by Imani King
I walk out the door, and this time, I don't wobble on my high heels. Nor do I drop anything on my way out. It's as dignified exit as I’ve ever made, even if I am screaming inside. Even if I am terrified that Carlton is going to find a way to get rid of me and as soon as he can.
But, I have my recording as a secret weapon should I ever need it. My suspicions paid off, and my finger pressed record on the cellphone in my purse as he was talking about his ridiculous beliefs. It may not be admissible in a courtroom, but no HR in the country will support his sexism. Carlton Smith can take his 1950's attitudes and shove them under his hair plugs as he tries to talk his way out of trouble with HR.
I stomp back to my office, feeling like a high-fashion model scowling her way down a catwalk. Who has he had watching me all this time? It's not fair. Did he have a Private Eye on the case? Who does he know that would PI for him? All he can possibly have on me is that Gryphon and I went to Gryphon's place. He can’t know that we slept together unless of course Griff is on his side, which I can’t imagine being true. And as I’m fairly certain there was no PI hiding in the closet watching us, I think with a rueful smile at the absurdity of the image. He’s really got nothing. It's all supposition.
Then it hits me. A private investigator would be the perfect thing for Gryphon’s case! I bet I could find out everything that I need to know if I get in touch with my father's old buddy, Kent. He was a professional PI back in the day, but retired early. He knows his stuff. I can keep him untraceable by the system by contacting him and paying out of pocket, so if he comes up with nothing, I won’t be disciplined for that too. But if he does come up with something, it could be just enough to save not only Gryphon's career, but my own. It's also starting to look like I need to have someone watch me to make sure that I am not being further targeted by Carlton.
That old snake, I grumble inside. He set me up. Giving me those tickets, bulldozing me into going to the game to apologize, and then using it all as a way to spy on and then try to ruin me.
Once I get in touch with my father's private investigator friend, I'll have this Sabrina Forbes followed and her past examined. Everything about her will be up for his eagle-eyed scrutiny: what she’s doing to Gryphon and everything she’s done in the past. If it wins the case as I suspect, I’ll expense it to my account so it’s on record as a brilliant move by a young partner, and Carlton will have to be impressed. It’s the perfect plan: win the case, win Carlton over, and fast track my career. I quickly MMS my father in Switzerland with a request for Kent's number.
Luckily for me, he sends it in a flash. “I hope you're not in trouble, kid,” comes the text back. Kid. It never stops.
“Not anymore,” I say. “Love you papa, will talk later.” I put the phone back in my Birkin bag and go to sit down to plan my next move, when suddenly I get a flashback of last night with Gryphon. I almost double over with the wave of pleasure that runs through my body just thinking about the way he touched me, his large hand gentle but firm on the small of my back, pressing me to him, feeling his undeniable desire against my stomach, matching his wicked look and devilish smile.
He wants to take it slow. At first blush that hurts, but the more I learn about his investigation and his past I figure, who can blame him—the man is at risk of losing his whole life in football, his career. It’s a charge that could get him kicked out of the league, and from what I can gather, it’s likely false—but it’s up to me to prove it. It may seem ridiculous to me that someone who has that kind of gentleness and charm in bed could possibly do such a thing, although I suppose better people have done worse, but the court needs more than the thoughts of a girl who might be falling in love. There might be a first time for everything, but if Griff had ever done anything like that, wouldn’t it have surfaced in some other way, in some other relationship? Even hints of abuse?
A pro career in the big leagues is stressful, but nothing like the stress of every day before fame struck. If he dealt with his stress by hitting women, I would wager it would have surfaced earlier—when he barely had enough to eat and his teenage college hormones were running amok. Now he's on top of the world. Sure, he has more to lose these days, that's for certain, but I can't imagine that he would risk the only security that he's ever had in his life—his own money, his career.
I believe's telling the truth—Sabrina Forbes is a liar and wants to take him for all he's worth. I'm going to satisfy my gut instinct, and get Kent Cameron not only to find out everything there is to know about Sabrina Forbes, but also Gryphon James.
