Save Me, Sinners: A Dark MFM Menage Romance

by Jess Bentley

  “And what do I do about her?” I gesture to the middle-aged woman waiting for me, the housewife.

  “Oh come on David, you know how to handle one frustrated, rich housewife, don’t you?” Shauna laughs and bids me goodbye.

  Great. I'm stuck with a stranger and going to a party that is going to be more boring than a high school recital. I can’t say I understand the concept of a bachelor auction, but I’ve been forced to do it by the management team. They’re eager to associate me to a noble cause in an attempt to clean up the bad boy image carried over from England when I came to play in the American League.

  “Shall we head to the party?” I don’t even try faking a smile for the woman.

  “It’d be my pleasure,” she grins. As we get in the limo and sit down, I realize I don't even know her name.

  “What’s your name?” I say outright, but she just laughs.

  “My, my. I heard that you Brits were all about business. Well, you'll have to wine and dine me before I can divulge that information.” She’s trying to play coy, utterly pleased with herself. I can’t muster up any enthusiasm. My face remains unchanged, probably an impatient look pasted on it. The woman gets the hint.

  “Okay, fine. I’m Marjorie,” She holds out her hand and I shake it. Politely. Not enthusiastically.

  “Well, you know who I am,” I finally say.

  “Oh yes. I do. My son has your posters all over the wall. He’s a big fan of soccer,” she grins again.

  “That’s nice. And it’s football, not soccer,” It always irritates me that Americans call it soccer. Especially when they call their national game, the one that’s played with hands, football. Ridiculous. “Do you want me to sign something for him?”

  “Nah. Never mind that. Tonight is about us,” She slides to the edge of her seat and puts her hand on my knee. I slowly slide it off and cross my legs.

  “That bachelor auction was a nice event, hm?” Changing the topic seems a good idea to get her off my back.

  “Meh,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “I go to twenty of these things every month. After a while they all look the same.”

  “Pretty wild how that woman fainted though,” I say as a vision of the woman on the table next to us who had inexplicably fainted off of her chair pops into my head. She was pretty cute.

  “Everyone was talking about how you saved her from crashing to the floor. That was very gentlemanly…” Her eyes grow big and she once again slides her hand to my knee.

  I was stealing glances at that woman during the auction. Before she fainted, she seemed so vulnerable and so helpless. There was a faraway look in her eyes. I’d just turned my head to steal another glance at this woman with a gorgeous face when I realized something was wrong. I rushed out of my seat as I noticed her body crumble and caught her just in time before she hit the floor. Definitely saved her a concussion and a few other injuries there. Good thing I have athlete’s reflexes.

  My thoughts veer back to the woman in the car, and I nod at her.

  “Do you like the sea? I own a beach house in Malibu that I’d just love to show you,” Marjorie says with a twinkle in her eye. I have no doubt by now that the woman wants to sleep with me. I usually welcome that from the opposite sex, but this woman is extremely irritating. How do I get rid of her?

  “That sounds nice, but I've got team training tomorrow.”

  “Oh, come on. Training is for little boys. You're a grown man!” Again, that hand slides up my knee and this time, I’m none too subtle thwarting it.

  “We’re here, sir,” the chauffeur announces, as the limo comes to a halt.

  “Great!” Relieved to be out of the tight confines of the limo, I direct her. “Marjorie, why don’t you head to the hotel bar. I’m going to head up and do a quick change of clothes. I’ll meet you down here in a flash.”

  “Or I can come and help you change,” she says, winking lasciviously. “I'm great with clothes, especially when it comes to getting rid of them.”

  Be more obvious, why don’t you? I curse my luck that of all the people at the auction, an ultra-aggressive cougar has to bid on me. Ushering her to the bar, I head upstairs to change. Can this night get any worse?

  I take my own sweet time to get ready. Part of me is hoping that the woman will grow impatient and leave, but as I head down to the bar in less formal clothes, she’s there, waiting for me.

  “I thought you deserted me, but then I knew that a gentleman like you would never leave a damsel behind.”

