But I loved his stupid ass.
Words spoken in anger and confusion weren’t going to be the catalyst that made that change. Just like I’d said, I would give him time to get this shit together, and figure out what he needed to do.
He wanted to focus on the game?
I was going to let him.
Fifteen-thousand square feet on the water, in Galveston. All done up in blue and gold, celebrating the fact that by some miracle, in a little over a week, the Kings would be going head to head against the Patriots. One of us was going to walk away as Super Bowl champions.
I wished I could be happier about that than I was.
I mean, I was glad about it. The team was thrilled, Eli was thrilled, my mom and sister were. I was ready to celebrate. I was down for it.
There was just one little thing holding me back.
My big, stupid fucking mouth.
Since the night before that tie-breaker game, Nicki hadn’t been checking for me, at all. She said she was letting me focus, and she meant that shit – she hadn’t initiated a single text or phone call. When we saw each other, she would acknowledge me, but that was about all. From winning the tie-breaker to get our wildcard position, to whooping our way to the top match of the playoffs, the most I’d gotten from her was “congratulations on your win.” When I tried to talk to her, she shut it down every time. More than once, she’d looked me right in the face, smiled, and said, “Let’s talk about it later. Your focus needs to be on football.”
And really… it wasn’t like I could blame her.
I recognized how stupid I’d been about two seconds after she stormed out of my house, but further stupidity held me back from immediately trying to make it right. I was sorry that I’d said what I said to her, but was still holding on to the idea that our relationship was affecting my game. It took me going over and over it in my head to realized that it wasn’t the shift in my relationship with Nicki that had my head all messed up.
It was that conversation with my father.
I’d told myself that he was miserable, that he was full of shit, that I shouldn’t listen. And yet, I’d still let him fuck with my head.
“He got a lot of practice with me,” my mother told me, when I finally gave in and made that phone call. She’d figured out how to be done. I hoped she could pass it on to me. “You have to just… rely on the other people who love you, honestly. That makes his poison so much less potent. Remind yourself who consistently shows you that you matter to them. And always let their words matter more than someone who doesn’t. There’s no process, my love. You just… stop.”
So… I did.
Or, I tried.
I was still a work in progress.
I’d had lunch with him, And he sat there, going on and on about how low our chances were against the Patriots, even after we’d pulled off something amazing by making it through the playoffs at all. Nicki was pissed at me and found room to offer congratulations. Neither that word, or others that conveyed the same sentiment, crossed his mouth.
I felt stupid as hell, with that realization. This was the fool that I’d allowed to taint my relationship with the woman I loved? Somebody who was supposed to be my biggest supporter, and could only find negativity, no words of encouragement for me?
It was… idiotic.
I couldn’t settle for that.
“I’ve asked Nicole to attend the party as well, as a team representative. Hopefully her presence will ensure that things don’t get too rowdy.”
I nodded, giving Eli some reassurance that I wasn’t so sure about. “Yeah. Yeah, man. It won’t be too bad.”
Eli was footing the bill for this party, and had given me instructions to live it up, like me and Trent used to do. My plan was to do exactly that, even though Trent wasn’t really down – his lady talked him into it - and I wasn’t even completely feeling it myself. That wasn’t for the public to know though. When the tweets and snaps and instagram pics from this party went live, all anybody else would see was the party of the damn century.
Even if I had to force it… that was the way it would go down.
As if I don’t babysit athletes enough…
I ran my hands through my hair, then smoothed my dress over my hips as I looked around the party. You’d think this was a party to celebrate a SuperBowl win – not just the fact the Kings had made it into the game. But, I could understand everybody’s excitement.
After the season we had, making it to the SuperBowl was a big damned deal.
“So explain to me again how these… procurement bands… aren’t prostitution?” I asked the bobbed brunette in the reception area at the front of the house Eli had rented for this production. She giggled with the woman standing with her.
“Well,” she said, holding up two plastic bracelets. “Some guests pay for access to the bands. They’ll use those bands to “mark” the women they intend to… engage with, at the end of the night.”
I curled my lip. “And the women who get the bands are… paid?”
“Not at all,” she shook her head. “Unless you consider the pleasure of a professional athlete’s company for the night compensation.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, many women do,” the brunette replied snottily. “If a guest sees someone wearing a band that isn’t theirs, they can’t approach them. The bracelets are purchased beforehand, and the athlete’s name is inscribed on however many they’ve purchased. They get blacklights that can be used to read the inscription.”
“And if someone doesn’t want to be…procured?”
“She says no thank you, and everyone moves on. We have security throughout the party making sure of that.”
“Uh huh.”
I was burning to ask if Jordan had purchased any procurement bands for the night, but I was skeeved out enough by the whole idea that I convinced myself to just walk away instead. This party was already overflowing, with liquor and music and debauchery. I had enough details, for now.
I hadn’t made it far when I was grabbed from behind by a familiar touch, and a few moments later, Jordan and I were alone in a darkened hallway.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You’ve been looking sour all night.”
I shrugged, pulling away from him. “Nothing. Just keeping my distance. Pay me no mind.”
