by Mignon Mykel
The four of us are in a private room. The space smells of wealth and power. I can’t imagine how many “deals of the century” have been made by men and women sitting in this room.
“So, Brantley,” I drawl out. “How’s marriage and fatherhood treating you?”
“I’ve got zero complaints.” He takes a puff of his cigar. “It’s all good.”
I take a sip of my drink. “And the bourbon business, how’s all that going?”
“Aside from the fact that we’re expanding two new tasting locations. We’ve got new products rolling out and new partnerships in the works. Nolan convinced his boss to add Cardwell Bourbon to the beverage menu. Not only that, but he also gave me a nice discount for advertising.”
Sebastian rubs his hands together with delight. “You’re a good man, Nolan.”
Nolan jerks his chin upward as a puff of smoke curls into the air. “Don’t let that get around, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“How’s the team looking this year, Nols?” Sebastian grins, swirling the contents of his highball glass before leaning back in the overstuffed leather chair.
“Halston’s coming in for his fifth season. Plus, the picks we got in the draft and the moves we’re making on the defense, I think we’ve got a great shot at a winning season.”
Brant chimes in. “It’ll be nice to see the Renegades back on top of the NFL.”
Nolan takes another puff from his cigar. “It will happen, mark my words.”
“So, how’d you get reservations for this place anyway?” My gaze swings to Sebastian.
“Wasn’t me.” Sebastian flicks the end of his cigar into the ashtray.
“Lindsay got me the reservations,” Nolan informs and motions for our server.
Lindsay is Nolan’s little sister. She’s hot, smart, and she’s got tons of connections in the city.
“How’s hot Linds doing these days?”
Irritation flashes in his expression. I don’t miss the way Sebastian looks at me when I say her name. I’ve suspected for a while now that Sebastian has a thing for Lindsay. I ask the question mainly to screw with Sebastian.
Nolan picks a piece of lint from his black dress pants. “I will let you get away with that because it’s your birthday, Brenner.”
Our server stops by. Nolan orders another round of drinks and asks that our table be ready in thirty minutes.
When she walks away, he shoots me a glare. “But, let me ask you this, would you like it if I called your little sister hot? What if I said I wanted to bang your sister like a screen door in a windstorm?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. I take it as a compliment.”
Brant laughs. “It doesn’t bother you, because Rikki’s married and off the market. And these two chuckleheads never had a chance anyway.”
Nolan’s laugh is less than amused. “I’d never break the code and mess around with any of your sisters.”
“Pfft, please, shouldn’t we agree that that’s an outdated platitude among friends?”
The three of them ignore my question. I know why Sebastian keeps his mouth shut, but I figured Brant might back me up. Our server returns with our drinks and two bowls of mixed nuts.
“So, are you still firmly wired to your bachelor status since your ex is marrying your brother?” Sebastian asks and pops a cashew into his mouth.
“I’m not single because my brother’s marrying Claire. I’m single because I don’t have time for a woman in my life.”
It’s partly true.
“You know I’ve dated a few women since Claire and I broke up, right?”
“Have you?” Brant asks and bites into a pecan.
I don’t get a chance to respond because the loud cheer from the bar distracts the flow of conversation.
“Oh shit,” Nolan says, “that was a hell of a match today.” He nods to the television screen.
Lark appears on the screen. She jumps up and those little white bikini bottoms inch over the curve of her ass.
“Speaking of hot,” Sebastian interrupts and clears his throat. “Don’t you know Lark, Brenner?”
“I’ve met her once or twice.”
Brant takes a measured sip of his drink. “My money is on the two of them to win it all.”
We sit in silence for the first time all night, our eyes focused on the reel. My thoughts scatter back to the day in Mom’s diner when I had breakfast with Lark.
I thought I’d see her that night at the after-party, but she didn’t show. And I couldn’t very well ask Alec why she wasn’t in attendance. Before the next game, I thought I’d run down by the beach, maybe to get a glimpse of her practicing.
No luck.
Our blonde server approaches the table with a smile. “Gentleman, your table is ready.”
“I’m starved,” Nolan says, and stands.
Brant turns to face me. “Me too, but first . . .” He raises his glass. “Happy birthday, Brenner. I’ve got a feeling this will be a good year for you. Cheers, my friend.”
Smiling, I swallow down the rest of my drink. When I look back at the bar, Lark’s face appears on the screen.
Hmm.
Lark
FIVB Beach Volleyball World Championships Gold Medal Match
When I showed up for the match today, I didn’t think my heart would pound so hard in my chest that it feels as if I’m having a heart attack.
The sounds in the stands are deafening. “USA! USA!”
The more I think about my chest thumping faster than it should, the blurrier my vision gets.
No. No. No.
Fuck. They score a point.
Breathe. Inhale slowly and out.
They score again.
Holly slaps my ass. “Focus, Lark. Let’s do this.”
Shake it off.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I turn off the nerves zapping in my brain.
Use the energy from the crowd.
When I open my eyes, things are still fuzzy.
Get. Your. Shit. Together.
