by Ivy Smoak
"How complicated is it?"
I sat down on the stool beside him. "Complicated."
"Enlighten me."
I bit my lip. I wanted to know more about him. I didn't want to talk about Chris. Maybe it wasn't complicated at all. "He cheated on me."
"Then he must be an idiot."
I laughed. "Thanks for saying that."
"I don't really see the complication, though."
"We've been dating for two years. He made one mistake." That I know of. "I don't know if that means I should throw it all away. And you've seen what people do in the middle of the athlete's village..."
"Wait, he's here?"
"Yeah, he's on the swim team."
"What's his name?"
I didn't see why telling him that mattered. "Chris Hamilton."
His jaw seemed to tense.
"What, do you know him?"
"No, I've seen him around." He shrugged his shoulders like it didn't matter. But I had seen him clench his jaw. He had reacted to hearing Chris' name.
"I told him it was over right before Operation Red Rip. And I haven't heard from him since. I guess it really isn't that complicated. He seems perfectly happy with my decision."
"Are you happy with it?"
"I'm trying to focus on winning the rest of my games."
"Well, I personally think you made a great decision."
"You do?" My heart seemed to flutter.
"You deserve better than him."
"What, like you?"
He raised his eyebrow. "I never said that. Are you hitting on me?"
I laughed. "Like you aren't hitting on me."
"Let's just say that I wouldn't mind making things a little more complicated for you."
It took me a second to realize I had stopped breathing. I wasn't sure if him liking me complicated things, or made them way less complicated. Because from everything I knew about Bryce, he was worth taking a chance on. He seemed to understand me. And I couldn't stop thinking about his hands on me and his perfectly sculpted torso. Especially when his gaze was fixed on me like that. My whole body felt overheated.
He picked up both glasses of water. "I think our food is ready." He nodded toward our table.
Our dinner had just been served. Alex and Tim looked like they had both moved a little closer to Kristen. It seemed like she might be getting close to achieving that devil's threesome Tim wanted so badly.
"I know how much you're craving meat in your mouth," Bryce said. "I'm surprised you're not running over there."
I laughed and grabbed one of the glasses out of his hand so that one of his would be free. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
Bryce smiled. He placed his free hand on the small of my back, just like I hoped he would. This time I didn't try to justify the shivers that went down my spine. It wasn't just the sex ban. I liked Bryce. I really liked him.
"What's actually going on between Alina and her kind of boyfriend?" Alex asked as we sat down.
Apparently they had continued playing the game while we were away. Which didn't really make any sense, since I wasn't there to answer the questions for Kristen.
Kristen shrugged. "He cheated on her with her arch nemesis. And they're taking a break. Hopefully a permanent one."
I could feel Bryce's eyes on me. When I told him about Chris, I had left off the part about who he had cheated on me with. I didn't want him to pity me. But he wasn't looking at me like that. I couldn't really place the expression on his face. It almost looked protective.
I cut into my steak and took a big bite. Despite the teasing, I really did like meat in my mouth.
"On a scale of one to ten, how interested is Kristen in that devil's threesome?" Tim asked.
"At least an eight," I said when I finished chewing.
Kristen laughed.
"Whoa. No. I'm not your third," Alex said.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not gay."
Bryce and I both laughed.
"I'm not gay either," Tim said. "I fully appreciate the female body in all its grace and beauty." He was staring intently at Kristen.
She blushed.
How was Kristen attracted to this guy? Despite what he had just said, he was clearly gay. I took another bite of my steak. For the first time since seeing those photos of Chris and Gabriela, I felt completely relaxed. I hadn't laughed like this in such a long time. Maybe things had been going south between me and Chris for longer than I had realized. Or maybe I had been too focused on volleyball. But how could I not be? This was the biggest competition of my life. Chris wasn't allowed to make me feel guilty for caring so much. He had put me second while he trained too. Stop thinking about him.
