“Guess I’ll just have to win him over with my sparkling personality then.”
He laughed as the teams switched places on the field and a new inning started, bringing the Red Sox up to bat. I was a little nervous about meeting Parker, I had to admit. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was one of the most famous athletes in the country or that his face had been plastered on every magazine cover and in every newspaper since October.
He was Mason’s brother. Family. Which meant he had to like me. I wanted him to, especially if Mason and I wanted this thing between us to go further. I think I might have won over his nephew Leo and that might win me some points down the road, but kids were much easier than adults.
It didn’t help that I’d only gotten serious enough with one man in the past to meet his family. And while Scott’s dad hadn’t seemed to mind me so much, it had been obvious from the beginning that his mother was not a fan. She hadn’t kept her disdain for me a secret, always believing that Scott could do better. She probably had a party the day our divorce was finalized.
I just wanted to fit in with the Cruz clan, to be liked.
I wanted to know that I was good enough for an amazing guy like Mason.
“Dawson and Mickie couldn’t make it?”
He took a bite of his hot dog and shook his head. “No. The kids had some sort of program thing at their preschool tonight.”
“Bummer. I was hoping to meet them.”
He turned to me, a softness in his eyes that they only had when he looked at me. He brought my hand up to his mouth, laying a kiss on my palm. “You will,” he promised. “Soon.”
A few minutes later, his finger tapped on my thigh which was mostly exposed in my denim shorts. “So, what about the flowers?”
We had been sharing the stories of all of our tattoos, learning even more about each other in the process. The one he’d just pointed to was a cluster of colorful flowers that covered a large portion of my left thigh, their vines extending upward and wrapping around my hip bone. Other than the bleeding rose on my shoulder blade I got in honor of my mother, these flowers were my favorite.
More than anything, because of what they represented.
Re-birth. Strength. Resilience. Hope.
Not that I would give Mason the entire story. Not yet, anyway. “I had a bad bike accident when I was a kid. I skidded on some gravel when I was going too fast, fell off, and landed on a pretty big rock that sliced me open. The cut was a good several inches and needed a lot of stitches. I had a huge, ugly bruise there forever and because of several other smaller cuts around it, there was a lot of scar tissue. I always thought it was so hideous, and I hated looking at it. So, as soon as I was old enough, I got Pierce to draw something for me to cover it up. I guess you could say I wanted something pretty to grow there so I could forget about the ugly.”
Most of that was true. There was just more to the “forgetting about the ugly” part that I didn’t want to ruin the evening with by bringing up.
“I don’t think anything about you could ever be considered ugly,” Mason commented as his finger traced the vines of the flowers, his eyes glued to path they followed. “And what about the…piercings,” he said, lowering his voice. “You know…” His eyes flicked down to my chest.
I laughed loudly. “That was when I thought I was a badass.”
“You’re still a badass.”
I smiled. That was one of the best compliments he could ever give me. “True. Okay, let’s go with rebel. Back when I was going through my rebellious phase, though I really had nothing to rebel against. I suppose it was my ‘I will not conform’ act. Everyone has one of those, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said on a humorless chuckle. “Here’s mine.”
He lifted up his shirt, revealing his rib cage that was covered in many tattoos. But his finger was pointing to one specific one: a pot leaf.
I broke into a fit of giggles. “Oh my God. How have I not noticed that before?”
He scowled at me. “It’s not something I necessarily want to show off.”
I attempted to rein in my laughter, but I could see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, it’s not like I can brag about being a rebel or a badass,” I continued. “I was freaking out so bad before they put the needle in, I was in tears. I still don’t know how they managed to get the second one in me since the first one hurt so bad I about punched the guy who did it in the face.”
“As much as I like the image of you punching a guy in the face who saw your tits, I still don’t want to be thinking about other guys seeing your tits, let alone touching them.”
I smirked and rubbed his thigh. When my fingers slid precariously close to his package, his eyes darted to mine either in warning or encouragement, I couldn’t tell. It’s not like I was going to give him a hand job with all those people around, but the image was nice.
“Have you ever thought about piercing your…” I glanced down at the growing bulge in his jeans, “you know.”
A shudder ran through him, horror taking over his features. “Fuck. Just thinking about that brings water to my eyes. I’d probably have to be hammered to do it.”
“What if I asked you to?”
His brow furrowed, eyes filling with dread. “If it was something you really wanted, I guess I would try it. I can’t say that it wouldn’t traumatize me, though.”
His face was so comical that I couldn’t contain my laughter. “Don’t worry. You’re more than fine just the way you are.” He seemed to relax at that. “But if you ever do make that decision, I’m going with you to do it. I don’t like thinking about another woman seeing your dick either.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he said, wrapping his arm around me.
I snorted. “Not really. There’s a Mrs. Hyde in me that you don’t want to meet. Just don’t make me really jealous and you won’t ever have to encounter her.”
“Deal.”
At that point, darkness had fallen over the city and the ninth inning was in full swing. The Orioles had managed to score a few runs, but it wasn’t looking good for them. Despite the expected loss, I still screamed my head off whenever Parker came up to bat. He’d had a good game, looking just as strong as he had last season, according to Mason.
