Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (26 page)

“Semantics. Does it fucking matter?”

“Yeah, it kind of does.” A flicker of rage flares, but I quash it down.
Wait.

“She never meant anything to me,” but he avoids holding my eye when he says it, picking up a fork and continuing his tap routine on the tabletop.

“Come on, Josh. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

He continues to watch the parking lot. For a moment I swear it looks like he’s going to cry. “We had our moments. Everyone does, but in the end it didn’t work out.”

Fuck.
He’s still got a thing for her.

“Fuck it. I don’t want to talk about it,” and that right there is the most obvious sign yet he’s lying about her.

“You still care about her. Fucking harden the fuck up and admit it like a man.”

He looks at me now, breathing in, locked. “Like I said, she’s ancient history.”

Glenda returns with two plates decked with cheeseburgers. I hold the record at twelve, damn near puked my intestines up after that one.

The break in conversation is enough time to give me pause over what I’m about to say next, but I don’t back down—ever. “Guess you wouldn’t mind if I hung out with her a bit then?”

Josh’s features sharpen, shoulders lifting. I know what comes next. “You want to do fucking
what
, after we just broke up?”

I look down, up again. “Just to make sure she’s okay.”

Josh sees right through me. I may as well be made from glass. “You fucking cunt. The carcass of our relationship is still warm, and you’re already trying to muscle your way in like you always do.”

“Josh, it’s not like that.”

“I should have expected this from you, bro.” His eyes sharpen. “Have you fucked her?”

“No,” but the denial only makes him more aggressive.

He pushes his chair back, the noise shrill. “You fucking are. It’s all over your face.”

I try to calm him down, prevent this from becoming a scene. Everyone has a phone these days and the press is hungry for a new Collins scandal. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nothing’s too low for you, is it? You couldn’t keep your dick on a leash if you tried.”

“We’re not sleeping together, Josh.”
Not yet.

He snaps. He picks up the first cheeseburger he can find and throws it at my face.

I’m wiping pink burger from my eyes, melted cheese caught in my hair as I watch him swipe the reaming burgers away and bring the plate up above his head. He smashes it down into the edge of the table. Shards of ceramic fly out, one catching my arm. Josh leans over the table, speaking through his teeth, eyes rabid. “Stay away from her. I’m fucking warning you.”

He leaves, doesn’t even bother to apologize to Pete and Glenda, who stand shell-shocked by the counter.

“Fuck!” I exclaim, slamming my fist into the table.

I lay two fifties down and stand. I head to the restaurant bathroom with a wad of paper towels. I wipe the sauce from my face, stop to stare into the mirror and question where this all took a turn to crazy town.

It was a mistake to go and see Scarlet like that. I know that now with the harsh clarity of hindsight. But the way she kissed me, moved herself against me… but that’s the problem. She was someone else, or trying to be.

Was she?
I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything anymore.

It’s obvious Josh isn’t over her. He made that clear enough when he decided to turn me into a cheeseburger just now. He cheated on her, yes. He’s not perfect, but neither am I. All the shit I’ve done… If there was a fuck-up contest I’d smash him every time. That’s one thing I’d win no matter what. I practically wrote the book on how to be an asshole, and here I am trying to be all high and mighty? Fuck that.

“Fine,” I tell myself, quite sure I’ve lost it talking to the mirror, that I’m about to ask it who the fairest in the land is.
You want me to back off, Josh. I’ll back off. I’m not going to butt into whatever you guys have going on.
But break her heart again,
I harden my eyes at myself in resolution,
and I’ll break your fucking spine.

SCARLET

Polly’s looking a little more wild than usual, which, of course, means she’s totally out there, even downtown in Altville where the guys carry handbags and the girls wear the pants. The color of her hair can best be described as a rainbow-like oil slick, each of her nails a different shade of blue. She’s always walked her own line. Maybe that’s why I like her so much—she’s the person I wish I could be. She doesn’t give a damn about what anyone thinks of her.

“Polly?” the barista calls aloud. It’s early and the shoebox of a café below my apartment is buzzing.

Polly’s face screws up in disgust.

I laugh. “You really don’t like hearing your own name, do you?”

“Would you like to be called Polly? Makes me sound like either a bird or something you’d find on the toy shelf.”

“Could have been worse.”

She folds her arms. “Enlighten me.”

“Remember Abstinence from junior high? Man, her parents must have been
way
high to dream up that one.”

“They were Mormons.”

“Guess that explains it.”

“Polly?” comes the cry again.

“Better get that before my ears explode.”

She heads off to the counter.

I look out the window, sure I see Josh walking by, but it’s only a kid in a Victory jersey.

Polly returns with two coffees, placing them down between us. “Be careful. ‘A-man-da’ over there made these things so hot they’re going to go all House of Wax on our insides if we drink them now.”

I reach for the coffee, but can’t even touch the cup. “Speaking of hot, how’s that guy you’re dating from night school going?”

