Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Boxset 4 Books

by Tara Brent

  “I didn’t ask you shit now did I, lady? And you! Big guy! On the ground now!”

  Hayden’s hands were raised high, his expression a mix of rage and fear, as he slowly bent his knees to the ground.

  The cop called for backup while his partner got out and took statements from the three punks, who were smirking. Emiko marched up toward the first cop. “What is wrong with you? They started this! Why do you even have your gun out?”

  “Listen Missy I saw your guy beating that other dude to a pulp. Why are you defending him? Are you scared he’ll hit you if you don’t?”

  “WHAT?” Emiko screamed, appalled. “You’re a monster.”

  The cop’s eyes blazed and he redirected his gun at her just as another police car pulled up and an officer got out. “You should get on your knees too! Do it now! And you!” He redirected his gun at Hayden. “No sudden movements! No nothing!”

  Emiko stared over at Hayden, her eyes completely fearful, when a voice rang out.

  “Stop!” yelled the officer who just arrived as backup. “Hold your fire, you idiot! Don’t you know who that is?”

  “What? Should I? He was mugging that guy!”

  “He’s a billionaire and my all-time favorite baseball player you doofus now lower the goddamn weapon! What do you want to be the villain in the movie they eventually make about his life? Want to be the next Black Lives Matter scapegoat? Christ! Back in your fucking patrol car right now and let me handle this” The driving cop rounded on the group of punks, who suddenly looked a lot less cocky. “Not a damn word from any of you. Now, miss,” he said, addressing Emiko, “stand up and please explain what happened.” So Emiko did, and the cop nodded sternly. “Okay,” he said, “Here is what is going to happen. You three idiots move right along and don’t you dare post this shit. As for the two of you, you’re free to go, but Mr. Moreau, please consider the magnitude of force required to defend yourself from a thug.”

  “I see three young, fit white boys there against the two of us, both of whom are minorities, and the two of us were just enjoying our day when they began harassing and attacking us,” said Hayden slowly, his voice shaking with rage. “And you plan on lecturing me and letting them go?”

  “I’m trying to neutralize the situation!” snapped the officer. “Do you really want this to escalate? Is this good for you? For her?” he gestured at Emiko. “Just go along with your day like this didn’t happen.”

  Hayden smoldered and then shot a nasty stare at the cop who pulled a gun on him, who was now sulking red-faced in his car. “Fine,” Hayden growled. But he turned to face the original three. “Now you three racist mofos listen real good. You can call me names or shove me but remember that I am a legend. There will be documentaries and movies and shows about me long after I’m gone. Y’all ain’t shit. But I promise you this: each of you will be in my autobiographies, and you sure as hell will be chickenshit villains in the movie based on my life. Enjoy immortality you sacks of shit. Come on Emiko,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m not letting these jackasses ruin our special day. Let’s get cleaned up. Care to save water by showering together?”

  Emiko sadly strolled on away from the group. “Of course,” she said gently. “Though if you’re not feeling up to it after all that…”

  “Nah,” he said, cutting her off. “I own this goddamn world and I’m not letting their peasant-asses get in the way of Lin Manuel Miranda’s masterpiece.

  “All right,” said Emiko. “But I still want to make you feel better. “How about…” and she whispered something exceptionally dirty in his ear, causing his eyes to go wide.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get a move on!”

  Chapter 11

  The fallout from that incident was fairly profound. Since the footage was live-streamed, it went viral quickly, and the Twittersphere was in an uproar. Pundits and bloggers were arguing on all sides. Some thought Hayden overreacted; some thought he should have kicked all of their asses; some thought the police were being excessive; others thought the police were being appropriately cautious; some cried foul about free speech being violated; some agreed with the punks that Hayden was a thug and Emiko was a whore; but for the most part, the focus was on the notion that even a wealthy, celebrated, famous black male faced the same discrimination that so many others who look like him have endured throughout their lives.

  “It’s disheartening,” he said in an interview. “I mean, my mom was white, and with a rich family, I’ve been surrounded by white people throughout my life, and while most of them were chill, there was always the subtle differences in how some of them acted around me compared to how they acted around others, and it wasn’t even on purpose, you know? They don’t know they’re doing it. And sure I’ve dealt with some ‘active’ racism in my life too; you don’t get as famous as me with my skin color and not deal with it. Hell, I even get it from black folks too since some of them don’t think I ‘count’ somehow due to my mixed heritage. But you know what, I’ll give that dumb kid from the other day some credit since at least he was honest about how much of a piece of sh--, erm, how much of a racist jerk he was. But maybe nowadays with the direction this country’s going, that’s not really brave. It’s like they all got a memo that it’s okay to be openly discriminatory. But that’s not what really bothered me. What pissed me off was that first cop who pulled the gun on me. I’m not gonna lie, I was scared, and I do not like being made to feel fear. I ain’t about that. But facing down the barrel of a gun and knowing that even if I did absolutely nothing beyond exactly what the cop asked of me I might still take a full clip to the chest? That’s scary. Cuz that’s how it is nowadays you know? They used to be able to say well he attacked the cop or he robbed a store or he shouldn’t have been speeding or he shouldn’t have had weed in his pocket or he shouldn’t have been wearing a goddamned hoodie--pardon my language--but we keep seeing these clips where they do everything that’s asked of them and still end up in a casket. It’s heartbreaking and it scared the daylights out of me.”

