Playing Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Mickey Miller

  “Guys, I think we should do another round of shots to celebrate Jake being here!” Andrea interjected.

  I took a sip of Guinness, which didn’t mesh super well with tequila, in my humble opinion. I set it on the bar next to all the shot glasses and spent limes. With Newman sniffing around, I needed to be alert. And it seemed as though Andrea had her share of tequila shots already.

  “Stressful day?” I asked.

  “You’ve no idea,” Amy interjected.

  Andrea went on, the alcohol taking over. “My mother was mad at me. Then my evil ex came here. And now you’re here. And, this might be the booze talking, but I don’t know what on earth to do about any of this.”

  “Speaking of evil exes,” Amy added. She nodded behind us, and I saw him and his crew of flunkies approaching us.

  “I know,” I retorted, annoyed that Newman just wasn’t getting it. I could feel my senses heightening and my blood filling with adrenaline. I tried my damnedest to play it cool in spite of the fact that I had now confirmed that Andrea used to date Grant Newman, my archrival. In spite of that, my heart began to beat like a predator in the wild. “He’s a little thickheaded, huh?”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it! She’s been filling me in,” she said.

  “I’d love to know the whole story myself,” I added.

  Just then, I felt a tap on the shoulder. I turned around, and guess who?

  “Napes. Nips. This is my girl. Take a hike.”

  The noise of the crowd around us died down. Everyone was listening to our conversation. The bro I had taken a photo with busted out his phone again and started recording.

  “Grant,” Andrea yelled, getting up off her barstool. “I’m not your girl. We’re done! You’re insane! And I’m not taking you back! Stop following me, and stop texting my mother!” She pushed him away, but he came bouncing right back like a roly-poly toy. My adrenaline spiked. I could feel all of my senses heightening.

  “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re coming back to my hotel with me tonight. Got that?”

  “Step away from the lady,” I said firmly, inserting myself between the two of them. I could feel the eyes of the entire bar on me.

  “Listen buddy, this is none of your business.”

  “No. You listen to me. This is my town. You’re on my turf. And you’re drunk as a skunk. Not that you aren’t an asshole sober, too. You are the one who needs to take a hike. You’re embarrassing yourself. I’m not asking—I’m telling you. Get the fuck out of here.”

  Where were the goddamn bouncers when you needed them?

  “Shut up, Nips. You’re such a pussy. Just ‘cuz you’re a pitcher, you don’t have to get in the batter’s box, you just throw high and in with no consequence. Well, I got news for you, Andrea’s coming back with me.”

  Swaying like the drunkard he was, he pushed me, trying to make me do something stupid. Even then, I didn’t make a move on him. He spat on my damn shirt, and I didn’t even punch him out, even though my heart was beating so hard I thought it might explode.

  Self-control. Be the bigger man. Don’t show this side to Andrea.

  Then he grabbed her wrist, and it must have been hard, because she gasped. I pulled his grip off her and pushed her behind me, but I didn’t miss seeing a touch of fear in her eyes or how red her wrist was. That pissed me off. To be honest, it all happened so fast, I don’t even remember who hit first.

  All I knew was that it felt real fuckin’ good the way my hand slammed into his nose and jaw.

  After that, all hell broke loose. It was a good old-fashioned South Side brawl.

  Except we were on the north side, so the cops showed up within minutes.

  There was no one to point at but me when they asked who had started the melee. I wanted a goddamn replay booth review of that call, but it didn’t much matter.

  They cuffed me and booked me.

  This was going to be a fun one to explain to Harry Yerac.

  “I’m here to sign for Jake Napleton.”

  I mustered a polite smile at the desk sergeant, a big black man with a stern expression. I leaned my forearms on the counter. The small and rundown police station was blessedly quiet. It was nearly midnight, and I still had a slight buzz going, which helped make the whole situation less shocking. I’d taken a shower to sober up and had downed strong coffee, both of which helped a little.

