Ace: Sports Romance Novel

by Alexa Reign

  “We're...” I sipped on my coffee, keeping a straight face as the roast singed my tongue. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I don't mean to be so blunt, but you're a very attractive woman, and I'd like to get to know you outside of work.” Keith traced the rim of his glass, his tantalizing hazel eyes burning into mine. “What do you say?”

  I took another sip of my coffee, stalling. I wasn't sure how to answer that. What exactly was going on between us? There was clearly something there, but I didn't know if it was enough. I could steer away from thinking about it all I want, but the reality was, Ace was still haunted by the memory of his ex-wife. And as much as I wanted it to, I didn't know if those walls would ever come down.

  “I –”

  “Ms. Vaughan?”

  One of the interns rapped her fists against the open door, lingering in the doorway.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your grandmother just called. She says she needs you home now, and that it's an emergency –”

  “My grandmother?”

  “Yes. She sounded quite frazzled – I couldn't really hear her over all the screaming in the background. She just reiterated that she wants you home as soon as possible. Should I let Mrs. Scully know you're leaving early?”

  “That would be great, thanks.” I got up and poured the rest of my coffee down the drain. “Sorry, Keith. I – uh, I've got a lot on my plate, as you can see, so now's not the best time. But thanks.”

  “Gotcha. Good luck with that family thing. I'll see you around.”

  XXX

  “Victoria!”

  The silver slot of the mailbox flipped back, a pair of rapidly blinking eyes gazing up at me.

  “Is everything okay? What's the emergency?”

  I took a step back, tapping my feet against the doormat. The door finally swung back with a frantic swing. Brian stood in the doorway, his face colorless and the ends of his pale brows turned down in despair. Rowdy banging and unintelligible shrieks flowed out to the front porch.

  “Excuse my French, but holy shit am I glad you're here. Rosaline and Cailie – they've been at it for hours.” He beckoned me in wildly and bolted the front door shut behind us. “Come on – they're in the living room.”

  “I hear them,” I mumbled, my toes curling in the points of my work pumps.

  When I stepped into the living room, it took me a couple of seconds to process the chaos around me.

  All 3 had claimed their own territories. On one end was Cailie, sitting on the windowsill with her legs pushed to her chest. She buried her face in her knees, the tufts of her blue hair poking out from the top of her hood. Rosaline sat on the floor on the other end of the room, the puffy skirt of her marigold princess dress spread out around her in a perfect circle. Her “Miss Oneiro 2016” sash was hanging off her shoulder and the crown on her head lopsided.

  Grandma was reclined in her favorite giltwood corner chair. Her face was clean of makeup and emotion, and for the first time, she looked her age. At the same time, it was so jarring to see her looking so resigned. She stared vacantly at the flakes of snow collecting on the glass of another window, her back turned to the scene. As for Grandpa, he lived up to his reputation of evading anything too real or uncomfortable – he was nowhere to be seen.

  “I got here as fast as I can. What's going on?”

  “My whole life's a life,” Cailie was the first to speak up. Her voice was brittle, as if her throat had gotten weak from the exertion. “That's what's going on!”

  “Get out!” Rosaline roared at me, pointing at the door with a quaking finger. “We don't need you butting in –”

  “Don't you dare take this out on Victoria,” Cailie jumped off the windowsill and spread her legs wide, locking them on the ground. “She's the only one who –”

  “Stop it – both of you.” Grandma pressed her fingers to her temples, closing her eyes. “I called her.”

  Defeated, Rosaline lowered her lips over her bared teeth and turned back to Cailie.

  “Cailie, please. I'm so, so sorry. This was not how I wanted you to find out –” She turned back to Grandma, the murderous look in her eyes returning. “God, Mom, how could you have been so stupid? Don't you ever get any of the help to clean up there –”

  “Stop it – just stop,” Cailie fumed, wagging her head. “Stop blaming everyone else for what you've done. I can't even believe – I don't – I can't believe this is happening! When were you gonna tell me? Were you even planning on telling me, ever, or were you just going to let me live my life believing this fucking –”

  “Cailie – ” Grandma slipped in. “You know we don't use that kind of language –”

  “Really? All this and you're getting on my case about using the 'f' word?” Cailie challenged her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, but no, you're right, I shouldn't be using that kind of language with my dear mother –”

  “Cailie, please,” Grandma tried to reason with her. “You have to understand – we were only trying to protect you – all of us. If word got out, the impact it would have on your gra – great-grandfather and his business. It would have ruined us! Imagine what your friends would have thought if they knew –”

  “They wouldn't have cared. I wouldn't have –” Cailie took a deep breath, blinking back her tears. “And to think, you 2 are the most condescending, most judgmental, most vile people I've ever known, and here you are – one a liar without a conscience, and one a teenage slut who couldn't keep her legs closed –”

  Cailie's cold words were interrupted by the sound of Rosaline's wail.

