Romance: New Adult: One Game at a Time - A College Football Romance (Bad Boy Romance) (Sports Contemporary Short Stories) (50 page)

BOOK: Romance: New Adult: One Game at a Time - A College Football Romance (Bad Boy Romance) (Sports Contemporary Short Stories)
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

''How do you like it?'' Janice asked referring to the tea.

''Milk, no sugar.'' He watched Janice as she got up and skilfully navigated her ample rear end through the gap between her desk and the wall. She walked past him to the kitchenette. The office was a small wooden construction, with white painted paneled wood walls and a
V-shaped
roof supported by iron trusses. It needed a coat of paint and the linoleum on the floor needed replacing. There was a picture of a tall ship in a storm hanging on the wall behind Janice's desk. The picture reminded him of his life. He was just like a
ship
in a storm, perhaps a rudderless ship.

Janice brought his tea and almost spilled it on him as she reached over to put it on the glass table. ''Thanks,'' he said. ''How long have you guys been operating?''

Janice put a finger to her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to remember the exact date they opened. ''I think we started in April two years ago.''

''And is there much work for private detectives in Dallas?''

Janice put her head to one side and
started
to play with her red hair. Stop looking at his bulge, she told herself. ''Most of it is working for men who think their wives are cheating on them. Easy stuff
really
. Follow her, take a few pictures and send an invoice.''

''And how do you
actually
become a PD? I mean it's not exactly a mainstream kind of job?''

''I'm just a secretary, but Keke studied criminology at Harvard. She's a bright lady.''

''Does she have a male friend?'' He mentally crossed his fingers and waited for her reply.

'
No,
she's single.'' Janice felt disappointed. It was she who'd first helped him and sent him to look for Keke. Why was he asking about
Keke?
What was wrong with her? She tried to look nice
everyday
, she
really
did, and it wasn't her fault she'd inherited her
grandmother’s
pear shaped figure.

When the old man left the office, Keke appeared and showed Dan into her office. It was tiny. There was a laptop on an old dining table and two chairs. In the corner was an aluminum case that he assumed was her photography equipment. There was a picture of a black woman that he'd seen before, but couldn't quite place.

''Madame Tinubu. She was a slave trader who realized the error of her ways and became a scathing opponent of slavery,'' Keke said when she saw him looking at the picture.

''Yes, I remember now. She was
Nigerian,
and they called her the queen of the ladies. So why exactly do you have her on your wall?''

''Because she's a symbol that you can start life on the wrong foot, but still change your ways and do good. Sorry for the wait. Now where did we get to?'' She
sad
down and crossed her legs. Dan waited for her as he stared at her them. ''Yes, you want me to check out your fiancee. But you don't know why.''

''Now I've had time, I can explain more fully. It was all a bit of a rush to get
here,
and then I had to go to the
diner
so I guess I got thrown off course.'' What he
really
wanted to say was, when he'd gone into the
diner
and seen Keke her stunning looks had totally thrown him. ''I am engaged and have been for three months. The wedding
is planned
in
ten weeks.'' Still no further Keke thought as she waited impatiently. ''She is the daughter of my father's chief accountant. You may not find this a plausible reason for you to start an investigation, but I want her checked out because I will have to live with her for the rest of my life and at the moment she is behaving very strangely indeed.''

''Okay, I understand.''
Mr.
Sanderson had decided not to invest in Keke's
business,
and she was now quite desperate for work. Lucky break him coming along she thought, now make the most of it and stop looking at his bulge. ''Then I'll check her out for you.''

''Why the sudden change of heart?''

Keke refrained from saying: because your father
is loaded
and a potential business partner has turned me down. ''I was a little hasty
before,
and you obviously need my
help, so
I will do so.''

''Great. Then tell me what you need to know,'' Dan said relieved.

''Here fill this out.'' Keke handed him a client information sheet
that
covered just about everything she needed to know. ''Can we discuss fees?'' He nodded. ''Two thousand a day plus expenses,'' Keke said emboldened in the knowledge that his father was one of the richest men in
American
and that Dan was in all likelihood his heir. He nodded again. Keke smiled and shouted
for Janice
to come. She appeared and listened. ''When
Mr.
Stephenson has filled out this form, please draw up a contract for him to sign. The fee is two thousand a day plus expenses.'' Janice looked and was about to say 'how much?' She managed to stop herself when she saw Keke
look at
her in a 'don't say anything,' kind of way.

*****

Dan put his foot to the floor and felt himself being pressed back in the driver's seat. He loved his Ferrari. Not because it was an eye catcher, and woman after woman wanted to talk to him, but because it was his only chance to let off steam. His way of dealing with stress was flooring it and driving at a speed that made his heart race and his hands cling to the steering wheel in fear.

As he hurtled down the freeway towards his office, he thought about Keke. What the hell was he doing, getting married to Britney when he could have someone like Keke? She was a real woman. She had her own business and was fighting for herself in
the
big wide world. All Britney had ever done was sponge
off
him and moan that she was bored. Now she even refused to sleep with him. It had been three weeks since he'd had sex and he was bursting. Was that why he'd found Keke so darn attractive, he wondered. Or, was it simply that she was smoking hot? He realized it was the latter.

