Where was Colt? Why was he letting this happen?
“No one wants you here, faggot.” Hank didn’t spit on him, but every drunken word that came out of his mouth was followed by its own round of spit. The bartender jumped over the bar, and the bouncer appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him around his waist, separating Jace from the angry crowd. They abruptly lifted Jace and began dragging him to the front door. Jace couldn’t help but turn toward Colt who sat there staring at a man at the bar. Only for a brief second, did Colt look his way. That’s when Jace saw pain, resolve, hurt, and something else… a clear decision. Colt wasn’t going to get involved in stopping this brutal manhandling. His heart broke in that moment.
“Find your fuckin’ dick someplace else, fag,” the bouncer called out as Jace was shoved out the front door. He lost his footing again and landed on his ass on the sidewalk. This time the spit had purpose and landed on his chest. The window of the bar was filled with patrons cheering the bouncer on. A few of them stood sneering through the glass. Jace got to his feet, dusted himself off, and searched for anything to wipe the blob of spit off his shirt. He found nothing and carefully tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it in the trash. He’d wear his undershirt home.
As the crowd dispersed, the window cleared out, and Jace stayed back, hiding in the shadows, watching. Colt was still sitting in the same spot, his eyes focused on his cell phone for several long moments. He willed Colt to text him. Nothing came. Colt never moved and didn’t return the text, but his eyes were back on the man at the bar. Jace’s sensible side begged him to turn and leave, but his heart rejected his head. Colt had held him, made love to him, and romanced him like no one ever had before. Colt was for real, he had to be.
“You need to get the fuck out of here. Are you here tryin’ to start fuckin’ problems? Your kind isn’t welcome here. And I’m not gonna stop them if they beat the shit out of you, bitch!” The guy Colt had been staring at yelled at him from the front door. Jace still took a second to look at Colt one last time, praying he would get up and come outside.
“Get the fuck outta here, fag,” someone said from behind him. Jace hadn’t even known he was back there. The guy at the front door started advancing on Jace. That got him moving. Jace wasn’t sure how, but he jogged all the way from the bar to his apartment four miles away. As he hit his front door, the pain of everything finally settled in, becoming almost too much to bear. His heart went into survival mode.
Jace had broken the rules tonight and gone into Colt’s world. He shouldn’t have ever stepped foot inside the bar. Since he had met Colt, he’d allowed his heart to control his emotions, not his head. When he saw Colt had been beaten, he’d simply reacted. He knew better than to approach Colt when he was surrounded by his teammates. Colt wasn’t out. Surely that’s why he sat there. This whole night was Jace’s fault, he shouldn’t have gone there. Surely if he had been in any real danger, Colt would have gotten involved, right? This wasn’t the time for a broken heart. Colt had been hurt, that’s why he hadn’t called, right?
“Hey, are you okay?” Gregory asked.
“Yeah.” Jace didn’t say another word. He went straight to his room, praying Colt would find some way to make this okay.
Chapter 11
April 2003 (six weeks later)
The April sun shone brightly as most of Austin, Texas, turned out for the NFL football draft. It was early, a little before eight in the morning, and the university football stadium was packed full. This was Jace’s final cheerleading performance before graduation. The university had multiple players in the draft this year and most were suspected to be picked up by a team. For a town with no professional teams, this was the Super Bowl, World Series, and NBA Playoffs all rolled into one.
A stage was set up in the middle of the field. Huge television screens were installed and sat in every corner of the stadium. Although all the picks were important, Colton Michaels held everyone’s attention. He was widely reported to be this year’s number one, first round draft pick. The anticipation hanging in the air was almost tangible, and yet, Jace tried hard not to care.
Since all the cheerleaders were required to be here, he’d picked the first shift. There were enough of them to have two sets of stunt groups on the field for three hours at a time. If he was lucky, he could get in, entertain the crowd, and get out before the draft even started. If he wasn’t lucky, he’d be watching Colt accept his offer live for national television. Jace prayed for lucky.
Jace stretched on the sidelines with the rest of his teammates. Haley, his stunt partner was beside him, pulling her leg back and up to her head, loosening her muscles.
“Are you doing all right, Jace?” she asked, dropping down into the splits. Haley had been with the team for four years. She was an awesome cheerleader and his only stunt partner since the beginning. They were effortless together.
“Yeah, why?” Jace said absently, stretching out his back.
“You know why. You haven’t been yourself for weeks now.” Haley bent over, touching her toes. It’s like all the bones in her body disappeared when she began to stunt.
“I’m fine,” Jace said, lifting his arms above his head, stretching out his shoulders.
“Are you over it?” she asked, turning her head up toward him.
“Over what?” Jace bent down and touched his toes, hanging there for a second, letting his back muscles get a good stretch.
“Whoever dumped you?” Haley jumped up and down, shaking her legs and arms out before doing a standing back tuck, landing solidly with both feet on the turf.
“How did you know?” Jace didn’t evade the question. Unlike his roommates, Haley was safe, and she just rolled her eyes.
“Hello? I’m a girl. I know heartbreak. I’ve been worried about you.” Haley grabbed their bags and ran them the few feet away, sitting them against the stadium wall.
