I guess Jordan knows me better than I thought. I may think I'm better than most of the people on my team, but I also don't like confrontation. At least, unless it includes a feisty brunette in a flight attendant uniform. "Yeah, that actually sounds pretty good."
"You might want to change. You look like you've been sleeping in those clothes, and as much as I don't think you will be bothered, you should always dress to impress when out in the public eye." He walks back to the door and opens it, "Is an hour enough time? I'll just meet you down there to make things easier."
"Sure, an hour should be plenty of time."
He doesn't say anything else and walks out the door. Come to think of it, he doesn't say much at practice either. But he has the respect of our entire team and I'm glad he is the one Jordan reached out to.
Looks like I'll need to see what else is in my suitcase if I'm going to be presentable. The funny thing is, Jordan has never once mentioned anything like that. I have zero doubts it's because he doesn't want my ego to go to my head even more than it already does. Oh well, tonight my ego is all I have.
Ross is leaning against the bar when I walk into the dimly lit room. He’s chatting to the bartender, but it’s not the same one from last night. This bartender has long blonde hair and her shirt is unbuttoned just enough for her cleavage to tease the male customers. That woman knows how to draw them in, and I shake my head. I have a feeling Ross isn’t leaving here alone tonight. Not if the wide blue eyes staring at him from the other side of the bar top are any indication.
He doesn’t notice me until I’m sliding into the barstool next to him. “Can I get a Crown and Coke?”
The bartender bats her eyes at him and then turns to me, “Sure thing.”
“Damn,” Ross mutters. “That girl is so fucking hot.”
“I’m sure she feels the same about you,” I laugh. The sports channel is on the small television in the corner again, and it’s playing whatever game is on tonight. I don’t pay too much attention. At least, not right now. When I get home tomorrow, I’ll be glued to the screen, taking notes on what the players are doing. It’s smart to keep an eye on other teams. It’s the only way to get better.
The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and a small grin crosses her lips as she eyes Ross. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“So, I hear you’re trying to heal a broken heart.” He takes a long sip of his drink before setting it on the counter and pushing it back and forth between his hands. I wish he’d sit down. He’s taller than me when we’re both standing, and now it feels like I’m talking to a giant.
“I think Jordan talks too damn much.” I grimace at my glass. Did he have to tell him anything? How in the hell was there even time? Unless…he somewhat set this up before he left. I wouldn’t put it past him. He seems to know what’s going on with my life before I do. It must be because he’s ‘older and wiser’ or whatever. He’s not even that much older than me and already acts like a grandpa.
“Is it a broken heart?” He finally sits down on the barstool and spreads his legs out so his knees don’t hit the counter. “I’m not one to judge, but the best medicine is to find a night of fun.”
“You know, I think this is the most I’ve heard you talk since I signed onto the team.” He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, waiting me out until I’ll answer his question. Fine. I’ll do it only because I want to talk about something, anything, else. “Not really a broken heart. I’ve only seen the woman a handful of times. She got under my skin and bruised my ego, though.”
“That’s tough, man. You can’t let the females get you down.” He takes another sip of his drink. “I’m sure there are plenty of women in here tonight that wouldn’t mind warming your bed.”
I’m not looking for a bed warmer. I just want to get my mind off Jolene for a while. Seeing her on the plane ride back home tomorrow will be a punch to the gut. I wonder if it’s too late to upgrade my ticket to first class. No. I’ll sit in my seat and act like her rejection meant nothing. Fake it until you make it, right? “Honestly, this is helping. I don’t hang out with much of the team.”
“That’s because you’re arrogant as hell,” he slaps my shoulder, almost knocking me off my stool. Son of a bitch, remind me not to get on his bad side. If that was a playful push, imagine what he could do if he fought anyone. “Nobody wants to hang out with someone like that.”
“Then why don’t you go out with the guys?” It’s a genuine question, I’ve never seen him in any of the local tabloids.
“Because my mama would kick my ass if she thought I was causing trouble.” He shakes his head as if he’s ashamed of fearing his mom. I get it. My mom is one of the kindest women I know, but if she actually picked up any of the trash magazines, she’d give me a good ass whipping. “I do the same things the rest of them do, but I keep a low key.”
“That’s smart,” I agree. “I do too, except I’m by myself.”
“Dude, don’t even lie. I’ve seen the pictures online. You always have some hot chick hanging on your arm.”
“Yeah, and they usually get pissed off when I send them packing the next morning.”
“That’s because they’re looking for a payload. They don’t give a damn about you, just their fifteen minutes in the limelight.” He’s not telling me anything I don’t know. He glances up at the television screen and nods. “How do you think we'll do against them?”
I pick up my glass and take another long pull. At the rate I’m going, I’m going to need another one pretty soon. “It’ll be a win, easy. We just have to watch their defense. They don’t like—” I pause with my drink halfway to the counter at the sound of her voice. What the fuck is she doing here?
“They don’t like what?” Ross has no idea that the reason for my mood just walked into the bar.
I hold my finger up and tilt my head to hear what they are saying. Of all the places they could go in this city, and they come here.
