Rookie Move

by KB Winters

  I glowered at him and crossed my arms. My jaw flexed, a million hateful words standing at the ready—but I kept it all to myself. I didn’t say another word the whole way to my hotel, which was thankfully only a few blocks away. Robby pulled up at the curb and I immediately swung my door open, having already unbuckled. I jumped out of the truck. “Thanks for the ride.” I slammed the door shut and stalked into the high rise without a glance back.

  Up in my suite, I called Chelsea again. The phone rang but then dumped me into her voicemail.

  I hung up. I’d already left dozens of messages over the past weeks. There wasn’t a point anymore. She was done with me and I was tired of acting like a punk.

  I chucked my phone down on the bed and then paced around the suite like a caged animal. There were a million things to do. I could go back out and continue drinking without a nanny hovering over my shoulder. I could go to a strip club. I could go the no strings, anonymous route and get a high end call girl. An hour to fuck her sideways and then send her on her way. If I wanted more than that—I could just as easily go to a club and bring back a couple of girls for some fun.

  None of it resonated. Each idea bounced off without much consideration. I didn’t want to do anything except talk to Chelsea.

  And apparently that wasn’t an option anymore.

  “Coach wants to see you in his office.”

  I nodded at Robby and set down the ball that was in my hand. We had a couple of hours left before the game and I was forcing myself to work through my shit by throwing the ball around with Mike, my catcher, before official warm up would start.

  I went up to Coach Robinson’s office and found the door open. I tapped on the wall and stepped inside. He looked up from his computer and took off his thick rimmed reading glasses. “Take a seat, son.”

  I threw myself down into the seat opposite him and crossed one ankle to the opposite knee. “What’s up, Coach? Robby said you wanted to see me.”

  “I’m gonna cut right to the chase, here, Wright. There have been some allegations made about you. The front office wants me to cut you from the team. They think you’re a liability.”

  I dropped my foot to the floor again, my shoe making a loud slapping sound on the stained concrete. My head was ringing with the words. It was like being sideswiped by a semi-truck. “What? What the hell kind of allegations?”

  “A woman, on the staff, has come forward and made complaints that you have made inappropriate advances toward her.”

  My lip peeled back into a sneer. “Let me guess. The bitch’s name is Summer Pratt.”

  Coach Robinson looked surprised; his eyebrows hiked up half an inch. “I can’t confirm that, but what makes you suspect Ms. Pratt?”

  “Damn it,” I paused, shaking my head. She’d really done it. She was so pissed at me for something that happened years ago that she wasn’t only going to wreck my relationship but my entire career. “Coach, Summer and I dated for a while back in college. I broke up with her when I got drafted. She didn’t like it and has been seeking revenge since I told her I wasn’t interested in getting back with her. It’s all a pack of lies from a jealous and fuckin’ deranged woman.”

  Coach twirled his glasses by the stem. “I see. Well, like I said, the front office takes these matters seriously. They will want to open an investigation.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Open it! I’ll go right now. They have no proof. It’s not possible. Because it didn’t happen. If anything, she’s the one who should be punished. She showed up naked in my hotel room when we were in LA and was trying to get at me. When I turned her down and chucked her ass out, she threatened me. This whole thing is blackmail!”

  “Wright calm down. Take a breath.” Coach stood up and snapped his laptop shut. “We’ll go together.”

  “You believe me?”

  He shrugged. “I have no reason not to. Let’s go see what we can work out. I don’t know what happened with Ms. Pratt, but I don’t want you cut from the team. Despite the last couple of games, you’ve been working really hard to turn things around for this team. I’d hate to lose this momentum over a misunderstanding.”

  I scoffed at his use of the word misunderstanding but didn’t bother to correct him. Summer knew exactly what she was doing, but there was no way I could prove it.

  Coach took me to the conference room where the members of management were all huddled around the table, deep in discussion. They all glanced up as we entered the room and there was a ripple effect as each of them saw me follow Coach. I was clearly not supposed to be there.