“I’m fine. We need to get started,” Jace said to her as the music began to play.
“And that was a total guy response. It just takes time, Jace. I promise it’ll get better.” Jace stayed quiet, like he’d done for six long weeks. He’d never heard from or seen Colt after the brief encounter at the bar. His heart still ached. How had those few days of spring break changed everything about Jace? He shook it off and joined the others at the front of the field. He plastered the smile on his face and began his long signature tumbling pass to the excited cheers of the crowd.
Two and a half hours later, Jace lifted Haley in a one-man stunt right as the screens abruptly changed. The actual draft was starting, not just the fanfare of the event. Years of training had him keeping Haley solidly in the air. He tossed her up, catching her easily in his arms as the draft began. All the cheerleaders ran to the stage and dropped to their knees to watch the first round pick. If Colt made it, Jace and his team were required to cheer after Colt received his new jersey.
Ten minutes later, Colt was announced as the number one, first round pick. New York Panthers, under major televised fanfare, selected Colt as their first choice. Colt, his father, and agent, along with Colt’s newest girlfriend, all walked out on stage. Colt held her hand and it was all Jace could concentrate on. Colt accepted the offer and received his jersey. The crowd went wild. They reported a multi-million dollar signing bonus came along with the offer, more than Colt had even anticipated. Well, good for him.
The town’s local hero had done well, following in even bigger footsteps than his father’s. The stadium went wild, his teammates were already up, leading chants, but Jace couldn’t find it in him to cheer. He stood frozen in place as shot after shot of Colt flashed across the oversized television screen. Pain lanced through his heart, crippling him, and he couldn’t breathe. Jace’s heart ripped from his chest.
He never imagined seeing Colt could hurt as bad as this. Colt was obviously excited. Colt’s father was extremely proud, accepting handshakes from everyone involved. The blonde on Colt’s arm leaned in, giving him a celebratory kiss. And with that Jac
e was done. He left the stage, headed down the field to grab his gear, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone on the way out. He left the stadium and never looked back. He had finals to study for. The need to finish this semester and close this chapter in his life was the most pressing emotion pouring through him as he walked across the empty campus to his apartment.
Chapter 12
June 2012
A slap across the face jolted Colt awake. He laid there in his booze-induced haze, a dull ache beginning to form in his head. The start of another fucking day, yippee! Colt struggled to clear the fog clouding his brain.
Fully awake now, he needed up. Colt tried to turn to his right. The body lying on top of him wouldn’t allow the movement. He struggled unsuccessfully to dislodge from the hold until something hard scraped against his stomach when the female on top of him flopped around. Long strands of hair fell across his face.
Colt brushed away the offending strands and opened his gritty eyes, rubbing at the film covering them. Thankfully God had mercy on him. Even though the small rays of sunlight peeked in from all sides of the heavy curtain, the room was still dark.
Maryia lay across him, her arm tucked around him. A movement on his other side caught his attention. Colt turned his head, groaning when his eyes landed on Clint, his driver, who was snoring next to him. Pain shot through Colt’s head as he sat up, the dull ache now becoming a full blown headache. He glanced across Clint’s sleeping form to see another woman sleeping nude.
Fuck, had they had a four-way again last night? He couldn’t remember. Just another in a long string of nights and days that ran together in one big fucked up giant mess. He wondered if they remembered condoms this time. Probably not.
Colt lowered his head back to the pillow, staying there for several minutes, trying to regroup. His head pounded, but not so terribly he couldn’t deal with the throbbing. He’d drunk himself into oblivion last night, which wasn’t much different than he’d been doing for the last nine years. His life had become nothing more than a drug and alcohol induced blur, with moments of playing football mixed in between.
He remembered forcing himself to throw up last night. That seemed to help the intensity of the next day hangover. This morning, his body already craved his morning Bloody Mary to help ease the pain. What was the old saying about hangovers… hair of the dog?
Maryia mumbled, and her hand came up. Something scraped Colt across the face. He lifted a hand to his stinging cheek and it came back bloody. The scratch came from Maryia’s engagement ring. Reality came crashing down on him.
He was an engaged man. Fuck!
Ignoring his aching body, Colt dislodged from Maryia, and apparently Clint, who had his legs tangled up with Colt’s. He pulled himself up, working his way to the end of the bed. Colt placed his feet on the floor and pushed himself into a standing position. Shit! The pounding in his head was making him nauseous, fighting to keep the contents of his stomach down. He padded to the restroom, determined if he were going to throw up, it would be there and not in his bedroom.
The bile churning in his belly had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d consumed and everything to do with the situation he let himself get involved in. Colt had agreed, or rather, had been coerced, into marrying a conniving, manipulative bitch, which seemed to be a metaphor for his entire adult life. Fuck my life!
Colt doubled over the commode, purging everything in his belly. He didn’t fight it, staying right there through all the dry heaves, never forcing himself up. He had allowed himself last night to have the pity party to end all pity parties.
He always heard a person needed to experience every possible crappy outcome of their partying ways and hit rock bottom before they underwent detox. For Colt, rock bottom already happened nine years ago. Something seriously needed to give. He heard rehab sucked shit, but for him, nothing could suck as much as this miserable, fucked up existence he called a life.
