Ten Night Stand

by Mickey Miller

  Then I decided against it. I thought back to after the game. The team usually signed autographs before we boarded our bus to our hotel. I’d signed my share, but most parents had steered their impressionable kids away from me. I thought, Would Tate’s aunt have done that? None of the other parents at practice or games had acted any differently towards me afterwards, treating me like normal.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the subtleties and nuances of right and wrong. I just hadn’t listened. I’d admitted to Andrea that I needed to fix things, but I’d only dug a deeper hole with Mr. Yerac. I knew his threat wasn’t hollow, and I didn’t take it lightly, but how could I fight against a man who had already decided I was the bad guy? For the first time ever, I didn’t much care for the image of me that was out there.

  I texted Eva to see how she was doing. I actually missed getting calls from my workaholic sister, even if all she told me was to stop being a dumbass. Since I hadn’t heard back from her for a few weeks, it meant she was likely undercover or on a case, too busy doing important work to deal with her asshole little brother stirring shit up. Growing up, she’d wanted to make the world a better place and fight the bad guys. She was a hero, my hero. She put her life on the line every day. She put meaning into everything she did. It was a stark contrast to my own life.

  My phone beeped a few times, jarring me out of my thoughts. I got another text from my teammates about going out, but I was so not in the mood. After my confrontation with Mr. Yerac and parting ways with a somber Marissa, I’d headed to my room and stayed put, ignoring the media.

  Speaking of my social media woes, I thought as I went through my contact list and saw Andrea’s number. Damn. Just seeing her name buoyed me. It made all the shit that had happened after the game less frustrating.

  I wondered if I’d ever have the pleasure of hooking up with the hottest girl I’d ever met again. Andrea was so damn hot, I’d relished going down on her, making her moan and scream and squirm. But I wanted a lot more. Since college, I hadn’t worked this hard to get a girl, and with good reason. Andrea was different, and interesting. A challenge, for sure, but special. Spending the night with her curled up in my arms had felt natural. Like we did that all the time. And I’d liked it. I didn’t do that a lot, even when I did have a steady girlfriend, which wasn’t often.

  Tonight, I realized I was feeling something I hadn’t about any woman since I’d first moved away to college: I missed Andrea.

  My cock hardened just thinking about how she had tasted and how her feet felt up on my back.

  I pulled out my phone and shot her a text.

  Me: Hey.

  Andrea: Hey…

  Me: 2 more days.

  Andrea: 2 more days until what?

  Me: Until we do that again.

  Andrea: And after you narrowly escaped my mother’s visit? Yes that was so fun.

  Me: What can I say? I’m a magician. I make amazing things happen.

  Andrea: Yes you do.

  Me: I’m not talking about your mother’s visit, I’m talking about my mouth on you.

  Andrea: I figured that was going to be more fun than a mom visit…

  Me: I wish you were here right now. I’d show you exactly what I’m talking about.

  Andrea: You realize my mom would have had a heart attack if she saw you, right?

  Me: Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about me going down on you.

  Andrea: Are you mad because I didn’t reciprocate?

  Me: Mad? It was an honor to lick your beautiful pussy.

  Andrea: Oh God. You ar…

  She didn’t finish that sentence, and after a full minute, I realized why.

  Me: You’re texting one handed, aren’t you?!

  I waited for a few moments, waiting for those three little dots to run across the screen.

  Me: …you’re wet.

  Andrea: Yes.

  Me: Play with your pussy for me.

  Andrea: I have been, thinking about how you made me feel…

  Me: And now you’ve got me hard.

  Andrea: Jake, please…

  Me: You think this is wrong?

  Andrea: You’re a client.

  Me: You’re right.

  Andrea: I have to go, night.

  Fuck. Andrea certainly was developing a talent for giving me blue balls. Little did she know, The Big Unit didn’t give up that easy.

  20

  “Honestly, Andrea, I wasn’t sure about going there, but…you know what? Fuck it. I’ll say it. I regret bringing you on as an intern.”

  I sat with my hands folded on Steve’s desk. Amy had given me the heads-up that he was none too happy about the previous weekend’s events. I was receiving, as Amy had so diplomatically put it, my “first official ass-reaming by the boss,” a right of passage at Green PR. Apparently, those other times had just been a warm up.

  “I’m sorry. I will do better next time.” I did my best to sit there with a calm smile on my face. Steve stared back at me with his mouth wide open.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

  I cleared my throat. “Jake has been a tough nut to crack. But I am one hundred and ten percent confident I can turn this around.”

  “You’re goddamn right you’d better turn this around. This is a fucking mess! Honestly, ever since you’ve taken on Jake as a client, his image has taken a massive nose dive! Our name is being dragged through the mud with this latest disaster. If we were paying you to tarnish his reputation, along with ours, you’d be doing a great job. Fucking fantastic. You expect to get hired on by Green after your internship if you tarnish his reputation?”

  I did my best to control my breathing. I would be out on my butt in one second if Steve knew the full truth about Jake and I. “No, of course not—”

  “You’re goddamned right, we won’t! You’re not getting it done, Andrea.”

  This was not good.