  I was glad that Willis, the team’s owner, wasn’t among them. That would be a disaster. Not that I had any problem telling him exactly who Summer was. He probably deserved to know.

  The team manager, Rodd Jameson, leaned forward and waved at two open seats. He cleared his throat when Coach and I were seated. “Coach Robinson. I gotta say, I didn’t expect you to bring Mr. Wright along with you.”

  Coach spread his hands. “In my experience, I learned that cutting to the meat of the problem is always the best way to deal with something like this. So, sure, we could all sit here and dance around it, but all that’s going to do is blow this thing up bigger, drag in more bystanders, and complicate things. The way I see it, it’s really simple. You’ve heard Ms. Pratt’s side of the story. Now, listen to Mr. Wright’s and go from there.” He took a long, sweeping glance around the table, waiting for an objection, and then returned his attention to Rodd. “Seems like that might work?”

  Rodd worked his jaw. It was evident that he didn’t like his show being tugged out of his control but he wasn’t going to blow up in a room full of execs. He turned his shrewd attention to me, his eyes boring into me with laser precision and intensity. “It probably goes without saying, Mr. Wright, but we take all allegations of misconduct very seriously. I am prepared to launch a full investigation to get to the truth of what happened. You won’t be spared just because you’re the hot new star on the team. Is that clear?”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  He kept his gaze trained on me for another long moment and then gave a clipped nod. “Okay then. Go ahead, Mr. Wright.”

  I swallowed hard. “Summer Pratt and I dated in college for two years. However, that relationship ended when I was drafted. I hadn’t seen her or heard from her until the day she was introduced to the team at that meeting in Dallas. After the meeting, she came up to me and told me that she was there for me. I told her I wasn’t interested. When I did so, she outright threatened me.”

  “And just how did she do that, son?” Coach prompted.

  I sighed. “She admitted that she’s fuck—sleeping with—the team’s owner. That’s how she landed the PR job in the first place.”

  A scatter of whispers rippled around the table. I couldn’t gauge whether or not the tidbit was new or old news. “Anyway,” I continued, speaking over the hushed tones, “she made it clear that if I didn’t go along with her plans, she would get me booted from the team.”

  More whispers.

  I clenched my jaw. “The night that she says she was assaulted by me was actually quite the other way around. She was at the hotel in LA, got my room number, and a key. I don’t know how. But she was waiting for me, naked, on my bed, when I got back to the hotel.”

  Rodd nodded but then leaned forward. “When this took place, the rest of the team was still back at the stadium. Why didn’t you take the shuttle with the rest of the team? It seems to back up Summer’s story that you wanted to get her alone.”

  I sighed. “My girlfriend flew in as a surprise. You can check with Robby Brown and his girl Paris. Paris was with Chelsea. They flew in together. Paris sent Chelsea back to the hotel to surprise me.”

  Rodd’s eyebrows went up his unnaturally smooth forehead. He shot a look at the man on his right and the man scrambled to jot down some notes. “Chelsea…?”

  “Brooks. I can give you her information.”

  “And she’s your girlfriend, you said?�
��

  I cleared my throat and met his gaze. “Was. Sir. We’re not together anymore. Summer took care of that…”

  Red hot heat coursed through me. I was just about done spilling my guts for the panel. I didn’t want to talk about Summer and I certainly didn’t want Chelsea getting dragged into the drama. She didn’t deserve that. But I didn’t know what else I could do to untangle the mess Summer had created.

  Rodd waited until his assistant finished writing and then shifted his eyes back to mine. “Do you have anything else you want us to know?”

  “Check the security cameras at the hotel that night. You’ll see Summer entering my room, wearing nothing but a long, trench coat type thing. When she leaves, she’s wrapped in a sheet from my bed because I chucked it at her when I told her to get her ass out of my room. Check with the front desk to figure out how the hell she even got my room key. Check with Paris, Robby’s fiancée. I don’t care how deep you have to go. Clear my name and then I never want to see that bitch—uh, woman—again. I don’t care who she’s fucking, get her off this team, or I’ll file charges against her myself and Willis probably doesn’t want that.”

