Fumbled (Playbook, The)

by Alexa Martin

  “You’re right,” she says, but it’s lacking any conviction. “Anyways. I was reading a study on Facebook and it said lesbians raise the best kids. We can get married and raise Ace together. It’s obviously the only answer.”

  I snort. “Obviously.” I stand up and peel off my jeans, something that would’ve been easier without all the alcohol I had tonight. “One problem.”

  “What?” she asks, her voice full of curiosity.

  “We aren’t lesbians.” I mean, I love her, but I also love penis.

  “Semantics.”

  “You’re insane, but thank you for listening to me rant and offering up an alternative solution. It was a bad one . . . but I still appreciate it.”

  “Maybe we could be sister wives without the husband?” she suggests.

  “That’s a plan I can get behind.” I laugh a real laugh, which feels nothing short of a miracle after the debacle of a night I had. But it just goes to show I was right. Nothing changed. I have Ace. I have Sadie. And I have myself—and also a very reliable vibrator. What else do I need . . . besides sleep? “Thank you for listening to me bitch.”

  “Anytime,” she says. And I know she means it. “Aaaaand . . . if you’re still feeling down, I can always swing by and glitter dust you.”

  “Dear God, no. Keep that crap to yourself.”

  “Just a suggestion.” Even though I can’t see her, I know she’s shrugging her shoulders, thinking I’m the weirdo for not wanting to find glitter in my hair for weeks. “See you at work?”

  “Yup.” I look at the clock, T minus about seven hours until Ace is back, and seventeen until work. “Later.”

  “Later,” she repeats, and ends the call.

  I take off my bra and head to the bathroom.

  And what’s waiting for me in the mirror is not the uplifting moment I need. My hair still looks fantastic, it’s out to there and my curl definition is amazing. My face, on the other hand, does not. Red and swollen eyes, black smudges down my blotchy cheeks, and my lips are already starting to chap from how much I chewed on them.

  I turn on the hot water, and when the steam starts to billow up, I throw my washcloth underneath the faucet. I pull it out of the water and drop it twice before I can wring it out. I lay it on my face and take comfort in the heat against my skin. I take it off and put it under the water one more time, this time, when I bring it to my face, I wipe off the remnants of mascara and tear stains.

  I put on face lotion and my head scarf and turn off the lights before I climb into my bed with too many pillows. I pull up the covers, and when I close my eyes, I silently pray that, at least in my dreams, I won’t have to be alone.

  Maybe there, somebody will want me.

  Somebody could love me in my dreams.

  Someone with green eyes and a beard I didn’t get to touch nearly enough.

  Nine

  The weeks after our date crawled by.

  Mustang players obviously got the memo about the Emerald Cabaret being the place to be. Every night I dreaded walking into work, bracing for another run-in with TK. Thanks to the little bit of good luck I still have on my side, so far he’s skipped the outings.

  It’s been a month and I’m just starting to be able to breathe easy when I show up for work each evening. Rochelle only asked once how I knew TK, and since he hasn’t come back, she hasn’t asked again. She’s just taking full advantage of the players who do come . . . and my refusal to wait on them.

  It’s messed with my tips a bit, staying out of VIP, but my sanity is worth so much more.

  Plus, training camp is starting soon, so I won’t have to worry about them coming for a while.

  “Ace is looking great out there.” Cole pulls my thoughts from work to the soccer field in front of me.

  “So is Jayden.” I try to look up at him, but the sun is settled right over his head and not even my sunglasses can help me out. I get out of my pink soccer mom chair to stand next to him. “I hope they end up on the same team.”

  I’m letting Ace try out for competitive soccer this year. Jayden played last year, and other than video games, soccer is all they talk about. It’s going to cost a mint, but he’s not talking about football anymore, so I’ll take what I can get.

  Plus, with school starting soon, I can get a part-time job during the days as well.

  “Me too. It’ll be good for the boys and for us.”

  Ummm . . .

  “For us?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you know.” He shields his eyes with a hand over his forehead . . . even though the sun isn’t in his eyes. “Carpooling and stuff.”

  “Oh yeah,” I agree, not mentioning the fact that I’ve never missed a game or a practice. “That’ll be helpful.”

  “Which, speaking of, did you walk or drive today?” Cole asks.

  Smooth.

  Except not at all. I mentally slap myself again for sleeping with him. One moment of weakness and years of awkwardness.

  “We always walk, unless the weather’s insane.”

  “Oh, cool. Maybe we’ll join you next time,” he invites himself.

  I don’t want to be a bitch, but no.

  If Cole and Jayden join us, Ace is going to talk to Jayden the entire walk, which defeats the purpose of us walking together. “I mean, you’re always welcome, but it’s kind of our time together,” I say.

  “We wouldn’t want to intrude.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “We were gonna drive down to Bonnie Brae and get some ice cream since this is the last tryout if you guys want to come with.”

  Dammit.

  It looks like Cole has discovered my weakness.

  I love wine, but I adore ice cream. And Bonnie Brae ice cream is the best in Denver. They make all their ice cream in the shop and have these chocolate, sprinkle-covered cones that are downright sinful.