I need to know.
Sandra calls me to meet for lunch. “Hey babe,” she says. “Let's go to that new burrito place, and do it up right.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I grab my bag and sunglasses, and leave the office before anyone can ask where I'm going. I’ll cancel all my meetings and reschedule when Kent can report back on both Sabrina and Gryphon. I need all my ducks in a row the next time I deal with Carlton and the other partners. He may see my cancellation as another sign of being unprofessional, but he can see how “unprofessional” it is when I can get Sabrina Forbes and her lawyer to drop the charges altogether.
I'm betting a lot on Gryphon’s innocence and Sabrina’s guilt, and it could cost me my job. But the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that he’s telling the truth. My mind is churning. I have to prove his innocence. And not only for him, but for myself. If I am falling in love with him, I need to know I’m safe before it’s too late.
Sabrina Forbes prefers to settle out of court. She doesn’t want justice, she is just looking for a big payout. Another point against her. If she really wanted justice and to be safe, she’d be trying to get him in jail tomorrow. But this is nothing more than a money grab against someone who would be her meal ticket: a rich sports star.
In any case, while my mind is working overtime, nothing sounds better than some stress relief: relaxing with my girl Sandra over some fat burritos.
I slide into my side of the booth.
“I ordered us Margaritas,” Sandra grins. She’s looking happy and relaxed. I’m a bit jealous, but at least she wants to take me along on her good time.
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “I'm was planning to go back to work today, and Carlton is already on my ass!”
“Carlton?” she scoffs. “That blowhard. Never mind him.”
“Sure but he does have the power to make my life miserable...” I mutter.
“Only if you let him!” She points her finger in my face. “Never let a man like that forget who you are. For real, girl, you have more power than you think. You're a leader, a partner. Don't be intimidated by him.”
“I guess. But he’s been there a lot longer than I have. So long that he’s practically a dinosaur. At least in terms of his views on women,” I say. The waitress puts down a sizable Margarita in front of me. It's icy, and dripping. It looks delicious. We raise our glasses, and Sandra clinks mine with hers. “Bottoms up!” She grins.
The cool liquid sliding down my throat feels great, but it hits me fast and I know that I won’t be making it back into work.
“A lot of these good ol' boys are total sexists,” she smiles knowingly. “They grew up in the past, and soon they’ll be ancient history. The future is ours, girl,” she nods.
“Yeah, I hope you're right. Right now my future is hanging in the balance.” I play with my garnish, picturing Griff and I on one side, happy together, and on the other, me getting fired. When I look up, Sandra is looking at me intently.
“Yeah, you’ll make it through, Odell. I believe in you. You’ve faced a bunch challenges head on, and you almost always come out on top. By the way, how is that first case going?” she asks, as she plays with her straw. “Who did the huge star turn out to be, the one that you're trying to get off?”
I blush furiously. “Oh my God, I haven’t even told you yet! You're never going to believe this,” I begin. Her eyes get as wide as saucers as I recount the whole story of how my first case i
s also my first sex partner in ages, the guy I picked up with her at the bar, and by the end she’s laughing so much that she almost falls out of her seat.
“Only you, Odell,” she says, when she finally gets a hold of herself. “Only you would be in this position!”
“Tell me about it,” I smile grimly. “And with the way things are going, it's either going to make or break me at this firm.”
“I told you, you should have gotten this guy's number for some regular action. I wasn’t thinking for evidence!”
“I know it.” I sit back. “How the hell does something like that happen?”
“So have you seen him again?” she asks. “Like, how do I say this in polite company—socially?” Her eyes dance, but they search mine, and I know there's no use to lie. I can’t fool my best friend.
“Yes,” I concede. “Actually I have.” Her eyes widen. She wants details. “A few times. And I'm pretty certain that he's innocent of his charges.”
“Wow, what a mess. If he’s innocent, that’s good… but are you sure that's not just the sex talking?” she queries me suspiciously.