  My hands slapped the tabletop as I pushed myself up. “I’m done here.”

  29

  Chelsea

  “Knock, knock!”

  Paris’ voice stirred me from the zoned out, halfway asleep, state of consciousness as I reclined back on my couch. My laptop was perched precariously on my legs. I’d only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes but judging by the scratchy feel of my eyes it had been a while longer than I’d intended. I set aside the computer. “It’s open!” I bellowed, my legs shot through with pins and needles, preventing me from making the trek to answer the front door.

  Paris sashayed into the room but stopped short.

  “Honey, you are a hot mess…” Paris’ eyes went wide as she took me in.

  I nodded, miserably. “I know.”

  Paris rounded the couch. She gingerly picked discarded take out boxes and power bar wrappers from one of the cushions before she sat down on the couch beside me. “What’s going on, babe?”

  “I finished the game last night. Or was it this morning? Either way…it’s done.” I tried to smile but I was too tired. All of my muscles had gone on strike.

  “Congrats! But damn girl. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep this up.” She scanned the mess in the room. At some point, I’d hit a wall working in my office, and decided that downstairs, near the fish tank, made more sense. So, that’s where I’d been camped out for the past three days and nights.

  “I know.” I rubbed my eyes, hating the sandpaper feel. “Do you see my eye drops anywhere?”

  Paris stood and fished through the cushions. “Here they are.”

  I thanked her and applied a liberal amount to each burned out eye.

  “Okay, so, is this an official intervention?”

  Paris laughed. “Pretty much. Although, I might have underestimated my need for backup.”

  I barked a hollow, scratchy laugh and then went hunting for my water bottle. “I promise I won’t get so down to the wire next time.”

  Paris tapped a finger against her lips. “I’m not buying it, girl. Mostly because that’s what you told me last time. This is impressive though…”

  I nodded, following her gaze around my trashed living room. Pizza boxes, Chinese takeout containers, plates, glasses, energy drink cans, and a small mountain of wadded up note paper that hadn’t made it through the shredder.

  Paris hopped up. “Okay. Intervention starts now. You go shower, change into real clothes, put on some makeup. You know, get human again. I’ll tackle this mess. Then, I’m taking you out for a celebratory dinner!”

  I smiled as she pulled me off the couch. “Thanks, Paris. What would I do without you?”

  “Live in squalor, apparently.” She slapped my ass as I passed her.

  Between the break-up with Cody and the last, frantic days of coding, designing, and testing the game, I felt like I’d been run over by a train. Paris was right, a shower, some good food, and a glass of bubbly was the perfect remedy. And damn it, I deserved it!

  An hour later, both, me and my house had received a thorough cleaning and were both looking a helluva lot better for it. Paris took me downtown to the sushi restaurant where Cody and I had first met. It was at my request. It was still my favorite restaurant, despite the haunting memories it now held. I was determined to move past it.

  Paris ordered us a pricey bottle of champagne and lifted up her glass for a toast. “To my beautiful best friend. You are the hardest working woman I know, and I wish you all the best success with your new game! Cheers, honey, you deserve it!”

  I smiled and touched the side of my flute to hers. “Thank you.”

  I sipped deeply, letting the sweetness wash over my tongue and the bubbles tickle my nose. “Perfect. So, you know what I’ve been doing all this time. Catch me up with you. Tell me all things Paris.”

  Paris smiled. “Robby and I set a date.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Uh huh. August twenty-third. We decided on Costa Rica.”

  I sighed blissfully. “It sounds perfect. I can’t wait!”

  “Me either.”

  So that explained her perma-smile. She had finally run Robby into the ground and made him set a date. No wonder she was glowing. “I’m so happy for you, Paris. You will be the most beautiful bride ever.”