I left him in the hall to rejoin the party, shaking my head at some of the things I witnessed as I walked past. Drinking, smoking, minor sex acts that ranged from scandalous to downright weird. This wasn’t even the craziest party Jordan and Trent had done. There was a thing where everybody wore nothing but thongs a while back that I was still having nightmares about. When the thong is on a 350lb lineman, it just looks like nothing is on.
I fought back a shudder as I made my way through the crowd, towards the bar. I was supposed to be making sure the party didn’t get too wild, and “affect any player’s potential for success”, but…. It was a party. It was going to get wild. I didn’t know what kind of “chaperone” my father was expecting me to be, but if I was sticking around, a drink was necessary.
Maybe it would make it a little easier to be around Jordan.
There was already a crowd around the bar, but one of the bartenders recognized my face and came straight to me.
“Whiskey sour, please!” I shouted over the music and the crowd, and she nodded, confirming my drink.
“Cole?” I heard from behind me, and turned to see a familiar face. She was much more glammed up than she’d been the last time we were face to face, so it took me a few seconds, but I smiled as I recognized Trent’s girl.
“Jade! So, you were the one to convince Trent to come.”
She looked a little surprised at that. “How did you know he had to be convinced?”
“Jordan told me. He said he’d been trying for a week, and Trent wasn’t having it. He’s really changed, that guy, and I for one am happy for him.”
I leaned back to give her room a
s one of the bartenders handed Jade a drink.
“You don’t think JJ is?” she frowned. “Trent can be a bit of a prude. I thought he was much older when I met him.”
I laughed. “I can see why. But all change isn’t bad. When he came home he was different, but in an angry way. Trent’s more confident now. More self-assured. I’m sure that has a lot to do with you.”
I grabbed my drink as it was offered and immediately took a sip to wet my throat as she shrugged. “He makes me happy.”
My eyes dropped to the huge ring on her finger, marking her as Trent’s fiancée. “And clearly he wants to do it forever. I’m really happy for him. Even before going away, Trent was a really good guy. Always honest and up front, you know?”
Jade got a funny look on her face, then smiled. “It was your hair.”
I moved in closer, and bent to hear her better. “Pardon?”
“It was your natural hair that flared my jealousy. Trent suggested that I didn’t need my weave, so when I saw a gorgeous woman with her real relaxed hair, I burned with jealousy.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Oh, girl, please. I hope you’re not offended when I say this, but you were so well put together that night, even with a baseball cap and sweat suit, that when I saw you I thought you were a groupie! Your makeup was as flawless as it is tonight, and that donk, girl!”
She laughed with me at that, and met me halfway for a high-five. Jade was gorgeous. Nothing to worry about from most of the women who threw themselves at athletes, and especially not me. I was too worried about his thick-headed friend to be interested in Trent that way.
I talked to Jade for a few more minutes, assuring her that we were good. I never had tripped about that night at Trent’s party, and wasn’t about to start now.
We were still standing there when Jordan’s voice came on the mic, cutting out the music.
“Alright now! Alright now! For my veterans of this Two Kings jam, you already know how we do with this portion of our show. Shoot ‘Em Up! is in the muthafuckin’ buuuuuuilding!”
Shaking my head, I grabbed Jade’s arm, knowing this was her first time at this particular rodeo, since there hadn’t been a “Two Kings” production in a while. “Don’t freak out,” I told her. “Shoot ‘Em Up! is a talented man, but will be going upstairs with one special lady tonight,” I laughed, as we followed the crowd into the huge living room.
We ended up separated, but I saw when Trent’s security, Tyheem pulled Jade to the middle of the room and sat her down on what was the “stage”. Peaches and Cream by 112 started up, and Trent came out, oiled and half naked in nothing but black jeans, Timbs, and a hat pulled low over his head to put on a show – mostly for his girl. He’d come from a long line of talented, successful male strippers, even though that wasn’t his profession.
I’d seen this enough before to know that he’d definitely gotten those skills too, but I wasn’t watching Trent. I was watching Jordan.
He was standing in a group of his friends – with one of those damn bands on his wrist – laughing, clowning and having a good time, which annoyed me. Sure, he’d tried to talk to me since that night at his place. Sure, I was still pissed, and still punishing him by letting him “focus”. But I wasn’t giving up on us – the chain with three charms around my neck was the physical evidence. I didn’t feel good, didn’t really feel like having fun when he and I weren’t on the same page.
It pissed me off a little that he obviously wasn’t feeling the same.
Everybody laughed when Trent was finished dancing, making it very, very clear that the only woman on his mind was Jade. JJ got back on the mic, declaring, “Shoot ‘Em Up! scores his biggest piece of ass tonight!” referring to Jade’s notable behind. The crowd went wild as Jordan teased the couple until they were out of sight, probably going to do what I’d been missing in the few weeks since our falling out.
With a heavy sigh, I turned away, looking for something, anything else to look at. I already didn’t really want to be here, and seeing Jordan laughing it up just made it worse. I managed to occupy myself for a little while longer, but my patience was wearing out.
“Nicole Richardson.”