This is the moment you’ve worked so hard for. If you blow it, you don’t know if you’ll be back here.
I wipe my face with the back of my forearm. My skin is sticky with sweat.
“Come on, Lark, we got this.”
I shake out my limbs and blink back the fuzziness. Somewhere in the stands someone yells, “Come on, Saddler!” Heat spikes and races up my spine.
Holly claps and I see the ball flying our way. It grazes the net and falls on our side.
The next few minutes seem to play on repeat and I’m in a haze. Maybe I’m on autopilot at this point.
Serve.
Bump.
Block.
Set.
Spike.
Fear claws at my stomach, and the warm night air grows thick and heavy. It’s choking me. Or maybe I’m having a panic attack?
A flash of yellow spins in the air, and then I’m in the air, chest heaving and gulping for oxygen.
“Another beautiful block by Saddler!”
Holly fist bumps me, and I barely register what’s happening around us. I exhale rapidly and wait for the whistle.
Serve.
Bump.
Bump.
Spike.
Claps and cheers filter around the stadium.
“Let’s hear it for the Americans.”
Holly’s yelling something at me. I hardly hear the words coming at me. I turn to face my partner.
“You ready, girl?”
I nod. “I’m ready.”
To my surprise, the words come out strong and confident.
“Let’s bring home the gold, Lark.”
Not in my wildest dreams did I think we’d win the first set in under sixteen minutes. I didn’t think I’d have ten blocks. I didn’t think the lead would change five times.
We’re up by five in the second set. It’s twenty to fifteen. The whistle blows, my heart hammers in my chest. I miss the block and the ball lands right inside the line.
; “That’s okay,” Holly claps. “We got this, Lark.”
“I got this up here, you do your thing.”
We’re in position, the stadium abuzz with energy.
The ball is up and sailing over the net. Over our heads and lands out of bounds.
“Ahhh!” Holly screams and pumps her fists into the air. “Yeah!”
I jump up and scream, realizing that we just won gold. Emotion overtakes me, and I drop to my knees in the sand. My hands cover my face as I shake my head.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Holly drop beside me, throwing her arms around my neck.
“Holy shit, Lark. Holy shit. We did it.”
“Landers and Saddler are your gold medal winners. What an incredible display of teamwork! Congratulations to Team USA.”
Brenner
“Yes, they did it.”
Kandace barrels into my office. “Would you keep it down, some of us are trying to work.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
She laughs. “You more or less shouted like a whoop, whoop.”
“I do not whoop.”
Kandace pivots toward the flat screen in my office. “You’ve watched the two of them play the entire tournament.”
“I know Lark. She dated one of my old teammates.”
Kandace approaches my desk. “Oh yeah? Which guy?”
I lift my navy jacket from the back of my chair. “Nope, not saying. But yeah, back in California, I went to a few of her matches. I think they’ve got a great shot at the gold in Tokyo if they keep this up.”
“So, she dated someone from the Stingers,” she muses.
Straightening my cuffs, I give her a pointed look. “I’ve got to get to the studio.”
“I’ll walk with you. I could use a few more steps.” She points to her Fitbit.
“Fine with me.”
“Your mother called,” Kandace mentions. “She needs to know if you’ve sent your RSVP for your brother’s wedding, yet.”
My eyes close and I let out a deep sigh. “It’s in the top drawer of my desk. Fill it out for me, please.”
“Brenner, he’s your brother,” she wails. “Are you having a hard time because he’s marrying your ex?”
Why does everyone assume that?
“No. Honestly, I can’t believe my little brother is getting married.”
A slight lie. I don’t want to go. I don’t know why because I’m happy for them.
We turn the corner and walk down the darkened hall toward Studio A. “Can you check their registry and get them a waffle maker? Or donate a few hundred dollars to the charity they’ve picked in lieu of gifts or whatever bizarre thing Claire’s done.”
She follows me out the door. “Okay, you’re not getting your brother and his soon-to-be wife a waffle maker. You’ll donate to a charity in addition to an expensive gift.”
My hand lands on the door to the studio. “Fine. Let me know what I got them.”
“You’re on your way to winning brother of the year.”
“Don’t I know it.”
I walk into the room and prep for my show. Hair and makeup do their thing as I read through my notes. I find it hard to concentrate with my mind on Lark.
When I saw her for the first time all those years ago, I had to pick my tongue up off the floor. She was sex wrapped in a skin-tight beige dress.
Her light brown hair hung over her shoulders in soft waves that looked like it was bouncing. Her hazel eyes and that smile of hers lit up the entire room. All you wanted to do was live in that smile.
And I’ll never forget the first time she smiled at me.
“What’s the drink special tonight,” she asks the bartender.
The sweetness of her voice makes me swallow hard.
“Patio Punch. It’s got blue liqueur, peach schnapps . . .”
“No thanks.”
“You want a cosmopolitan instead?”
She glares at him. It’s subtle. He doesn’t notice, but I do. She shifts on her heel, and a stunning light surrounds her. She’s mesmerizing, something about her that makes me want to know everything about her.