When I was upset, I tended to eat way more than usual. I was the first one done my steak.
"You weren't kidding about liking meat in your mouth," Alex said.
I shrugged and looked at Bryce out of the corner of my eye. "I never joke about meat in my mouth."
He choked on the sip of water he had just taken and everyone at the table laughed.
"Do you think they have anything good for dessert?" Kristen asked.
"I'm completely stuffed," Tim said as he pulled his napkin off his lap with a flourish and placed it on the table.
"Me too. But Alina never goes anywhere without getting dessert and she always lets me steal one bite."
"How do you keep such a slim figure?" Tim asked me.
"I'm an athlete? Maybe they have some Brazilian delicacy I haven't tried."
"Have you tried a brigadeiro yet?" Bryce asked.
I turned toward him. "No. What is that?"
"They're these little chocolate balls that Bryce can't stop eating," Alex said with a laugh.
Bryce ignored him. "They're these sweet, gooey, absolutely delicious chocolate things with chocolate sprinkles. Or you can get coconut instead of sprinkles. You have to try them."
Chris had this way of making me feel guilty about ordering dessert. "You don't need that," was something he said to me all the time. I never knew if it was because he was being cheap, was in a rush, or if he was just calling me fat. Either way, it always made me feel horrible. I loved dessert. Was that really so bad? And how was I supposed to own a bakery if I didn't taste other people's creations and scope out the competition?
And after one bite of a coconut covered brigadeiro, I realized that Bryce wasn't just a great guy. He also shared my taste in desserts. There wasn't a single thing about him that I didn't like. And the more time I spent with him, the more I realized how lacking my relationship was with Chris.
Chapter 14
Monday
Alina
I wanted Bryce to press me against a wall and kiss me again like he had during Operation Red Rip. This time I'd kiss him back. I thought about his tongue tracing my lips. I had wanted it then, before I even knew anything about him. And everything I had learned since then, I liked. Not to mention that I had never been this instantly attracted to anyone in my life. Except maybe Owen Harris.
But Bryce was being respectful. His hand wasn't even hovering on my lower back as we waited for our Uber outside of the restaurant.
"What time is your game tomorrow?" he asked.
"2 o'clock."
"Do you mind if I come cheer you on?" His shaggy hair blew in the warm Brazilian wind. He ran his hand through his hair to get it out of his face.
I smiled. Everything he did seemed to exude sex. "No, I don't mind."
"You can count me in too," Tim said. "Those spandex shorts really do something to a man."
Kristen blushed under his gaze.
"But we might be a little sweaty, because that's the same time that our practice ends."
Kristen whispered something in his ear and Tim smiled.
Alex cleared his throat. "Ubers in Brazil really are fast."
An SUV had just pulled to a stop in front of us. I couldn't deny the fact that I was eager to sit on Bryce's lap again. To feel his fingers on me. Bryce seem
ed equally excited, because he was the first one that approached the car.
He opened the door and hopped in. I was about to join him, but before I could, the tires squealed and the car sped off, nearly running over my foot in the process. I screamed and jumped back. The hasty getaway left the smell of burnt rubber lingering in the air.
"What the hell was that?" asked Kristen.
"I dunno. That jackass almost ran over my foot."
"I guess that explains how he got here so quickly. He's a crazy driver," said Alex.
Tim glanced down at his phone. "I think that was actually someone else's Uber. The map shows that ours is still two minutes away."
"Is Uber Psycho a new service option that they offer?" asked Kristen. "Or is that a Brazilian exclusive?"
I laughed for a second and then started to get worried. "Wait. What if he just got kidnapped?"
"Relax, Alina," said Kristen. "The car had an Uber sticker on it, so it must have been legit. He probably just took someone else's Uber."
I looked around, but there was no one else waiting to be picked up. And her logic about why it had to be legit wasn't terribly convincing.
"Why don't you text him?" suggested Alex.
"Good idea." I pulled out my phone and typed out a text: "Are you okay?"