  “Jesus Christ, Cailie, that's enough,” I said firmly, taking a step towards her. “You're taking this way too far –”

  “You!” Rosaline rose to her feet. Her unblinking eyes were swimming with passionate rage, and she was looking straight at me. “This is – this is all your fault. Ever since you got here – you – you – you've been feeding Cailie all these lies –”

  “Rosaline, you need to chill, 'cause I didn't do sh –”

  I saw it coming. In the blink of eye, Rosaline made a lunge for me, but I sidestepped just in time. She tumbled over the hem of her dress and crashed face-first into the pillows on the sofa.

  “Rosaline! What are you doing? Stop this –” Grandma screeched, jumping to her feet. “Sonia? Brian? Anyone – get in here!”

  “It's fine, Mom.” Rosaline pushed herself to her feet, flattening the sides of her gown. “I'm – I'm leaving. I can see I'm not wanted here –”

  “Good. Go,” Cailie sneered. “Just run away from your problems – it's what you're best at.”

  “No, Rosaline, wait –”

  Rosaline pulled her sash back in place and headed for the door, giving my shoulder a hard shove along the way.

  Chapter Nine: Ace

  “Lord, kiss me once more, fill me with song,

  Allah, kiss me once more, that I may, that I may,

  Wear my love like heaven,

  Wear my love like heaven...”

  Man, this was trippy.

  I knew I was in my room, but it was like it was the first time I was actually seeing it. I couldn't just hear the music – I could feel the light beats of the vibraphone walking on my flesh. The colors around me were so vivid and bright and wonderful, but the lines around every object in the vicinity were...wavy. Restless. As if there were a million invisible termites chewing through the sides of the cabinets. The TV. The frames of the bed. My hands. Like I was trapped in a burning room and the fumes were distorting everything around me. Only, there was no fire.

  I could get used to this.

  As I turned my head, I could feel the hands of time around my head, decelerating my every move. Daylight trespassed through the small opening of the rippling curtains. Shit. When did it get so bright out?

  I had my reservations about hitting up some random Craigslist dealer in the back alley of a deserted Macy's. Dude prescribed me a couple of Krusty the Clown blotters and a vial of tiny pills he dubbed “Black Deliri
um.” Best $120 I'd ever spent.

  My gut felt empty, but I was bloated from all the beer and nacho cheese. I wasn't hungry. Or was I? I couldn't remember eating anything since half that lamb chop I had for dinner. Dinner was a fucking disaster. Victoria wasn't the type to get angrily easily, and they say that's the type you gotta watch out for. You don't want them mad.

  But she wasn't mad. She was just...disappointed. And that shit hurt even more. It wasn't like I didn't want to open up to her. Tell her what it's like to want her, but still be tormented by the thought of your ex-wife. It sounded selfish as fuck, and I wasn't even saying it out loud. I wanted to let go. I just didn't know how – fuck this.

  Guess it was time for another hit.

  I groped around me for the half-empty vial and popped 2 shiny round pills in my mouth. I washed the pills down with some old whiskey I found under my pillow. But just as I lay back down, I swear I heard this feeble knock on the front door.

  Resting my chin on my chest, I looked out the open door of the bedroom. I could see half the front door from here. And so, I just waited. I stared at the door for what must have been 30 minutes –

  There it was again.

  I grabbed onto the nearest bedpost and tried pulling myself to my feet, but that was a no-go. I rolled off the bed and crashed onto the floor, and I didn't feel anything. I was weightless, but so aware. So aware of how furry the carpet felt against my palms. So aware of how the music floating out of my room was caressing the sides of my face and the skin on my back.

  Eventually, I managed to secure a grip around the armrest of the couch. I pulled myself off the ground and floated over to the front door. I batted at the double doorknobs. When I finally caught it, I opened the door.

  “I know you didn't expect to see me here.”

  I stared at the hazy figure in front of me. The dazzling lights in the hallway were shining down on her, hiding her face in the shadows. But I could see the gold in her soft hair. My throat began to close up. I opened my mouth and moved my numb lips, but nothing was coming out.

  Brooklyn?

  I licked my lips and dragged back my eyelids. But before I could try again, she threw her arms around me and shoved me up against the back of the door. I heard the door click, and then her warm, wet lips on mine.

  My lips woke and started moving against hers, but something felt...off. I could taste the alcohol on her tongue, and her lips tasted like...apples. It tasted good, her lips soft and nimble, but something wasn't right. If only I could remember what it was...

  She scratched my bare chest, her restless hands moving south.

  “Br – br – wait.”

  She pulled away from me, but she was still hanging off my neck.

  “Wait?” She leaned in close to me, brushing her lips against the side of my face. “Why wait? Let's just do this – hey!”

  I wormed out from under her and immediately lost my balance. There was a sharp crack when I landed square on my elbows, and this time, that shit hurt. Groaning, I squinted up at her. Goosebumps crawled down my back.

  “R-Rosaline? Wha – what the f –”

  “Of – of course. Who did you think it was?”

  Son of a bitch. The beer and cheese in my gut was getting all riled up, and it was ready to make a quick and violent exit. I pointed to the door.