“He’s probably out with his teammates. I don’t know why you’re worried.” Lana’s voice is loud and captures Ross’s attention.
“Because, I basically told him I didn’t have time for him. Why did you pick this place, anyway?”
I want to turn around. I want to see her, but I don’t. I stay perfectly perched on my stool, waiting to see what else they are going to say.
“Hey man, is that her?” Ross whispers.
“Shhh.”
Lana finally answers, “It’s the only place that doesn’t care about casual clothes and the drinks are reasonably priced.”
“I swear, Lana, if he’s here, I will smack you.” She’s quiet for a minute. “I’m regretting coming out with you.”
“Oh, get over yourself,” Lana admonishes her. “It’s not like you can avoid him forever. In case you don’t remember, he’ll be on the flight in the morning.”
They walk around the bar into my line of sight. I duck my head so they can’t see me, but I can still see them. They head to the opposite side of the room, and I can no longer hear them.
“Son of a bitch. Do I have some sort of unlucky sign attached to my back?”
Ross laughs and smacks his hand on the bar top. “That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face that pale.”
“Shut up, asshole,” I grumble. “I can’t believe she’s here. It’s like Fate is fucking taunting me.”
“You know, you could always just go talk to her?” He points in the direction they went. “She’s literally sitting right over there.”
“Because being rejected a second time in one day is such a great idea.” I tap my finger against my chin. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Ross waves his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. “It’s not that bad. Like I said before. There are plenty of women out there who would kill to go on one date with you. Why are you losing your shit over one you barely even know?”
“I don
’t know, man. That’s the part I can’t figure out.” I gaze in the direction they went. “There’s just something about her. She’s not like any other woman I’ve met before. She also isn’t afraid to call me on my shit. I think that might be one of the biggest things.”
“You mean that’s all we have to do during practice? Tell you to stop fucking up, and you’ll lose your ego?” He’s smiling, and that’s the only sign he’s joking. The bartender finally comes to our side, and before she can say anything he says, “Hey, Honey, can we get another round?” She nods, and he adds, pointing at me, “Make his, a double. He needs it.”
If he keeps plying me with alcohol, I’ll be lucky to make it to the airport on time in the morning. Changing the subject, I point to the television screen, “Back to what I was saying earlier, we have to watch their defense. They stick to you like glue with man on man.”
“That wasn’t smooth at all, but I’ll allow it.”
I’m going to sit right here, get drunk, and act like she’s not in the room. It’s all I can do at this point. Luckily, I have Ross to keep me distracted.
Twelve
Jolene
If Lana wanted the ambience of a hotel bar, we could have gone downstairs to the one at the hotel we’re staying in. I don’t trust her intentions. She’s been pushing Bentley on me since the first day I met him and I have a feeling she has some ulterior motives behind all this.
Her eyes are wandering through the bar, not looking for anything in particular, but taking in the vibe. Maybe she really does like this place. It’s not somewhere I’d normally venture. I tend to hit the small venues. She somehow finds a way to hang out with the upper echelon when we’re in new locations. I tap her arm until her eyes meet mine. “Why are we really here?”
She looks away, no longer interested in making eye contact. Busted. She’s never had a problem calling me on my crap, and I’m not going to make things easy for her now. “What do you mean? I already told you why I decided this was a good place.”
“I know that,” I roll my eyes. “But tell me, to my face, that it had nothing to do with a certain basketball player. Because I know for a fact that this very hotel is the one he’s staying in.”
She stares at her hands and mumbles, “It has nothing to do with Bentley.”
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.” She’s such a liar.
She grabs her drink, placing the straw between her bright red lips, and takes a long pull. I know the action for what it is, her stalling mechanism. She does it every time we drink together, and she doesn’t want to answer a question. “Okay, fine,” she sets the glass on the table. “I know the team is staying here. I overhead one of the super tall guys mention it in the first-class cabin yesterday.” She points her finger at me for the second time today. She’s making a habit of that, and I’m not sure that I like it. “But you need to get over your trust issues and give him a chance. I figured if we came here, there might be a chance we’d see him in passing.”
“And what? You thought I’d fall into his arms?” It’s ridiculous she’d even consider that. “You watch too many movies. Shit like that doesn’t happen in real life.”
“You never know it might,” she argues and takes another drink. “If you’d just date the guy, I wouldn’t have to come up with outlandish ways to get the two of you in the same room. It’s tiring, honestly.” She throws her hands up in the air, not at all amused by the way I’ve handled things with Bentley.
“I told you earlier that I can’t date him. Why do you keep pushing it?” A guy at a table catty corner is eying us. Were we talking too loud? He doesn’t look annoyed, but his attention skeeves me out.
“It’s not that you can’t. You won’t. There’s a difference.” She grabs her glass but doesn’t take a drink. “And I’m pushing it because I need you to be happy. There’s no point in you moping around like you just lost your best friend. You know? Because I’m right here. If shit ends badly, I’m always going to be here to help pick you up.”
“You’re also the one pushing me into something I’m not sure I want. That also makes you a bad choice maker. Best intentions or not.”