  If only, if only. I sigh audibly.

  The sponsor’s event is a relaxed event, with people dressed casually and a party vibe in the air. I understand why Shauna forced a change of clothes on me. I would’ve looked ridiculous here dressed in the tux for the charity affair.

  “Now this looks like a fun party!” Marjorie claps her hands in anticipation.

  “Yeah, it’s all right.” I look around, a little desperately, for a familiar face. The culture in America still feels very different and even after months, I’m only getting used to the way they do things here. I don't know all that many people in the states, and oftentimes I yearn for my life back in England. However, I can’t go back. Not yet. Not unless I win something and prove that I’m more than just a typical rich, playboy soccer player.

  “Oh my God! It’s David Adams,” a man’s high pitched voice exclaims. “Sir! I'm such a huge fan. Would you please autograph my nipples?”

  I turn to see a tall African-American man, fit as an Olympian, looking at me with a wild expression of awe on his face.

  “Knock it off, mate,” I laugh, as the other man gives me a half hug.

  “Marjorie this is Willie Bryant, the absolute bane of my existence!”

  “Come on, man! Why you gotta be like that!?” Willie complains. “Actually, Marjorie, I'm his best friend—he just doesn’t know it yet. Glad to have made your acquaintance.”

  Willie bends his head and kisses her hand. I struggle to stifle a chuckle at the act Willie’s putting on.

  “Aww. That’s so... gentleman-like,” she says.

  Willie’s the first guy I made friends with when I moved to the States. If I’n honest, the first and the last friend I’ve made so far. Most people don't understand a sarcastic sense of humor while others treat me as a loose cannon, thanks to the image that the media back home painted of their best footballer. Willie’s the only one who doesn't judge me.

  “Let’s grab a drink, mate,” I say to Willie in a low voice, making yet another attempt to get away from Marjorie.

  “On a weeknight?” Willie raises a brow. I shrug and turn to the woman.

  “One drink won’t kill us. Marjorie, why don’t you take a seat and I will grab some drinks for us, all right?”

  “As you Brits say, lovely. Don’t take long…” Ugh. She may be trying to be cute but it just makes me cringe.

  “Where the hell did you find a piece like that?” Willie laughs as we walk to the bar.

  “That bloody bachelor auction. I should’ve just paid Shauna to bid on me,” I grunt.

  “Man, I told you those auctions ain’t a good idea. They way she is eye-fuckin’ you, I bet she’ll keep you up all night if you give her the chance!” Willie chuckles.

  “Bloody hell! Not in a million years. No way!”

  By the time I grab a couple of beers from the bar, Willie’s turned around to talk to a group of women. As David walks toward him, one of them speaks.

  “David!” she says, in a thick Eastern European accent. “Fancy running into you here.”

  I eye her up and down. She’s tall, voluptuous and has the face of an angel. Finally, this night is getting better. I know I’ve met her somewhere but it’s not coming to me.

  “Hello.”

  “David Adams meet Victoria’s Secret angel, Ana…” Willie starts making the introduction, but I interrupt.

  “Ana Irina. We have met before, haven’t we?”

  “You remember!” she beams. “Yes we have, about six month
s ago, at that event before the World Cup final. I was presenting a show for a Czech TV channel then. I was very sorry when you lost the final…”

  A serious look comes on Willie’s face. He knows I don't like to talk about the final since it practically made me the most hated man in England. I keep my face impassive.

  “Well, it’s just a game, right? You win some, you lose some,” I say, doing my best to put on a charming smile.

  “Cheers to that,” she answers and downs her drink in one go, looking at me with suggestive eyes. I’ve been around the block enough times to know what this look means. I lean in close to talk to Willie.

  “Willie, mate. Do me a favor. Will you take that annoying rich woman... that Marjorie, off my hands tonight?”

  “Again? Man, I believe in taking one for the team, but you’ve used that privilege one too many times now. I gotta have fun too,” he whines.

  “Oh come on, mate. Look at Ana. I can’t possibly let this slide,” I whisper.