The gorgeous woman swings her gaze to me. “What are you drinking?”
“Oh this, you wouldn’t like this drink. It’s tequila.” I point to my glass. “And it’s a terrible idea.”
She smiles at me. A slow, sexy, heart-stopping smile. “Tequila is always an excellent idea. I’ll take whatever he’s drinking.”
“One tequila and tonic coming up.”
“Too many of those can lead to trouble,” I warn.
“Are you trouble, Manning? Should I worry?”
She knows my name and that’s a good sign. My heart pounds at the way my name sounds on her lips. I lick my lips and swallow hard. Women never shake me. But this one has me off my axis.
“You a baseball fan—” I pause, hoping she’ll give me her name.
“Lark,” she announces with a slow smile. “Yeah, I’m a fan of baseball.”
“Here’s your drink.” The bartender slides the drink in front of her.
Lark grins with an arched eyebrow. “Great, thanks.” She lifts the glass to her mouth and takes a sip.
“Well, how does it taste?”
“Refreshing . . . a little tart and delicious.” She licks the salt from her lips. “Thanks for the drink suggestion.”
“My pleasure, do you want to—”
There I was all set to ask her if she’d like to go somewhere and talk when Alec slung his arm around the curve of her hip.
He’d invited her to the party. Come to find out, Alec met her at the last team party. I didn’t go because I had to help my mom move some stuff. Anson was on a business trip; otherwise, he would have been there instead of me.
Lark was right when she mentioned the bro code at Mom’s diner the morning I found her stumbling out of Alec’s place. Why couldn’t Alec have been traded?
Why did she have to be with him?
Why not me?
I wanted to ask why so many times. It killed me seeing the two of them together, but I kept my distance. Since I couldn’t ask her out, I watched her play. It was the closest that I could be to her . . . to get to know her . . . to see her.
I never saw Alec at any of her matches. In my opinion, he didn’t deserve her.
“Have a good show, Brenner,” Hal, the cameraman, calls out, bringing me back to now.
I take my seat. “Thanks, man.”
The hour flies by, and I finally have time to breathe. I leave the studio and walk back to my office. When I pull up my email, I see the latest revisions to the calendar.
Lark’s name appears on the schedule for an interview. Two weeks. I’ll see her in two weeks. Holy shit. My wish came true.
3
Lark
Two weeks later, and I still feel like it’s all a dream.
Is this real life? My actual life?
But as I sit inside the GSN studios in Manhattan, the heavy gold medal around my neck reminds me that all of this is very much my real life.
The final seconds of the set replay in my brain and I can’t help but smile. The whole world seemed to stop for a moment as the spotlight was on Holly and me. After we won, Holly was so pumped, she danced all around the court with American flags in both hands.
Her family was there to celebrate with her, and they invited me to come along. The old Lark would have felt like an intruder. The old me would have been untrusting of her family. But the new Lark Saddler embraces everything life tosses her way.
She trusts.
With caution.
She believes in her self-worth.
Truly.
My own parents don’t think I have any worth except for the trust fund that my grandparents left me, which they very much want.
My thumb grazes over the gold. Next year this could be Olympic gold.
Brenner Manning is the reason I have this medal. Not the entire reason. If he hadn’t given me the kick in the ass I needed, I would
have settled for the middle of the road. Coasting through life, not working to my full potential.
Sure, I would’ve been content. But I wouldn’t be looking at competing in the next Olympics.
I’ve never had someone believe in me that much. Enough to motivate me to the next level. My parents were too busy running their empire to take me to any kind of activity.
No tennis camp.
No swim meets.
I spent a lot of time by myself or with the babysitter, Buffy. Buffy was in college and home for the summer. She would spend most of her time on the phone or in our pool. On the occasional day when she wasn’t ignoring me, she taught me how to bake cookies or gave me lessons on the importance of self-care—facials and painting our nails.
One afternoon Buffy and I went to the beach, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off the beach volleyball game. I’d seen people playing before, but I never really paid much attention.
For my birthday, I asked my grandma for a volleyball. I spent the rest of the summer working on all the moves by myself in the backyard.
And when I could, I tried out for the volleyball team at school. I stuck with it throughout high school, despite my parents’ lack of support or interest. I’d even received a scholarship to Stanford University.
On the outside, things were good. On the inside, I still craved that approval from my parents. The emotional damage it took on my soul hurt. The two people who were supposed to love me the most couldn’t care less that I led our high school team to three consecutive state championships or that they named me the Gatorade National Player of the Year.
My grandparents cared. They came to my games when they weren’t traveling or busy with their foundation that works in partnership with the Los Angeles Children’s Hospital.
I’d visit them as much as possible during the offseason. Grandma and I spent a considerable amount of time in the kitchen. Despite having a full kitchen staff, she made time to bake. Cookies, cakes, and pies. Even homemade noodles.
Her favorite thing to bake was fig, walnut, and white chip cookies. I still have her black and white recipe box with all her handwritten note cards. Grandma would play Dolly Parton on the stereo, and we’d sing and bake.