Saints and Sinners: The Complete Series

by Eden Butler

  Gia turned, glaring at him, hands on her hips. “My damn phone, if you must know. And by the way, I don’t appreciate you beating on my door, demanding answers from me like you’re some…like you’re my…” She waved a hand, dismissing whatever word seemed to come first in her head before she continued. “…my whatever. I don’t owe you an explanation, Kai.” She stood in front of him, her mouth in a line with just the top lip curling up and he didn’t know if he wanted to scream at her again or kiss her.

  “Did you sleep with Murry?”

  Gia narrowed her eyes, her nostrils widening when she inhaled and a low, grunting noise moving between her lips. “No, you big Neanderthal, I did not.” Kai lowered his shoulders, which seemed to irritate Gia even more and the woman curled her arms together, her features going stony again. “But I could have. He wanted me to.” She flicked her gaze over his face, likely noticing the pulse he felt beating along his top lip. “But he’s not my type.”

  “Who’s your type?” Kai asked, losing some of his anger, ready to grab hold of her and bring her to the bed five feet away from them.

  “Do not start,” she warned, turning away to look around the mess in her closet, moving purses and shoes out of the way in her attempt, he guessed to find her cell. She went to her knees to dig under a pile of unfolded laundry, pushing aside workout clothes and T-shirts to reach behind a bank of drawers. “I did tell Reese to fuck him.”

  “What?” Kai said, his voice loud again.

  Gia threw him a look, eyes rolling when he glared at her. “What? She’s single. He’s single. She’s wound so freakin’ tight she could use a little…back stretching.”

  “No. Not with that asshole. He’s…and Reese is…”

  Gia leaned back, folding her hands in her lap as she examined his expression. “She’s what?” When Kai shook his head, dismissing her question like it didn’t matter, Gia stood, returning to her feet to stare at him. “Was I somehow wrong for encouraging her to have a little fun?”

  “That’s not…sex with Murry…and she’s… You can’t have casual sex like that.”

  “Who can’t, Kai? Me? Reese? Or women in general? Because if that’s what you mean then what the hell have you been trying to convince me to do for the past six months? That seems pretty damn casual and…”

  “Damn you if you think that’s what I’m trying to do with you, Gia.” He stepped back, balling his fist like he wanted to hit something, feeling like he needed to slam his knuckles into a wall, but just tapped his hand against the door frame, rubbing his teeth over his top lip. “You really think that’s all I want from you?”

  There was something in her expression he couldn’t read. Maybe it was guilt. It reminded Kai of worry, but he knew Gia better than that. She’d never apologize for speaking the truth to him. If that’s what she thought, then that’s what she believed.

  “Kai, I told you…this is never…”

  But whatever her explanation was, Kai didn’t hear it. He turned, his foot brushing against the same yellow cigar box that had been in her living room the night that asshole yelled at her in the hallway. It was open now, its contents scattered among the soft floor rug and designer bags.

  The Polaroids themselves weren’t what caught Kai’s attention. Everyone had pictures and keepsakes they’d never let go of. But the men in these pictures were so familiar. So similar.

  Gia was in the middle of another bullshit explanation of how she and Kai could never be together when he bent down and retrieved the box, grabbing the large stack of Polaroids in the process.

  “What the fuck are these?” he asked her, holding the box in one hand and the pictures in the other. When he stared at her, the flush of anger that had turned her skin pink had vanished. Now she was pale, her eyes round and wide as she stared at the pictures he held. “Gia?”

  “Those are…mine,” she said, reaching for them, her voice anxious, her movements desperate when Kai stepped out of the closet, dropping the box behind him. “Kai, give those to me, right now!”

  He ignored her, too taken by the images in front of him. There were so many of them. All of men that look just like him—dark skin, coarse black hair. Dark eyes, broad noses, wide mouths. Black ink over their chests and arms, some down their torsos, some all over their backs, arms, and stomachs. Some he guessed were Latin, some mixed. Some he recognized from their tattoos as Samoan or Tongan, others Polynesian. But there were no red heads. No blond guys. No blue or green eyes.

  “Fuck me,” he said, coming to the living room. “That asshole was right.” Kai held up a picture of a guy who could have been his twin. The mouth was smaller, the tattoos different, but the eyes and build were the same. “You definitely have a type.”

  “Kai…you don’t understand. Please…”

  He shook his head, looking through each picture, flipping one Polaroid to the floor as he moved to the next one. “How long have you done this?” he asked, his stomach dropping when he noticed Gia on the floor, picking up the pictures, looking at each one, discarding them one after another. None of these were important. None mattered, but among the stack, somewhere, someone did.

  “The more-than-friend?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, still holding the stack out of her reach. There were tears collecting in her eyelashes, real hurt that Kai had put there. He gave up then, handing over her pictures. “Is that what you wanted?” She glanced at him, blinking away the moisture from her lashes. “Was I gonna make it to the stack?” Gia didn’t answer him. Instead, she scooped up the pictures, moving them all together, her back stiffening when Kai touched her face. “No,” he told her. “You weren’t gonna let me get that far, were you?”

