But then I’m looking at the headline again.
“No way I said something about Julia. I wasn’t that fucked up.”
My eyes narrow on Rux, but he takes a step back, shaking his head.
“Not me, man.” His hands wring together, and he looks like he wants to be anywhere other than where he is. “But, umm, there’s something else.”
Next thing, I’m watching a clip from one of those morning shows. Julia walks in to a kitchen set and greets the hosts, who are wearing aprons and pouring coffees in what must have been a prerecorded segment. My heart pounds harder seeing her, partly because that’s just what happens, and partly because the look on Rux’s face is warning me this isn’t good.
The hosts tell her they hope she doesn’t mind that they’ve invited another friend as well. I’m pretty sure I mind, because good money says it’s Mike Rylan. They walk through to another part of the set laid out like a sunken living room. Sure enough, Mike’s getting up to greet her, his clean-cut smile stretched so wide you can practically see the gleam in his white teeth. I bet they’re all real.
“It’s been all over social media, man. I think it aired this morning a couple hours after those pictures went up.”
On the screen, Rylan goes in for a hug that shouldn’t make me jealous but does.
Turning from Mike back to the hosts, Julia gives them a sly look. “What’s this about, you guys?”
The hosts exchange a conspiratorial look and then spring it on her. They think she and Mike would make an adorable couple and want to set them up on a series of dates.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me about this. Only thinking back to the shitshow that was yesterday, I guess I didn’t really give her the chance.
Was she upset and looking for a little comfort, when all I had to give her was my bullshit baggage, unfounded accusations, and finally a boyfriend who takes off like a chickenshit instead of staying to make sure things were right?
Jesus, why didn’t I call? Why couldn’t I be the man she deserves?
Julia looks less surprised than amused, like she had an idea this was coming.
She looks at Mike and smiles. “I’m sorry, Mike. But I don’t think we can be more than Xbox buddies.”
Mike looks at the camera and shakes his head. If this guy isn’t in on the whole thing, I’m Lady Gaga. And what’s this about the Xbox?
“Can you tell me why, at least?” he asks stiffly, his eyes locked on some point off-set. Yeah, he’s reading from a cue card, for sure.
Julia smiles, and I stop breathing, because it’s the most genuine, gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen.
“Well, for one, I’m a sideline reporter and you’re an NFL player, so it wouldn’t be professional. But there’s also my boyfriend, Greg Baxter. Maybe you know him. He’s the center for the Chicago Slayers.”
The hosts cover their cheeks and bug their eyes, looking out over the audience with feigned shock.
I cough out a laugh, recognizing the deeper truth. This whole thing was a setup, all right. A setup so Julia could give me exactly what I’ve been waiting for. Hoping for.
My chest feels like it’s about to burst, and I blindly reach for my phone, needing to talk to her. But then I remember. My phone is buried in a bag of dry rice in Rux’s guest bedroom… where I slept instead of at Julia’s… because I’m the biggest asshole on the fucking planet.
The show is still running, and Mike is talking about what a hockey fan he is. He and Julia sit down and start playing NHL on the Xbox.
Her smile is bright and clear, and it kills me to think that it’s because she filmed this clip before I lost my shit over nothing.
Because that’s what it feels like now.
She trusted me with her public image, which means she trusted me with her career. And within hours, there are pictures of me that blow the whole thing up in her face.
Shit.
Rux clears his throat. “They’re actually really good.” He’s talking about Julia and Mike. “And, uhh, it’s pretty funny to listen to them calling the game.”
Yeah, I’ve heard her do it before, and she’s really good no matter what sport she’s watching. But right now, I’m more focused on punching in her number on Rux’s phone.
Waiting for a ring that doesn’t come.
Straight to voicemail.
Shit.
“Clothes,” I say, my panic on the rise as I grab his shoulder and haul him toward his room. “I need to borrow some clothes.”
Twenty minutes later I’m at Julia’s. Parking is shit, and the closest spot I can get is three blocks away. I’ve called half a dozen times since leaving Rux’s place. I try again as I slam my car door and jog up the street.
Voicemail.
“Julia, I’ll be at your place in less than five minutes. Please, you’ve got to believe me, it isn’t what it looked like. Let me explain.”
The irony of those words isn’t lost on me.
I shove my hand through my hair, noticing the looks I’m getting from the pedestrians. Some have their phones out, no doubt catching a quick snap or video but I can’t worry about that. I clutch Rux’s phone tighter. “Let me apologize.”
I hang up and pick up my pace as the dread in my gut grows.
In the lobby, I’m not even at the front desk when the security guy who let me up yesterday blanches and takes a step back.
“Sorry, Mr. Baxter. I’ve been instructed not to let you up.”
I stop where I am and shake my head like maybe I’ve just got it jumbled up. But when I look back, the guy’s got his hand on a phone, like he’s thinking about calling the cops on it.
“Wait, look, man. Can you just call her? I swear, I’m not going to cause any trouble. But I need you to call her. Ask her if I can have five minutes. Two. I don’t even need to go up. She could come down here.”