“See how the first two pitches were low fastballs?” Mason asked but didn’t wait for my response. “The next one will be inside and off-speed, probably curve ball. Guaranteed. He wants Parker to swing.”
I watched carefully as Parker took a slight step backwards in the batter’s box. “See,” Mason said, “he knows it too. He’s ready for it.”
He was absolutely right. The next pitch came in high and dropped just as it passed through the strike zone, but Parker was prepared. He swung fast and hard and knocked it into the second level bleachers in left field. We both stood up and cheered, despite the glaring Orioles fans around us. It was touching, the pride you could see in Mason’s eyes as he watched his younger brother run the bases. And when Parker looked up into the stands and pointed right at us, Mason’s face split into the biggest smile I’d ever seen on him as he pointed back.
Maybe I’d been around kids too long because I thought the whole thing was just precious.
After the game was over, we were allowed access down to the players’ locker room, Parker having given us special permission. We waited for Parker in the hallway outside the clubhouse as player after player walked by, reporters holding recording devices in their faces, cameras flashing everywhere.
What was most entertaining, however, was Mason’s demeanor as he stood there glaring at any man who dared look in my direction, especially any of the athletes. One Red Sox player even smiled at me and I thought Mason was going to rip his head off.
“Take the bait elsewhere, Corbins,” Mason snarled at him, surprising me. I guess it would make sense for him to know some of Parker’s teammates.
The guy, Corbins, responded with a shit-eating grin. “Always a pleasure to se
e you, Mason.”
I wasn’t sure if he felt threatened by these guys’ money or fame, but none of that appealed to me whatsoever. Not when I had Mason standing next to me, looking all dangerous and sexy. No woman in her right mind could look anywhere else when Mason’s attention was focused on her.
“Well, well, well,” Parker said when he came out smiling, giving Mason a hug, “if it isn’t the brooding badass himself. How you doing, man?”
“I’d be better if you picked up your phone every now and then when your brother called.”
Parker looked over at me, waving his hand at Mason. “You see what I have to put up with? I’m Parker, by the way.”
I shook his hand, smiling brightly and hoping he didn’t see my knees knocking together. “Sage. Nice to meet you. You had a great game.”
He smiled and I could immediately see the resemblance between the brothers. I could also see why Parker had been named this year’s Sexiest Man Alive by People magazine. Although in my opinion, Mason would have won the title if he’d been in the running.
“Thank you. I see your eyesight works just fine, which makes me wonder what you’re doing with this moron.”
I tried not to laugh while Mason sneered. “You’re hilarious. So, you think you can take a break from having phone sex with your girlfriend all night to come out with us?”
Parker’s mouth opened and he looked horrified, though I could tell it was an act. “Watch your mouth, bro. There’s a lady present.”
Mason burst into laughter. “King Smartass here wants me to watch my mouth. Please. You have the franchise on inappropriate jokes, little brother.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Parker said and winked at him. Then, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me down the hall. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll get you out of that Orioles jersey and into a Red Sox one in no time.”
“Quit talking about undressing my girl, dude,” Mason growled from behind us. I wondered if he knew what him calling me his girl was doing to my insides.
“He’s so adorable when he’s angry,” Parker whispered to me. “Just trying to make a good first impression,” he yelled back.
“I’m taking a picture right now and sending it to Kinley. If you don’t want her to think you can’t keep your hands to yourself, you should probably remove them now and put them in your pockets.”
Parker sighed and dropped his arm. Mason caught up and took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine, squeezing tightly. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Sage. Your boyfriend’s such a ball buster.”
Both of our heads snapped toward each other, our hands frozen in the other’s hold while our eyes searched for answers.
“Well, shit,” Parker spat. “Did I just step in it? You haven’t had that conversation yet, have you?”
Mason narrowed his eyes at me and when he began to smile, I returned it. “No, I’d say that’s pretty accurate. Sage?”
My heart was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. “Yeah…” I was drowning in those green eyes, the way they were penetrating me, controlling my reactions to him. “Yeah, that’s right on the money. Boyfriend-girlfriend. That’s us.”
Mason’s hand squeezed mine tighter, telling me he approved of my answer. I guess I had a boyfriend now. I hadn’t had one in forever. It felt kind of weird but also…really, really good.
“Peachy,” Parker replied, breaking us out of our trance. “Awkward moment almost avoided. Now, down to business. Has Mason ever told you about the time he popped a hernia for taking too big of a bong rip?”
Mason groaned and smacked Parker on the back of the head, making Parker howl in laughter.
I was beginning to think that maybe I wouldn’t have such a hard time fitting in with the Cruz clan after all.
Chapter Fourteen
Mason
“Where’s the rest of the money, boy?” Sal asked, spitting in my face, his putrid breath stinging my nostrils.
“I told you,” I insisted. “That’s all I had.”
He grabbed the collar of my shirt and roughly yanked me out of the chair. “I don’t believe you,” he spat. “You had more than that last week. You’re always working. So, what did you do with the rest of it?”