  She finally looked at him, those damn pictures pressed against her, something seeming to flirt on her tongue as she licked her lips, chewing on her top lip. “Kai…you mean…”

  Then the alert sounded from the television, and the names, words and breaking news broke apart Gia’s attention.

  “This just in from our WVLZ newsroom…sources have just confirmed the existence of an image, seen here, of New Orleans Steamers quarterback Ryder Glenn and placekicker Reese Noble from Glenn’s time at Duke. The photograph seems to indicate the word that had spread recently through social media about a relationship the two had while Glenn was being coached by Noble’s father.”

  The image on the screen flashed a grainy, but clear picture of Reese and Ryder, younger, thinner and from the looks on their faces, happier than Kai had ever seen them. He was shirtless, sitting in front of a lake with a beer in one hand and the other wrapped around Reese’s waist. She wore a white bikini and she was curled around Glenn, her body close to his, legs wrapped with his. It was a sweet picture of two people who were clearly a couple.

  “Son of a bitch…” Gia said, standing, muttering an astonished, Topanga, under her breath.

  “That explains why Glenn wanted to speak to Murry.”

  Gia shook her head, moving the Polaroids to the armchair when she heard the blaring sound of her ringtone and grabbed it from between the sofa cushions.

  “Fuck,” she said, looking down at the screen, more frazzled than Kai had ever seen her. “I don’t know what...” She wiped her face, inhaling, staring at Kai like she only just remembered that he was there and what they’d been arguing about. She glanced at the pictures, pressing her lips together before she looked at him again. “You see?” she told him, waving to the television. “This is why nothing could ever happen between us.”

  Then, her cell began to ring again.

  “No, Gia. That’s not why.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his chest tight. “You’re why.”

  Gia looked down at the phone, her entire body tensing before she stared at Kai as though he might tell her something; as though there was anything he could say to rescue her.

  He was done trying.

  With all of it.

  Especially with Gia.

  “You take care of yourself, Miss Jilani,” he said, turning to leave, not su
rprised when the ringing stopped, and he heard her low, shaky voice answer the call.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  12.

  GIA

  THE MEETING WAS IMPROMPTU, in Les McAddams’ kitchen, but Gia still dressed for the position she’d been given. They’d expect it. Funny, she thought, that the same expectation wouldn’t have been made of Ricks.

  “You sure this isn’t still going on?” the owner asked, moving around his kitchen island like a caterer, preparing for a Christmas Eve wedding. His thick Georgia accent came off as a little overplayed. Ricks had told Gia Les was from Atlanta, raised mainly in the city, but he liked to play the Good-Ole-Boy, “I’m well connected” bit for all he could. “This is something none of us have dealt with. A mess.” He threw the towel in his hand against the marble counter, flinging etouffee across the floor. “A damn mess, is what it is.”

  “I’m sure Gia can work this out, Les,” Ricks tried, his cool, frat boy smile doing very little to ease the ruddy-face owner. “She’s good handling the players and all their…” he waved a hand, likely searching for a word he didn’t often use, “personal things.”

  “I hope so.” Les turned back to his stove, a huge six burner masterpiece, lit with gas, three pots on top of it roiling. “Let gals in the sports and all hell breaks loose.”

  “All hell broke loose ten years ago,” Gia reminded the old man, ignoring Ricks when he shot her a warning glare. “And if there hadn’t been gals in the sport we wouldn’t have the highest field goal average in the league and you,” she said, pointing at Ricks, “would be short a lineman because you let Pukui take his time getting home.”

  “Hey now,” McAddams started, abandoning his etouffee to looked between Gia and a wide-eyed, mildly betrayed-looking Ricks. “Let’s not get personal.”

  “That’s the problem,” she told the man. “Everything on this team is personal. Those players are a family. They form a bond. You can’t keep that from happening and even if things went sideways between Glenn and Noble ten years ago, they’ve been able to deliver on every single commitment they made to this franchise.” She picked up her bag, head shaking when Ricks opened his mouth. “So have I.” Gia straightened her jacket, inhaling before she turned to leave these two in the middle of the owner’s busy kitchen. “Now excuse me while I go handle more of the same business I’ve been doing for this team and next time, fellas, try having a little more faith in your players and me before you summon me in the middle of the night for something a bunch of bored anchors are reporting on the local affiliate.”

  She left that fine, white mansion with the arching columns and old southern architecture without looking back. If Gia had learned anything clawing her way to the top in this league, it was that you never let anyone see you fall. She wouldn’t now. Not when she climbed into her Mercedes, pulling away from the curb. Not when she moved down Canal and spotted several fans donning Steamers tees and driving vehicles with black and gold license plate covers and flags streaming from the antennas. Gia didn’t even flinch when she moved into her elevator, her hand shaking as she pulled out her cell and dialed Reese’s number.

  But when she heard the woman’s voice—her friend who had lied to her, more than once—her calm fractured.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked Reese, not caring that Manny might hear her as she left the elevator and headed for her apartment.

  “Gia…”

  “Don’t even try it, Noble. My God, do you know the shit storm this is going to cause? For fuck’s sake, Ricks is in a meeting with the owners right now to discuss ‘interpersonal team affiliations’…” That wasn’t technically true anymore. That meeting was over. “All because you and Ryder used to…to be…”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.”

