by Alexa Martin
I stare again, but this time not in reality television awe but with a blank one.
“Sorry.” I cringe, feeling a little bit like a bitch. “Unless I have a program in front of me, I don’t know who any of the players are.”
“Number sixty-five,” she goes on. “He’s an offensive lineman, guard.” She keeps going when it’s clear I don’t recognize the name. Her smile freezes on her face for a second before she’s flipping her hair . . . again . . . and back to her camera-ready routine. “Don’t worry, I don’t know much about the sport either.”
Then, out of nowhere, Vonnie, who was completely uninterested, if not a little put off by Aviana’s presence, bursts out laughing. “Ohh! I’m sorry!” She waves a hand at me before wiping at her eyes. “That was a good one, girl.”
As I raise an eyebrow in question, Aviana glares and turns to me.
“Anyway.” She waves Vonnie off, which I think is a mistake, but I decide to keep quiet. “I’ve been gathering some of the girls to see if any of them would be interested in being on a reality show.”
Sirens, car crashes, massive explosions, all go off in my head.
My mouth falls open a bit and she takes that as a cue to continue on. “I still have some contacts from E! And they’ve been looking for a new city for one of their shows. I’ve just been raving about Denver, so they wanted me to test the water. See how you girls felt.”
“Oh no.” I shake my head so hard, I start to get a little dizzy. “No no no.”
Her face falls a bit. “Really? I thought you would love it.” Her eyebrows narrow in a way where she looks genuinely confused. “You know, with your background and all.”
Sirens, car crashes, massive explosions, take two.
My back goes straight, and I note out of the sides of my eyes that Vonnie’s does as well.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“You know, with stripping and stuff,” she says like she’s telling me the weather, and I can tell she doesn’t have any ill intent. “There aren’t set scripts or anything, but reality TV is a performance too. I thought maybe you’d want to get back into that.”
I take a second to check my tone because I don’t want to come off as a bitch and I definitely don’t want to yell. “I wasn’t a stripper.”
Her perfectly filled and arched eyebrows go straight to her hairline. “You weren’t?”
“No. I was a waitress at the Emerald Cabaret, but it’s not a strip club . . . and I still never stripped.”
“Where’d you get she was a stripper?” Vonnie asks Aviana what I’m thinking.
“It’s on all the blogs.” She shrugs again, like this isn’t a big deal at all.
Blogs.
With an s. Multiple blogs.
I suck in a sharp breath, feeling like my cocktail is going to reappear all over the table. “Blogs?” I whisper, not because I don’t want other people to hear but because my lungs are frozen and it’s all I can manage.
“Oh shit.” Vonnie lifts her hand in the air and motions for Charli to come back.
“Yeah.” Aviana pulls out her phone, her rhinestone-encrusted nails flying across the screen until she turns it to me. “See?”
I recognize the bold, hot-pink script of Baller Notice right away. It’s burned into my brain from when Rochelle shoved it in my face to get me fired.
I take the phone from Aviana’s hand and Vonnie leans over, reading along with me. I almost correct Aviana, I’m not sure a forum can really be considered a blog, but I also figure specifics aren’t what’s important here.
What’s important is this “Is TK Moore dating a stripper?” thread with over three hundred comments, complete with pictures.
Pictures of me at training camp side by side with pictures of me in my Emerald Cabaret uniform.
“Oh my god.” I breathe, scrolling through the thread, scanning over the comments like a madwoman.
Some are saying I’m pretty, some are saying I’m fat and fug. A few comments about TK liking the swirl and wishing they would’ve tried their luck. Then one stands out of the crowd saying I’m a single mom just looking for a check.
On one hand, I’m kind of glad they haven’t pinged TK as Ace’s dad. I don’t need them all up in our history, something I’m pretty sure these Internet detectives are capable of. On the other hand, it pisses me right the hell off that I’ve been pegged as some money-hungry woman looking for a free ride.
I hand Aviana her phone back with a little more force than necessary.
“I’m so sorry.” She tucks her phone under the table. “I swear, I had no idea you didn’t know.”
And I believe her.
Her tanned skin has a bit of a green undertone to it now, and her eyes are glassed over like she might cry.
“TK’s mom came by after the first game. She just dropped by my house unannounced and pretty much ripped me to shreds. She’s hated me since I was a teenager and has worked her hardest to get TK to leave me. She thinks I’m scum.” I hurry up when I see the confused faces staring at me. “Sorry, the point being, I’ve dealt with people thinking shitty things about me before. I really don’t care what a bunch of strangers say about me on the Internet. I’m not talented enough and I lack the confidence to be a stripper. I don’t think being called a stripper is an insult, I just wasn’t one.”
I force a smile, somehow becoming the comforter in this situation.
“And I think a reality show here would be awesome, I’m just not one for the limelight, but I’ll totally be in the background, sipping a drink while you guys flip tables and shit.”
Aviana starts to laugh, her coloring returning to her original shade of sun-kissed goddess when I realize Charli and Brynn are both behind me and heard the entire thing.
“Fucking Lady Mustangs,” Brynn mutters under her breath. “I’m bringing a pitcher of margaritas over.”