  The officer scrunched his eyebrows together. “Jake’ll be released in a few minutes. Sign here.” He pressed the intercom and said a few words to someone, then turned back to me. “You can take a seat if you want,” he added. Then he was back on the phone.

  A week ago, I’d never even imagined meeting someone with the celebrity status of Jake. And now I was signing him out of jail.

  He’d gone too far in the bar with Grant; that was undeniable. After how hard Jake had hit him, according to the paramedics at the scene, Grant would likely have his jaw wired shut for a few days while he ate a liquid-only diet.

  Even though Jake had thrown the first punch, he’d gotten me and Amy out of harm’s way. Then he’d gone back in to get his friends.

  The media maelstrom had already begun. Amy had gone home to deal with Steve and come up with a strategy to help me salvage this setback. I’d done the same and called Jake’s agent, who then had to call Jake’s lawyers to deal with the bail, court appearance, and getting him released. God only knew when TMZ would get a hold of any video of the bar fight not already posted, or Jake’s booking photo. So far, there hadn’t been many hits on the three YouTube videos that had been posted by people at the bar an hour ago, but Twitter was lighting up like a Christmas tree. So was my phone.

  I took a seat, hugging my purse to me and while I waited with the other handful of people. Just before Jake had called me to meet him here, his lawyer had called me, informing me that everything had been taken care of. That seemed fast, but Jake probably had top-notch lawyers. I didn’t care. When he called, I came. I wanted to be the one here, the first person he saw when he walked out of jail.

  Despite the many emotions that were running through me, there was still one that stood out against the others.

  I felt…at peace.

  I stared down at my wrist. It still ached a little, but it wasn’t red anymore, and I didn’t think it would bruise; I could still feel how hard his grip had been, nearly crushing. Grant always had been physical, and once again, the way Jake had protected me was something I’d always remember. What’s more, the hate I used to feel for Grant wasn’t there anymore. I hadn’t realized I still harbored a lot of ugly feelings toward him until I saw him again. I’d told myself I was over him, that I’d forgiven him for the things he’d done and had moved on, but I’d been lying to myself. Since meeting Jake, he’d proven to me twice that he was a guy who stood up for what was right. As much as I hated the fact that he had to resort to violence, his display of defending me had accessed some internal switch deep inside me. There was no denying that when he’d punched Grant, it had been both satisfying and kind of hot.

  A door buzzed.

  “Jake, hey.”

  I stood up and walked toward him. He was very somber. His mop of brown hair fell messily on his head. He was a little surprised that I went in for the hug. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.

  “Hey. Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice rough and tired.

  “I was surprised you called me. You didn’t have anyone else?”

  “My sister works for the DEA. She’d kill me if she knew I was getting into another fight,” he said dryly. He stared at his pitching hand and stretched it out with a wince. The knuckles were split and bruised, but he seemed to have full mobility. “Plus she lives in San Diego, so that’s kind of a long way to come bail out your bar-fighting brother. And I know how much Mr. Yerac loves midnight wakeup calls from me when I’m at jail, but I thought I’d take a risk on you.”

  I shook my head and then stared. “She works for the DEA? That�
��s badass. I barely knew you had a sister…”

  He froze, as though he hadn’t meant to reveal that piece of info. He shrugged. “Yeah…a lot of undercover work, I think. She never talks about it.”

  “And you never talk about her,” I commented, though it explained why I hadn’t been able to find a lot about her. “You close?”

  “Kind of…we grew apart in our teens.” Another shrug when I kept staring at him. “Eva’s a year older. Both our parents were out of the picture early on. She eventually got adopted, but I never did. She moved to the West Coast for college and never left.” He smiled, briefly, somewhat bitterly. “Me? Problem kid, always getting into fights, a temper that never cooled, and well, no one wanted to deal with me. Her adoptive parents didn’t like me much. Still don’t. We still talk when we can, though. And when I’m playing in San Diego, I always stop by or grab a bite with her.”

