen asleep on the phone with Langston… Garrett called himself making a move.
“Come here,” he told me, pulling me back out onto the patio after I’d poured myself one last glass of wine for the night.
I shook my head, but gave in to his nudging, meeting his gaze as soon as we were outside. “What do you want? It’s late, and I have a second day of rookie camp tomorrow.”
“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist, and resting his hands way too low on my back. “Earlier, when you were telling us about your day, you seemed like you could use a little relaxation.” His fingers pressed in, digging into my flesh in a way that – no lie – felt good. “Why don’t you let me give you a little massage?”
My eyebrow went up. “A little massage? How does that work, G? Your fingers, my pussy?”
“I could go with that. I like your suggestion, let’s do it.”
“It was not a suggestion, damn fool,” I laughed, then bit my lip. I raised my hand, up to his collar, tugging it aside a little. “Maybe whoever gave you this hickey would be down for it though?”
He groaned. “Here you go again.”
“Uh, yeah,” I agreed, easing out of his hold. “Garrett…” I sighed. “When are you going to let this go? We’re great as friends… great as co-parents… we get along. There’s minimal fuss around here. Why would I agree to something as foolish as getting involved with you again?”
“What makes it foolish?” he asked, sincerely, and my eyes went wide.
“The obvious territory marking on your neck!”
He shook his head. “That’s… nothing.”
“It’s enough,” I shot back. “It’s a reminder of all the little signs that I ignored, and lied to myself about.”
Garrett propped his hands on his head. “I’m… a single man, Sloane. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?”
“You absolutely are supposed to enjoy yourself – I sure as hell am.”
He frowned. “And what does that mean?”
“It means whatever it meant when it came out of your mouth! Or what… you can’t handle knowing that someone else is getting what used to be yours? Exclusively. Not that it mattered to you.”
“Don’t do that…”
“What, tell the truth?”
“Making it seem like I didn’t give a damn about you is not the truth.”
I let out a huff, then drained the glass of wine I was still holding in one gulp. “You sure had a funny way of showing it.”
“And that’s my mistake. That I will own up to. I fucked up, full stop. But I loved the hell out of you, Sloane. Honestly… st—”
“No!” I held up a hand, cutting him off. “No, you will not do this. Not tonight, not with that mark on your neck, not… at all. We had a good time tonight with our friends, and you signed a new client, and I started my new job, and Madison is safe and sound and happy. Go home.”
“This is my—”
“Go home.”
He stared at me for a moment, defeated, and then nodded. Before I could react, he’d stepped in, kissing my forehead and then the corner of my mouth, and then… he was gone.
At least that’s what I assumed, because I was still frozen to the spot, not entirely sure of what had just happened, or what I should do.
Well… I did know one thing.
One more glass of wine.
Four
“This shit ain’t working.”
My assistant, Elliot, had already given me a heads up that one of the rookies – one of my rookies – was upset. When our inter-office IM pinged with the message, I hadn’t thought much of it. The season hadn’t started yet – hell, training camp hadn’t even started yet, so there wasn’t much he could be upset about.
Rutledge Amare’s only real, work-related interaction with the team so far was the rookie mini-camp, and today was the last day of that. Of course I’d heard about his interaction with Coach Brooks on the first day, but things had been quiet since then, so I assumed they’d worked it out.
Apparently, I was wrong.
Rut sat across from me now, obviously frustrated by whatever had transpired today, declaring his refusal to work with Sloane. Only… this wasn’t about to go like he expected it to.
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely interested in figuring out how to get forward momentum here. Ensuring his success was my job, but my reach only went so far.
“Man, that bit—broad is always on my ass about little shit that don’t matter. You’re putting your arms out too early. Why you jumping for the ball? Quit the false steps. Don’t catch the ball against your chest,” he complained, mocking her feminine tone. “I’m here to play football, not have her micromanaging every little thing I fuckin’ do.”
From my seat behind my desk, I shrugged. “Those all sound like solid tips for a pro-level wide receiver. You’re coming to this team out of college – there’s going to be a transition.”
“I ain’t stupid, I understand that. What I don’t understand is why this… female… who don’t get me or what we’re even doing out there gets to nag me about dumb shit.”
I scratched at my chin, then sat forward, propping my elbows on my desk. “You didn’t read the welcome packet, did you?”
He frowned. “Welcome packet? I’on even know what you talking about man.”
So the answer is no then.
“Last week, when we met, I personally put a welcome packet into your hands – a front office roster, a coaching staff roster, among other things. Important things.”