  It wasn’t quite as dire as she made it out to be, but Gia was mad. She felt betrayed, insulted that Reese would keep something so monumental from her. She felt no guilt about the small exaggeration.

  But Gia’s guilt didn’t matter. Not when Reese was clearly defiant, unapologetic about what had transpired between her and Ryder. “I lied to you, be pissed about that. But don’t make assumptions about me and the relationships I’ve had.”

  Gia laughed, hearing the coldness in her own tone. She moved quickly down the hall, hurrying into her apartment, slamming the door behind her to keep anyone from hearing what she told the placekicker. “I will if they concern my teammates.”

  “No, you won’t, and don’t think you’ll get answers about what happened in the past.”

  “I’m entitled to know…”

  “No, Gia, you’re not.” Reese’s voice was loud now, and Gia recognized the desperation in it. She’d heard hints of that same tone years ago, so many times anytime her family, her friends or her lovers wanted her to explain why she wouldn’t stay put. Why she could never stay settled with anyone for too long. The idea of it all felt like pinpricks against bare skin.

  When she spoke again, Reese’s voice was still loud, but there was less venom in her tone. “What happened at Duke is in the past. It doesn’t reflect on the way I play or the life I lead now. If the owners are worried about interpersonal whatsits on the team, then tell them to handle Hanson and realize I’m not going anywhere, and Ryder won’t say a word about what happened in Durham.”

  Taking a breath, Gia kicked off her heals, walking into her bedroom to get comfortable, finding the only spot that gave her any real peace in the middle of her bed. She wanted to reason with Reese, make her understand. “You need to explain this…”

  “No,” she said, her voice sharp. “I don’t and I won’t.” Then Reese, the woman Gia had fought for so long and hard to be on her team, hung up on her.

  Three soft clicks signaled the dead line and Gia dropped the cell into her lap. She could only watch it, staring at the white back, the angular curve like it might come to life and give her an option to rewind the clock, let her replay the last two hours of her life.

  She wanted a do-over.

  But there were no instant replays for Gia. There never had been.

  Everything she did happened in real time. Everything was a defensive maneuver to whatever offense had set upon her.

  She felt cold, her bones frozen by the chill that had settled in the breeze and the circumstance that had left her sitting alone in her bedroom. Things were unraveling and as Gia sat there, she wondered how different her life would be if there had been a do over.

  If Luka had never gone to save Kona that night.

  She shook her head, refusing to let her thoughts take her to a place she may not easily come back from and stood, stripping off her clothes and tugging on her customary floppy hoodie and cozy pajama bottoms before she moved into the living room. The T.V. was still on the same Steamers channel, but now they’d updated the story with a camera crew filming Reese’s building and another one following Ryder as he left his gym.

  “Ryder, you have any comment about you and Reese’s relationship in college?”

  “What?” he said, head shaking at the camera. “Must be a slow news day.” Then he hopped in his Maserati and took off.

  At least, Gia reasoned the QB was handling it on the surface. If she thought about it, if she pushed back her irrational anger, she guessed Reese was too. Gia had been the one quick to anger. She’d been the one shouting. Reese had only reacted.

  Gia turned off the television, sick of the coverage, annoyed with herself and the way the night had ended. She thought of going to bed, spending the weekend curled up with a book, hiding from the world. There was a bookmark in the half-way point of the Glendy Vanderah hardback on her table. It wasn’t due back at the library for another two weeks. She could finish it and pretend there weren’t any dramas that needed her attention.

  Or any across-the-hall neighbors who wanted explanations from her he had no rights to.

  Then, Gia spotted the Polaroids jumbled in her armchair. The stack of beloved pictures were set in disarray, so
me flipped upside down, some with the edges folded. She dropped the remote, forgetting everything but finding the pictures she’d been looking for when Kai had started thumbing through them and tossing them to the floor.

  Gia got to her knees, pushing the ottoman out of her way, shuffling through the pictures, setting them into stacks—those of men that still made her smile: Alton, Randel, Beau, Kenny; those of Joe and, finally, the most beloved of all: those of Luka.

  There were five in all. They were the oldest. Worn and well loved.

  She knew every line on his body all the curves and dips that made up the muscles and arches of his wide frame. Gia ran a finger over her favorite picture. It was the first. She’d never been bold enough, brave enough to take anyone’s picture, especially when they were naked.

  She leaned against the chair, her eyes burning when she remembered that night.

  Her dorm was empty. The campus had gone quiet and cold from the holiday break. Luka stayed with her when no one else would. Her rescuer.

  “What are you doing with that thing?” he asked, grabbing for the Polaroid camera when Gia straddled him, coming to her knees as she aimed the camera down at him.

  “I’m going to document this…” She laughed, moving the camera out of his reach when he stretched his arm, trying to get it from her. Instead, he curled an arm around her, holding her against his chest.

  “You don’t need pictures when you’ve got me, nani Gia.” Luka kissed her mouth, his gaze scanning the surface of her face like he couldn’t quite get enough of her features. “I’m always gonna be here for you to see like this.”