“Good Lord. Seriously? Let's take out a kid for an autograph," Ashley says sarcastically. "What jerks! Okay, Tanner. I’ve got this. I’ll make sure everyone knows who the real assholes are in this situation. Anything else I can put in it?"
"I took the kid back to the locker room. All the team players signed his football, and I gave him my practice jersey. I also told him that he’d get tickets to a home game. First row behind the team bench. That kid is going to have the time of his life that day. I really hope that it makes up for what happened to him today. It should have never happened." I sigh. I wouldn’t want him to be turned off from going to events in the future because of this incident.
"That’s amazing. I’m sure that he’ll remember everything you’ve done for him more than the events that led to it. Think about being little again. What would you remember more: a locker room full of pro football players signing autographs for you and giving you all types of cool things or some jerk who pushed you down in blur of a few scary minutes? You did something great for that boy, even if nobody else has seen it yet. But they will! They will! I think I might be able to get this on the front page. Are you going to be giving a statement to anyone else? If you are, would you mind waiting until I run my story? It would give me the exclusive, and that would do wonders for me."
"No problem. Will you still run it on Sunday? I don’t know how long I’ll be allowed to go without making a statement. Management and my agent are going to push for one," I tell her honestly. I feel surprisingly lighter after just a few minutes talking to Ashley, even more than I had after fucking the hell out of Melissa. Interesting. I’m starting to think that no matter how much I deny the connection to Ashley, there’s something more than attraction to it.
"I’ll start writing now. Give me a day or two tops. I’ll call you as soon as I finish my rough draft. What do you think?"
"Sounds good. Call me, and we can get together to go over everything," I’m now convinced it would be in my best interest to see her again, and the article is a good excuse.
"Okay, sounds perfect. I’m going to get to work."
"Okay… And Ashley? Thank you," I say sincerely before hanging up. I have the feeling she’ll do wonders for me with this piece. I hope.
"What was all that about?" Melissa asks, still sitting naked on the counter, when I come back into the kitchen.
Why do I have no desire to fuck her again?
"That was the reporter I met with the other day. She wanted permission to spin the article a different way, tell everyone my side of today. Hopefully it’ll work the way she says," I say with a smile. I feel optimistic. The press loves to make an ass of me, but I have faith in Ashley. I know how desperately she wants this article to be amazing.
"Oh, that's great. I hope it all works out. That poor kid." Melissa slips off the counter and saunters towards me. She puts her hand on my chest before sliding it lower. I realize she’s trying to go for round two when she reaches my waistband, but I don’t seem to have any more aggression to work out.
"Nah, I’m good. Want to grab some dinner? I’m starving." I walk toward the stairs, ready to shower and get dressed. I try not to let the pouty face Melissa gives me affect me. Three orgasms must have been plenty. She’s always so drama free that I’m sure she'll be over it in two seconds. "Don’t give me that face. You got off three times. Go shower. I think you’ll find some clothes lying around in the guest room. And move it. I’m really hungry."
"Ugh, fine! But you're buying, and I'm in the mood for filet mignon,” she says, following me up the stairs.
"I'll buy you lobster and filet if you’re ready in fifteen minutes."
Chapter 7
ASHLEY
When I’d sent Tanner a copy of the article this morning, he’d said it was perfect and that he couldn’t wait to see the final draft. We’ve made plans to meet up tonight to go over it. After talking to Tanner, I’d called Dom yesterday to tell him about my idea for the article. He’d loved it, but hadn’t thought I’d be able to get approval from Tanner or his agent. When I’d told him I’d already spoken to Tanner personally and gotten the approval, he couldn’t believe it.
I’d spent all of last evening working on the piece, and I’m excited to bring it to light. When Tanner told me what had really happened at the open practice, I had been beyond pissed off. The way that video has been spun online doesn’t show the truth at all. All the grainy cell phone video shows is an irate Tanner yelling and pushing people. It’s not all that clear, so it’s easy to think Tanner’s just being an asshole. I can’t wait to show everyone the real Tanner Garrison.