Colt didn’t know firsthand, but he assumed it was going to be difficult to just stop drinking. Alcohol was something he’d drank every single day since the meeting in Johnny’s office where he’d been forced to give up Jace. If only his heart would have let go, too.
Actually, Colt had done a lot more than drink for much of the last nine years, trying to fill the void of Jace Montgomery. He’d stayed drunk because drinking numbed the pain and helped him forget. His few patches of sobriety centered on football games and working out, but honestly, he’d been pretty messed up for most of those, too.
Alcohol was the second most important thing in his life. Like always, when he thought about the situation like that, the first most important thing came to mind. Colt cut his eyes to his closet door. The scene of the crime and the only reason for his impeding nuptials. Fuck, the evidence was still lying all over the floor.
The contents littered across his closet were the only thing that enticed Colt into getting off the tiled floor in front of the toilet and cleaning himself up. It was just better all-around for him to ignore the image greeting him in the mirror. He looked like hell, and who wanted to see that? Instead, he brushed his teeth, washed his hands—because they smelled like ass—and splashed water on his face. After drying himself off, he finally made an attempt to deal with the chaos in his closet.
Colt hadn’t bothered to dress; he could do that later. He forced himself to enter the closet and clean up the mess Maryia had made. Bitterness rose. How could she? There lay his most precious possessions in the world. His heart sank as he got a closer look at what that bitch had done to them. Anger at Maryia gripped him, but the pain and hurt of his past forced him to his knees. Almost a decade's worth of his collection dumped all over the floor. Many of the pictures and articles were crumpled, some were ripped up, but as Colt looked them over, he saw some had managed to survive her wrath. He smiled. Relief hit him strong as he looked down at the photo lying on the floor in front of his knees; Jace’s sweet face stared up at him.
Colt slowly picked up the photo, his gaze centering on Jace’s eyes. He liked this picture the most because Jace had looked right at the camera. The eyes seemed as if they looked right through him, seeing straight into to his soul. If Colt moved to the right, the eyes in the picture followed him. God, how he wished his life were different right now. He wished he’d never walked into Johnny’s office that day after spring break.
Colt began methodically making two piles. One pile collected all the salvageable pictures and articles Colt had found on Jace throughout the years. He organized them as he went, starting with college and working his way to the last few months. Jace had done well with his life. He’d opened a cheerleading gym in Dallas and had done great over the years.
The next pile held the pictures and news stories he’d have to replace. The ones Maryia shredded in his face when she’d blackmailed him yesterday. Colt didn’t know what pissed him off more. The fact Maryia had dared to touch his secret collection or that she’d used Jace to extort him into marrying her. Both set fire to his soul, adding to the long list of vile names that came to mind when describing the gold-digging, scheming Russian whore, better known as his fiancée.
Yesterday’s battle had been epic. Maryia was strung out on meth. He had been in his normal drunken state, and it shocked the shit out of him that he’d refrained from putting his hands on her. He’d never hit a woman before in his life, but when he came in and found her going through his pictures, threatening to expose him if he didn’t do exactly what she wanted him to do… yeah, he’d almost punched her right where she stood. Instead, the closet door took the brunt of his anger. And it now lay broken to pieces just feet away.
How had she even found these? He’d kept them hidden, tucked away in a shoebox at the bottom of his closet. No one ever found them. She had to be searching for something—something to use against him. His little Russian, up and coming supermodel was arm candy, nothing more. She drank too much, popped too many pills, and had moved into the serious drugs sometime last year. He didn’t give a shit about her
one way or another. Her only benefit, the only true reason he’d kept her around was that she seemed to like to watch him fuck guys. And he liked to fuck guys, but she didn’t need to know that.
Watching him with other men turned her on. The guys always let Colt fuck them in order to get their hands on her. Win-win for everybody. He’d always known she was using him for his fame. He was definitely using her to hide behind, but somehow, he’d missed the conniving bitch part of her personality. Colt was just her ticket to becoming a United States resident. Apparently, her visas were all denied because of the multiple drug charges she’d faced over the last couple of years. A marriage to him solved those problems.
Colt sat back on his ass and lifted another picture of Jace. This one was a side shot, and he ran a fingertip down the length of Jace’s body. Jace was thicker now, not the lean guy he remembered. His legs and arms were bulky, heavy with muscle, and his blond hair was longer. He’d turned into a man. Being thirty-two years old would do that to you. In the picture, Jace’s jaw was set as he looked at one of his winning teams, and to Colt, Jace was still the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. This was one of Colt’s favorites. Maryia hadn’t messed it up either. Thank God! Colt carefully laid the picture aside and moved deeper into the closet to finish getting Jace all picked up.
Chapter 13
Jace rose from his bed and searched the floor for his athletic shorts. He found them in a pile of clothing, not all his, and slid them on before grabbing his old iPod off the nightstand. The alarm clocks dim light showed three o’clock in the morning, and his date still slept in his bed. That was kind of new. He usually didn’t bring guys home, and if he did, they certainly didn’t end up sleeping in his bed for the night.
Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material Page 9
