Whiplash: A Sports Romance (33 page)

“Bit late to still be up, isn’t it?” I ask, eying the dog. He keeps his eyes trained on me, as he always does around those he senses could be a danger to her. I’d be offended, but honestly, he’s not wrong.

“Well…” Her little nose crinkles up, accentuating the wrinkles on her aged face. “I saw you sneaking out a few hours ago. Figured I’d wait up for you.”

“You know you don’t have to do that,” I say, smiling at her.

“I know I don’t
have
to, but I wanted to. An old lady like me doesn’t have much else going on. I was about twenty minutes away from packing it in…” she raises a silver eyebrow, “but now that you’re here, you might as well tell me all about her.”

“All about who?”

“Whatever hot, young thing you went out with this evening.”

I shake my head. “There was no hot, young thing, Mrs. Clark.”

“Well, why the hell not?” she says, her fingers wrapping around the dog tags hanging from her neck — another proud reminder of Larry she keeps with her at all times. “You’re too good-looking to sit around out in the middle of nowhere with me all day and night.”

“If I don’t, then who will keep your spunky, old ass company?” I joke.

“I’ve got Harvey here,” she says. Her hand taps against the shotgun leaning against the wall next to her chair. “And Sammy, of course.”

I laugh and scratch an itch on my chin through my beard. “You’re right. Who can compete with that?”

“Seriously, kiddo,” she says. “Don’t let me and my bum hip hold you back. There’s a world full of good pussy out there and you’re the best brand of catnip money can buy.”

“And with that, I’m going to call it a night,” I say, barely able to speak through my laughter. “Goodnight, Mrs. Clark.”

“Goodnight, Fox.”

I look at the dog. “Goodnight, Sammy.”

He stands to attention with twitching lips, ready to bark if I make any sudden movements. Mrs. Clark wraps her finger around his collar to hold him in place. “Chill out, Sammy. He’s not an
actual
fox…” I keep my hands exposed at my sides and walk slowly away to keep him calm until I reach the guest house door.

It’s a small, one-room cabin, but I don’t need much more space than that. My life is far simpler now than it used to be. I just need a few pairs of clothes and a place to sleep. It’s not much, but it’s enough, and it’s far more than I had on the bad days during my deployment overseas.

I trudge into the corner kitchen and grab a beer from my fridge. The cold alcohol tickles on the way down and settles in my gut. Soon, it’ll turn me numb and I’ll pass out — pretty much the only way I can get myself to fall asleep as of late.

Dani
.

Even a cheap knockoff like Darla isn’t enough anymore. Part of me wants to say
fuck it
and drive back home to Los Angeles. I’ll walk right up to her front door and step inside. I won’t even knock. I’ll let myself in but she won’t care as soon as she sees my face. I can just picture it now. She’ll gasp and throw a hand over her mouth.

“Fox?!”
she’ll say.
“You’re alive?”

And then I’ll apologize. I’ll say how sorry I am that I kissed her on her birthday, joined the army the next day, and left for basic training the next. I’ll say that I’m sorry I volunteered for deployment the first chance I could and never came home again. And the biggest one of all — I’ll apologize for making my family believe I’ve been dead for the last two years.

Shit. Maybe my life isn’t as simple as I thought.

Chapter 2

Dani

“Roxie!”

That’s not my name, but I’ve answered to it since I was seventeen. “Yes, Dad?” I twist around and Lena drops the makeup brush from my cheeks.

My father’s eyes trail me up and down to check my appearance. It’s the same hard glance he’s given me every day since high school when my looks started to matter more to him than they did to me. “Thanks again for doing this today,” he says, satisfied by my look. A navy blue pantsuit isn’t exactly my regular style, but he seems satisfied with it. “This means a lot to your stepmother.”

I throw on a smile. It’s not like I had a say in the matter. He makes my schedule. “I’m happy to do it.”

“After this, we have that meeting with Bruckberg.”

Lena raises the brush again to wipe a bit more rouge along my cheekbone. I cringe behind it, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“Roxie…”
He does. “I don’t want to hear about this again.”

“I didn’t say anything, Dad.”

“This is a huge opportunity for you. You read the script, right?”

“Yes, I read the script.”

“And?”

“I hated it.”

“You hated it?!” He steps in closer and the anger lines on his face stand out even more, along with the speckles of gray in his black hair. “You don’t
hate
a Bruckberg script, Roxie.”

“Well, I did.”

He lets out an impatient breath. “Lola, could you not do that for a minute?”

She lowers her hand and steps away with a sour look.

“Her name is Lena,” I point out. “Be nice. She’s just doing her job, Dad.”

“Well, that makes one of you,” he quips. “What are you doing, huh? You trying to kill your old man?”

“No.”

“What could possibly be wrong with it? The role is perfect for you.”

“The role is too
safe
,” I argue. “I’m sick of making the same movie over and over again—”

“That same movie earns you twenty million a pop, Roxie.”

“I don’t care about the money—”

He rolls his eyes. “Here we go…”

“I want to take on more—”

“Mature roles,”
he interrupts. “Honey, I get it. I do. You want to be taken seriously.”

“Is that so wrong?”

He sighs. “Of course not. It’s just not part of our plan right now.”

Our plan.
The plan I’m not allowed to have an opinion on. I throw on a classic, sweet smile. “You’re right, Daddy. I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

“That’s my little star.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Get that girl back over here. Do something about the circles under your eyes.”

I watch him walk away, forcing the smile to stay on my lips until he rounds the corner down the hall.

“What an asshole.”

I spin around. “Lena!”

She shrugs. “What? You were totally thinking it.”

“He’s fired other assistants of mine for less.”

“Oh, you’d never tell him.” She pops open a bottle of foundation and smears a tiny drop under my eye. “You love me too much.”