We’d decided to meet for dinner at Dina and Harrison's in Hoboken. I arrive ten minutes early. It’s just around the corner from my house, but since I was late for our last meeting, I’d thought it might be a good idea to be a little early for this one. I’m glad to beat Tanner to the restaurant.
As the waiter seats me at our table, he asks if I’d like something to drink while I’m waiting. I decide on a glass of wine. The restaurant has a generic city feel to it. Dark and discreet, nothing bright or flashy. Simple and casual. The deep red carpet pairs well with the dark paneled walls. The tables are all old-fashioned and round. No booths. Each has a linen table cloth set with a single candle in the middle. I find the atmosphere to be very comfortable, but then there’s a change in the air.
The hairs on the back on my neck stand up, and I feel goose bumps rise on my skin, as though a chilly breeze has blown through. I look toward the door and see Tanner there. The unusual sensation only gets stronger as he gets closer. What the fuck is up with my body when he’s near? He looks downright delicious in black dress pants and a gray button-down shirt that clings to the broadness of his lean, muscular shoulders. The splash of gold in his tie makes the flecks in his eyes shine. His square jaw and chiseled cheekbones make a deadly combination for my panties. Jesus, it should be illegal for someone to look that damn good. It’s as though someone carved him out of stone in tribute to an ancient Greek god. I’m jolted out of my perusal of him by a little chuckle, and I look up to see a devilish smirk on his face that only makes his features more striking.
"Well, hello, Ashley. It’s nice to see you again," he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
I blush. I’m probably as red as a tomato between getting caught checking him out and the kiss he’s just given me.
Pull your shit together, Ashley. You don’t want to make an ass out yourself in front him… again.
"Good evening, Tanner. Thank you for meeting me, and thank you for having my car brought to the shop the other day as well. You didn’t need to do that."
I couldn’t have been more shocked to find my car in my parking spot the morning after the interview with a note on the dash saying it was fixed. I never in millions of years had thought that Tanner would do something like that. Who knew the asshole, playboy quarterback was actually a nice guy? Me, that's who, and now it’s my mission to make sure that other people see the person he really is.
"Don’t even think twice about it. It was nothing." His stern voice warns me that he means business, and I feel as though I shouldn’t bring it up again.
"I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I apologize. I’m late." He grabs his menu.
"You aren’t late. I was just early. I only ordered a glass of wine. I wasn’t sure what you would want." I don’t tell him that I’d needed some alcohol to prep for this meeting.
"That’s fine. Do you want to order before we get to business?"
"Sure."
After we place our orders with the waiter, we stare at each other for a few moments before I snap out of my daze. I reach into my bag to grab the finished article and hand it over to him.
"This really is amazing. I can’t thank you enough. Coach was so pissed at me over everything, but I didn’t really care. This will help me on two fronts, calming down management and keeping me from looking like an ass. But honestly, if this makes me an asshole, I'd rather be an asshole," he
says, looking over the pages.
"I'd rather be the asshole that helps a kid than be the asshole that doesn’t, too," I say, agreeing with his stance.
"Now that that’s out of the way, how about you tell me more about you?" He steeples his fingers in front him as though he’s waiting to hear the secrets of life come out of my mouth.
"I’m just your everyday girl. There isn’t much to know about me"
"Yes, there is. I’m trying to understand this uncanny connection that we have. I think the only way to do that is to get to know each other. You know, I wasn’t going to answer the phone when you first called. I hardly ever answer numbers I don’t know. But I had this strong feeling that I needed to answer. And when I got off the phone with you, my horrible mood had disappeared like magic. I think you and I need to get to know each other better. Don’t you? I know that you feel it as well. This goes far beyond attraction,” he says, sounding very sure of himself.
"What is it that you want to know?" I ask, wondering where he’s trying to take this conversation.
"As much as I can. Give me some basics. You know much more about me than I do about you."