“The poet? He’s good. A little lethargic in the sack, but nothing a bit of rub and tug won’t fix.”

“Rub and tug?” I laugh.

“You know, shine the shotgun a little, get him ready to go.”

“If he needs a warm-up when he’s dating a hot totty like you, maybe he’s not such a keeper.”

Polly considers this, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right.” She takes out her cell, fingers moving so fast they’re heading for Mach 1.

“What are you doing?”

She hits send. “Breaking up with the idiot.”

“Like that?”

She looks at me like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Hey, I don’t have time to fuck around, Scar-baby. Poem boy can’t deliver, he’s gone. Besides, he was into bobby socks. I fucking
hate
bobby socks.”

“You once dressed up as an adult baby for a guy.”

She shrugs it off. “Experimentation is healthy.”

She sees I want to talk, always knows precisely when to switch the conversation. “How’s Josh?”

I scratch the top of my hand. “Actually, we broke up.”

“For real?” she asks, seriously.

“For real,” I reply.

She nods solemnly before clapping her hands together and announcing in the loudest voice possible. “Can we get some champagne up in this motherfucker?”

I reach forward and pull her back down, mortified.

“What?” she says. “I’m happy for you. Guy was a complete asshole. Let’s celebrate. Come on.”

I look around, desperately embarrassed, but that’s Polly for you. She’d run for POTUS if you pushed her. “Let’s
not
, but you’re right. He
was
an asshole.”

“He was cheating on you, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” I reply reluctantly, the hurt still raw.

Polly taps a finger into the table. “I fucking knew it! What about Jensen? What does he make of all this?”

Jensen—I haven’t answered his calls, haven’t even bothered to let him know I’m okay. Probably busy training for the big game.

You should. You can’t just let him go like that.

I pick up my coffee now it’s managed to drop a few degrees. I need something to hold. “He came around, funnily enough, and we…”

Polly leans forward. “Whoa, are you two…?”

I grimace. “Not… exactly. We kissed, said some stuff, but he pulled away, said I was too vulnerable, that he didn’t want to take advantage of me.”

“So you’re saying he was a gentleman?”

I get defensive. “No, I’m saying he was a jerk. He rejected me, Pols. Do you know how that felt?”

“Sounds like he did the right thing. You didn’t kick him out, did you?”

I lift my coffee to hide my face. “Kind of.”

“Scar!”

“You weren’t there. It was awkward. I was angry.”

“But you like him?”

I do. He’s all I’ve been thinking, I guess.”

Polly lifts one eyebrow heavy with liner. “You ‘guess’? You’ve got to start being real with yourself, sister. Jensen’s had the hots for you from the start. Besides, he’s the hotter brother. Everyone knows that.”

“Do they?”

Polly grabs a young waitress and quite literally pulls her by the apron to our table. Poor thing almost loses a tray of drinks in the process.

“Hey there,” says Polly, “you know the Collins brothers, soccer stars, play for Victory blah-blah-blah?”

The girl looks confused, but answers “yeah” cautiously.

“Which one’s hotter? Be honest.”

She looks at Polly like she’s insane. “Ah, I guess the one with the Eagle tattoo? I can’t remember his name.”

Polly lets her go. “Am I right or am I right?” The girl runs away before any more madness unfolds.

Polly takes my coffee and places it down, holding my hands in the middle of the table. “You know I care about you, don’t you?”

“Of course

“So, you’re going to switch on those cute lil’ ears of yours and listen right up. Jensen is the one you want. You are clearly still hung up on him, but it looks to me like you need a solid kick in the ass to go get him.”

“But he’s a—”

Polly shakes her head vigorously. “No. No, no, no. Forget what everyone
thinks
he is. We both know it’s a show.
You
are the one he wants. It’s so fucking obvious. You should be together—peanut butter and jelly, Mills and Boon, Jack and Daniels.”

“What?”

She squeezes my hands. “Shut up. Listen. Stop being such a damned idiot and snap him up before some other soccer groupie does.” She reaches to the floor and fishes through my handbag, pulling out my cell and handing it over.

“What?” I exclaim. “Right now?”

“You bet your ass.”

I carefully tuck the phone away in my pocket. “I’ll call him later. I promise.”

She narrows her eyes and she’s actually really, really scary for a moment. I have genuine concern for my safety. “Oh, you better. Don’t make me kidnap Buzz again.”

*

I see Polly off on the corner, watch her head up the street on her scooter. She turns and waves, almost rear-ends a delivery truck, swerving wildly and whipping right.

I shake my head and smile, walking up the street to grab a bacon-and-egg from the bakery. It’s the day for it—bright, sunny, the odd bunny-shaped cloud kissing the tops of skyscrapers in the distance. There’s a spring in my step, and I realize it’s the promise of possibility, of what might be if I can patch things up with Jensen, continue where we so abruptly left off. The self-doubt’s there, but I’ll be damned if it’s going to ruin my day.