  Why did the one guy I hooked up with in Chicago—no, the only guy I’d hooked up with since Grant and I broke it off—come with the longest list of complications I could have possibly found in this entire city? A city that probably held millions of single men.

  “Steve.” I rose from my chair and leaned, my palms on his desk. “I’m sorry this campaign hasn’t been going perfectly. But this isn’t the kind of thing that happens overnight. Especially when the subject himself isn’t on board. But we’re getting there.”

  Steve stood up as well, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen. “Andrea, I like you. There is a reason I gave you a chance as an intern. I saw some promise. I did. But when I’m getting ten emails an hour from Mr. Yerac and the front office specifically pointing out precisely where Jake Napleton’s campaign is going wrong, it doesn’t bode well for you.”

  “What exactly are you saying, Steve?”

  “I’m saying that if you have any more fuckups, not only are you off this account, but you are going to have to find a position elsewhere.”

  A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about the “social media” position awaiting me in Sugar Tree. If I was going to live at home again, it was going to be on my own terms.

  Not because I failed here in Chicago.

  “I understand. I won’t let you down.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Words don’t mean a whole lot without action behind them.”

  I nodded and walked out of his office.

  I felt stressed out, but the worst part was that there was nothing I could do to change Jake’s ways, and that was just what the campaign so desperately needed. The man was as set in his ways as a grandpa. He loved having the frat boy/partier/just-one-of-the-guys image, not the family-man philanthropist one.

  I sank into my desk chair with a sigh. I stared blankly at my black computer screen for a few moments without moving the mouse to unfreeze the screen saver.

  “That bad, huh?”

  Amy had snuck up from behind me again.

  “What time is it?” I asked,
spinning around in my chair to face her.

  “It’s quarter to ten. Why?”

  “I need a drink.”

  Amy burst out laughing, then stopped herself. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. But I thought you were joking since it’s a little early on a Monday morning…” She paused as I sat there, depressed and freaking out, and stared at me for a beat. “Damn, you are stressed out...but it’s something else too, huh?” she asked, too observant for words.

  I nodded, feeling overwhelmed. I had to tell somebody, talk it out because I was so confused and didn’t know what to do. But not yet. I had to figure out a way to turn this around as soon as possible, or I was out of a job. Not just out of here, but maybe this whole city.

  “Margaritas at five?” I begged.

  She nodded sympathetically, then went back to her cubicle.

  What was it about this job and its correlation with me having to drink margaritas?

  We were in our favorite spot at Valentino’s Pub again, which seemed crowded for a Monday. A day’s work was finally over and done with, and I had managed to avoid Steve at all costs. Actually, pretty much everyone in the office had left me alone, and I’d worked my butt off with press releases and communicating with various media outlets, trying to soften things. I’d kept Jake updated on my end of things and reminded him to keep a low profile. So far, he seemed receptive, but it was hard to tell through emails and texts.

  Amy sat across from me, her mouth completely agape, with a ridiculously silly expression on her face. This wasn’t surprising, seeing as how I had just told her the saga of how my Friday night had ended up.

  “You slept with the sexiest man in Chicago, then kicked him out of your house through the window. Oh my God. I am so jealous right now I want to puke. Not really. But I am a little jealous. Happily jealous. Because it’s you and you’re like the nicest person alive.”

  “You haven’t noticed any pens missing yet?” I joked.

  “Come to think of it…” She arched an eyebrow toward me, and we both broke out in laughter.

  “So let me get this straight, though. The sexiest player in the league personally ended your no-O streak, and you repaid him by giving him blue balls, then kicking him out of your room?”

  I protested. “Whoa, now you’re making me out as some kind of bee sting. I didn’t want to blue-ball him. We just didn’t have any condoms. Also, what no-O streak? I take care of me.”

  “Oh wow, not even one margarita in, and we’re having the O conversation. Glad to hear that. And I just meant that you could have at least, you know”—Amy paused, as if searching for the right word as the server walked by—“helped him out.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, it just didn’t feel like the right time. We started cuddling and fell asleep.”

  “So you didn’t even give him a dry hand rub?”

  I nearly spit out my drink, I started laughing so hard. I held up a finger and wagged it. “Okay, I think we all know if you give hand jobs, that means the terrorists are winning.”

  “Okay, okay.” She cracked up. “We’re getting really far in the weeds with this conversation.”

  “I’m not saying I’d never go down on him. It just wasn’t the right time.”

  “I’m just saying, if it were me...”

  “In other news, I was doing some research on Jake’s media campaign,” I said, not so subtly shying away from a conversational topic that was making me squirm.

  “Nice try.”

  “I’m being serious. I’m in crisis mode at work right now. My anxiety is through the roof. But I think I have a solution.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Jake has this whole other side of him that he keeps hidden.” Amy gave a short laugh at that. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. On the surface, he wants everyone to think he’s this dirty player and a frat bro and nothing else. I just don’t know why—at least, not entirely.”

  “He was dating Kim Kardashian’s cousin last year,” Amy pointed out. “I don’t think that was an act.”

  I remembered that, but it’d only lasted for a couple of months and, in the end, it was so obvious that she was only interested in his status as a ball player. “Well, even so. He’s actually a really solid guy.”

