Takedown

by Gemma Brooks

  He stood up and walked out of the room, like he hadn’t heard any of the words I’d just said.

  “Where you going?” I called after him, standing up to follow.

  “Out,” he called back. By the time I made it to the foyer, he’d left, slamming the door on his way out.

  “Rowdy!” I yelled out, hoping he’d come bursting back through the door any second now.

  Nothing.

  I stood, frozen, taking a deep breath, my arms resting around my soft belly. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of his shiny cell phone sitting on the table. He’d left it. Probably intentionally.

  “Go blow off your steam,” I muttered under my breath to myself. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  CHAPTER 28

  I tossed and turned all night, lying under the covers of our bed, alone. I watched as the bedside clock switched from 12:00 to 12:30. 12:30 became 1 and 1 became 2. By 3, I was still wide awake and Rowdy was still gone. I had no way of reaching him, and no way of knowing where he was in that big city filled with thousands of possibilities.

  I closed my eyes, forcing myself to try to fall asleep, but by 3:30 the clicking of the key in the lock of the front door echoed through the still, quiet apartment and jolted me up.

  “Rowdy!” I yelled out as I flung the covers off and ran down the hall. I stopped dead in my tracks the moment I saw a staggering Rowdy being propped up by none other than Avery Sharp in all her blonde-haired, mini-dress-wearing glory.

  “Brought you something,” she said with a smirk. “Look who I found out and about, painting the town red.”

  I wanted to hug her and smack her across the face all at the same time. “Funny he ran into you.”

  “Psh,” she scoffed. “More like I ran into him. Drunk as a skunk, talking to some street performer on Fremont street and drawing attention to himself as swarms of tourists lined up for autographs outside some casino.”

  “Seriously?” I cast daggers his way, but he was too drunk to notice. Or care.

  “I did you a favor, honey,” Avery said. “Despite what you think of me, I’m not after your man.”

  “Th-thank you,” I stammered. It was hard to be nice to her after I’d convinced myself that she was a nothing but a two bit whore. “Do you need money for a cab?”

  “No,” Avery said. “My boyfriend is outside in the car actually.”

  “Boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Jonah Harrington,” she said with a smirk and her hand on her hip as she flung her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Quarterback for the 49ers.”

  She was a total athlete-chaser. I was right to trust my gut about her. She would’ve snatched Rowdy up had she been given the opportunity.

  “Anyway,” she said. “Documentary’s coming out soon. We don’t need any bad publicity right now. Nothing worse than an athlete behaving badly. The guys on ESPN would have a field day with that shit.”

  I walked over, grabbing Rowdy by the arm as Avery slipped out the door, and escorted him to our bed. He flopped into the bed, burrowing his head into the feather-soft pillows and blankets.

  “Gia,” he said, startling me a bit as I thought he was completely out of it.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “For what?”

  “I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he said. “Drunk. Weak. Less than a man.”

  In that instant, my heart ached for him, and I wanted nothing more than to make it all better. I had no idea what he was going through on the inside. All I could do was be there for him and never give up.

  “Go to sleep, baby,” I said, running my fingers through his soft hair and kissing his forehead.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Oh, god, my head,” Rowdy said as he came to the following afternoon. I’d let him sleep in. He needed it.

  “You had a pretty, uh, rough night,” I said as I approached him with a glass of water and aspirin in my hand.

  “Wish I could remember it,” he said, regretfully.

  “You just needed to blow off some steam,” I replied, slipping my hand around his waist. “It’s okay. I’ve been there. We’ve all been there.”

  He tossed the pills back and downed the water.

  “You’ve got several missed calls from your coach,” I said to him, hoping it wasn’t going to set him off.

  Rowdy grunted, and I knew what that meant. He stomped over to his phone on the charger and listened to his voicemails. “Coach needs me to come in today and meet with the sponsors.”

  “I’m sorry, Rowdy,” I said with a wince. I knew what that meant. We both did. They were letting him go. Cancelling his contract. It was going to be official. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Nah, I’ve got this,” he said, putting his game face on. “Just wish I could get it over with.”

  He slapped his phone down and headed to the shower. Within twenty minutes he was out the door. I could only pray that he wouldn’t return in the same condition he’d come home in the night before.

  ***

  “Gia!” Rowdy called out when he returned a couple hours later. I was lying, comfortably, in the quiet darkness of our bedroom. The more the pregnancy progressed, the more tired I’d become lately.

  “Yeah,” I said, smacking my lips as I sauntered out from my comfy little cocoon. He seemed to be in good spirits, so that was a good start.