I cut down an alley, pop back out into the street, and that’s when I see it—Josh’s Mustang at the light.

Crap. Don’t see me. Don’t see me.

I press tight against the wall, but it’s too late. The Mustang pulls out with a screech right in front of a van, cutting across the wrong side of the road and parking up on the curb. Josh gets out and starts to run over.

I spin and head back into the alley, but there’s no way I can outrun him. He takes my wrist and turns me, pinning me against the wall. I look left and right, but there’s no one in sight. It’s just us.

He’s been drinking again. His breath is foul. “What, you weren’t even going to stop and say hello?”

Don’t struggle.
“I’ve got to be somewhere, Josh. Can you let me go?”

“Where?” he demands.

I’m actually searching for an excuse before I realize I owe him nothing. “We’re not together. It’s none of your business.”

His hands fall to my sides, his grip too firm. He seems skittish, different. “Are you seeing someone, already?”

I clutch my handbag between us, steeling myself for confrontation. “Like I said, it’s none of your business.”

He places a hand on the wall beside my head. I consider getting under it, making for the end of the alley, but he’s too fast. No, I’ve got to settle this right now.

He leans into my face. “Why’d you go and hurt me, baby? I mean, we’re so good together, right? I fucking miss you.”

“You were cheating on me, Josh. I
caught
you.”

“Carolina? I told you. She’s nothing to me.”

“’A bit of fun’. That’s what you said.”

“Sure.”

“Do you know how insulting that is, Josh?”

His hand leaves the bricks by my head, fingers weaving into my hair. “Come on, baby. Give me another chance.”

“No.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll do it. You want me to get rid of Carolina? Easy. She’s gone.”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

He strokes my cheek. “I can’t do that.”

“Josh…”

He pulls me forward and kisses me, but it’s too hard, awkward.

I swing my handbag against his ribs, struggle to get out, but he’s got hold of the back of my head, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, the bitter taste of bourbon and nicotine leaking into my mouth.

I drop my handbag and use both hands to push him away, but he won’t budge. I groan, try to cry out, but he’s covering my whole mouth, pressing and pressing.

He draws back just enough for me to get out a scream, a “Help!” before he’s back on me again.

I can’t breathe, can’t get past him. My eyes go wide in panic, searching but not seeing any way out as the hand on my hip starts to disappear down my pants.

I close my eyes, can’t allow myself to bear witness to what is about to unfold.

All of a sudden, Josh is gone with a
thud
.

I open my eyes and see him staggering back, clutching his jaw, a solid line of crimson running from his left nostril. He looks down the alley and there is Jensen, standing beside me, finger raised.

“Get the
fuck
away from her,” he warns.

I’m as surprised as Josh is. Hands on his hips, he leans forward and spits out a wad of blood, looking up at Jensen, ignoring me. “What the fuck are you doing here? This is none of your fucking concern.”

Jensen moves in front of me. “I was checking in on Scarlet, heard the commotion down here.”

Josh wipes the blood away from his nose, looking at the back of his hand, the rage building. “Checking in on her? Is that what it is now? I told you to stay away.”

Jensen takes a step towards Josh. “Good thing I didn’t, by the looks of it.”

I reach out and take Jensen’s arm. “Let’s go,” but he shrugs me off and continues to approach Josh.

“Looks to me,” he says, “like you were forcing yourself on her.”

“Jensen,” I plead, worried, but he’s set. They both are. There’s nothing stopping them now. I look back into the street, but it remains empty.

They’re only a couple of feet away from each other now, the front of Josh’s shirt stained red. He places one finger on his nose and clears it, sniffing and standing tall. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Always have, always getting involved in my shit.”

“Your ‘shit’,” Jensen continues, “is a human being with rights, and she sure as
fuck
doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

Josh’s mood darkens. I know the look so well, have to come to know it and steer clear. It’s as bitter as his breath, a deep-seated jealously of his brother that extends far past the field. He points to me. “She likes it rough, you know.”

Jensen’s fist clenches tight.

“Oh, that’s right,” mocks Josh, “you wouldn’t, would you?” He stabs his finger at me. “Stupid bitch never did learn to deep-throat.”

It’s the final straw.

Jensen runs forward with a roar and tackles Josh to the ground, swinging his fists into his face, the terrible sound of each impact bringing my hands to my ears.

“Jensen!” I scream.

But it was always an equal fight. Josh manages to flip Jensen over, both of them getting to their feet, and Josh manages to deliver a hard right into Jensen’s jaw.

Jensen staggers back, sees me and redoubles his efforts, hunkering down and ramming Josh in the chest, driving him against the wall so hard his feet lift from the pavement.

Josh gets his knee up into Jensen’s chest, winds him, and smashes the underside of his fist down on his head, beating him over and over.