  “Man, I’ve seen a lotta dogs in my time, but you're a regular hound. Fine! I’ll do this for you... again! But you owe me one, man. A big one!”

  I clap his shoulder as Willie goes off to distract Marjorie.

  “So, do you like America?” Ana asks, after we move to the outdoor area and grab a seat in the corner, far from prying eyes.

  “I'm in a love-hate relationship with it so far. I love the attitude of the people and the vibe of Los Angeles but then I hate the way they drive on the wrong side of the road. And I absolutely hate it that they call football, ‘soccer.’ That takes a hell of a lot of getting used to.”

  “But they seem to be loving you. Every week I see you on some magazine cover or another.”

  “That’s just an occupational hazard,” I grin before remembering since Ana was a model, she probably lives for magazine covers.

  “A hazard people in my profession would just love,” she laughs, echoing my thoughts.

  “How’s it going for you?” I decide to change the subject.

  “That depends on how this night ends,” she says, fluttering her eyes and sipping her drink from a little straw. Perfect. This is my cue. But before I take off with her, I have to do the usual socializing with sponsors. As I think about how to get that wrapped up quickly, Willie barges in.

  “Man, that was one feisty cougar,” he sighs, as he thumps down on the chair.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Man, I tried to charm her, seduce her even, but she wanted none of it. She only wanted you and when I told her that you were probably at third-base with this one,” he nods to Ana, “She lost her mind!”

  “Hey!” Ana protests, pretending to be innocent.

  “Oh, come on, sweetheart. Save the fake innocence for somebody else. You, me and everyone else staring at you both know that you’re fucking him tonight,” he laughs. Ana doesn’t say anything—she just turns away from Willie and continued sipping her drink. I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Jeez, mate, be more subtle, why don’t you?”

  “Man, fuck that. I ain’t getting no loving tonight and this man is grumpy. Anyhow, I'm getting outta here,” Willie says, getting up.

  “What? So soon? Plenty of the fish in the sea, still. Sure you don’t want to spread your net again?” I nod to a group of models that are at the table next to us.

  “Haven’t you heard? The coach has scheduled an early morning training session for tomorrow and I sure as hell ain’t gonna risk his wrath.”

  “Oh come on. Training is for rookies. Have another drink.”

  “No, man. Not all of us are European superstars like you. We gotta work hard for our place on the team. Nice to meet you, Ana, and see you tomorrow morning, man. Be on time! You know the coach ain’t been happy with you of late.” With that, Willie is off.

  “Why is your coach unhappy with you?” Ana asks.

  “Because he is a bloody wanker,” I sneer but quickly put on a smile, as I see Ana laughing. Fuck the bloody sponsors. I’m in no mood to schmooze.

  “Ana, why don’t we get out of here?” I get up and hold out my hand.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” she replies, her hand slipping into mine.

  The next morning...

  I wake up with head pounding and vision blurred. As I take in the surroundings, the memory of last night comes rushing back. The party, the model, the countless shots of vodka. I’d forgotten how hard partying with an Eastern European model can be. We went over to her apartment nearby, and there we opened champagne bottles and vodka bottles as if it were Christmas. She wasted no time snorting a few drugs of choice and spent most of the night riding me hard. Best sex I’ve had in a long time.

  Suddenly, I remember I need to be somewhere. Panicking, I look at my watch. Fuck. I’m supposed to be at training in an hour. Ana’s still sleeping and I see no reason to wake her. Quickly putting on my clothes, I tip toe out of the bedroom. I’m not much for morning conversations anyway.

  Won’t be much traffic at this time. I can make it back home, take a super quick shower and be at the training ground in good time, I figure, doing the mental math. In spite of what I told Willie last night, my on time appearance for training is important. Bruce, the head coach of the team is a taskmaster and is no fan of the bad boy image I brought along with me from England.

  Despite my being here a few months, Bruce still looks at me with a suspicious eye. Doesn’t matter how many goals I score or how many matches I win singlehandedly for the team; Bruce expects his players to behave in a ultra-respectful manner. He certainly wouldn’t appreciate drunken escapades with a coke-snorting model.