  “I actually cannot say no to that offer,” I say, and he laughs at my very serious declaration. “But would you mind if I ran home first? I made chicken in the Dutch oven and I need to take it out.”

  “Not a problem.” He reaches over and rests his hand on my lower back.

  Lucky for me the crazy soccer parents are paying attention to their kids instead of Mr. Touchy-Pants. You’d think after working at the Emerald Cabaret for as long as I have, I’d be an expert in the art of rejecting unwanted touches. And I am . . . at work. Outside of it, it’s this weird gray area where I want to be assertive but not a bitch. Even though I taught Ace when he was two to keep his hands to himself, I’ve come to learn it was a lesson many men missed.

  I’m trying to think of a polite way to get him off me when another hand taps me on the shoulder.

  I turn my head and am greeted by the most beautiful and unwanted sight on the entire planet Earth.

  Trevor Kyle Moore.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I accidentally say out loud.

  “Nice to see you too.” He smirks.

  I roll my eyes.

  Asshole.

  “Holy shit. You’re TK Moore!” Cole says.

  When you hate a person, you want the entire world to hate him. And out of everything I hate about TK, everyone else adoring him is what I hate the most.

  But at least Cole drops his hand.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “You know TK Moore?” Cole asks. But he doesn’t sound as excited anymore. I guess a superstar football player is only exciting before you realize he might be your competition.

  He just doesn’t realize I have no desire for either of them.

  “No,” I say at the same time TK says, “Yes.”

  “Sorry, Cole.” I turn my back to TK. “I’ll be right back.”

  I look at the soccer field and take a deep sigh of relief when I see tryouts are still going strong and Ace isn’t the least bit focused on the sideline.


  I walk away from the field without looking back at TK, assuming he’s following behind. “What are you doing here?” I point an accusatory finger in his direction when we stop a good distance away from prying ears.

  “I came to see my friends.” He gestures to a couple with a stroller NASA could’ve designed. There’s about a football field’s length between us, but as soon as I look in their direction, they wave, not even attempting to be discreet in their curiosity. “They live right outside the park.”

  I focus my gaze a little harder. “Is that Gavin Pope?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Gavin Pope is F.I.N.E. fine. He was the only reason I peeked at games the single season he played for the Mustangs. “I thought he was in New York now.”

  “Yeah, and his wife, Marlee. They’re here for the off-season,” he says, but I knew that too. It had been all sorts of scandalous when they hooked up. I couldn’t tell the difference between the gossip columns and sports sections for months. “They head back to New York next week, I was saying bye.”

  “Well.” I shrug. “I don’t want to keep you from them.” I turn to leave again, but while the desire for my exit is high, the execution is low.

  TK grabs my hand and stops me from going. “Wait.”

  “No.” I snatch my hand back. I guess I am good at that outside the club. “You said everything you needed to say the last time we talked, and honestly? This isn’t a good time for me.”

  I glance over his shoulder and my heart rate kicks up about two thousand percent when I see the boys circled around their coach in the end-of-practice huddle.

  “I want to apologize.” He ignores the panic I know is written across my face. “I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said to you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse for the way I behaved.”

  He’s got that freaking right.

  “Cool. Apology accepted.” I rush the words out, still focused on Ace’s wild curls in the huddle. “I have to go.”

  “Aren’t you going to apologize?” he asks.

  Oh my God.

  Was he always this big of an idiot?

  “No!” I turn and shout, drawing more attention to us when I want to do the opposite. “Ugh. I mean yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about this entire mess, I should’ve told you years ago.”

  “You’re still sticking with this story, Poppy?” His shoulders slump and the corners of his mouth turn down, like he’s sad I failed a test I wasn’t aware I was taking. “I didn’t mean to judge you about having a kid and I’m sure he’s great, but it’s messed up that you’re pinning him on me.”

  I feel my jaw tighten and the migraine only TK seems capable of giving me starts to appear. I’m ready to tell him where he can shove his nonjudgment when I hear the faint sound of a whistle. I look back to the field and I see boys running in every direction to their parents scattered around the field, but my eyes go straight to the sun-kissed mop of curls on the head of a smiling boy with emerald eyes on me.

  “Shit,” I whisper. “Fine. Sorry. It was messed up.” I turn to him, imploring him to leave. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I said it, now can you go?”

  I’m close to falling on bended knees to get him gone.

  But it’s too late.

  “Mom!” Ace yells right before running into me just short of full speed.

  I catch him with an oof from me and laughter from him.

  “Coach said he’ll e-mail the parents Monday about what team we make!” He’s so excited to tell me the news, it takes him a minute to register that we have company. His green eyes widen as soon as they land on TK. “Holy crap!”

  “Ace!” I scold . . . even though I say way worse every single day. “Mouth!”

  “Sorry, Mom.” He bites back his smile before looking back to TK. “Are you TK Moore?”

  It’s like watching a slow-motion car accident. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away.