I smirk. “You’re right about that. No one else does the smokey-eye makeup quite like you do.”

“Damn straight.” She smiles. “Got any plans for after your big Bruckberg meeting?”

“You tell me.”

“Looks clear. Maybe Daddy Dearest will let you out for the night?”

“Doubtful.”

“Well, give me a call if he changes his mind. There’s a great new place on Vine that just opened up. They’d kill for an A-list appearance to put them on the map.”

“I’d love to, but… wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Let’s go, Roxie!”

Dad’s voice calls down the hall and Lena drops the foundation into her bag. “You look lovely,” she says, smiling. “Go knock ‘em dead.”

“I always do.” I wink at her and spin on my heels to follow Dad down the hall and around the corner.

“Remember, Roxie…” He places a hand on my back. “Just smile and nod. You don’t have to give your opinion on anything — and for heaven’s sake,
don’t
. The last thing we need is a political scandal.”

“Got it.”

“And try and dodge questions about you-know-who, all right?”

He grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open before I can respond. I’m instantly blinded by the pulsing lights of camera bulbs. Hands clap together in applause, drawing the eyes of every person in the glistening ballroom.

“Roxie Roberts!”

I turn towards the old man’s voice, fighting the auras clouding my vision. “Senator Lamb,” I greet, recognizing his weasel-like tone from television interviews.

He slaps his hand into mine and shakes it with a furious whip. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Cora speaks so highly of you.”

I take a glance around the room, smiling wide to please the cameras. “And she just
adores
you. Working on your campaign has made her so happy, Senator.”

Lamb throws his arm around my neck, jerking me closer to him. “You, my darling,” he shouts in my ear, “you can call me Ronnie!”

I chuckle awkwardly, nearly losing my balance. I catch sight of Lena standing by, firing a
sucks to be you
glance at me. “Okay, then…
Ronnie
.”

He pulls away and pinches my cheek between two, wrinkled fingers. “You’re the golden star of my campaign, after all!” He swings his arm around my shoulders and I immediately smell the potent aftershave on his face. “Ronnie and Roxie! It’s like fate!”

“Well, I’m happy to help.” My cheek muscles burn. There’s only so long I can keep this grin on my face, but I have to keep my shit together here. It’s not every day you’re invited to stand beside the next President of the United States, should his current poll numbers be any indication. “It’s for a good cause.”

“There’s no better cause than supporting our troops!” he shouts, his voice stiff from rehearsing the line in front of a mirror. The general public may not notice, but I’ve done the same on many occasions and I’ve developed an ear for the tone. “And I’m sorry for your loss, Roxie.”

I wave a hand, hoping to dismiss the remark. “It was a long time ago, but thank you.”

Lamb leans in closer and cups my hands inside his. “I can’t imagine the pain your family must have gone through…”

I lean away, glancing around to make sure my father can’t hear this. “Really, it was—”

“For a member of your family to be killed in action like that — it must have been so devastating.”

“Right, but—”

“Your stepmother misses him so much.”

I keep my smile going, shoving as much emotion to the surface as possible to sell the lie. “I miss him, too.”

“Oh — excuse me, darling,” he says, nudging my face. “I have to go give my speech.”

“It was nice to meet you, sir.”

He grins at me and fires a quick glance down my body for any chance at seeing cleavage before trudging through the crowd. They make a path for him as he moves towards the elaborate podium in the corner in front of a wall of bright, transparent windows showing off the Los Angeles skyline.

Campaigning for a presidential candidate isn’t exactly how I planned to spend my weekend. I have nothing against Lamb but I don’t like getting involved with politics in general. It’s not my job to influence the ideologies and opinions of others. I’m Hollywood’s “It” girl. I pretend to be someone I’m not to please and entertain audiences for two hours and they walk away with a smile and an overpriced ticket stub.

Lamb takes the stage and holds his hands up, waving freely at his adoring public. He milks it for several moments, forcing the applause higher and higher. Finally, he settles at the podium and leans into the microphone. “I could stand up here and rattle off some figures and percentages that show how wonderful I am — and I do plan on doing so — but first, I want to show off my new friend, Roxie.”

Oh, boy…

He points at me and all eyes follow. “Roxie, how about you come up here?”

I grin — happy as a fucking clam and
truly
honored to be here — and walk through the crowd towards the stage. The applause pushes me forward until I meet him behind the podium. Once again, he throws his arm around me as if we’ve been friends for years and shows me off to the room.

“Roxie Roberts, ladies and gentlemen!” They clap even louder and I wave a delicate hand. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

There’s a series of
Ooo’s
and
Aww’s
from them and I flash a modest face.

“I probably shouldn’t be mentioning this, but Roxie and her family know firsthand the sacrifice our boys overseas make every single day. You all remember the stories of her stepbrother…” His voice trails off and he nudges my ribs with his elbow. “What was his name?”

My eyes fall to my father in the crowd and his eyes twitch in frustration. “Fox,” I answer. “His name was Fox.”

“Right— Fox,” Lamb continues. “Such a tragedy. Fox fought and died for his country, along with countless other men and women in our military and they deserve our support!” The people clap harder. It’s obvious that he’s using the story to pick off a few more votes. There’s nothing I can do about it in my position, so I maintain my posture with a smile, trying very hard not to look at the disappointment on my father’s face while Lamb’s voice drones on. Finally, he lets go of me. “Stand beside me, honey. You make me look good.” Everyone laughs as I step off to the side.

The windows crash behind us, the sound piercing my ears. I topple forward into the podium and it falls down with me, narrowly missing the eager journalists as they scatter and scream in abject terror. My hands break my fall and I cringe at the sudden pain shooting up my arms, twisting my elbow until my face hits the floor.