  Amy raised her brows in disbelief before she focused on her drink. “Well, you would know more about how solid Jake is than most people would.”

  “Ha ha. That’s so funny I forgot to laugh.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m being really serious right now. Steve was so pissed at me. He said if I have any more eff-ups, I’m out.”

  “Wow, you’ll be off the project? That’d suck.”

  Amy wasn’t getting it. “No, like out. Like I won’t be working at Green PR anymore, and I can look for a new job somewhere else with a huge scarlet letter on my resume while I try to find work.”

  “Oh shit,” Amy said, blinking at me slowly. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.” I shuddered, the image I had thought up earlier in the morning running through my mind again. I’d go back to Sugar Tree, and my mom would passive-aggressively tell me, I told you so for the rest of my life.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “So, don’t think me heartless or unsympathetic to your shitty work situation, and I’m really sorry you’re stressed and all that…but when are you seeing him again?”

  “Amy! Why would you think I’d be seeing him again?”

  She arched an eyebrow and gave me a big grin. “Oh please. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. Besides, I’m living vicariously through you to experience The Big Unit.” She leaned in and sucked on her straw. “Is there any...big reason you didn’t want to go down on him?”

  “You have a one-track mind, you know?”

  “People always tell me I think like a guy. Who knows?”

  I sighed. “If you want to know the truth, Jake gets back from Jacksonville tomorrow morning. He said he wants to see me. Honestly, I want to see him—good Lord, do I want to see him—but my conscience keeps creeping in, telling me it’s not a good idea.”

  “Damn it, Andrea!” Amy reached across the table and actually shook my shoulder hard. “You are so lucky right now! Tell your conscience to fuck off!”

  It was so easy for Amy. I tried to unpack my own feelings, but for some reason, they stayed knotted up. I made my hands into fists and thought about the man who had left me in this untrusting, devastated state of mind, one where I still didn’t quite think that my own desires and feelings were mine to express.

  I swallowed. I’d been talking around my reasons for breaking up with Grant to too many people for too long because I wasn’t proud of how I’d handled the whole thing. I realized it was time to come clean, but more importantly, I wanted to tell Jake everything about that relationship and stop holding back. But would I ever find my nerve? Worse, what if Jake thought less of me?

  21

  I sat in the stands of a small baseball field on the South Side of Chicago. I kept staring at Jake instead of the game. Shockingly, he’d been absorbing most of my PR lectures as best he could while he’d been out of town. His slight shift in mood had surprised me, but I didn’t mind it.

  Meanwhile, I’d been working hard at the office, along with Amy, and doing my best to tame the uproar of his Friday night fight. Most of my day was spent either helping out on other accounts and sending my ideas to Steve for review, or looking at all the crap that came up about Jake and figuring out ways to counter it, which I’d then present to my stubborn client. But I had to admit that he was really listening to what I was saying. Did he follow it? Not always, but I was getting results. And Steve was finally off my back.

  Today I’d released several more follow-up statements on Jake’s behalf about not condoning violence and stating that he’d acted too rashly. These had been posted on the Jaguars’ website and given to any media outlet that wanted them. Then Jake posted the statements on most of his social media platforms. That had appeased some of the masses, but not al
l. It helped that he’d played a squeaky clean series in Jacksonville and that his interviews had been spot on. He did a little joking, as was his way, but he was also serious about winning and had talked about how proud he was of his teammates. He didn’t comment on Grant, but he also didn’t really apologize for it either. He evaded.

  With his assault charge taken care of as of this afternoon, it was fading into the background. The Bulldogs’ PR machine was keeping it tame on their end, and it wasn’t being played on ESPN every hour on the hour. It was still on TMZ’s front page, though, but for once, the trash site had worked in Jake’s favor, because their spin was that Grant had started it by attacking me. I wasn’t named, thankfully, since most of the shots and videos were of poor quality and you couldn’t make out my face, but a lot of the comments from viewers sided with Jake. Finally, things were looking up.

  If only I could get Jake to let me talk up his coaching gig. He was so great at it.

  It was a warm summer evening, and it made me think of softball games I played when I was a kid. There weren’t very many parents in the stands for this night game, which wasn’t entirely surprising to me since we were in a blue-collar urban area where the majority of kids came from broken homes and had parents who worked two or more jobs to make ends meet.

  Jake towered over all of the little players as he stood in the first base coaching box.

  It was nice to not have to be secretly watching him from the parking lot this time.

  “Eye on the ball, be aggressive at the plate. Don’t overthink it,” Jake shouted to Tate and clapped.

  The pitch came, and Tate hit the ball right on the sweet spot of the bat. The metal clink reverberated throughout the park. Cheers erupted in the dugout as he raced the ball to the outfield.

  “Nice hit, Tate!” I shouted. I got up off the bleachers and leaned over the chain-link fence to snap a few pictures of Jake and Tate as they high-fived. Jake had to crouch down to meet the little man’s palm, and as Jake extended his hand, Tate had an ear-to-ear smile on his face. Jake was still wearing his Jaguars’ jersey from the game earlier, and both his and Tate’s jerseys had the number 24 on them.