Playing Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Mickey Miller

  Public opinion had drastically shifted in favor of Jake as the truth came out, and he used the power of the media to his advantage instead of ignoring it and just riding it out. Tate’s dad had mysteriously disappeared again, and with his aunt still in the hospital but out of her coma, Jake had petitioned to have official custody of Tate until further notice. It was quite possible that Jake could adopt Tate since his father had, technically, abandoned him since his birth, and the evidence was quite clear on that. Also, if his aunt was incapable of caring for Tate once she got out of the hospital, DCFS would take him and put him in the system.

  “Ladies, I just can’t thank you enough,” Mr. Yerac said. “I’ll be honest—I didn’t think we had a shot at turning around Jake’s reputation after that hailstorm. With the 24/7 news cycle, sometimes you feel like it’ll never end.”

  Amy smiled. “Well, you can repay us, you know. Andrea and I are looking for some startup capital for our branding firm.”

  “You’re not with Green PR anymore?” He ruffled his brow.

  “Mr. Yerac, may we speak freely?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  Amy and I made eye contact. She nodded.

  “Green PR was once solid, but lately Steve has been lagging behind,” I explained. “He’s not catching up to the rest of the digital world with how he does things. And he’s quite abrasive when it comes to working with him. He doesn’t take criticism or outside ideas well.”

  “Plus, Steve kept using Andrea’s ideas, then taking credit for them,” Amy added. “We’re going out on our own, starting our own business.”

  Mr. Yerac nodded. “Well, after the miracle you’ve pulled off with Napleton, I’d be silly not to at least take a look at a proposal from you two. I’m not making any hard promises, though. But in any case, I can definitely put you in touch with some clients who need branding help.”

  “That would be incredible,” I chimed in.

  Mr. Yerac shook his head as the umpire sent another batter to the dugout, compliments of a strikeout by The Big Unit. “I still don’t understand how you did it, Andrea. It was like overnight. Yawper retracted their story, issued an apology, and then that video in the hair salon went viral. Though I’m not too sure about your…involvement with Jake, but love does come in many different packages. And your orchestration of that whole thing was incredible.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded. Amy rolled her eyes a little, since she had been listening to people compliment me on the whole thing for weeks. I had been lucky, sure, but I also wasn’t afraid to get mixed up with Grant, which was what ultimately won out. The lucky part was that one of the women who was getting her hair cut had recorded the whole interaction between my mother and me and had recently posted it. She’d even caught Jake’s entrance on video and posted it on YouTube with the title, “There’s more to the story.”

  Soon, a variation of the hashtag we’d used weeks earlier appeared again. #Moretothestory was still the most popular hashtag on all social media platforms, and, ironically, the people of Twitter demanded a more in-depth exploration of the Jake Napleton Saga. As for Grant, he’d finally gotten his just desserts. Last I’d heard, the Bulldogs were planning to release him. Good riddance.

  Jake had been interviewed by every major TV show, and people were finally getting to see the real Jake. And he wasn’t fighting it. Oh, he still wanted to keep a few things to himself and cracked jokes, but he was talking about his past in ways that he hoped resonated with others.

  But Tate’s interview was the clincher. When the cute little blonde kid got in front of the camera and started talking about how hard life was in that part of Chicago, and that Jake coaching Little League gave the boys that played there hope and something to do, the nature of the debate shifted greatly. Instead of talking about some sensationalist, gossipy story, the debate turned to the lack of resources allocated to poor and disadvantaged neighborhoods.

  Ironically, Jake went from “child kidnapper” to an icon for social change almost instantly. The best part, though, was that when Jake got his contract reinstated by Mr. Yerac, he told me I could pick the name of the charity that we’d be starting to help kids on the South Side: The Big Unit for Change.

  I sat back in my seat, took a deep breath, and watched as Jake struck out the last batter of the inning with a fastball.

  “Holy shit!” some guy from behind me yelled to his friend. “The Big Unit’s on fire tonight. He’s throwing like a hundred miles per hour every pitch!”

  Jake started his slow, cocky walk back to the dugout. He looked at me, winked, and blew me a little kiss. I blew him one right back.

  “Awww, aren’t you two so cute,” Amy said.

  I rolled my eyes. “I think we’ve been through enough to deserve a little kiss-blowing while he’s on the mound.”

  Tate poked me, a quizzical look on his face. “Miss Andrea, why do they call Coach The Big Unit?”

  Amy stifled a laugh. Even Mr. Yerac arched an eyebrow, probably curious how a PR expert would handle this situation.

  “Well Tate, that’s a good question. It’s a nickname because he’s a big guy and he brings the heat.”

  “Yeah, he does throw pretty fast,” Tate said.