“Honestly? No,” I admit. “But I'm going to find out for certain.” I cast my eyes down, feeling a little shy about just how good the sex has been. “I’ve hired a private eye, and I'm going to find out everything there is to know about Gryphon James, his accuser ex, and their relationship.”
“Good for you. Take matters into your own hands, girl,” she says. “Be the person who knows the most about the whole situation, and you can't ever be wrong.”
I nod. Sandra is wise. “So how 'bout you, any new men in your life?”
“Well as a matter of fact,” she smiles. “I did go out with somebody.”
“Oh is that right?”
“He's a lawyer—well he's a paralegal. He's studying to be a lawyer,” she says. Now it's her turn to blush. “It’s not serious, but maybe he has potential. I guess. We’ll see.”
“Are you cradle-robbing, Sandra?” I tease, taking another sip of my drink.
She giggles. It's nice for a moment to have the attention off of me for a change. I’ll try to relax for the time being: Kent can learn and report all the information about my case, and I can listen to Sandra tell me all about her younger man over some sweet margaritas.
“It probably won’t go anywhere, but he has the most dreamy eyes,” she begins, and I relax for the first time in a while. Out of bed, at least.
11
Gryphon
The team runs around the pylons again. I’m just not satisfied with their agility. I’ve got them practicing every day on it, but nothing seems to make them any better. Coach is on my ass again about everyone’s performance now, and I’m tearing out my hair. He’s left them to me for the day and he wants to see some progress.
“Better, Griff?” asks Drake. “Faster?”
I look at my stopwatch. “No, man, not better. In fact, three seconds worse.”
“Dammit!” he says. “I’ll set up the pylons again. I nod, but the method’s just not working. I’m at a loss.
Our linebacker goes through the sequence, and I time him. Again, it’s worse. I’ve already yelled, I’ve pleaded, I’ve cajoled, I’ve threatened.
“Hey is that your girlfriend?” says Ray, the Defensive Lineman, pointing to the stands, and I see Odell. She’s graceful, dressed in a way that hugs her sweet curves. Coach isn’t here, so I jog over and give her a kiss.
“Odell! What are you doing here? Everything all right?” I ask. “Is it something about the case?”
“Oh, no, Griff, nothing like that,” she answers softly, but her smile is wide. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t want to get in the way, you should go on with your practice.”
“Yeah, it’s not going very well,” I say with a grimace, raking a hand through my hair. “These guys are just not picking up their feet.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” she agrees. “You know, there’s a great ballet move that would probably help them. You should get a ballet coach in here.”
“Oh yeah?” I’m skeptical, but at the same time, nobody is a precision athlete like a dancer. “You think you could do it?”
“It’s been ages since I did any real dancing,” she demurs. “But it would do the trick, I’m almost certain,” she nods to herself.
“Why not give it a try?” I ask, and open the door to the field. “Here, jump down,” I take her hand, hers small in mine, and her eyes are shining.
“Are you serious, Griff?”
“Why not?” Anything would help right now. I just have to shock these guys out of their complacency.
“If you mean it,” she says, stepping down onto the turf. “Are you sure?” I swear, I see a hint of rosy pink growing on her mocha cheeks.
“Damn sure, we need all the help we can get.” I jog back to the field, and all the guys watch her sexy walk to the middle.
“Bring it in boys, we have a new coach in town today.” Drake gives a long low whistle, and I glare at him. “Knock it off buddy,” I growl.
“Sorry, she’s just fine, that’s all,” he says with a shrug.
“She’s not just fine, she’s mine,” I answer, and he grins. “Ok y’all, this is Odell!” I shout. “She’s going to lead you through some ballet drills.”
“Ballet?” I hear. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” “Has Gryphon gone crazy?”
Odell stands in front of the team, her face clear and confident. “Hey everyone,” she smiles, and they look at her expectantly. She takes off her heels. “I’m going to take you through some old drills I learned as a young girl in the ballet studio,” she continues, and I hear someone scoff. “Don’t laugh,” she smiles. “They’re not easy.”
