Save Me, Sinners: A Dark MFM Menage Romance

by Jess Bentley

  “I feel you, man. But if you ask me, I find it difficult to believe that Carrie did that. She seemed to care about you!”

  “Well, clearly she cared more about her own career. So there we are.”

  “Daddy, look what I got!” Harry comes running to me with a bunch of promotional merchandise that the league released specially for the final. Shauna walks alongside him. Lucy hasn’t come back and I have no choice but to take Harry along wherever I go. Not that he has a problem with that, since he gets plenty of attention from all the adults surrounding him.

  “There’s my lad,” I say as I pick him up in my arms.

  “You ready for this, David?” Shauna asks somberly.

  “As ready as I will ever be,” I smile. “Now Harry, Aunt Shauna here will take care of you while Daddy goes to work. Okay?” The little boy nods, his big eyes darting around to take in the room.

  “He is an absolute delight. Don’t worry about him. You go do what you do best!” Shauna kisses me on the cheek and wishes me luck. If she’s nervous, she doesn't show it, unlike Scott who’s still caught in a funk.

  “Coach,” I greet Hank Miller as I walk up to the stage where the press conference will be held. The coach just nods. Jesus, is he being paid not to speak to me? Did I sleep with his daughter or something?

  An assistant quickly runs up to me and while I decline offers to put on makeup for the cameras, he quickly checks my hair and straightens my suit.

  A loud cheer does the rounds of the hall as Javier Romero steps on to the stage followed by the coach of his team. He raises his arms and greets the crowds like he’s just won a heavyweight bout. From the corner of my eye, I see glum faces in my entourage, miffed at the way the media seems biased in favor of Javier.

  Finally the conference starts and they ask Javier about his experiences in the US so far. The Argentine goes into a rehearsed speech that makes me yawn. I chuckle at the thought of actually yawning, knowing that it’d cause another scandal.

  When the media turns to my side, they choose to ask questions of Hank Miller. While I’m relieved that I’ve been left alone for the most part, on the other hand, I’m annoyed that my own coach refuses to confirm whether I’ll be starting in the Cup Final or not. I’m bolted out of my thoughts by the sound of my name being spoken.

  “It must feel good to have recovered from that terrible injury so soon?” A woman reporter with blonde hair asks.

  “Absolutely,” I say, deciding to keep my responses short. The media doesn’t do any favors for me, so why should I give them soundbites?

  “Are you ready to play in the final?”

  “I'm always ready to serve my team. It all depends on the coach.” I throw the ball back in the court of Coach Miller, who doesn’t seem too pleased with the answer.

  “Do you think all these off the field scandals will have an effect on the coach’s decision?” Another reporter asks. Jeez, he’s right there, why not ask him?

  “I hope not,” I smile.

  “In the last month, you've been the subject of one scandal after another. Multiple women have slandered you for your behavior as well. Do you think the team and the fans are beginning to question your priorities?”

  “For me, there is no question of priorities. Women come and go, but football always remains.” I smirk, and a few faces smile in the crowd too. I’m pleased with my reply at first but as I catch a glimpse of Shauna, with her head in her hands, it dawns on me that this statement will come back to bite me in the ass.

  “Soccer may be just a game but women are a crucial part of our society. Where I come from, we respect our women and treat them like equals. We don’t treat them like objects who come and go,” Javier interrupts. The media erupts in applause at his statement. He smiles, turns to look at me and smirks.

  Fuck.

  “Javier, now that David is back from his injury and might play the final, are you worried that it might not go as easy for your team?”

  “Does’t matter whether he plays or doesn’t. We will win anyways. Maybe Mr. David will be more comfortable watching the game at home with a new woman that he might want to seduce tonight.” He smirks and once again the press laughs.

  I just smile politely. What else can a man do when he’s the butt of everyone’s jokes?

  “Have you two talked about the incident at the World Cup Final when David assaulted you?” A reporter asks Javier.

  “He has not apologized, if that is what you're asking. It was the juvenile, violent act of a man who is a sore loser. But in my heart I've forgiven him that.”

  They had to drag it out didn’t they. This is the moment that I’ve been dreading ever since Javier came out of retirement to play in the league.

  “David, now that you both are here, are you going to apologize to Javier?”

  Goddammit! I want to tell them the whole story about how Javier goaded me, but I know that loudmouth would deny it immediately. Given the impeccable reputation I’ve built so far, no one would believe my side of the story. I wonder if apologizing to Javier would make me seem like a better man, if it would improve my public image… but I decide not to play the media’s game. I’m done letting them impact my life.

  “I regret my action. It was uncalled for,” I say calmly. “If it weren’t for that, I'm certain that we would’ve gone on to win the World Cup.”

  “What about the apology?” They press.

  “There is no apology required. Javier knows what really happened. Why don’t you ask him about that?”

  As the media attention turns on him, Javier pales a little but then quickly puts on hi practiced media face.