  I had nothing to say, because what I wanted to say would probably irk him. I didn’t feel sorry for him, not in that way, but I felt for him, the kid that he’d been, getting rejected like that, and how that had obviously affected him as an adult.

  Jake went to the counter for some reason, and he and the desk sergeant had a quick chat, a laugh, and universal bro-handshake.

  I led him outside, full of questions. “You know him?”

  “Hank?” Jake gave me a small smile. “Yeah. Truancy officer at my high school. Let’s just say, we got to know each other real well.” He laughed lightly. “Good guy. Real young when he policed my school. Guess you could say he was one of those people who told me to knock it off, and I actually listened.”

  Wow, I thought, amazed at this bit of info that I hadn’t had to drag out of him. “He sped things along,” I interpreted.

  “Yep. And made sure to keep the lid tight,” he added. By that, I knew he meant no media. The street was virtually empty, just a few late-night owls. Thank God for Hank.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked, looking for my Prius.

  I pulled out my phone from my purse. “I’m still drunk, silly. Calling an Uber.”

  He stared at me confusedly.

  “What?”

  “I’ll be damned if you aren’t the most risk-averse girl I know.”

  Jake had no idea he was my biggest risk, ever. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said as I dropped the pin location for an Uber to come get us.

  He leaned in close to me to watch my phone. Jake didn’t touch me, but I could feel the warmth coming off his body.

  “Risk averse, yet somehow you manage to get a fight started over you at the bar.”

  I opened my eyes wide and gave him my best I dunno shrug.

  “Seriously, Diggs. I just got booked for beating that guy’s ass. I could feel how scared you were of him. The least you can do is level with me. What’s your history with him?”

  I took a deep breath as I stared down at my phone. The Uber was still five minutes away. Jake was right. As hard as I’d been coming at him with my questions, he’d never once questioned me. Until now. And after keeping me safe from Grant, and then going to jail for me, he had a right to know.

  “Grant and I have a strange history. We’re both from Sugar Tree, and we dated in middle school, briefly. We went to the same college too, him to play baseball and me to play softball. So we always sort of knew each other. Then, at the beginning of my junior year and his senior year of college, we started dating. It was sort of a fairy tale: the star softball player and the star baseball player, together.”

  “Except that was all just a veneer,” Jake said, taking my hand in his.

  “It was. We tried to be happy—and maybe sometimes we were—but Grant had…issues.”

  Jake arched an eyebrow, and his grip on my hand tightened.

  “What kind of issues?”

  “He had a bad temper, and…”

  “Shit,” Jake said as I trailed off. “I have a temper too.”

  “No, yours isn’t like his,” I said, backtracking.

  “Well, what would he do?”

  “It was just…when he got riled up…he yelled a lot,” I said, softening the truth. I didn’t want to go all the way and tell him everything. Maybe, in some ways, I still hadn’t totally admitted to myself what had happened with Grant and me. I just wanted to push it out and forget.

  Jake squinted at me. I hoped he wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable I was beginning to feel. I did my best to mask it. He broke off his gaze with me, nodding, and glanced off into the distance, as if he had had some deep realization.

  “I do have a bad temper. And that’s the first time you haven’t just shot it to me straight. C’mon Andrea, I don’t like you because you soften the truth. I like you because you tell it like it is. To me. With me.”

  I pulled back my hand, unsure exactly where Jake was going. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “Andrea, I’m a celebrity. People line up to stroke my ego. They’re ‘yes people.’ I ask them if what I’m doing is right, and they nod and say yes. Very few people step up and challenge me. Well, except for Mr. Yerac. And my agent—now you.” He paused and tensed his jaw, as if refocusing himself. “Look, my point is, don’t be afraid to tell me like it is. Don’t gloss it over. I have a temper, yes, it’s true, and I’m not always proud of it. But it’s there. Best not to ignore those unpleasant truths about ourselves. If we don’t acknowledge them, we don’t have a shot at fixing them.” He stopped, laughing lightly. “A week ago, I would have never even thought about fixing a damn thing. You’ve changed that.” He looked over at me. “So basically, what I’m saying is, don’t ever bullshit me, Diggs. Give it to me straight, no chaser. That’s what I respect about you. You’re a straight shooter.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you anything but the truth as I see it.” But I couldn’t hold his stare. I looked down and away. I put my hand over my heart and adjusted my golden cross pendant, then nervously fondled the claddagh ring I wore that was pointed outward. I wanted to tell him the full truth about Grant, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t yet.