  Ace is staring at TK in awe. Born in Denver, Ace is a Mustangs fan through and through. It doesn’t matter if I try to distance him from football, the Mustangs are his team and there’s nothing I can do to change it. So being this close to one of their star players? It’s like he’s at the pearly gates and Jesus himself has greeted him.

  TK, on the other hand, looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. His green eyes are wide, no doubt taking in an identical pair staring back at him with his nose, single dimple, and sun-bleached highlighted hair. I always knew Ace favored TK, but seeing them together? The similarities are even stronger than I thought.

  “Y-yeah, man.” He stutters his answer, his eyes flying between me and Ace. “I am. And you’re Ace.” He recovers enough so Ace doesn’t notice the internal freak-out he’s having.

  “You know my name?” Ace turns to me, his eyes glossed over from blissed-out joy.

  “Your mom was telling me about you.” TK carefully schools his features. “She said you’re a big football fan.”

  Ace starts to answer, but I cut him off.

  “Why don’t you go stand by Mr. Lewis and Jayden,” I say when he manages to rip his attention from TK. I can’t watch this any longer. My heart doesn’t know whether to break or explode and I can’t chance melting down at the park. “We’re gonna run home and then go get Bonnie Brae with them.”

  “Bonnie Brae? Can I have a sprinkle cone?” Ace asks.

  “Only if you hurry over to them.”

  “Sweet!” His smile turns megawatt and he punches the sky above him, his curls flying across his sweat-covered forehead. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Moore,” my polite boy says before shooting across the park, back to Jayden, who’s on the grass, pulling off his shin guards, and Cole, who’s watching me with a keen interest.

  I start toward them, eager to leave this scene in the past, but I stop dead when I hear TK behind me.

  “He called me Mr. Moore,” he whispers.

  I will myself to keep walking. Ignore him. I told him Ace was his and he didn’t believe me. I can’t deal with his emotions right now, not when I have my own set of messy ones brewing a nasty storm.

  “He has my gap,” he says a little bit louder.

  This gets my attention.

  “What?” I turn to see him still watching Ace.

  “The gap in his front teeth. I had that gap. My dad did too. I was in braces from fifth grade until my freshman year.”

  “Yeah, the dentist told me we needed to find an orthodontist.” Something else trying to push me to the brink of financial ruin.

  “He looks just like me, Poppy.” He pulls his gaze from Ace to me, and even though I want to stay mad at him, I can’t. He looks crushed. “You weren’t lying.”

  “I wasn’t.” It takes every last morsel of restraint, but I don’t roll my eyes or punch him in the throat.

  “He called me Mr. Moore,” he repeats.

  “I know.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m his dad?”

  “Honestly, TK?” I don’t want to sound cruel, but I’m having a hard time stomaching the scene in front of me. “Why would he?”

  He doesn’t say anything. He just watches Ace again.

  After a few beats of silence, I leave him to his feelings and walk away.

  I turn my back on him, missing it as his beard catches his falling tears.

  Ten

  “Are you helping close again?” I ask Sadie with my purse on my shoulder and the doorknob in my hand.

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “I told Nate I’d close out the cash registers at the bars for him.”

  Where I take any excuse to go home, Sadie will cover whatever task you throw at her so long as she doesn’t have to go to hers.

  “Call me when you get home, yeah?”

  “Okay, Mom.” She rolls her eyes, but I know she’ll call.

  “You better.” I pull open the door and wave behind me. Rochelle
is still in the dressing room with Sadie, but I don’t acknowledge her. She’d have something bitchy to say back. And after everything with TK this afternoon, I’m not sure I have the restraint it would take not to resort to an all-out cat fight.

  “Bye, guys,” I shout to everyone on the floor as I head out the back door to the parking lot.

  The parking lot, though never well lit, seems extra dark tonight . . . or maybe dark is just the new filter for my life. The lamppost I parked under is out, and every gust of wind, every whisper of a car in the distance, causes me to jump and move a little quicker. I hate this creepy-ass back alley lot. I start to dig in my purse, cursing all the receipts and loose change acting as key camouflage. When they appear by what feels like magic, I get in and lock the doors before I even start the car.

  Call me a scaredy cat if you want, but I’ve watched too many episodes of Dateline to try to be brave.

  I’m turning the key in the ignition when a knock on my window sends me jumping so high the only reason my head doesn’t hit the roof is because my knees slam against the steering wheel.

  “Roll down the window,” TK says.

  “Jesus Christ!” I yell before the window is down all the way, the sound of my pulse still echoing in my ears. “Are you insane? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

  “Sorry,” he says even though he doesn’t seem sorry at all. “We need to talk.”

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  As if today hasn’t been long enough.

  I knew this needed to happen, but couldn’t he have waited a few years or something?

  I hit the locks and let out a sigh. “Get in.”

  I close my eyes, dropping my head against the back of my seat. I hear the door open and feel my car dip under his weight, but I don’t open them until the door closes.

  I throw my car into gear and reverse out of the parking lot without a word. I have an idea of what’s about to happen, and there’s no way in hell I’d chance someone from my job witnessing even a second of it.