  And so the legend of Hayden Moreau grew even stronger. Even his detractors inevitably contributed to his continued apotheosis. Unfortunately, this was not without casualty.

  ***

  Emiko hoped that the little detail of their relationship would blow over amidst the socio-political story that was making headlines. She was not so lucky.

  It started small at first. A couple stories, a few outraged Twitter rants. But it began to grow. Next thing she knew, there was even a hashtag: “Dodgergate.”

  Emiko read through the tweets under the hashtag and held back tears as she read: “I shouldn’t feel happy that I was right about her, but I do feel vindicated. KNEW SHE WAS A WHORE #dodgergate” / “For everyone who gave me shit for saying that she only got her job because she was screwing someone in the organization, we now know that she’s screwing the owner. I’m sure there’s no connection though #sarcasm #dodgergate” / “I SOOO CALLED IT ALL YOU LIBTARDS MUST FEEL SO DUMB AND BUTTHURT #DODGERGATE” / “It’s not about sexism, it’s about ethics in sports announcing. This is a disgrace #dodgergate #provenright” / “She is so shitty at her job and everyone’s pretending like she’s so great well newsflash she s*cked and f*cked her way to the top after all #dodgergate #WhatAHo” / “I can’t wait to hear the bullshit excuses the SJWs make for this prostitute who’s been ruining Dodger games for us all season #DodgerGate #lockherup” / “Is it wrong that this makes me happy? Like I know it shouldn’t because this is a scandal and all but it feels good to know I was right about that slant-eyed slut #DodgerGate” / “Ew interracial relationships are gross enough but can her Jap pussy even handle his black python #dodgergate #unnatural” / “So now that this is out can she be fired already? Oh wait, the only one who could fire her has his balls in her mouth. Guess we’re stuck with her… #DodgerGate”

  But what alarmed and upset her even further was a tweet from Hayden himself that read “Anyone who talks shit about Emiko will get beaten half to death
with a baseball bat before I shove it where the sun don’t shine #DodgerGate #ComeAtMe”

  Incensed, Emiko called up Harper. “Hi, Harper, I--”

  “Told you so.”

  “I--wait, did you just…?”

  “Yuh huh.”

  “Eat a dick!”

  Emiko hung up, annoyed. Harper immediately called back. “Sorry, sorry, I’ve just always wanted to do that. I feel bad for you, but also totally vindicated.”

  “Yeah you and every sexist troll on the internet,” Emiko snapped. “Look I called you for support and this is all you have to say?”

  “I mean, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sure you’ll tough it out, but--”

  “Oh, you’re no help. I’m calling Hayden. I need to deal with this mess.”

  “Wait--” but it was too late; Emiko had already hung up.

  Emiko called Hayden. He answered pleasantly. “Hey, hun! How are you doing?”

  “Well aren’t you just chipper,” she retorted. “Do you have any sense of what I’m going through?”

  “What you’re going through?” he asked. “I was nearly killed the other day! Yeah, some people said a few mean things to you but what’s the big deal? It’ll blow over.”

  Emiko seethed silently for a few minutes. “So let’s review. I came to you in a vulnerable state. You take advantage of my feelings for you and fuck me right in the owner’s box.”

  “I hardly think that constitutes taking advantage of you and I deeply resent such an accusation,” said Hayden darkly. “The way I remember it, you loved every nanosecond of that.”

  “Then,” she continued, ignoring him, “I go on one date with a player, and you trade him away because you’re having a temper tantrum. Tell me, how many games do you think we lost that we could have won had he been in the lineup?”

  “You did not just accuse me of having a temper tantrum!” he roared.

  “Third, even though I insisted we be cautious, you bring me out on an extremely public date. I expressed my doubts but you dismissed them as foolish and insisted we go anyway!”

  “Once again, don’t recall hearing any complaints from you!” Hayden said.

  “And when those punks badmouthed us, you need to go Bruce Lee on his ass. So some punk shoved you. Yeah sure they were using hate speech and that shove was technically assault but what of it? You’re going to let some pissant drive you to that? You’re Hayden Moreau!”

  “I was defending your honor!” he cried out, furious.

  “Which brings me to my next point,” she continued. “This idea of defending me like I’m some oh-so-delicate flower that can’t POSSIBLY handle some boys saying such mean things!” By the end of her sentence, her voice had become savagely mocking. Hayden said nothing. “And then you keep up with that same shit! Instead of releasing a statement of support or going on television and maturely articulating my value to the organization using the same adult tone you use in those interviews that are all about you, you go on Twitter and lash out with threats of obscene violence? What are you a damn child?”