  My heart lurched a little, but I was afraid that if I told the whole truth, something awful would happen. And I didn’t even know what that thing was.

  We didn’t talk the whole way to his condo, both lost in thought, holding hands. I didn’t overthink about how Jake had opened up to me and I’d hesitated. I’d admitted more to him about Grant than I’d admitted to anyone, but he was right, I usually was a straight shooter.

  The Uber stopped first at Jake’s apartment, which was right off the Kennedy Expressway. So far, it’d been smooth sailing. The streets weren’t that busy, and our driver didn’t recognize Jake at all.

  “Do you want me to wait and make sure you get in your building okay?” I asked with a tired smile, elbowing him to get out.

  “Maybe. Are you willing to punch out any possible attackers who come at me in the ten-foot walk to my door?” He grinned.

  I managed a small laugh, but I was mentally wiped, and he seemed to sense that. He lingered for a moment before opening the car door to leave, his eyes gazing into mine.

  “Seriously though. Thank you for getting me. You’re a good person and a true friend, and there’s not a lot of people I’ve ever said that too.”

  I smiled. “I kinda owed you. Saved me from a robbery, an ex—least I could do.”

  Jake stared at me for one more beat, then shook his head. “I’m really going to need a social media overhaul after this whole fiasco.”

  “Already on it,” I informed him with a wry smile. “Goodnight.”

  He got out and stood up outside the car. He was about to close the door, but didn’t. He padded around his pockets.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered, then ducked his head back into the car. “I think I left my keys at the police station.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious,” he said, checking his pockets again. He was in jeans and a plain black tee. Not a lot of hiding places. “They had a little box where t
hey put some of my things in and…I got my wallet, my phone…but no keys.”

  “We can go back.” That sounded like the worst idea ever at this godawful hour, on a hot August Friday night, just to go back through one of the most dangerous areas in the city to get to the jail.

  “Okay,” Jake said, getting back in the Uber.

  I sighed. “Let’s just go back to my place.”

  He looked at me with a shocked expression.

  “You sure?” he asked, and I swear I saw him tamping down his eagerness, playing it cool.

  “I’d be an ass if I didn’t let you after the other night.”

  “Hah. You said ‘ass.’ I’m putting that on my list of Digg’s swear words, right next to ‘damn.’ I like it.”

  “Why do you?”

  “I just like it when you’re dirty. Honestly, I’m not sure why,” he said, almost casually. “There’s a lot of things you do and say that turn me on.”

  A shiver enveloped my entire body from head to toe.

  “There is no hooking up tonight,” I said to him, very firmly. “Absolutely not.”

  “Of course not,” he nodded. “Wednesday night was a fluke. I respect your position with the company too much.”

  I eyed him, a little suspicious at how diplomatic he was being. As the Uber driver eyed us before pulling back into traffic, Jake turned and looked out the window at the city lights that passed us by. I tried to stay on my side of the backseat, resisting the invisible magnetism pulling me toward him, but I could barely keep my eyes off him. The very fact that I wanted him so badly made me feel that there must be something wrong about this whole attraction.

  I needed to make darn sure we kept this plutonic.

  Once we arrived at my place, headed up the stairs, and then went inside my small apartment, I looked around for something for Jake to wear to bed. “I was meaning to give these Jaguars PJs to one of my brothers, but I’ll let you wear them tonight.”

  “Thanks,” he said as I tossed the bottoms at him, but he lingered by my door. “You have a lot of brothers?”