I tried to pull his hands off, but he was a pretty strong guy, especially when he was in one of his rages. “I had detention twice this week, so I couldn’t work those days. That’s all I could bring in.”
“Yeah, well that’s not fucking good enough. I can’t be the only one making all the goddamn money around here.”
“You can’t make money if you don’t even bother going to work,” I said under my breath without even thinking.
Sal’s entire body froze. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I wished it didn’t, but the look on his face when he was at his most furious still freaked me out. “Nothing,” I rushed to say. “I didn’t say anything.”
He didn’t buy it. “What the hell makes you think you can speak to me that way, boy? You think you’re a tough guy now? You think you can say whatever you want and there won’t be consequences?”
I vigorously shook my head back and forth and felt a tremendous blow slam against my jaw, knocking me backwards and off my feet. My hand flew to my jaw as I flexed it, hoping it wasn’t broken because he wouldn’t take me to the hospital if it was.
Stupid. Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut? Sal’s backhand was vicious at the best of times and downright lethal at the worst.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, scooting away from him. “I’ll work a lot next week and take on extra hours on weekends.”
He swiped his arm across the kitchen table, scattering my schoolwork and textbooks all over the floor. “Eres un pedazo inútil de basura, al igual que tu hermano mayor. No me falta el respeto! No dejo que tu madre se desprecie y no deje que un bastardo como tú me diga tampoco!”
I was used to that. Him ranting on and on in his native Spanish whenever he went into a stupor. I usually wasn’t home by myself with Sal. But Parker was over at his friend Clay’s house and Dawson had left a little while ago. He’d asked if I wanted to go with him, but I told him I had homework to do. Sal wasn’t even supposed to be home yet, but he had caught me off guard by stumbling through the doorway ten minutes before with a brown bag in his hand and a glazed look in his eyes.
I should have gone with Dawson.
“Get out of my face!” Sal screamed, taking a step toward me. “Get your ass out of here before I give you another fat lip!”
I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my notepad before running out the front door. I would hang out at the shop for a while, I thought as I lit a cigarette. Tyrese and the guys would probably be there partying or something. They usually were after closing up for the day, and I could go for a beer. Luckily, it was within walking distance and I could be there in twenty minutes.
My mind had become such a clusterfuck the past few years. If I wasn’t pissed off at the entire world one minute, I was scared for my life or my brothers’ lives the next. If I wasn’t hungry because there was no food in the fridge, I was craving a good high, knowing it would take away all the pain for a while. And if I wasn’t chomping at the bit to get the hell out of D.C., I was wishing that it would just all go away.
Sometimes I even thought that maybe I should go away. That maybe there wasn’t really a point to life if it didn’t get much better than this.
“Yo, man,” Tyrese said in greeting when I entered the garage, sitting down on an old couch next to him.
Tyrese was a few years older than me and ran the shop with his older brother Ramen. Tyrese had known me from school, knew I needed some money and was good with tools, so he’d given me a job at the shop a few months before. The rest of the guys were alright, except I knew what they were all into. I knew they were running drugs out of a lot of the cars that came through the garage, but I just turned a blind eye and ignored it.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” Ramen asked as he lea
ned over the coffee table and snorted up a line of white powder.
“What do you think?” I took a hit off the joint Tyrese passed to me, needing the calming effect I knew it would provide. “Father of the Year strikes again.”
“Man, I don’t know why you put up with that shit,” Ramen snapped. “You say the word and me and my boys will go over there and rough him up so bad he’ll never touch any of ya’ll again.”
I tipped my head back and let the drug do its work. “I can’t do that,” I replied on a sigh. “Something like that happens and Social Services gets called, we’re fucked. Me and my little brother are still minors and they could put us into the system. I’m going to need to work as many hours as you can give me, by the way. We’re low on money.”
“No problem,” Ramen replied. “You know you’re good. And you know that if you did some of those jobs for me, you could make a hell of a lot more money.”
He’d mentioned that before. Drug running, basically. I’d be his mule, delivering the drugs and dropping off the cars in a specified location. I’d been adamant about steering clear of that business, but I was starting to think twice about that decision. If it meant bringing in more money, which would keep Sal off mine and my brothers’ backs, maybe a job here and there wouldn’t hurt.
“How much are we talking?” I asked.
His eyebrows raised, clearly surprised that I was even entertaining the idea since I never had before. “Let’s just say it would be enough to keep your bellies full for a good while. Maybe even enough to get yourself a car.”
I took another hit, holding it in for maximum effect before blowing out a long stream of smoke. “I’ll think about it.”
Ramen smiled, looking satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.”
My hand massaged my jaw when it started to throb, giving me a damn headache. The weed needed to hurry up and work its magic because my face was hurting like a bitch.
Tyrese held out a short straw to me, shoving it in my face. “Here, man. That looks like it fucking hurts. And I’m telling you, you don’t feel no pain with this shit. Take a line or two and you get the best damn feeling you could ever imagine.” He laughed. “Not quite as good as being inside a tight pussy, but it’s the next best thing.”
The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers #2) Page 15