“Mr. Baxter, she specifically told me you weren’t welcome.”
“Please. One call. Then I’ll go. I’m begging.”
The guy’s jaw shifts and, after a breath, he reaches for the phone and pushes a button on the console.
“Ms. Wesley, it’s Ronnie from the desk. I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Baxter is asking if—”
His yellowed eyes shift to mine, and my heart sinks. Fuck.
The door to the sidewalk opens behind me and, along with the street traffic, I catch the sound of a gathering crowd. My name bounces around along with Julia’s and… Mike Rylan’s?
I crank my head around and am met with a glacial stare as Mike stalks in behind me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, like I have any right to know.
He looks me over, disgust in his eyes. “Still in town from yesterday. I’m here to check on Julia, asshole.” He shakes his head and blows out a hot breath. “You have any idea how sick you make me? A girl like that? She gave you the shot no one gets. And this is how you treat her?”
Ronnie clears his throat from behind me, and my teeth grind down.
“Mr. Baxter, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave. Mr. Rylan, you’re welcome to take the elevators on the right.”
Mike flashes a smile. “I’ll head up in a minute. Just as soon as Baxter takes off.” His arms cross over his chest, and his chin juts my way. “Unless you think something else is going to happen here?”
This is too much. This pussy football player isn’t seriously thinking we’re going to throw down.
“I’m not about to take a fucking swing at you, Rylan,” I growl, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to be able to get Julia to talk to me. But then the guy is back in my face.
“Why not, because of the cameras? Wouldn’t think that would stop you.”
I shoot a look behind me, and sure enough, the glass wall is filled with people holding their phones up, probably live-streaming this shit.
They don’t matter to me, but they will to Julia. And even if they didn’t, I wouldn’t lay a hand on this guy, who looks lik
e he’s just waiting for an excuse to put a fist into me.
“The cameras don’t mean jack,” I grit out, “but Julia fucking likes you. And you caring enough about her to go toe-to-toe with me—” especially when he’s got to know he’d lose, “—says maybe you’re not so bad.”
The fight-ready set of his jaw relaxes, and he closes his eyes.
I look toward the elevator I won’t be using and then back to Mike.
Shit.
“Look, you’re a pro. You’ve got to know not everything that gets reported is real. I’m telling you, nothing happened with that girl except she puked all over me. And when I tried to help her out, some shithead decided to make it look like something else.”
Mike’s got to know what I’m saying is possible, so I lay my ego down. “Please, man. Will you just tell her it’s possible there’s another explanation? Ask her to talk to me.”
He runs a hand over his jaw, like he’s considering it, when a sharp voice sounds from behind me.
“Greg.”
Jesus, she looks as pissed as she sounds, but I’ve never seen or heard anything better in my life. I’ll be able to explain. To make this right.
“Julia, thank God.”
I start toward her, but her hand comes up to stop me.
“No. Greg, we’re done. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you or hear about you trying to get to me through the people I care about.” She looks past me to the growing wall of observers beyond the glass. “If you have even a shred of respect for me or my career, you’ll leave without making any more of a scene.”
Her words hit worse than any blow. She’s cutting me off.
If I go now, we’re done. For as many years as I’ve known her, one thing about Julia has never changed. When it comes to guys, she doesn’t give second chances. But she looks like she’s hanging on by a thread, and I can’t even imagine how she’s going to stand up from under the damage I’ve already caused. If I stay, it’ll be even worse.
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to Mike, who’s nodding toward Ronnie. “There a back way out of here? A rear exit he can use?”
I want to dig in my heels and shake off Mike’s hold. I want to take Julia in my arms and beg her to listen. But I owe her more than that. So I go.
20
Greg
PRACTICE IS ROUGH. The guys give me a wide berth on the ice and off. Everyone’s heard about the morning show segment and seen the pictures. Everyone except Vsev, who is dumb enough to miss practice and isn’t answering his phone.
I cut up and down the ice, firing pucks one after another, going hard on the drills, even though my focus is shit. The minute I step off the ice, Coach pulls me aside to chew my ass out about staying sharp no matter what goes down in my personal life and tell me to get my head right for tomorrow’s game.
I know it’s what I need to do, but all I can see is Julia’s face as I walked out on her.
It’s her voice I hear when we board the plane that night for Vegas, and it’s her red-rimmed eyes from when I showed up at her building that haunt me when I try to sleep.
She’s on my mind the next day when we get to the rink for the game, but for one hot minute when I push into the locker room, that changes.
“Fucking married?” Rux barks, eyes wide, chin pulled back.
Vsev is wearing a smug smile, turning in a slow circle as he holds up his left hand for everyone to see the enormous gold band studded with diamonds on his fourth finger.
“Wait, you were here?” I ask, dropping my shit and walking up to my youngest teammate, ready to shake some sense into him. “You have any idea what this stunt could cost you?”
The nod I get back is confident and sure. “I sit this game. Coach very angry when I call, but he understand.”