He pulled into the parking space marked
Mr.
Dan Stephenson and looked up. What a difference between this office and Keke's, he thought. Sixty floors of pure glass luxury versus an old hut in need of paint. As he was about to open the door and climb out of the car, it enveloped him. That feeling. Oh no, you're kidding me, he thought.

''Dan, I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?'' His father was sitting at his desk in his office. Dan put his hand over his eyes to protect himself from the stream of sunlight flooding in through the floor to ceiling glass
wall
and peered at him.

''Dad, sorry, I had a couple of jobs to do. I'm back now. What's happening?''

Ernie Stephenson was
sixty-three
years old and very tall. He had a full head of gray hair and a tan
that
showed off his smile. If only he knew how proud of him I am, he thought as he looked at Dan. ''Your mother has been on the phone,
non-stop
. She must have called twenty times. Something about the wedding. Apparently Britney has been to see
her,
and they have been looking at seating arrangements. They seem to want your input.''

''Jesus, what the hell does it matter who sits next to who? Throw a list of names into the air and see how they land.''

''I know how you feel son. Weddings are a nightmare. But just bite your tongue. Women love
weddings,
and you'll get yourself into a lot of hot water if you don't cooperate. Take it from an old hand.''

Ernie found it hard to understand how a man of Dan's age,
twenty-six
, could have so much business acumen.
He himself
had done okay, but he'd inherited the business from his father and expanded it gradually. However in the two years since Dan had left college, his suggestions had increased profitability by an amount Ernie had never thought possible. Born to it, he thought. All he had to do now was marry the daughter of his
long time
friend
Jeff,
and everything would be perfect. ''Are you alright?'' he asked his son.

''Yer. Just sick of all the wedding stuff. Britney just hasn't been the same since we got engaged. I haven't got a clue where her head is. I can't seem to get through to her.''

''Nerves. She's very young, give her time. We are all very much looking forward to the wedding. She's a great girl. You couldn't have found a more beautiful
woman,
and she'll make
a fantastic
wife and mother. Just be patient and don't go around upsetting her. She'll be a great asset to the family.''

What sort of
asset
? Dan asked himself as he walked to his office. Isn't an asset supposed to be of
value
and enhance your life? All Britney was doing was driving him away from her. Do you
really
love her
an ugly
voice asked him? You don't
really
do you, admit it, the voice continued. He plonked himself down in the leather chair behind his desk and took a deep breath. He shook his head and blocked all further thoughts of Britney. As soon as he had done so, Keke came into his
mind,
and the feeling he'd had in the car came back again. ''Oh no, please leave me alone,'' he said.

*****

Not again, Dan thought. He'd know for a long time that worker relations weren't good at the mine in Johannesburg, but they'd had a pay
increase,
and he'd implemented their suggestions for fair distribution of overtime. Now they were playing with his good
nature,
and
he
didn't like that. He'd had enough.

''Listen,
George, we employ you to keep the mine
profitable,
and it is far from that, in
fact,
it's leaking money like I've never seen before. So here's the deal. I've been more than fair with everyone.
You tell them to get back to work by six am tomorrow morning, or I'm closing the mine, and they can all starve.
Got it?'' He slammed the phone down and looked out of the window. There it was again. The same feeling he'd had yesterday, twice. Give in to it, a voice said.

Time for rational thought, he told himself.
You're engaged
to
Britney,
and if you don't marry her, you will disappoint everyone and probably hurt her beyond repair. So much is clear, he decided. ''Now the hard part,'' he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Why, when you think of the private detective Keke, do you get this incredibly strong feeling you want to rip her clothes off, bed her and live happily ever after with her? Dan opened his eyes and looked at the clouds
that
weren't far above his office. Two birds
flew passed
and it came to him.

*****

Keke sat down in the diner and ordered her usual from Jessie. ''Take the sugar away Jessie, it's too tempting.'' As Jessie took the sugar pot away, she shook her head. ''You're crazy. Nobody's got a body like yours, allow
yourself, at least,
some pleasures in life.''

Keke's cell phone rang. It was Dan. Now there's a pleasure I could
really
get hooked on, she thought.

''Keke? I would like to talk to you.''

''I'm listening.''

''No, face to face.''

''I'm at the
diner
if you want to come round.''

''Okay wait for me.''

Keke's fists closed in a little show of triumph. She knew he wasn't coming to discuss
business;
it was too soon after their initial meeting for him to expect any results from her investigations. After forty minutes Keke saw his car pull up outside the diner. He was wearing jeans and
T-shirt
, not his suit. Her eyes followed him to the door and up to her table.

Do it, he commanded himself. Don't deny your feelings, to hell with Britney and the rest of them, it's your turn to be happy now. ''Keke get up and follow me.'' Keke
wasn't used
to being ordered
around,
but she didn't mind now. ''Come
on,
what are you waiting for?'' She followed him, trying to keep up, as he walked out of the diner. Once they were clear of the door, he took her hand and led her down the side of the building. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her, hard. He was relieved when she didn't knee him or scratch him. He didn't want her
rejection;
he wanted her love.

BOOK: Romance: New Adult: One Game at a Time - A College Football Romance (Bad Boy Romance) (Sports Contemporary Short Stories)
2.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Lover Boys Forever by Mickey Erlach
To Tell the Truth by Anna Smith
Party by Leveen, Tom
Midnight Over Sanctaphrax by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell
Save Me From Myself by Stacey Mosteller
I'll Be Your Last by Jane Leopold Quinn