  “I will not be spoken to like that,” said Hayden. “Not by anybody, especially not by you.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” said Emiko.

  “Actually, I am,” he said sternly.

  “Oh so what, now that I’m breaking up with you, you’re going to try and use your professional authority over me? Super classy. You know this is why they have laws about this shit you know!” Hayden didn’t say a word. “Hello? You there, bigshot?” asked Emiko.

  “You just said we’re breaking up,” he whispered.

  Emiko blinked, surprised. “No, I didn’t!”

  “You most definitely did!” he said, sternly but just as quietly.

  Emiko replayed the last bit of their conversation in her head. “Oh god… I didn’t even mean to say that. It just spilled out.”

  “Some Freudian slip,” he spat back at her.

  Emiko took a breath. “That… might not be entirely untrue,” she said gently.

  “What are you saying?” Hayden said desperately.

  “I’m saying, well, I don’t know. Maybe we should let things cool down a little bit.”

  “What are you saying?” repeated Hayden urgently.

  “I just said--”

  “NO! Be clear. What. Are. You. Saying?!”

  Emiko sighed. “I’m saying I love you, but I may have been right about this being a bad time. Harper may have been right, but don’t tell her I said that. I think we may need to take a break. I’m getting attacked from all sides and the only thing you know to do is to lash out. You’ve been like that your whole life, Hayden. Whenever you struck out, you’d throw your bat. If you grounded out or flew out, you’d slam your helmet onto the ground. Whenever you were hit by a pitch, even if it was clearly an accident, you’d charge the mound. How many games have you been thrown out of for getting into fights or screaming at umpires? And while most of what happened to you and me the other day was not our fault, your reaction to it was just more violence and anger. Even trading Yoenis Wright was an impulsive act of rage.”

  “Don’t do this,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please, please don’t do this.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, holding back tears. “Goodbye!”

  “EMIKO!” he screamed into the phone, but she hung up. She stood staring blankly, shellshocked, before collapsing on the bed and sobbing her eyes out into her pillow.

  Oh god, she thought to herself, what have I done?

  Chapter 12

  “I’ll have a whiskey smash and a Harpoon Boston Irish Stout,” slurred Hayden.

  “You alright there Moreau?” asked the bartender slowly. “It looks like you’ve already had a few.”

  “Just pour the damn drinks,” he said.

  “Tell you what,” said the barkeep. “I’ll pour you one to start with, and then if you still want the other after you’re done, then maybe you’ll get that one next.”

  “Or,” said Hayden, fumbling in his pockets, “You can pour both of them now, and throw in a double shot of Henny while you’re at it.” He slammed three hundred-dollar bills on the counter of the bar.

  The bartender raised his eyebrows. “Whatever you say boss,” he said, and began pouring the drinks.

  Hayden began taking excessive gulps, wondering how things had gotten so messed up. I don’t have an anger problem! He told himself haughtily. I’m just passionate! Passionate about the game, about my feelings, what’s so wrong with that?

  A woman who looked to be just shy of thirty sidled up next to him. “Drowning some sorrows away?” she teased. He merely grunted a reply, so she continued. “Lemme guess. Your little story broke, she’s sulking because everyone knows she’s a little whore so she sent you packing?” She reached her arm around Hayden’s shoulders. “I’m guessing you could use a little company--”

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” he snapped through gritted teeth, knocking her hand away violently. As he did so, he stumbled off his stool, spilling stout all over her.

  “What the fuck you fucking asshole!” she cried out.

  “Oooookay, yeah, should have gone with my gut rather than my wallet,” said the bartender. “Not that you’re getting a refund.” He gestured to a bouncer. “Have a good evening, Mr. Moreau. Come back when you’re a bit more sober.”

  The bouncer took Hayden’s arm to help stand him up. “What you’re touching me too now?” screamed Hayden, struggling against the bouncer’s grip.

  “You damn right,” yawned the bouncer. It was at this point that Hayden noticed that the bouncer was about six and a half feet tall and about four hundred pounds.

  “Whatever, fatass,” muttered Hayden as the bouncer escorted him outside.

  The bouncer cocked an eyebrow and then physically hurled Hayden into the air, sending him sprawling on the street. “You were a great player, Moreau, and so far you’re not a half bad owner. So don’t be an asshat. Go get some late-night coffee.” The bouncer straight
ened up. “You’re welcome here any time, Thirty-Four. Except when you’re not.” The bouncer casually strolled back inside.

  Groaning, Hayden pulled out his phone. “Harper…?”

  ***

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Thank you, sweet sister.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Yeah, I know, now will you let it go?”

  “Nuh-uh. Now drink up you putz.”

  “Did you just call me a putz?”

  “Only because you are one.”

  “What are you an old Jewish uncle?”

  “Maybe. Now sober your ass up!”

  Annoyed, Hayden drank his coffee. “I don’t know what to do, Sis.”