  “Thanks. And you, my dear, will be the hottest maid of honor.”

  I grinned. The invitation was expected but still got me misty. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Of course, babe! No one else I’d rather have by my side. I promise not to go too bridezilla nuts on you.”

  I laughed. “Are you willing to sign a notarized statement?”

  We giggled together. We both knew Paris was going to be a lot to handle. I didn’t care. It was going to be amazing.

  Paris glanced over my shoulder and I turned, wondering what she was looking at. The restaurant was busy, but nothing stood out. “Whatcha looking for? Is Robby joining us?”

  She shook her head. “No…but…” She dropped her gaze to her hands. “Chels, please don’t be mad, but—”

  It hit me upside the head. This was a trap. My heart shot to my throat. “Paris, you didn’t?”

  She reached for my hand. “Honey, give me two minutes to explain before you bolt.”

  I ripped my hand from her. “How could you? This was supposed to be my night. A celebration.”

  I stood up and nearly ran right into Cody’s chest.

  He reached out and set his large hands on my shoulders to steady me. Or hold me in place before I could bolt from the restaurant. I shook out of his grasp and took a large stew backward. I shot a look at Paris. “How dare you. I thought we were friends. How could you sit here and bullshit with me about being best friends and then ask me to be your maid of honor? Fuck! And you knew he was on his way.”

  Paris slid from the booth. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, Chels. But it’s what you need. I’m trying to help.”

  “Help me how?”

  She glanced over at Cody. “You owe me.”

  My fists balled up and it was all I could do to keep from swinging. At both of them. “I’m out of here,” I said, reaching over to the seat I’d vacated and grabbing my purse. “Go to hell. Both of you.”

  I stormed away from the table but I could feel Cody’s eyes on me. I pushed out the side door and started stalking through the parking lot. I made it half a dozen paces before I realized I didn’t have a car. Paris had driven both of us to the restaurant.

  “Damn it!” I slammed my foot against the asphalt and whipped around, not surprised to see Cody standing there.

  “I know you don’t want to see me, Chelsea. But I deserve a chance to explain.”

  I glared at him. “It doesn’t matter what you think, Cody. You’re not going to change my mind on this. We’re done. You ca
n go be with Summer Pratt or whatever other blonde bombshell, sorority sister for life, whatever. It’s not me. It’s never going to be me.”

  His lip curled back. “I don’t want to be with Summer. That bitch just about cost me my career.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what you get.”

  “Chels, please hear me out.”

  “Why? What do you have to say that would interest me now? I’m not one of your side pieces—or groupies—or whatever the fuck you call them.”

  Cody touched my forearm. I wanted to pull away but the look on his face was so helpless. My heart clenched tight and I looked up at him. “I know you’re pissed, but please...”

  I arched a brow. “Ok, go. What are you talking about she almost cost you your career?”

  “She accused me of making unwanted advances towards her. If Paris and Robby hadn’t come forward to help dig me out, I’d have been kicked off the team—or worse.”

  I shook my head. “Paris didn’t say anything.”

  “I know.”

  I crossed my arms. “What do you want me to say, Cody? That I believe you when you say you didn’t know Summer was going to be stark naked in your hotel room? That you didn’t want her there? Fine, I believe you. It doesn’t change anything about how I feel. Walking in and seeing her there was just a wake-up call. The catalyst for my change of mind.”

  Cody took a step toward me. “What is it then?”

  “This lifestyle, Cody. If it’s not Summer, it will be some other girl. There will always be girls chasing you for your money, your fame, your connections—” I paused, unable to stop my eyes from raking over his broad shoulders. “Your looks. Your swagger. Whatever. I don’t want to be with someone who makes me feel like I’m always in a competition. I’m sorry, but I’m not strong enough for that long term.”

  Cody closed the rest of the space between us and placed a hand on each of my arms. This time I didn’t back away. “Chelsea, I don’t want that for you either. Why can’t we have another option though? To hell with those other girls. I’m not paying attention to any of that noise.”