“I’m pretty boring. I’m from New Jersey originally. Went to Ramapo and studied journalism. I’ve wanted to be a journalist for as long as I can remember. I lucked out with an internship at The Press. My best friend, Quinn, and I met in college. She was my roommate freshman year. We just moved in together again about two months ago." I hope that’s enough to keep him happy. I take a sip of wine, waiting for him to steer the conversation somewhere else.
"Where did you live before?"
"Jersey City." I glance around the restaurant, hoping to find some kind of inspiration to use so I can change the subject. He’s getting dangerously close to a subject that I don’t want to talk about.
"Why'd you move?"
"It was time for a change." That’s all I’m willing to give him on that one.
Thankfully, our salads arrive then, providing a distraction.
"I'll let that slide for now."
I look up from my salad and stare at him. He responds with a wink. A fucking wink. It does nothing to curb my desire to see the man naked. In fact, the urge intensifies.
We chit-chat idly about neutral topics for the rest of dinner, but turn back to business once more before we call it a night.
"So the article looks good to you? I want to make sure that you’re happy with it before it hits the front page tomorrow."
"The front page?" He looks surprised.
"Yes. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this chance. It’s going to be as huge for me as it will be for you, I’m sure. I want this to give people a glimpse of the person I see when I look at you. Honestly, I’d thought you were an ass before meeting you too, but it didn’t take much to change my mind. Hopefully, everyone else will be as easy as me to convince." I don’t realize the double-meaning in my words until he smiles deviously at me.
"So you’re telling me you’re easy?" he asks with a smirk still resting on his lips as he rises from his seat.
"I guess when it comes to you, yes." Why the hell did I just say that? My filter is nowhere to be found. I follow him toward the exit.
"We’ll see. We’ll definitely see," he informs me on our way to the door. I don’t even remember him paying the check.
"When did you get the bill? Let me get it. It’s on the paper. You did a great thing for me and them by letting us print the article. It’s the least that we can do."
"Nonsense. I have a running tab here. This happens to be one of my favorite places for dinner, very serene."
"That’s very thoughtful. Thank you for dinner, and thank you again for giving me this opportunity. I hope that things go well for you tomorrow," I tell him. Tomorrow is bound to be a big day in my career, and I hope that it is in his as well.
"Anytime, Ashley. Anytime." He smiles. "Until next time."
**********
By the time I make it to the office in the morning, my cell has rung at least fifty times. The article is a huge hit. Everyone wants a piece of Tanner. I couldn’t be happier for him—or myself. Dom is thrilled as well. Apparently the article has made both the morning news and the local sports talk shows. The Associated Press has also picked it up, splashing it all over the internet. Boomer and Carton, a big local sports radio show, spent half an hour discussing it. I don’t think anything short of a catastrophe could wipe the smile off my face. My luck finally seems to be turning around.
A knock on my door takes my attention away from my musings. I look over to see a delivery man holding a huge bouquet of pink and white lilies, standing in the doorway.
"Are you Miss Mitchell?" he asks.
“Yes.”
"Can you please sign here? These are for you,” he says, holding out a clipboard with his free hand.
"Who would send me flowers?" I ask to no one in particular as I sign for the delivery and take the flowers. I love lilies.
"Check the card. Have a good day,” he says on his way out the door.
I place the vase on my desk and pull the card out of its envelope, anxious to see who they’re from.
Congratulations on a great article!
Looks like you did a great job for both of us!
-Tanner
Chapter 8
ASHLEY
The next few weeks are total mayhem. After the article about Tanner hit the front pages, I’d gotten the opportunity to write for the paper much more often. Now everyone wants me to visit their establishments, go see their new play openings, and cover book signings. I guess if I was able to sell Tanner Garrison as America's new sweetheart, I can convince people to visit any club, event, or restaurant in the city. I’m writing about three or four pieces a week now. Quinn and I haven't had a single chance celebrate all the new, exciting things happening in my life. We’ve decided to fix that tonight by dancing our asses off while I check out a hot new club for work.