But there was no response.
Chapter 15
Monday
Bryce
"Dude, what was that?" I asked as the driver floored the acceleration.
He eased off the gas and turned back to look at me. "Where to?" he asked in a thick Brazilian accent.
"The athletes' village. But first can we go back and get my friends?"
"Não entendo. You have map?"
"What?"
"Map." The driver picked up his cell phone and pointed to it.
"Uh, yeah. Hold on." I pulled up google maps and put in the village square. It calculated for a second and then told me to take a right in 800 feet. "Right up ahead."
"Give map," said the driver, reaching back with an open palm.
I handed him my phone. He looked at it for a second and then closed the app and put it in his cup holder. I guess he knew how to get there.
"Can I have my phone back?" I asked. I wanted to text my friends to make sure none of them had been run over by my crazy Uber driver. They must have been thinking the same thing, because I heard my phone buzz to signal I had a new text.
"Ten minutes."
What? "Okay, great. Can I have my phone back?"
The driver responded with something in Portuguese that I didn't understand.
Oh well. I guess he'll give it back when we get there.
His driving had improved considerably once I told him where we were going, so I decided to just lean back and take in the sights. I hadn't really explored the city that much yet, so it was nice to get to see it. At first we were just driving through the new part of town. Most of it had been built within the past few years with the hopes of capitalizing on all the tourists coming to town for the games, but there were also some shops that looked like they had been there for decades. We passed a ton of restaurants with patios packed well beyond what could be safe or comfortable.
And then the scenery started to change.
Glamorous restaurants and high-rise hotels gave way to shoddy looking apartment buildings and warehouses connected to a grid of makeshift wires and satellite dishes that looked more like something you'd see at an elementary school science fair than in a city connected to actual electricity. The ride grew bumpy as the quality of the roads quickly deteriorated.
Why did the Uber driver have to pick the route through the sketchiest part of town possible?
I turned away from the scenery and let my mind wander to Alina. She ordered steak instead of a stupid salad. She liked dessert just as much as me. She was funny and sweet. And she deserved way better than Chris Hamilton. I had seen him around the athletes' village. Maybe he had only cheated on Alina once, but if I had to take a guess, I'd say it was way more. I never would have thought that Alina was his girlfriend after seeing him with a different girl every time we had crossed paths. The fact that one of the many times he cheated on her he chose the girl that had picked on Alina in school made it a million times worse. The guy was a total dick. But it wasn't my place to tell Alina that. I couldn't butt in on her decision. She needed to realize that she deserved more on her own. And I'd be waiting when she made the right call.
I leaned back and put my head on the headrest. Alina was gorgeous. It was going to be hard to control myself around her. But I needed to give her time to get over Chris. I wasn't interested in being her rebound. I wanted more than that. She knew I liked her. Now I just needed to wait. But after dinner, all I had wanted to do was kiss her. Each time I touched her I felt this spark. I couldn't exactly explain it, but I knew it wasn't a feeling I wanted to let go.
The SUV came to a stop outside of an unmarked, run down building.
"We're here," said the driver.
"Um, sorry, this isn't right. I said the athletes' village. For the International Tournament of Athletes." I looked out the window. We were in the middle of the slums, far away from the cushy hotels they had built specifically for the games. If I hadn't grown up in places similar to this, I probably would have been terrified. But I wasn't in America. I was in Brazil, which automatically made this situation more alarming. "Let me bring up the map again," I said.
A giant Brazilian man with a shaved head opened the car door before the driver could respond. He was wearing a black suit over a black button down. Even Lil Wayne would have thought that the amount of gold chains around his neck looked tacky. Despite his laughable fashion decisions, the man had an aura of danger about him. I was quickly realizing that this situation was more sinister than a simple misunderstanding with an erratic Uber driver.
"Follow me," said the man. His English seemed to be much better than my driver. And his tone didn't leave much room to disagree.