She stands with her arms above her head. “Follow me please,” she says, and soon her natural authority wins over one player after another. I stand at the side, marveling over what she’s been able to accomplish in just a few short minutes. They might not look like ballerinas, but my team is going through the positions she’s showing them, and groaning with the effort. “Gryphon,” she says, shooting me a look. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of this! Get up here!”
I walk up and stand beside her, doing my best to mimic her movements. She teaches them positions, plies, and a bunch of exercises I don’t know the name of, fluttering her legs like a butterfly, before moving through a series of stretches.
When we’re finally done, Drake pipes up, “Now I feel like a proper dancer!” and the boys all laugh. Odell’s smile is good-natured.
“If you feel like a proper dancer, then your feet and your butt hurt!” she grins.
I put my arm around her, sliding my hand down the small of her back and let my fingers rest on the curve where her ass begins. “Thanks babe,” I whisper. Turning away, I tell Drake to set up the pylons again, and I hear groans.
“No bellyaching!” I shout. “We’re going to run them again, and I’m going to let Odell time you!” Our eyes meet as I hand her the stopwatch. “Let me show you how it’s done!” She pushes go, and I run them, twisting and turning through the obstacles, and I do feel smoother and more limber after her workout.
“One minute twelve seconds!” She yells out as I finish. “What’s the record, Griff?”
“That’s the record,” the running back says, impressed. “That’s why this guy makes the big bucks.
“You try,” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead with my shirt. Odell catches a peek of my abs, and I wink at her.
“All right,” he says, and stands at the beginning of the course. Odell yells, “Go!” and he takes off, not as well as I did, but pretty great.
“One twenty!” she says.
“See, you work, you improve!” I yell. Each man goes through, and each shaves time off his total.
“I think we got a new coach here, Griff,” says the linebacker. I smile. “No, not you, your lady friend!” The fellas laugh, but my face is serious.
“She’s way too expensive for us, boys,�
�� I grin. “Now Drake, take them through their cool down, and I’ll see you guys in the locker room in a few.” I grab Odell’s hand and we walk off the pitch, ignoring the sounds of hooting and hollering coming from the players.
“That was amazing,” I say. “You know, you might have a career in football.” I chuck her chin and brush a bit of stray hair that always falls in her beautiful face. “I was getting nowhere with them.”
“Well they clearly adore you,” she smiles at me, “like you’re their hero.”
“I am,” I laugh, pretending to polish my nails on the front of my jersey. “But I don’t want to be their hero,” I say, leading her up the stairs to the hallway. “I want to be yours.”
“Gryphon,” she says, gently hitting my arm.
“Oh are you giving me a massage?” I ask. “Do it again, feels good.”
She leans in and looks at me, her Godiva eyes alight. I kiss her, hard.
“Maybe you are my hero,” she says softly when we stop.
“Maybe you’re mine,” I reply.
12
Odell
“I want you to be mine. Only mine,” Gryphon says. His hand begins to trace my collarbone, then slowly slides down to the top of my neckline. I shiver a little. He keeps on: “I adore you, Odell. I want you.” Looking in my eyes, he opens one button and then the next. His finger slips under the lace of my bra. “Only for me.” Breathless, I’m unable to answer.
And with that he leans toward me and his body presses up against mine, and he has me up against the door of his bedroom. His cologne, a clean soapy smell underlaid with a soft musk, fills my nose. My fingers hungrily explore his back, his neck, his arms, feeling the powerful movement of sinew and bone, muscle and skin. His face is so close, his hot breath on my cheek. His mouth covers mine and I’m silenced and filled with light as our tongues touch and then taste each other before passionately mingling, pulling back and joining again. His lips are so warm and soft and slippery. I gently bite his lower lip, pulling it slightly into my mouth as I sense myself swell and warm. I am starting to feel like his. And it’s dangerous. But I don’t want to be with anyone else, I just want to be with Griff. I can feel the stress of everything wash away as he kisses me.