“Oh. Yeah. You said there wasn’t anything in there I needed to sign.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t supposed to read it. If you had, you would’ve known that the team had a new position coach. Your position, wide receiver.”
He sucked his teeth. ““Man, Divine threw that ‘lil’ mention in there when I m
et up with him a few weeks ago, but shit, I ain’t catch it until she jumped in my face out there. I ain’t wanna believe the Kings were on that feminist bullshit too.”
“She wasn’t hired because of an agenda, she was hired because she had the qualifications.”
“A fat ass and nice lips?”
My jaw tightened as I mentally checked my anger over hearing him disrespect Sloane – this conversation wasn’t personal, so I couldn’t let my personal feelings guide my tongue.
“A winning record at BSU, a reputation for building excellent wide receivers, and experience on the field – with phenomenal personal stats.”
Rut scoffed. “Experience on the field? On what field?”
“The football field. She played semi-pro, played in college, played in high school. She’s been dominating in this game since before you were born.”
Leaning back, Rut groaned. “I see you’re on the same exaggerated facts she’s on. Before I was born? Really nigga?”
“She’s forty-three years old, so yes, before you were born. And there’s no need for exaggeration here – the facts are what they are. Let me give you another one – Coach Brooks is proven. Her place around here is secure, unlike yours.”
That made him sit up, a frown on his face. “The fuck does that mean?”
“It means that your position on this team is still probationary – contract or not. When we start training camp in less than two months, there’s going to be more than eighty men vying for a position on a fifty-two man roster. Most of our vets are already guaranteed – we have maybe six positions to fill, between rookies, free agents, and those who simply didn’t perform up to par last season,” I explained, trying to make sure the urgency was clear to him. “Coach Brooks isn’t going anywhere. But if at the end of training camp she declares you unfit for this team, you will not be wearing a Kings jersey come September.”
Rut’s scowl deepened as he sat forward. “You can’t be serious, man. I thought you were supposed to be like my advocate or something?”
“Director of Player Success,” I corrected. “And that’s exactly what I’m trying to ensure here, but it requires your participation. The Kings already have two game-winning wide receivers – Terrance Grant and Jordan Johnson. The reality is that you’re disposable. It’s up to you to change that perception.”
“So I’m supposed to go out there and kiss her ass? Bring flowers to the fuckin’ field for her?”
I shook my head. “Nobody is asking you to do that. Go out there and give Coach Brooks the same respect you’d give her if she was a man. Listen to her, because she knows what she’s talking about. And fucking perform. That’s it. Your shitty ideas about women and their place and whatever else? Leave that shit in your car when you come onto Kings property, and any time you’re representing this team. You’re here to play football – conduct yourself accordingly. You’ve been seeing the therapist. Use that as a—”
“Don’t!”
He stared at me for a second, mild betrayal in his eyes – a look I’d seen countless times, usually from other players around his age, those very young twenties. In their high school and hometowns, on the block, on their college campuses, they were the man. They were the ones people came out to see, they were local superstars. But then, they came face to face with the transition nobody warned them about amidst all the talk about the different rules on the field.
Wherever they came from, they were the shit.
Here in the pros though, sprinkled amongst seasoned veterans with blockbuster contracts and the stats to back it up… they weren’t shit.
Yet.
Plenty of guys had excitement around them in the draft, they were hot commodities, wanted by every team. But then they hit the field in the pros and all that potential… fizzled.
Potential didn’t win games, or endorsements, or the chance at a better contract.
Performance did.
And as long as I was responsible for easing them through that transition, I wasn’t going to sugarcoat the shit. You worked, or you went home – and stayed home – bottom line.
“Man, what-the-fuck-ever,” Rut grumbled, pushing himself out of his chair. He didn’t bother looking back as he shoved his way out of my office door, and I didn’t bother calling after him, because I’d already said what I needed to say.
The first offseason workout was coming up soon, in a little over a week. I’d find out from his coaches then if he needed further counsel.
Which means talking to Sloane.
She’d made it clear that our relationship was as good as done, as soon as she signed her official paperwork to become part of the Kings organization. I understood her position, and even – grudgingly – agreed with it, especially considering whatever this tension was between her and Rutledge. Navigating that could prove difficult, with my professional role as his advocate on the team, when the two of them were bumping heads.
I couldn’t imagine it wouldn’t lead to us bumping heads.