“Margaritas sound good,” I say.
“Lady Mustangs!” Dixie’s Southern twang calls out at the same time lights from the cameras positioned around the room turn on. “Welcome to our first meeting of the season!”
Then, like the glittered ghost of Sadie is haunting me, Dixie lifts a sparkly gavel in the air before slamming it onto the table and causing a mini explosion of glitter.
“What is happening?” I say out loud this time.
Vonnie’s eyes dance with humor, and Aviana pulls her lips between her teeth to stop from laughing.
Charli lifts her freshly filled glass to her mouth and whispers, “Fucking Lady Mustangs.”
Then the reality star, blogger, student, and stripper all start to laugh.
And cameras capture it all.
Thirty-five
“You look gorgeous,” TK whispers in my ear just before we enter the private dining room in the basement of Beatrice & Woodsley, a restaurant I’d never even heard of before Vonnie texted me that we had reservations at eight.
“Thank you.” My red-painted lips tip upward as I bask in his compliment.
I don’t tell him I better look good, considering Brynn and Sadie invaded my house throwing dresses on me and yanking them off until they decided on the tight black dress with a high neckline and a higher slit, and shoved me in the highest heels I have. Then they pushed me into my bathroom and painted my face like they were Leonardo da Vinci and I was their muse in desperate need of work.
He links our fingers together and guides me into the room echoing with laughter and the sound of one or more bottles popping.
“Poppy!” Vonnie cries when she sees us walk in. “Girl, you look hot!”
“Yeah, you do,” Charli agrees, wrapping me in a quick hug.
“So do you!” And I’m not saying it just to say it.
They look freaking amazing. Vonnie always looks beautiful, but right now, in an orange dress showcasing her tiny waist, full hips, and ample cl
eavage, she looks smoking hot. Her long hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and huge, diamond-encrusted hoops hang from her ears. Charli’s wearing a long, flowy dress with so many different straps holding it up, I’m not sure how she didn’t get tangled trying to put it on. It’s so low-cut, there’s no way to wear a bra (something I haven’t been able to do since Ace was born) and has a slit so high she’s at risk of flashing the room.
They. Are. Goals.
So I tell them.
“I want to be you.”
“You going home with TK tonight?” Vonnie asks, and Charli rolls her eyes.
My brows knit together. “Ummm . . . yeah?”
“Then trust me, you want to be you,” Vonnie says.
I look over my shoulder at TK, who is standing by Justin and Shawn, ordering a drink from a waitress with hearts in her eyes. His wavy hair is down, semiparted on the side from where he ran his hand through it and tossed it back, and his beard is freshly trimmed. He’s wearing tailored dark gray suit pants that come in just at the ankle with a plain white button-up shirt with the top few buttons open and brown leather oxfords even I would steal.
I almost fainted when he walked out of the bedroom.
He’s that hot.
I look back at her. “You are not wrong.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asks me, no longer sporting the heart eyes.
“French martini with a splash of champagne.” I tell her Vonnie’s drink, because again, I do kind of want to be her. And I’ve tried her drink, it’s delicious.
“Two of those,” Vonnie says.
Charli already has a glass of champagne in her hand, so she doesn’t order. The waitress jots down our order and hurries out of the room.
“Are you excited for your first Monday Night Football game?” Vonnie pulls out a chair at the table and I sit beside her, Charli on my right.
“I guess.” I shrug and fidget with the wrapped-up silverware. “I’m not too jazzed to go to another game after the last one. But I like that they don’t have to be at a hotel tonight and we’re all able to get together.”
I’d lucked out after telling TK I don’t want to go to another game with the next two being away games, but that could only last so long. And tomorrow my luck officially runs out.
“We have extra tickets in our suite. You and Ace are more than welcome,” Vonnie offers even though she knows my answer.
“Thank you, but I’ll be okay with the other mere mortals.”
“I made sure Shawn and TK talked, so we’re sitting next to each other again,” Charli says. “I’ll be your backup in case you have to yell at anyone else.”
“Oh god.” I cringe, thinking back on my theatrics. “Do not let me do that again.”
“I’m gonna egg you on! I’ve always wanted to do it.” Charli laughs, but I know she’s not kidding.
Fantastic.
Voices come from the stairway and we look to the door just as Aviana and Crosby walk in. Aviana looks her normal television-ready self, and even though she towers over me, she looks petite next to her guard husband.
Right behind them are Peter, the quarterback, and his girlfriend, Jacqueline Eriksson.
Jacqueline is model stunning. Literally. She’s been in Sports Illustrated and walked in last year’s Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. I know this because I still have the show on my DVR and I watch it when I get a little out of control with the carb intake. Her long blond hair in soft, glamorous curls glistens even under the dim lights, and her legs, which might be longer than my body, are exposed in her short, navy body-con dress.
“Hey, everyone!” Aviana shouts across the room, letting go of Crosby’s hand and grabbing Jacqueline’s, even though Jacqueline looks like a deer in headlights. “Come on, Jac, let me introduce you to the girls.”