  We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  My mind drifted off to what me and The Big Unit would be doing later, after we put Tate to bed.

  The game ended in a 7-2 Jaguars victory. I left Tate with Amy, as we had planned, and headed down to the locker room. The security guard, Scotty, smiled when he saw me.

  “Hey, Andrea.”

  I was a little surprised he knew my name. “Thanks for everything you did with Jake. We all knew he was a good guy at heart, even if he can be a little much to deal with sometimes. We couldn’t have won the World Series without him. So thanks.”

  “Wow, Scotty. That means a lot to me, but Jake’s the one who deserves the credit.”

  “Well, maybe, but you’re the mastermind behind it, and whatever you did…it worked. Now get in there and have some fun. You want a poncho?”

  I ruffled my brow. “Why would I need a poncho?”

  “Some of the reporters have been using them. You know what, you look like you’re ready for some fun. Just head in.”

  When he opened the door, I heard the roar coming from inside the locker room. “We Are the Champions” blasted over the speakers, and all of the players were hooting.

  As soon as I was inside, I realized why he had asked if I needed a poncho. So many players had opened up bottles of champagne and were spraying them all over the locker room, it was basically a champagne rainstorm. I had worn jeans, Jake’s jersey, and a baseball cap to the game, and my shirt was rapidly becoming drenched.

  Without warning, I felt a body press up behind me. As soon as I felt the long arms wrap around my torso, I knew who it was.

  “Hello,” Jake said, kissing me on the cheek. “Nice jersey.”

  “Thanks.” I spun around and wrapped my arms around Jake’s neck.

  His face was an ear-to-ear cocky smirk. “I thought you had a pretty strict policy against dating players though. Weird. Must be a pretty great guy.”

  The corners of my lips tugged up, and my smile matched his. “At first I thought he was a pretty big asshole—to be honest—but after I got to know him, it turned out he had some redeeming qualities.”

  “Maybe he just needed a special lady who was worth changing for. And you were that girl.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” He pulled my body into his. I could see the flame of desire in his eyes.

  Since I’d come in, many of the players and the staff had begun to file out of the locker room. They had abandoned their champagne bottles and seemed to all be leaving with a purpose. Soon, it was just a few stragglers, everyone taking the party outside and all over Chicago, probably all night long, too.

  “Hey Napleton,” Dwayne yelled, the last player to leave. He was already halfway out the door. “You comin’? We’re go
ing to Mars Club. Gonna be a crazy night.” He arched an eyebrow at Jake.

  “Go with your friends,” I whispered. Jake looked at me, then back at Dwayne.

  “I’ll catch up with you all soon, Dwayne.”

  Dwayne nodded and left. A couple of other odd people filed out, and we were left in a suddenly empty locker room.

  “You should go hang out with your friends and do the after-party,” I urged.

  Jake kissed me. “You’re my friend. How about we have our own after-party?”

  “Jake Napleton, king of the rowdy after-party, wants to stay in. I feel honored. What do you want to do?”

  He looked at me and smirked, his eyes traveling from my legs upward and finally landing on my face. “You mean besides undress you with my eyes?”

  “Funny. That’s exactly what I was doing.”

  His hand in mine, he glanced toward the shower. “I was thinking, you seem a little dirty. And I think we could both use a good rinse.”

  I grinned, and he took my hand, leading us toward the locker room showers. My heart beat furiously.

  “You don’t think anyone will see us, do you?”

  “Nah. But if they do, fuck ‘em. If I can’t have a little fun with my future wife, who can I have fun with?”

  I froze. “Did you just say future wife?”

  Jake stopped short. “Shit. Shit. That slipped out… Freudian slip? I mean, it’s only been a couple months but…when you know, you know, I suppose. Damn, I probably freaked you out.”

  Tears formed in my eyes and started to stream down my cheek. I gripped his forearm and bicep with my arms and got on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

  “It’s okay. When you know, you know.”

  I nibbled on his ear, and his grin returned. He led the way into the shower so we could have our own celebration, just the two of us.

  THE END

  Dear Readers,

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  I am a guy, Mickey is my real name, and I do love writing romance. I this past year, and I couldn’t have made it this far without all of the wonderful friends I’ve made along the way. Shot outs to Melissa, Julie, Anissa, Dee, Kat and Josie. Thanks to all the awesome bloggers, reviewers and readers I’ve met so far.

  I also need to thank the team who helped make this book a reality. In particular to my editors, Katie and Holly, formatter Elaine, designer Sophia, and my PA, Cheryl. I could not have done it without you all.

  And also to the special people in my life who give inspiration and make writing romance so much fun. ☺

  And most importantly, a shot out to you, the reader, for loving romance and reading about it.

  Much Love,

  Mickey