But even imagining that scenario didn’t keep me from imagining others – or rather, reliving past interactions in my head. Sloane wasn’t, on any level, a woman who was easy to forget. If she thought my desire for her was just a switch in my head, something I could easily turn off with a simple flip… she was wrong.
“Gimme a sec. I’ll be right out – LA”
I glanced at my watch, and then the time on my phone, checking to make sure I hadn’t gone crazy. Landon had sent that text nearly ten minutes ago at this point, and yet he was nowhere to be found.
The sultry sound of female laughter drew my attention away from my phone, up to where Landon was exiting the elevator with not one, but two tens, one of whom was draped over his arm, grinning at him like he’d been the one to hang the damn moon.
So… a typical day for him.
“Ladies meet Nathan Richardson, future heir to the Connecticut Kings,” he joked, making me shake my head.
“Cut the bullshit please,” I countered, extending a hand for our usual greeting.
“Unlike me,” he said, returning his attention to the women, who looked too much alike to not be related. Same honey-toned skin, same big brown eyes, both dressed like they were on lunch breaks as well. “Nate is embarrassed by his family name.”
“I bet that’s not true at all, is it?” one of the women asked, stepping forward with her hand extended, for me to shake. “I’m Leya, and this is my little sister, Tyra. Since Landon doesn’t have the manners for a proper introduction.”
I couldn’t help the little grin that crossed my lips as I accepted her hand, taking the opportunity to give her a closer look now that she was… well, closer.
Still a ten.
Her thick natural hair was pulled into a ball at the nape of her neck, leaving her pretty face fully exposed. She wore a pencil skirt that showed off fantasy-inducing curves, paired with a sleeveless blouse that offered a full view of her toned arms. And it certainly didn’t hurt that when she moved, I caught a distinct whiff of brown sugar.
You could never go wrong with a woman who smelled edible.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Leya,” I told her, still holding her hand.
Her plum-painted lips curved into a seductive smile. “Likewise. Maybe we can double date next time, instead of me having to play third wheel,” she added, with a pointed glance at Landon and Tyra, who were almost too consumed with each other to even notice.
“Yeah, maybe so,” Tyra said, half-distracted by Landon’s mouth on her neck, as if they weren’t standing in the very public courtyard of the office park where he worked.
Leya groaned. “Girl come on. We have a real job to get back to,” she said, throwing an obvious jab at Landon, which he simply laughed off. There was a quick exchange of goodbyes, and then Landon moved beside me to watch them walk away, neither of us saying anything until they reached their destination, which was just the next building.
“Life is so good,” he declared, turning to face me. “Do you see her, bruh
?”
“Do you see the time? Unlike you, I need to be back at my office at some point in the afternoon.”
He frowned. “That’s how you treat the man who lined up fine ass, professional ass, literal sisterly ass for us? You’re so ungrateful, wow.”
“And you are a piece of work. Come on and let’s eat – unless you already…”
“Not in the literal or figurative sense,” he answered, moving with me as I started toward our chosen lunch spot in his building. “I ran into them when I was coming down to meet you, so I took them upstairs for a tour of my office.”
“You just met them? Today?”
Shaking his head, Landon grinned. “Nah. I bumped into Tyra out in the courtyard one day, and we’ve kicked it a few times. Today was the first time I met her sister… man, I really can’t decide which one is finer.”
“What a terrible predicament for you,” I responded, my tone dry.
“And a come up for you. You heard Leya – double date. She’s into it. Now the question is, are you?”
I didn’t have a reason not to be, did I?
I was a single, educated, well-employed, good-looking man – attracting women wasn’t an issue for me. What was an issue, however, was finding one on the same page as me – not looking for marriage, or babies, or moving in together and meeting families. It wasn’t even that I was anti-monogamy. That part was fine. I just… wanted to have my life, on my terms, and sometimes meet in the middle with a woman who had her own shit going on, and wasn’t secretly hoping that we would become something else.
It was a large part of my attraction to Sloane.
She wasn’t… pressed.
But I was.
“I’m open to seeing what might happen,” I conceded, once we’d settled at our table. “But the minute she drops a hint about a house and kids…”
Landon shook his head. “See, that’s why I’m out here trying to help you – you have a “settle down” look about you.”
“A settle down look?”
“Yeah – always all buttoned up, got your lil dark skin and facial hair pretty boy shit going on. Women see you and think – that man is gonna give me some nice chocolate babies. Women see me and think… fuckboy. They already know better.”
Pass Interference (Connecticut Kings Book 6) Page 5