  He walked up to me, beaming, and slipped his strong hands around my hips. “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “What?” I asked, face pinched. He was starting to scare me. I hadn’t seen him so happy in a long time. I prayed to God that they weren’t going to let him fight again. I couldn’t go through the scare of a head injury a third time. I refused. Especially with a baby on the way.

  He pulled me in and squeezed me tight, the light scent of his aftershave filling my overly sensitive nostrils.

  “They offered me a coaching job,” he said. “Coaching new fighters. People like me. They want me to create a whole army of people just like me. Underground, street fighters with untapped potential.”

  “Oh, my God, Rowdy!” I said, squealing with joy as I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “That’s incredible!”

  “The money’s not going to be the same,” he disclosed. “But I can still provide for us, Gia. It’ll be a hell of a lot more than a grease monkey’s salary.”

  “Oh, wow, Rowdy,” I said, standing in awe of how quickly fate had turned the tables on us for the better. “This is…amazing. Wow.”

  “Speechless?” he asked with a smile. “Yeah, I was too when they first told me.”

  “You deserve this, Rowdy,” I sighed. “You worked so hard for this. I knew it wasn’t over. I knew there were still good things in store for you.”

  “So, you still wanna marry me?” he asked, his lips curling into a half smile.

  “Duh,” I said as I swatted his chest. “That never changed for one second. We could’ve planned a wedding in a dark alley surrounded by dumpsters and cardboard boxes and I’d still have married you.”

  He leaned down, kissing me softly, and raked his fingers through my long, dark hair.

  “I’m going to give you the wedding of your dreams,” he promised.

  CHAPTER 30

  My heart fluttered as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair was side-parted and swept back into an elegant chignon with a diamond-studded pin tucked neatly in it. The letter “G” in a tiny row of diamonds on the pin symbolized our daughter, Grace. She was three months old and sitting with her grandpa Matthews in the front row of the church.

  Rowdy was right. We had a girl. And she was the most beautiful thing in the whole entire world. Her light caramel skin, her big, gorgeous brown eyes, and her full, pouty, baby lips made us melt into piles of goo every time we looked at her.

  She was the sweetest baby in the entire world, so calm, so content. She slept through the night early, was never
sick, and in her three short months in our world, had already brought us more happiness than we could’ve ever imagined.

  “You ready?” my father called as he knocked on the door.

  I gave myself one more once-over. I smoothed my dark hair into place, adjusted the diamond cuff on my wrist, and stood up to straighten my white, lacy gown. “I’m ready.”

  My father stuck out his arm, and I linked into it as he escorted me from a small room in the church to the back of the church where our guests were waiting.

  Rowdy’s brother served as his best man and my cousin, Allie, served as my maid of honor. We had no more than thirty guests, as we both wanted to keep things simple and laid back, representing the kind of love we had – an easy kind of love.

  Standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a gray suit that hardly contained his muscles and a skinny navy tie, was my future husband in all his handsome glory. My eyes watered at the mere sight of him, and judging by the look on his face, he was basking in happiness.

  My father gave me away, knowing he was handing me over to a good man, and took his seat in the front row next to Mr. Matthews as he fought off tears of joy.

  The ceremony was one big blur, we cited traditional vows, kissed, and before I knew it, he’d picked me up and whisked me down the aisle where a black limo waited outside the church doors for us.

  Our first moment together, alone, as man and wife was nothing short of beautiful.

  “I love you so much, Gia,” he said. “Mrs. Matthews.”

  “I love you too,” I said, leaning in and kissing him. “Husband.”

  He took my hand in his. “I know you said we weren’t doing gifts.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, unable to hide the smile on my face.

  “I want to show you something,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s something I’ve thought about, and I think you’ll like it. But if you don’t, let me know. We don’t have to keep it.”

  “What is it a puppy or something?” I asked, confused. We’d never talked about getting a dog before, especially considering how much traveling we did for his job.

  “Nope, not a dog,” he replied. “Just wait.”

  He scooted closer to me in the back of the limo as the car took us to the outskirts of town and stopped, minutes later, in front of what looked like some sort of nature preserve. The drive hopped out and opened the door for us.

  “Here it is,” Rowdy said, beaming proudly.

  “A nature preserve?” I asked, confused.

  “No,” he said. “The site of your future dream home.”

  “What?” I asked, my heart skipping wildly as my white dress skirted the grass around us. I walked around. “This is ours?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Five acres. All ours.”

  “But, I thought you didn’t want to live in Wagner?” I said.

  He shrugged. “You love it here. Your dad is here. My dad is here. I figured with all the traveling we do, we should probably put roots down somewhere.”

  “You sure about this?” I asked, squinting at him.