Everyone groans, and Vsev pats the air in front of him to settle them.
“I have wife now. We celebrate after game.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “Dude, how did you meet this girl? Do you know anything about her?”
He laughs like I’m the funniest guy he’s ever met and claps me on the shoulder. “You introduce us! My wife is Angela. I take her home after the party and she ask me to stay.”
Apparently, they spent the night talking, and by morning, the kid was booking a flight to Vegas.
Vsev waves me closer, his expression turning somber. “I hear what happen with your Julia.” He shakes his head. “I know girl who put pictures out. I get her to give me all photos this morning. You have them after game.”
I stand there and gape. “What? How?”
Nodding to the side, he rubs a hand over the patchy stubble on his jaw. “She is girl I spend time with before I take Angela home. She get jealous and want my Angela to look bad, but I know better.”
I pull the guy in for a hug, my eyes dangerously close to watering. “Thank you, man. And congratulations. But any chance I can get those files now? I need to send them to a friend.”
When we take the ice, I’m pumped, jacked up and playing like Julia might be watching. We win six to two, three of those points being mine. After the game, everyone wants a piece of me. They want a statement on my relationship with Julia, they want to know who the girl in the photos was, and they want to know how I was able to play a game like that with everything else that’s going on. I don’t have time for any of it and cut through the crowd, dripping wet with sweat. Wearing my skates and gear, I find a spot at the back of the locker room to call. I’m praying something’s changed in the hours since I forwarded the files and she’ll pick up. That I’ll at least hear the phone ring more than once and know she unblocked me.
No dice.
The adrenaline that’s been pumping hot through my veins starts to cool, and I check my messages.
Mike: Showed her the pictures. She believes nothing happened, but she still doesn’t want to see you. Sorry, man.
Julia
“Julia, did you hear me?” my new agent, Midge McCalister, nudges from across the desk in her Chicago office three days later. With her sharp eyes, neat black bob, and immaculate power suit, she’s the epitome of controlled—despite the recent developments we’ve yet to spin into anything but the train wreck they are. “It’s one game… okay, it’s probably two. But we have no reason to believe you won’t be back on the field after that.”
I’ve heard it before.
They just want to let the dust settle on the media feeding frenzy. Wait until people stop digging up and dissecting every photo taken of Greg and me together since sophomore year of high school.
For now, I’m doing the behind-the-scenes work. Making sure Jane Josnick is up and running while she fills in.
“I know you said you weren’t interested, but before I officially decline… there are two dating show offers. One to host, one as a participant—”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “I’m sure. That’s not the direction I want my career to go. Even if I’m delegated to behind-the-scenes work, sports is where my heart is.”
“Got it.” Setting the two files aside, she crosses her arms over her desk and meets my eyes. “This will blow over, Julia. Just give it some time.”
I swallow thickly. “Plenty of that.”
After the meeting I take a cab back to my apartment and, kneeling when I get in the door, soak up Matty’s tight hug.
“Mommy says you need a big one,” he gasps, using all his might to squeeze me.
Laughing, I stand, bringing him up with me. Cammy’s walking toward the washer with a basket of clothes, tenderness in her eyes as she watches her little boy comfort me. In the next blink he’s had enough and squirms free to dart off to the living room where he’s been hanging ornaments on our artificial tree.
“You didn’t have to cut your trip short.” I take the basket from her hands, and we walk back to the laundry nook.
She shrugs, propping a hip against the machine as she piles Spider-Man T-shirts and Hulk briefs into the machine. “You didn’t have to drop ever
ything to take me in when Jeremy decided he’d rather join the military and be stationed overseas than stick around and help me raise our son.”
The air in my lungs feels heavy, like all the sighs in the world won’t be enough to ease them. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it? The man you trusted to be there with you jumping ship the second things don’t go exactly the way he’s comfortable with?” She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have pushed you with him. I just thought—it’s Greg. He’s different. He has to be.”
She starts the machine, and we head back to the living room, where I slide off my heels and tuck my feet beneath me on the couch.
“I think that’s my biggest problem. I know he wasn’t unfaithful. He didn’t hook up with the girl at that party, and even if I hadn’t seen the real pictures, I think I would have believed him on that. But… I trusted him.” My voice cracks, and I meet my sister’s understanding eyes. “I mean, can you even imagine if I’d actually been pregnant?” If somehow, our birth control failed and we’d created a miraculous little life between us… and he’d just taken off. Like my father. And Cammy’s father. And fucking Jeremy, who couldn’t be there for my sister but then two years later married some German girl.
I’m not ready for a baby. It’s not part of my plan for at least another three years. But with Greg, I thought if something like that did happen, I could count on him to be there to face it with me. I’d finally let myself believe he wasn’t the kind of guy who would leave.
Cammy scoots close and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
I nod.
“Me too.”
Greg
They fucking cut her from the game.
I want to puke, and then I want to punch someone, but my game against the Flyers just ended, taking all opportunities for venting some aggression with it.
Dirty Player Page 14