Since the Lady Mustangs meeting on Wednesday, we’ve all had a running group text. And Vonnie, who told me she wasn’t sure about her, has warmed to Aviana. They are the ones who decided to take advantage of this rare Sunday night with the guys and get together.
“Jac, these are the girls, Vonnie, Charli, and Poppy.” She points at us as she says our names. “Girls, this is Jac.”
“Hi.” I wave, half starstruck, half in awe, just as the waitress comes back, setting our drinks in front of us.
“French martinis with a splash of champagne,” she says, color in her cheeks, obviously feeling self-conscious in a room full of people so pretty it’s not even normal.
I want to squeeze her hand in solidarity.
“Oooh!” Aviana squeals. “I want one too!”
“Sure.” The waitress nods and looks at Jacqueline. “And you?”
“I’ll try one too,” she whispers, color rising in her cheeks.
And dammit if her being shy doesn’t make her even more endearing.
I need her to be a catty bitch. She’s too pretty to be nice on top of everything else she has going for her.
I’m watching the waitress scurry away when strong hands are on my shoulders. I look up just in time for TK to drop a quick kiss on my forehead. And I swear I can hear a collective “aww” from the women around me.
“You gonna sit next to me, Sparks?” he asks, the crinkles next to his eyes on full display.
“Yeah.” Now I’m whispering, because even in a room full of supermodels—fine, one supermodel—TK is still staring at me like I’m the only women in the universe.
I don’t just love him. I love him.
* * *
• • •
“I REALLY LIKE them,” I say into the darkness of TK’s Range Rover as we navigate the Denver roads back to the house. The tint on his windows is so dark, the world fades away as we drive.
“I’m glad.” TK keeps his eyes on the road, but one hand falls from the steering wheel to my bare knee. “They’re good people. I lucked out with this team, I’ve heard some stories.”
“Aviana is freaking hilarious.” I think back to the way she tried to convince all of us to sign on for the reality show. Poor Jacqueline didn’t even stand a chance—as soon as she said it sounded fun, Aviana leapt from her seat and called the producer she’s been talking to. “I hope they do get the show. I’d tune in.”
“I’m just glad Ace is with Jayden tonight.” TK ignores my enthusiasm about a TV show that may never exist. “Because as soon as we get home, I’m ripping this off”—he tugs at the hem of my dress—“and burying my face in between your thighs until you’re begging me to stop. Then I’m going to slide inside of you and stay there for the rest of the night.”
My lungs seize and I say nothing.
I mean, what do you even say to that?
“You have no idea what that was like for me. Having to sit in that room, watching you in that dress, knowing I had to keep waiting until we could be alone.” He groans and his fingers flinch around my thigh. “I almost tried to convince you to run to the bathroom with me.”
“You’re insane.” I mean for it to come out strong and unaffected, but it’s a breathy whisper.
“You make me insane.”
I shake my head, biting my lip to hide my smile. “People don’t say stuff like that, TK.”
“I do.” He tells me what I already know. “And you like it.”
He is correct. I love it.
“I do not.”
“Sparks.” He turns his head, aiming a smile at me before focusing on the road again. “I could feel your legs tense and goose bumps cover them when I said it.”
Betrayed by my own body!
“Whatever,” I pout, not willing to admit what he already knows.
His soft laughter fills the car just as he turns onto my street, my purple shutters visible even at night thanks to the bright security lights TK had installed.
He slows to a stop and is out of the car, openin
g my door before I’ve even unbuckled my seat belt.
“You ready?” TK grabs my hand and pulls me from the car. His eyes travel down my body as if he’s just seeing me for the first time. “Keep those on,” he says when they stop at my gold, strappy heels.
My core spasms and my legs turn to jelly.
“Okay.”
Now TK’s the one who doesn’t say anything.
He tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me behind him up the path and through the door and turns off the alarm without letting go of me.
Then, he does what he promised.
And I wake up still wearing my shoes.
Thirty-six
I thought the energy at the first game was off the charts.
I was wrong.
The energy tonight is so intense the hairs on the back of my neck haven’t gone down and the butterflies in my stomach haven’t settled.
“This is crazy!” I yell to Charli even though she’s standing right next to me.
“Isn’t it great?” She claps, bouncing on her toes as the guys run back onto the field after halftime.
As much as I want to deny it, I can’t.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s the best!” Ace answers for me through a nacho-filled mouth.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” I still manage to scold Ace through my excitement.
That mom life never stops.
Charli laughs. Ace shakes his head. I roll my eyes.
I look back to the field and watch the guys jump around, loosening up like they’ve been sitting for hours instead of the ten minutes it’s really been. I don’t have to look hard to find TK. His ass is like a billboard in Times Square—impossible for me to miss. However, that’s not why it’s easy this time. He’s walking toward the stands, crooking a finger at me and Ace.
“Cool,” Ace breathes, seeing what I see. “Will you hold these?” he asks Charli, but shoves them in her hands before she answers and is halfway to the aisle before I register what TK wants.
I follow Ace down the concrete steps going slow and steady, a vision flashing in my mind of me meeting my demise if I try to skip down them like Ace. When I reach the bottom, Ace is leaning over, TK’s hand ruffling his curls before doing the handshake they perfected last week.