I haven’t heard from Tanner since the flowers were delivered. I assume he’s been consumed with improving his image. Plus, the season has just started, so he’s now getting into his full swing. I’m happy for him. I’ve caught a few interviews he’s done since and had made sure to watch the season home opener last weekend. Because it was the game little Jesse got tickets for, there was a lot of coverage. It’s brought even more light to the true Tanner.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts of Tanner by Quinn walking into the living room. "Damn. How much more of your ass are you going to let hang out tonight?"
She looks hot as hell, and I’m totally jealous. Her red halter dress has pushed her boobs so high up that I think she could eat off of them if she wanted to. It has a slit that goes almost up to her hip on the left side. Her shoes are equally fantastic, but I’m not sure how she plans to walk in them. They have to be almost six inches tall, and they’re completely covered in crystals. If the lighting in the club isn’t dim enough, Quinn’s shoes could definitely blind someone.
"I’m planning on getting laid tonight, so the more ass the better. Wait until you see the outfit that I have picked out for you, chica. You need to get laid tonight too, and I have the perfect dress to accomplish that mission." She has a devious smile on her face, so I know that I’m utterly screwed. When Quinn is in a mood like this, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
"Have you forgotten that I’m not like you, my dear? I can’t go out dressed like that and be comfortable," I remind her. Sometimes I’d swear she doesn’t hear a word I say.
"Tough shit. I’m pretty sure that your vag has grown cobwebs, and you’re practically a born again virgin. We need to open that baby up before you die of celibacy."
"Seriously? You’re so dramatic! My vagina is fine, and I’m nowhere near being a born again virgin yet. I think it has to have been five years before you can consider yourself born again." I roll my eyes at her before walking to her bedroom to check out the crazy dress she has planned for me.
"Quinn! Have you been smoki
ng crack today? You cannot think that I’m leaving the house wearing that. Did you rob a hooker for that dress?" She has to be out of her fucking mind. The dress she’s picked out for me nearly makes her look like an Amish woman in hers.
"Now who's being dramatic? Honestly, you need to live a little. And for the record, six months is more than enough of a dry spell, and I'm sure that little dick Jason had no idea what he was doing, so it’s been almost three years since you’ve had a decent lay. So shut the fuck up and put it on. I want to go get drunk and laid. Move it, bitch."
I put on the dress she’s laid out for me. It’s iridescent, backless, and has what resembles dental floss for straps. I'm practically naked in it, and if the hem rises even a half inch, the whole club will see my vajayjay. At least I got a wax this week. The dress has a semi-cowl neck and hangs low on my chest, showing off plenty of cleavage. My boobs may not be as nice as Quinn's, but I have to admit I look pretty hot. She’s paired the dress with nude stilettos. Once my hair and makeup are done, I take a look in Quinn’s full length mirror. I look damn fuckable.
"Damn, bitch. I think you look better than me. You’d better put that hotness to use tonight, or I swear I’ll disown you as my best friend. What’s the name of this club again?" Standing next to each other all done up, Quinn and I look like the who's who of New York City.
"Levitate. It’s a penthouse level club in Soho. It’s got floor to ceiling windows so you feel suspended in the sky. I can’t wait to see the view. The bar specializes in martinis, so I hope you’re planning on getting really drunk because I can’t wait to try all the different flavors."
"Well, let’s not keep you waiting any longer, bitch. The car’s here.” Quinn hands me my clutch, and we make our way downstairs.
When we pull up to the club and I see the queue, I’m grateful that my name’s on the list. I wouldn’t want to wait in that crazy line to get in. My press badge ensures that we get the VIP treatment—an awesome perk of my job. People want a great review when they find out I’m coming. The club’s only been open a few weeks, but it’s already creating a lot of buzz, which has turned it into a hotspot. I don’t actually meet with the owner or any employees, though. I don’t want the staff inside to know who I am. I want the same experience anyone else would get.
Inhibitions Page 6
