Ace: Sports Romance Novel

by Alexa Reign

  “Nah, I'm good.” Ace got up to get himself a second beer. “I know what's wrong with me, I just need to get a grip and get over myself. I don't need to burn 300 bucks an hour just for someone to tell me what I already know.”

  “Christ Almighty – 300 bucks?” I cried out incredulously. “I guess you can put a price on happiness after all.”

  “Yup.”

  “You sure you don't wanna slow it down a little?”

  “Yeah, I'm sure,” said Ace bluntly, annihilating his second bottle.

  “Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you without a drink outside of work. You'd probably be saving more if you'd just go talk to someone instead of raiding a liquor store.”

  “Appreciate the input.”

  Ace stood up and started walking over to the fridge, but I beat him to it. I squeezed myself between him and the fridge door, spreading my arms open. Ace looked down at me, standing his ground.

  “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  Though my eye contact game was spot-on, my knees were about to buckle. His hard chest was lightly pressed up against my breasts, and his warm breath beating down on my face. As his eyes fell to my lips, I saw a flash of his tongue on the side of his mouth. He wasn't saying anything, but I could feel it. How much he wanted me. He looked back into my eyes, his lips parting, but just slightly...

  “Fine, we'll play it your way.” He backed away from me and returned to his seat. “You'll have to go to the bathroom sometime.”

  Feeling the damp spot in my panties, I pressed my knees together. Damn him. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and headed back to the sofa.

  “You alright there?”

  “Yeah.” Ace kneaded his fist against the back of his shoulder. “There's just this knot I can't get rid of – must've gotten it when I was asleep.”

  “Turn around.”

  “No, you don't have to –”

  “Turn around.”

  Ace finally caved in. He faced away from me, folding his legs under him. I crept closer to him, placing my hand over his shoulders.

  “Here?”

  “Yeah.” Ace shut his eyes, groaning softly. “Right there.”

  I pushed my palm up against the twisted chord, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Great, ah... Thanks.” He yawned. “That's been screwing with my back all week.”

  “You're welcome.” I switched to my elbow, forcing my weight against him. “Why don't you lean your head back against the sofa?”

  “Thanks. Ah, yeah, that's good...” I could feel his shoulders relaxing. “Before I forget – there's this documentary on cults that just came out last week. This guy I went to high school with directed it. Weird dude, but real talented. Was gonna watch it, but I wanted to wait for you, see if you wanted to check it out.”

  “Sure. I like that morbid stuff – oops, sorry.”

  My elbow slipped. I reached out and grasped his arm to break my fall. The feel of his firm bicep made my stomach flutter. I quickly pulled myself up and resumed the elbow-rub.

  “No –” He paused, breaking into another yawn. “– worries. Yeah, just keep doing that – that's good...”

  My stomach fluttered a second time at his husky groans.

  “Anyway, what's the documentary called?”

  Ace snorted in reply. I craned my neck to the side, grinning. He was fast asleep, his mouth hanging wide open.

  Chapter Eight: Ace

  “Alright, guys, we're gonna take off.” I slapped a couple of hands and bumped a couple of fists. “I'll catch y'all at practice.”

  “Yeah, boi!” Hardwick whooped. “Alright, guys, soak it in, 'cause next time we see Warner, he'll be a changed man.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. “Later.”

  “Drive safe, now!”

  Still grinning like an idiot, I turned to my car.

  “Can you believe it? This is actually happening!”

  On the other side of the car, Brooklyn smiled back at me, her face lit up by the dreamy look in her clear blue eyes.

  “I know. I'm still trying to wrap my head around all of this.”

  We opened the doors and slid into the car.

  “You're not having second thoughts, are you?” Brooklyn asked as she strapped herself in.

  “Of course not.” I started up the car and looked behind me, backing out of the parking spot. “What makes you say that?”

  “I don't know, I just – wait, do you know where you're going? I don't want us to get lost –”

  “Yes, I know where I'm going,” I replied indignantly, making a left on Fenton Street. “But, uh, just to be safe, maybe you should look it up on Google, anyway.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She snickered. “I looked up the directions last night. Take the Brooklyn Bridge and get off on Tillary, then make a right up Navy Street. It should be a 10-minute drive at most.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Sure you did.”

  Brooklyn pulled down the sun visor and took her makeup out of her purse. She lifted her chin up to the visor's mirror, smearing more lipstick onto her mouth. “Oh, no, look how chapped my lips are! Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I'm sorry? Relax, we're just dropping off our application.” I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, driving up the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “I just wanna make a good impression on these people. Ah, darn it.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and started poking around under the seat. “A-ha!”

  “Don't worry, we'll make a good impression. We're doing this in person – everyone else just submits their application online.”

  “I know, I know.” Brooklyn edged forward in her seat, leaning closer to the mirror. “I'm just – I don't know. I mean, what if they find something wrong with the application? A typo might've gotten away from me and that could make a world of a difference. I've already triple-checked, but you can never be too sure. Or worse, what if they don't like us? I can't –”

  “Hey, hey, hey. Easy.” I reached over and squeezed her arm. “Breathe. It's going to be okay.”