  “Absolutely,” he said as he kissed my forehead and pulled me into him. “Think you can handle building our dream house?”

  “I think I can handle that, yes,” I said with a grin plastered on my face.

  “Think Gracie’ll love it out here?” he asked, spanning our acreage.

  “She’ll love it,” I sighed. “So much room for her to run and play and explore. This is perfect, Rowdy. Thank you, thank you.”

  I buried my head into his chest and breathed him in. My husband. My amazing, beautiful, selfless husband. Just a couple years ago he was this quiet, mysterious man who’d never opened up to anyone, never let anyone in. By exposing the scars on his back and the scars of his past, he allowed me in. And thank God for that.

  “We should head back to the reception,” he said, rubbing my back. “Mrs. Matthews.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Gemma Brooks is a sucker for a good love story that's peppered with plenty of drama. Writing since she was old enough to pick up a pen and graduating from college with a degree in English, Gemma's hunger for crafting stories has always been nothing short of insatiable.

  When she's not hiding behind her laptop feverishly typing up scene after scene like a mad woman, you can find her drinking tea lattes from a local coffee shop, shopping for new perfume or lux candles, working on her tan, or searching for the perfect shade of red lipstick (which she still has yet to find).

  For updates and information on Gemma's release schedule, please "like" her page on Facebook or sign up for her mailing list. Serial installments as well as full-length novels will be released regularly!

  http://www.facebook.com/gemmabrookswrites

  Mailing List

  Gemma’s Amazon Catalog

  Gemma is always looking for beta readers and ARC reviewers! If you are interested in either of these, please email her at gemmabrookswrites@hotmail.com.

  Page forward for a taste of Gemma’s newest book – Beckett!

  SAMPLE OF BECKETT – BOOK ONE

  PROLOGUE

  I smoothed my hands along my navy pencil skirt and stared at the tired oak table in front of me. The courtroom was extra stuffy on that humid summer day, and it took everything I had not to run outside for some fresh air. My eyes wandered over to my attorney who made no effort to hide her nervousness as her silver pen tapped on the legal pad in front of her.

  Maura was nice, but she wasn’t exactly a shark and divorce wasn’t exactly her specialty. A year out of law school and a friend of a friend, she was doing me a huge favor by taking me on for practically pennies. Simon had frozen all my funds and wiped out the accounts the moment the divorce papers were filed. The only thing I had to my name was an almost maxed out Amex and a small, quickly dwindling cash loan from my parents. I could hardly afford the rent on the studio apartment I was forced to lease when I was practically rendered homeless.

  “All rise,” the bailiff said. The collective sound of creaking wooden benches and seats filled the small room as everyone stood. The room was silent save for the odd coughing and sniffling.

  Our judge, a thin-lipped, red-haired, no-nonsense woman in her fifties peered down over the top of her thick-rimmed glasses at the paper in front of her. My heart raced and my mouth went dry. I’d been waiting almost a year to hear the terms of the divorce settlement. Failed early negotiations led to failed mediations which led to taking our case to court.

  Simon Parker was one of the most powerful music moguls in the country. A self-made man, he wasn’t afraid to be merciless to get what he really wanted. Ironically there was a time I’d actually admired that about him.

  Stupid girl.

  “Simon Parker, you are hereby ordered to pay alimony to Hadley Tennyson Parker,” she began. I reached over and squeezed Maura’s hand as I bit my lip and waited for the details.

  At twenty-one, I’d moved to Manhattan to pursue modeling. Years in the pageant circuit and a display full of crowns and sashes at home gave me a false sense of security. Failure had never been in my vocabulary and it was a word we weren’t allowed to so much as breathe in the Tennyson household. A couple months in the city and failed booking after failed booking was all it took for me to realize I was a small fish in a very big pond stocked full of countless rare, exotic, and beautiful fish. My blonde hair, long legs, dimpled smile and southern drawl only got me so far in the Big Apple.

  Lucky for Simon, he met me when I was at an all-time low. I’d been booked by a low-tier modeling agency to attend a black tie party for some Manhattan socialite who wanted nothing but so-called “beautiful people” filling the spaces between her fancy and well-connected guests. People with too much money to burn did frivolous things, I learned. It was at that party when I first caught Simon’s eye. He told me he had to have me and he practically followed me around for hours until I agreed to go out on a date with him.

  His persistence impressed me and his engaging smile held
my attention. He told me he was a music producer who moved to the city a decade prior to pursue his dreams. He laid out his five-year plan and then his ten-year plan, and he had this unstoppable determination in his eyes when he spoke about them.

  He was going to take over the world one MP3 download at a time, he said. No one could pick the hot new acts like he could.