When I hesitated, he pulled back his suit coat to reveal a Glock tucked into his waist band.
Shit. I put my hands out to show I wasn't going to make any sudden movements. "Alright, I'm coming." I slowly slid out of the back seat and followed the enormous Brazilian. I looked around to size up my options. Follow the guy with the gun, or make a run for it. I could probably sprint to a nearby corner and get around the side of the building within a few seconds. If he was anything like the thugs I grew up with, the ones who held pistols sideways when they shot to try to look cool, he had no chance of hitting me. But there was a chance he was ex military or something, in which case I'd be toast.
I decided to cooperate and see where this was going. There was no reason to provoke him if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
The big Brazilian knocked twice on a door that was really just a random collection of plywood and sheet metal. The door swung open and he stepped to the side to let me pass. As I tried to slide past him, the smell of Brazilian barbeque mixed with musky sweat stung my nostrils.
The inside of the building was much nicer than the outside, besides for the fact that the enclosed space intensified the smell of my kidnapper. We were in a dimly lit hallway with wainscoting and gaudy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. We passed a few open doors. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I caught a glimpse of three men counting piles of cash in one of the rooms. As we progressed down the hallway, the sound of rap music grew louder.
The hallway ended in a staircase that led down to the back of a gentlemen's club. Tan girls in very skimpy lingerie and heels danced on poles while men covered in tattoos reached for them. I quickly realized that classifying this as a gentlemen's club was far too kind. At best, this was a strip club. Possibly a brothel. Maybe they were supposed to bring Alex here instead? He would love it.
Directly in front of me, a man with a short mohawk wearing a crisp white suit sat on a leather couch. Two strippers in white lingerie sat on either side of him. Three men just as large as the guy who had escorted me
down the hall stood in front of the couch to prevent anyone from approaching from the VIP section of the club.
As soon as he saw me, the man in white stood up and smiled. "Boa noite," he said, holding his hand out for me.
"Boa noite," I said and shook his hand. Before coming to Brazil I had learned a few phrases, and that happened to be one of them.
"I'm Rodrigo, and this is Isadora and Giovanna. Thank you for coming to see me. How was the drive?" His English was surprisingly good, despite his thick accent.
"It was okay. Although I would have preferred if your driver had taken me to where I wanted to go rather than kidnapping me."
"Kidnapping is such a strong word. I just wanted to talk to you discretely, so I figured that was the best way to arrange such a meeting." Rodrigo gestured to the chair next to his couch. "Please, take a seat."
I couldn't run away now. There were too many people in my path that could stop me. I hesitantly sat down and Rodrigo did the same.
"Before we begin, would you like anything to drink?"
"No, thank you." I didn't want to give him a chance to roofie me. He was giving me kind of a rapey vibe.
"Alright then, we'll get right down to business." Rodrigo took a sip of his drink and leaned back on the couch with one arm around each of the strippers. "Are you much of a gambler, Bryce?"
I shrugged. "I've never really gambled much unless you count my yearly fantasy football league."
"What does the winner of your league get?"
"I think most years it's like $500."
Rodrigo shook his head. "Doesn't it just drive you crazy watching the games and not knowing if your players are going to perform or not?"
"Yeah, but isn't that kind of the whole point of gambling?"
"No. No, no, no. The point of gambling is to make money. At least, that's why I gamble."
"Okay."
"Do you know what a parlay is?"
The term sounded vaguely familiar. It took me a second to remember, but then the voice of my college stat professor filled my head, describing a parlay in his accent from God-knows-where. A parlay is when you only get a payout if a series of events all occur. So, for example, you could have a five part parlay that depends on the results of five different games. If you get any of them wrong, you get nothing, but if you guess them all right, the payout can be quite large. The more scenarios and the less likely they are to occur, the more money you can make for getting them all correct. The small investment combined with the extremely low probability of winning a large sum of money made parlays a lot like playing the lottery.