  “I'm fine. I just – how are you not more stressed out about this whole thing?”

  “What's there to worry about? We've got your name on the application.” I placed my hand back on the steering wheel, heading for the Tillary exit. “You're smarter, stronger, more caring than anyone I've ever met. You're going to be a great mom.”

  “Thanks.” Brooklyn leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You always know what to say. I lo – hey, watch out for that guy on the road.”

  “Yeah, I see him.”

  My gut churned.

  “Ace? Sl-slow down!”

  “I – I'm trying!”

  I slammed down on the brakes, but nothing was happening. I bounced my foot up and down, the pedal feeling abnormally loose. And that's when I heard it.

  Snap.

  “Oh my god, what's – what's going on –”

  The car rolled down the slope of the exit, picking up speed. I pounded down on the car horn, but all I could hear was the the thwacking of my palm against the steering wheel. Brooklyn's terrified screams echoed in my ears. And as the oblivious man with bright green headphones continued to jaywalk across the street, I jerked the wheel to the right.

  Everything else that followed seemed to come in flashes, almost like someone had set up strobe lights around me.

  Brooklyn's round, watery eyes, bugging out of their sockets and her mouth stretched so wide it looked like a perfect O... The roaring flames and the gray clouds of smoke, leaking into my lungs... The blurry faces on top of me, their mouths moving wordlessly...

  Brooklyn's body hanging over the branch of the tree above me, her head hanging grotesquely over her shoulder, almost completely twisted off her neck...

  “Ace. Ace, wake up.”

  My eyes snapped open violently. Groaning at the 2 fingers prodding me from behind, I pushed my face off the back of the couch slowly. I loosened my shoulders,
rubbing the ringing out of my ears.

  “Sorry, but you were muttering in your sleep,” said Victoria groggily behind me. “You okay?”

  “Ye –” I got up, clearing my throat. “Yeah. I just need some water –”

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “You expecting someone?”

  “No.” I called out to the door. “Yo, who is it?”

  No answer.

  I walked up to the front door and opened it. No one was there. I stuck my head out the door, checking down both sides of the empty hallway.

  “The hell? That was we–”

  And there it was. Just what I've been waiting for. I looked down, my eyes landing on the small black envelope sitting on the doormat.

  Part 3

  Chapter One: Ace

  “Yesterday, was that you? Looked just like you,

  Strange things my imagination might do,

  Take a breath, reflect on what we've been through,

  Or am I just going crazy 'cause I miss you?”

  The 15-second clip was on a loop. I watched as the small, hooded figure crept down the bright hallway and stopped right in front of my door. The figure dropped the letter on my doormat, did a 180, and briskly shuffled out of the frame.

  I must have examined and reexamined the security footage over a hundred times by now, but the progress I've made has been fuck all. The figure looked small and wore a bulky black jacket and white surgical gloves – I couldn't even tell if it was a he or a she. In addition to the hood, they wore a white cap that shielded their eyes, and one of those blue surgical masks over their mouth and nose.

  Zooming in to the picture did nothing but produce an even grainier image. It was like looking at a potato up close, which broadened the suspect pool to just about everybody and their grandmother. You'd think with the helicopter pad, basement barber shop, 24-hour chauffeur service, and all the other unnecessary crap this place offers, the Alcott Heights management could afford better quality security cameras. Shit was absurd.

  Right after I found the letter, I called for security and had them look up and down every room for a suspicious face. The search came up with nothing. Mr. Priestly (the other doorman who worked the night shift) showed me the rest of the footage from the cameras outside the building and by the elevators, both by the lobby and the 11th floor. There was no sign of any hooded figure entering or exiting the premises. Not even when we backtracked the security footage to the previous day.

  One thing was for sure – whoever that was worked double-time to cover up their tracks. For some reason, be it bad luck or not, the cameras in the back of the building were down. The cameras' only blind spot was the emergency exit. It was most likely where the hooded figure had gained entry and made their escape. This meant that 2 things were up in the air – either the creep had done an spectacular job scoping out the place, or they were already familiar with the building's layout. Like they used to live here.

  “Yesterday, was that you? Looked just like you,

  Strange things my imagination might do,

  Take a breath, reflect on what we've been through,

  Or am I just going crazy 'cause I miss – ”

  I reached out to the screen on my right and stopped the playlist.

  Was I in over my head? When Mr. Priestly reached for his phone and started to call the cops, he nearly shit his pants when I got up in his face and barked at him to put the phone down. I apologized, mumbled I'd take care of it, and left. I couldn't let him alert the cops and risk severing the only link I had to Brooklyn. But as I sat here, my eyes all red and sore from being fixated on my screen for God knows how long playing CSI: Dipshit, I wasn't so sure.

  What wasn't I seeing here? I finished off what was left in the can next to me and reached for the second letter. I scanned through the message, which I'd wasted no time cracking the second I sat down.

  “Ace,

  Where were you? I waited for you all night. Time is running out. If you ever want to see me again, meet me at the park across Bay Valley High a week from now, midnight. This is your last chance. Come alone.

  Brooklyn.”