“I’ll gladly wear that title,” she grins. “My terrible choices have led to some fun times. You can’t deny that.” She’s not lying. Some of my favorite memories include her leading the way into some horrible idea. It was fun, though. I wish I could be more like her. Throw all caution to the wind and not worry about making an ass of myself.
The man staring at us earlier leaves his table and strides to our table. Even from here I can see his predatory gaze. Warning bells go off in my head, but I don’t say anything to Lana. I’m the queen of avoiding confrontation and she’ll know how to handle this. She’s had far more expertise in this area than I have. He pulls a chair from the table beside us and slides it to the end of ours. He plops into it and rests his arms on the table, leaning toward us. “How are you ladies doing tonight?”
My mouth hangs wide open at the audacity of this man. He has zero tact, and his presence makes me uncomfortable. Lana doesn’t skip a beat, though. She eyes him warily before pasting a smile on her face. “We’re just fine.” Her voice drips with honey and sarcasm. I’ve always wondered how she does that. She’s condescending, and this moron doesn’t even realize it.
“Any chance I can buy you ladies a drink?” His gaze shoots to me, and my insides recoil.
“We’re perfectly capable of buying our own drinks, thanks.” Lana replies and nods her head toward the bar. I guess that means she wants me to go get the bartender, or at least, someone to help us. She speaks again to get his attention off of me. “We’d much rather be alone, though. We’re having a girl’s night.”
“That’s nice,” he smirks. “But don’t those usually mean you’re at home in your pajamas and putting crap on your face?”
“Sometimes. But not tonight.” Her voice is louder, hoping to attract anyone’s attention. My eyes rove around the room, but it’s not as busy as it was when we walked in. Almost all the patrons on this side of the room are gone, leaving us on our own.
“You should end your night early and come hang out with me. What do you say?” Is this guy serious? Lana just told him we want to be alone, and he isn’t getting the hint. What the fuck is wrong with some men? I slide out of my seat and stand. If he’s not going to get a clue, then I’ll find someone here who will make him. We should have sat at the front of the bar. This probably wouldn’t be happening if we were closer to people, instead of one of the darkest corners of the room.
I take a step, and his hand snakes out, grabbing my arm. “Where are you going, sweetheart? We’re just talking.”
My blood is boiling. While I’ve had no problem going back and forth with Bentley, it’s different this time. This man isn't anything like Bentley. Not once have I ever felt like I was in any danger with the basketball player. But the man who invited himself to our table? That's a different story. Just from our small interaction, he is definitely one of those guys you hear about on the news. "Please, let go of my arm."
"Sit down, and I'll let go. Like I said, we're just talking and getting to know each other." His grip on my arm tightens, and I try to pull away.
I raise my voice much louder than is necessary. "If we are just talking, you have no reason to keep me from leaving the table. Now, let go of me."
Lana shakes her head the slightest bit, a warning to keep my cool because we don't know what this man is capable of. I'm about to pull my arm out of his grasp, once again, but her eyes go wide.
A deep voice sounds from behind me, "Sir, you should probably do what the lady asked." My heart flutters at the sound of his voice, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm happy he showed up.
"This is none of your business. You should go back to wherever you came from and leave us be."
"You have two options, let her go…or I'll make you."
The man holding onto me sneers as he eyes Bentley up and down. "You seriously think your scra
wny self can make me do anything?"
"When it comes to you harassing my friends, I'll do anything in my power to make sure they are safe." He touches my shoulder, letting me know he's behind me, and my body relaxes the tiniest bit at the contact.
The man laughs, and his grasp loosens the tiniest fraction. "You and what army?"
"I don't need an army, but my friend here," he jerks his thumb over his shoulder and a much larger shadow falls over us. "He's not too keen on people manhandling women either." The man in question says and his voice is deep, "Where I come from men don't manhandle women to get what they want."
Suddenly, my arm is free and I pull it toward me as if I'm nursing a wound. "Thank you."
The stranger pushes back his chair and takes a step back, "I'll just go."
"That's probably a good idea. But you should probably just leave the bar because I've already informed the waitress to keep an eye out, and I'm certain she's already called hotel security." The man's face is red as he throws cash down on the table he was at and hurries out of the bar.
Bentley turns me around and bends down until our eyes meet. "Are you okay?"
Even though he only had his hands on me for a couple of minutes, it feels like it's been hours. "Yeah, I'm fine." That doesn't mean I won't have nightmares about that guy practically forcing himself on me, even though he only grabbed my arm.
"Good," he says. "As soon as I realized you walked in, I had the bartender keep an eye on you."
"You've been here the entire time?" What the hell? He had every opportunity to come to me, and the fact that he knew I was here and said nothing it's kind of creepy, but also, not that surprising. "Why didn’t you say anything?"
He shrugs, "I don't know. You were here with your friend, and you made it perfectly clear earlier that you didn't have any interest in me bugging you again."
That might be one of the few times my words come back to bite me in the ass. "Well, thank you for coming to my rescue. I'd like to say that we could've handled it, but that guy was worse than any other unwanted attention we've gotten."
Big Baller : A Hero Club Novel Page 8