  “All I know is that this is a crazy man, who will cheat or do anything to win. When he starts losing, he resorts to violence. I don't condone his behavior but it’s okay that he will not apologize. I've forgiven him anyway. I just hope he doesn’t pull another stunt when I'm beating him in another final,” Javier smiles. They’re eating out of his hands. This is going much worse than I thought.

  The rest of the press conference isn’t any different. The media sticks to their darling Javier and I’m largely ignored, something I’m thankful for. Coach Miller, however, does give me a disapproving look as we walk off the podium and I’m certain that only a miracle can get me a chance to play in the final.

  “So that went cocks up,” I say to Shauna as she comes forward to meet me.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” she answers.

  “Really? I bet they're going to label me a sexist tomorrow,”

  “Screw them David. You're not a sexist and you know it. So stop thinking about these things.”

  “Yeah man, just focus on the big match,” Willie says.

  Yeah right! Like the coach is going to let me play in the final.

  Their words may be encouraging, but I can tell from the glum faces hidden behind the forced smiles of his entourage that this is not going to turn out well for me.

  “Daddy, can we go home now? I'm tired,” Harry looks at me with his big innocent eyes. I can’t help but smile.

  At least I still I've my son and that is all I need.

  I wipe the bar clean with a wet cloth, then buff it with a dry cloth and it finally looks acceptable. The sounds of Sportscenter play the background and I stretch my arms a little. A few hours of hard labor at the bar has taken a toll on me, considering I usually spend the day sitting in a chair. Despite the hard work I put in for the last two days at Stats, Dad’s old bar, I’m happy. Or at least as happy as I can be. Being back home in Santa Ana is a welcome relief. There are no deadlines to meet, no scandals to be part of and no evil bosses trying to ruin me.

  Most of all, I’m thankful that Mom has no clue about my recent notoriety. Helen Tucker is an old fashioned, hard working woman who has no time for gossip magazines. She is just utterly pleased that her daughter’s come back home. A new light shines in her eyes and even though the last bank loan has been rejected as well, Mom’s suddenly found an optimistic outlook on life.

 
I smile as her cellphone number appears on my screen.

  “Hey, Mom,” I smile.

  “Darling, are you coming home for dinner?”

  “Yes of course. Just about done here.”

  “Good. I thought I heard you say something about going out. Anyway. I'm waiting for you. Drive safe!”

  Being the wife of a bar owner, Helen had gotten accustomed to late night dinners. Back in the heyday of Stats, Dad had been a popular man and patrons hung around till last call and at times even later, discussing nothing but sports. Helen, who worked at the bar only during the daytime, got used to waiting at night for my dad, not complaining even once.

  The going, however, is tougher now. Since I made the decision to sublet my apartment in L.A. and move back home, I decided to take full charge of the bar. It’s my father’s legacy and there’s no way I’m letting it slide out of the family’s hands. Finally, I know where my priorities really lay.

  I’m just about done putting the dry glasses back in the cabinet, when I freeze, hearing a certain name on the television. I move up front to look at the screen.

  ‘...surely this is not a surprise, as we have come to expect outrageous things from David Adams who has long been known, back home in England, as something of a bad boy. His comments today however will surely not win him any brownie points with the women whom he loves to seduce so much.’ The host goes on before they cut to a clip of David, sitting in some sort of a press conference.

  Something tugs at my heart as David’s face glares down at me from the screen. He looks as dashing as always, but somewhere underneath that smile and that calm demeanor, something is off. I know him enough to be able to tell that.

  ‘Women come and go, but football always remains,” he says. As the words sink in, a pain shoots in my heart. Is this the man I fell for? A man who doesn’t even see women as people? For whom kicking a ball is more important than the person he’s with?

  Strangely enough, Max’s parting words jump into my head. David is a worse hound than me, he’d said, and for once, ex-boss was right. I sit down on a bar stool and look away into nothingness.

  It’ll take a long time to forget about all the mistakes I’ve made.

  Chapter 100

  “Let’s cut down our losses first,”’ I’d told Mom before I left home to start the day at the bar that morning. Helen insisted she come along too, but after five days spent working at the bar I knew like the back of my hand, has brought me up to speed with things.

  I’m actually looking forward to working at the bar everyday. Sure, we still have plenty of problems and there’s no guarantee that we’ll slip out of the red anytime soon, but a strong sense of determination is inside of me. Now that I’ve left all the distractions behind.

  By the time the sun reaches its peak, I’ve already renegotiated a couple of deals with suppliers, let go of two more employees and pondered about a brand new seating structure. Letting go of employees is always tough, but I console them by promising to rehire them as soon as things get better.

  Mom’s been very confident since I moved back home.

  “I know you'll come through. I'm proud of you, baby,” she said, though I’m not too sure about it all. This is just a start. There’s a whole lot still to be done.

  A bunch of people sit in the booths and business was slow, so I chalk out some special promotion offers for the weekend and set up a Facebook page. I’m so deep into it, I almost don’t hear the man who walks up to the bar.

  “Can I get a drink?” The low, husky voice says. I look up to see a familiar face staring back.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Willie Bryant, who is sat in front of me.

  “I'm a superstitious man. Before every big match, I have a drink for good luck. Today, I thought I’ll try a different bar for a change.”