An involuntary smile lit my face as Marcus Ingraham grabbed me by the hand. Last year’s NBA MVP, otherwise known for amazing leadership skills on the court, a gorgeous face, and an ahem impressive body, as evidenced by a nude picture leak earlier this year.
He was friends with Nate, but lived across the country with his team, so I rarely saw him – part of the reason I never gave him the impression that his interest was returned. I’d never been able to put my finger on the other reason, until now – I was still too wrapped in a different athlete.
“Hello Marcus,” I said warmly, returning his greeting. “I trust you’re having a good time?”
He nodded. “I am. But… it would be even better if I could’ve gotten to you first to get one of these bands on your wrist – unorthodox method I know, but I heard you were here and was hoping it would finally be my way to get you on a pseudo-date.”
I laughed. “Well, I admire the sentiment Marcus. But you know, I don’t date my brother’s friends.”
“I’ll drop Nate. He ain’t that cool anyway,” Marcus joked. “But, I see you’re already taken anyway.”
I drew my eyebrows together, confused. “I’m… what?!”
I looked down at my wrist, and my eyes went wide to see that one of the silver bangles I’d placed there when I was getting ready earlier was gone – replaced by a plastic neon band.
When the hell did that happen?!
“Do you have your blacklight thing?!” I asked Marcus, who looked puzzled as he handed it over. I flicked it on, shining it over the band, turning until the name engraved on it came into view.
“Jordan “Flash” Johnson”
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, then shoved the blacklight back in Marcus’ direction before I stormed off, looking for Jordan. I found him – of course – in a group of half-naked women. “What is this?” I asked, holding my arm up and putting my wrist right in his face.
Immediately, he snatched it down, and looped an arm around my waist, dragging me out of the room. His security was right behind us, making sure nobody followed as he pushed me into an empty dining room.
“Took you long enough to notice,” was the first thing he said to me, instead of answering my damned question.
“When the hell did you put this on me?”
“When I tried to talk to you, hours ago.”
“Why?!”
“Why?!” He sucked his teeth. “To make sure none of these motherfuckas think they can push up on you, like corny ass Marcus Ingraham.”
“Why can’t they, Jordan? According to you, I’m just corporate pussy, so why the fuck not?!”
“You know I didn’t mean that shit!” he growled, grabbing my waist as he stepped closer to me, scowling. “I fucked up.”
“And you’re obviously not that torn up about it, from all the fun you’re having here.” I tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge.
“I don’t give a damn about this party, Nicki. Yeah, I’m here, celebrating, trying to have a good time with my team, but my head is jacked up right now, cause me and you aren’t good. Is that what you want to hear?!”
“Not really!”
“Then what?!”
“I don’t know!”
The truth was, I hadn’t even intended to be cold with him this long. Maybe a week. But then he played so well in the tie-breaker game, and even better after that, all the way to a chance to win the Super Bowl, just like he wanted. And hell… I started wondering if maybe… I was a distraction.
“Baby listen…” he said, trying to pull me closer. “I’m sorry. I know I crossed a line, and it was stupid. I’m sorry. Tell me what to do.”
I shook my head, pulling out of his grasp. “It’s not that simple, Jordan. It can’t always be that you say something to hit me right where it hurts, and the
n you apologize and it’s all fine. Cause guess what? I’m still hurt. Implying that I’m with you to keep you on the team? After I’ve worried and cried about other people reducing me to that? That was just ugly, and uncalled for.”
“I know that. I know.”
I nodded. “I believe you. But… that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
And neither did being apart.
But for whatever reason, in that moment, I’d rather us both be uncomfortable, than just me. I’d been doing my best to prove I was all in, and he knew that. For him to flip like that on me… I didn’t really feel like he deserved my best.
“I’m going home,” I said, pulling the bracelet off my wrist, and closing it into his hand. “If Eli asks, I was here all night, and you guys didn’t get in too much trouble.”
Jordan sighed, but said nothing as I walked away. I stopped at the door and turned to him, pulling out the necklace from under my dress so he could see.
“And just so you know… you didn’t need that bracelet to claim me.”
Fuck.
I couldn’t sleep.
After that conversation with Cole, I was even less into the party than I was before, and was relieved when the shit was finally over. There were still people in the house, scattered through the bedrooms on the 3rd floor, but I wasn’t expected to entertain anybody, which was good.
I didn’t have the stomach for it anyway.
Once she left, I was going through the motions – making sure everybody else had a good time. It was almost five in the morning when I stopped fighting for sleep, and texted Trent.
Meet me on the back balcony in ten.
I looked at that for a few moments, then sent another.
Fuck that. Meet me in five minutes. I’m tired as hell.
I know your ass is up because you never turn off your phone in case Shank called. I know that’s still the same because your ass is a creature of habit bruh. Come the hell on.
I felt a little bad for using the habits he’d created around Shank, his late uncle, against him, but I needed to hear that at least somebody’d had an honestly good night. Mine had been spent tossing and turning, wired and exhausted, with Nicki on my mind. It bugged the shit out of me not knowing how to make things between us right. But Trent… he had this woman shit figured out.
Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) Page 27