  As I step out on the street, I wish I brought sunglasses along as the morning light hits me in the face. I gave my limo driver leave for the night since Ana made it clear I’d be at her place. Looking around for the Uber I booked, a flash hits me in the face. And then another and another.

  A couple of paparazzi come out of nowhere and start taking my picture as I search for the Uber. Fuck! A hat, or a hoodie would be good right about now. As always, the paparazzi is peppering me with invasive questions that I try to ignore but the situation is unfolding at a rapid pace.

  This is not good. Not good at all.

  There’s no way these pictures won’t make it to all the gossip websites, and once they realize that I am wearing the same clothes as the previous night, they’ll know I spent the night at Ana’s.

  I hope she doesn’t tell them anything.

  I glance back to look at her house. To my surprise, she’s standing at the window with a smile on her face and waves a little goodbye to me. Fuck. I should’ve known. These empty-headed models will do anything for publicity.

  I came across the ocean and conceded to play in the American League in order to get away from the constant media scrutiny back home. To avoid the constant attention in the celebrity-rich surroundings of L.A. It turns out that Americans love their sports and they love their superstars. Until they take them down.

  So far, nothing has gone according to plan. I can already see a shitstorm coming my way.

  Chapter 79

  Carrie

  Even though I saw it coming, the disappointment feels much harsher than I anticipated. The words ring in my head with that gloomy shadow of an echo in my mind. “Sorry, Ms. Tucker, but I’m afraid we are going to have to reject your loan application.”

  It’s the third rejection in a row.

  I’m just glad I didn’t tell my mother about it at all — she’d take the rejection even worse. As an online content writer for the once reputed Coyote magazine, I’m not exactly making bank. Once rent, groceries and the money I spend on daily stuff is covered, I’ve got barely anything left over in terms of savings.

  When mom told me six months ago that the sports bar my father left us was making steady losses for a few years, I was left with no choice but to apply for bank loans in a last ditch effort to save Stats. Dad ran it all his life. I can’t help but smile as I think of my dad standing be
hind the counter, serving drinks to people. All of them knew him as ‘Stats,’ for his ability to recite the rarest of baseball statistics from memory.

  A memory that’ll soon become history unless I can come up with a solution. My mother’s been a strong woman all her life but since Dad died, she’s become a shadow of the woman she was. Bert was her strength. Though she tries not to show it, Mom is lost without him. The troubles with the bar haven’t made things any easier.

  Anyway that’s why I’m applying for bank loans. Except my credit score isn’t something to be proud of and combined with the fact that I’m a young, struggling writer, the banks don't like me. Not for a personal loan. There’s just one application still left open and all my hopes are riding on it. Other than that, I have no idea how to go about saving Stats, apart from succumbing to Mom’s idea of selling the bar.

  “Carrie!” A woman’s voice calls out and I turn to see Lillian, my colleague, walking toward me.

  “Hey Lillian. What’cha doing here? I’d’ve thought you’d be at work.”

  “Walking to work just like you. Fine sunny day for that isn’t it?” She beams, shifting the big bouquet of flowers she’s carrying to the other side of her body.

  “You sure look cheerful today, what’s with the bouquet?”

  “Oh well! Just my 30th wedding anniversary today, that’s all,” Lillian is grinning like a teenager in love.

  “Oh my! Congratulations. That’s quite a milestone!”

  “Isn’t it? I swear I never thought we would last this long but my Bobby, he’s some fella. Surprised me with a fancy breakfast and this huge bouquet here this morning,” She smiles.

  “That’s amazing. He sounds charming,”

  “As charming as a mule,” Lillian laughs, “but he knows when to do the right things. I guess that’s what kept me around all these years,”

  A content smile on Lillian’s face makes me wonder how it would feel to have such companionship in my life. I’ve never been in love and keep dating all the wrong men. Is Max also one of them? I wonder as the events of last night come back in her head. The image of me fainting flashes before my eyes. A strong set of hands stop me from falling completely and hitting the floor. And I didn’t even get a chance to thank him.