  “How did you even find me?”

  “When a man is on a mission, he finds what he is looking for.” He smiles.

  What mission?

  Willie’s infectious grin almost brings upon a matching smile on my face too but I suppress it. I don’t belong in their world and there’s no need to pretend with Willie or anybody else.

  “Nice little place here. You own this?” He looks around.

  “Yes. It belonged to my father and now it’s mine.”

  “Damn, I’d like to open a bar someday. You looking for a partner?” He winks.

  “No, but thanks for your offer. What can I get you?”

  “Just a lime soda please.”

  “You came all the way here for a lime soda?” I raise a brow.

  “Well, I heard you get the best lime sodas in Santa Ana,” he smiles kindly.

  He’s up to something but I can’t figure out what.

  Did David send him? Highly unlikely.

  At the same time, I’m too proud to ask Willie right away.

  “You know we have a big game today. The Cup Final.” He pauses and then continues when I don’t respond. “To be frank with you, I'm a little nervous. I don’t like being captain. Too much responsibility.”

  Perhaps he expects me to ask some questions, or maybe he’s trying to steer the conversation a certain way, but I don’t take the bait.

  “Do you know that this is the first time that Anaheim Knights have ever reached any final?”

  “That’s nice,” I say, as I wipe the bar counter clean.

  “It means a lot to everyone here. All because of David, of course. If he hadn’t been scoring so many goals, we’d probably be at home, planning to watch the game on T.V,” he says, chuckling.

  There we go. I was wondering how long Willie could go on before he brought up David.

  “You planning to screen the game here?” Willie nods to the big screen TV behind her.

  “We play whatever the customers want and not many of them care about soccer.” I shrug.

  “As David would say, it’s football, not soccer.”

  I almost smile. David has said that to me plenty of times. So much so that I’ve even started referring to the sport as football myself. I want to ask whether David will play but don’t.

  You don’t belong in their world, Carrie, I remind myself.

  “Back in Chicago, where I come from, everybody in the neighborhood would make fun of me for playing soccer. They thought it was strange for a tall black man like me to not dream of NFL or NBA. I wondered what they would think of me today. Captain of a soccer team, playing in the final.”

  On any other day, I would want to know the full story but not today. I just don’t want to be a part of anything that involves David. Besides, I have to get back to work.

  “Can I get you anything else?” I ask, coldly.

  “What? I thought bartenders were supposed to be good listeners?” he laughs.

  “But I'm no bartender,” I can’t stop the smile from spreading.

  “Okay, look. This drink wasn’t the reason I came here,” he says, looking me in the eye.

  “I figured that much out.”

  “Why don’t you come to the match with me?”

  The direct request surprises me. For a moment my heart flutters at the thought of watching David play in the final but there is no way I’m going to let myself get hurt again.

  “I can’t.” I shake my head.

  “You probably think all jocks are bad guys, but we aren’t. I know David. I haven’t seen him with that gleam in his eye for any woman except you. And if what I know of women is right, it wasn’t a fling for you either. Obviously you both care about each other.”

  “No I don’t,” I snap back.

  “Look, girl. If you’re worried about the whole thing with the article then let me tell you one thing. I don’t care what anybody else says. I don’t believe for a second that it was your doing. And I pride myself on being a good judge of people.”

  This is the first time someone has directly talked to me about that whole mess and a dam breaks. All the feelings of guilt and the events that transpired come back. I tried to save Davi
d’s reputation by rejecting Max’s offer to slander him and yet, Max outplayed my hand.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” I say quietly.

  “I know that.”

  “But does David know that?” I look up. Willie’s face is glum.

  “I'm not sure what he believes. I tried to bring it up with him but he refused to talk about it.”

  “It was all Max’s doing,” I say, coming clean. “First he fired me for not co-operating with him to run another scandalous piece on David and then he used the article that I had written but edited it completely to change the narrative... and there was nothing I could do about that.” I grit my teeth, my temper rising at the thought of Max’s treachery.

  Willie smiles. “I just knew that you could never do something like that!”

  “It doesn’t matter Willie. What is done is done. What happened between me and David..,” I look away. “It was a one-time thing. Sure, it might have been special… but he has his own family, his own life and I have no place there. We belong to two different worlds.”

  “Family? David has a family?”

  “I’ve met Lucy and Harry, so you don’t have to pretend that they don’t exist,” I say, not in a mood to play games. Willie thumps the bar with his hand and laughs out loud.

  “What is so damn funny?”

  “Lucy is the biggest gold digger I know. She only came to LA because she got fired from some reality show and as always, she wanted to use David to get in the headlines. There is a better chance of pigs flying than of David and Lucy ever being together again.”

  This is news to me. A tiny spark of hope flutters in my heart but I squash it immediately. Too many things have gone wrong already and so many wrongs could not be righted.

  “The only connection between them is their son. Nothing more,” Willie smiles. “Besides, he’s thrown her out of the house and she’s living elsewhere now.”

  Once again, the hopes rise in my heart and once again they are squashed. I clear my throat and cross my arms.