  I glanced up at the soft knocking on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  I hit the space bar, pausing the video. Victoria opened the door halfway, her head poking through the gap. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from sleep and the sides of her hair mussed. She pulled up the gray hood of her leather jacket and zipped up the front, sniffling.

  “You okay in here?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. You hungry or something? I think I got a box of mac and cheese left –”

  “No, I'm okay, thanks.” She yawned, backing up from the door. “But I am gonna go. I've gotta get ready for work.”

  “Work?”

  I looked out the window. Sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtains. Victoria smoothed the sides of her hair, the sleep slowly clearing from her eyes.

  “Have you been sitting here this whole time? Did you get any sleep at all?”

  “No, but I'm good.” I nodded at her.

  “Okay. You sure you're okay? Do you wanna grab breakfast before we –”

  “Nah, I'll just see you at work.”

  “Cool.” Victoria backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. “See ya.”

  I turned back to the screens. I was tempted to hit that space bar again and pick up from where I'd left off, but I didn't. Instead, I put all the screens to sleep and got up to start my daily pre-work sobering routine.

  Chapter Two: Victoria

  “She's a very kinky girl,

  The kind you don't take home to mother –”

  I scrambled for my phone in my back pocket before Rick James could wake up the entire floor.

  “Hello?” I whispered as I reached into my pocket, hooking my key ring.

  “Victoria?” came Cailie's voice. I could hear the chaos of the other students in the background.

  “Hey, Cailie, what's –”

  “Do you know where Rosaline is? The play's starting any minute now, and her seat's empty. Not that I care, or anything – just wanted to know if she was still coming.”

  Cailie tried her best to sound blasé, but I could almost feel her disappointment through the line.

  “Maybe she's running late. You know how she is.” I tried to sound helpful, but none of us were buying it. “Don't –”

  A voice on the megaphone cut through the commotion on Cailie's end of the line.

  “Oh, well – that's my cue,” said Cailie, sighing audibly. “Wish me luck, I guess.”

  “Good luck, Cailie. You're going to be great out there. Why don't you come by after school – we'll hang out, maybe catch a movie.”

  “Thanks, Victoria. Maybe some other time. I think I just wanna go home after school.”

  “Okay. I'll talk to you later. Break a leg.”

  When I hung up and opened the door, guess-who was lounging on the sofa in her red-and-gold Versace bathrobe. Around me, the apartment smelled like burnt toast and stale food. I kicked the door shut behind me.

  “Oh, goody, someone's finally found their way home.”

  I unzipped my jacket and hung it up behind the door. There was a wobbly pile of crusty plates, wine glasses, and dirty utensils stacked up in the sink like a bad game of Jenga. What appeared to be some kind of berry ice cream cake had melted into red sludge and was dripping off the edge of the counter. On top of that, pink and orange champagne bottles were pushed aside to one corner, next to a chia seed spill and a gunky food processor.

  And there Rosaline sat, just 10 feet away, completely ignorant to the disaster zone.

  “What in sweet baby Jesus' name happened in here?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. That.” Rosaline glimpsed over her shoulder at the kitchen and turned back to the TV. “The girls came over last night after the concert. Had a couple of drinks – guess things got a little crazy. Don't worry about it. I've already called Sonia to come over and dust up around the p
lace later – she'll get to it.”

  “Huh. I could've sworn I heard Sonia telling Brian about taking a day off so she could see her parents up north.”

  “She is, but I guess she'll have to push the trip back a few hours.” Rosaline shrugged, slipping another spoonful of her mango chia pudding into her mouth. “It shouldn't take her long to clean up around here – 2 or 3 hours, tops. Anyway, did you have a good night?”

  “Sure, it was –”

  “Bianca saw you sneaking up to the 11th floor. You weren't there to see Ace Warner, were you?”

  “Not sure why Bianca felt the need to report that to you, but so what if I was?” I replied curtly. I was starting to get put off by the passive-aggressive superiority in her tone.

  “That's interesting,” Rosaline set down her pudding and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Isn't it highly improper – or at the very least, frowned upon – to be fraternizing with a coworker outside of the workplace?”

  “And where do you get off telling me about what's improper and what isn't in the workplace? You've never even set foot in a workplace –” I rounded on her, my chest swelling. “And what are you still doing here, anyway? Isn't there some place you have to be?”

  “What are you –” Rosaline's eyes widened in realization. “Oh, you mean Cailie's play? I just sent her a text, told her I wasn't going to make it. I'm meeting one of my sorority sisters for brunch instead –”

  “Wow, just – wow.”

  “What kind of play starts at 8:30 in the morning, anyway?” said Rosaline quickly, picking at the lint under her gaudy paste-on nails. “It's not like I've never seen 'Alice in Wonderland,' and she's got a bit part, anyway. I think she's playing a doorknob –”

  “Yeah, you're one to talk with that super glamorous Hollywood 'portfolio' of yours,” I kept going, curling my fingers in jeering air-quotes. “And if you've actually seen the play or paid attention to anything that doesn't revolve around you, you'd know that the doorknob actually plays a pretty crucial – never mind.”