  “You need to leave – right – right –”

  “What? Why –”

  She couldn't say I didn't warn her. I leaned over and clutched my gut, hurling. It got all over the floors, looking like a sunny-bright lake of cheese. When I got it all out of my system, I burped and rolled over to my side, just laying there.

  I didn't even check to see if she'd left, but judging by the squeal and the bang of the door, I assumed she got the message.

  Chapter Ten: Ace

  The glare of the sunlight bounced off the screen of my phone. My thumb was suspended over the screen for over a minute now, and it was starting to get sore. I rolled my thumb in circles over the green “Call” button. I was staring so hard at Victoria's name that my eyes were sweating.

  Grunting, I put my phone away and looked around me. Families and groups of college students were spread out across the grass on picnic blankets. A small outdoor yoga class gathered under a tree. A dude glided past on a hoverboard with an army of 6 dogs leashed around his waist.

  “Ah, shit.”

  A rogue pulse fired off in my head, squeezing my temples. I leaned my elbows against my lap and bent over, cradling my forehead. I was sweating from my head up to my ass crack, and this goddamned headache was making me heat up even more. If I didn't get out of this heat, it wouldn't be long before my BO would be bad enough to ward off a family of skunks.

  As I sat up slowly, I spotted a small group of friends across the street. They were heading up the steps of a sleek triangular building. It seemed to be an exhibit or some sort, and the place looked air-conditioned, so that was good enough for me. I threw my crushed water bottle into the trash and made my way across the street.

  A blast of cool, refreshing air hit me the second I walked through those doors. It was busy, but not full, and maybe for good reason. Weird vases, sculptures, and vague abstract paintings were hung up on the dark blue walls with price tags of up to 6 or 7 figures. One thing was for sure – this place looked way too chic for my tank and sweats.

  I started to turn back around when one of the lobby attendants approached me.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Are you here to see the Desidero exhibit?”

  “Yeah, 'bout that –” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I think I might've walked into the wrong –”

  “It's the last day of the exhibit, so there will be no entry fee today. Would you like to take a look around?”

  “Yeah, alright. Why not. Thanks.”

  “Enjoy, sir.”

  I walked into the exhibit, my eyes roving around the brightly lit space. The walls were painted simply black and white, and the place was quiet. People admired the art in hushed tones, their shoes squeaking against the pale wooden floors. I joined them, starting with the first wall.

  The art was bizarre, to say the least, but everything was so beautifully crafted, I couldn't take my eyes off them. It started out tame, with tasteful black light shots of naked women in all shapes, sizes, and colors, posing in glow-in-the-dark body paint. The next wall were pieces featuring mythological and religious figures from around the globe entangled in intimate and brow-raising positions.

  I squeezed past a crowd fawning over a wooden Satan fingering a naughty nun, stopping at the next piece.

  The painting was done entirely in gray-scale, but it was the only one that called out to me. A naked man with his back facing me stood in the center of the painting. But on either side of his hip were the upper torsos of 2 ghostly specters. The specters were both women.

  The woman on the left had one arm stretched behind her head and the other hand over her breast. Her eyes were closed and she looked to be at peace, but she was almost see-through, fading into the background. The other woman seemed more solid, but her head was bowed and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her body was twisted away from him, like she was trying to escape.

  “'The Heart of Letting Go.'”

  “'Scuse me?”

  I tore my eyes off the painting. A handsome older woman was standing beside me, dressed in a blue headscarf and a long green gypsy skirt. She pointed to the label on the foot of the painting.

  “Ah.” I nodded. “Right.”

  “This is one of my favorites,” the woman mused. She glanced at me sideways, smiling warmly. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

  “Always.” I cocked my head to one side, staring at the painting. “Have you ever lost someone?”

  “Me?” The woman paused. She was still smiling, but it was a small, bittersweet smile. “Yes. My sister. We drifted apart when we got older, but we used to be inseparable.”

  “You ever wish you could bring her back? Tell her all the things
you wish you could've told her when she was here? Things you put off 'cause you thought you'd always have a chance to tell her?”

  “Oh, all the time, sweetheart. But I like to think that with the time we did have together, she always knew, even if the words were left unsaid.”

  “Right.” I exhaled deeply, forcing down the tightness in my chest. “Sorry, I don't mean to unload any of this –”

  “Not at all.”

  “I'm not the religious type, but if there's a chance they're still out there –” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Watching me. How do you know when it's okay to move on? I don't – I don't want to forget her.”

  “And you won't,” she replied softly, turning to face me. “To let go does not mean to forget. She will always be a part of your life – your history. Life goes on, but your history will always be a part of you.”

  “Right.”

  “Now, I have to run.” She lay a hand on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Live free and love free – remember that.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  When the woman left, a member of the frisky nun appreciation club broke away from the group and tapped me on the shoulder.

  “What was she like? She's amazing, isn't she?”

  “Who?”

  “That was her! That's the artist –”

  Sure enough, as I got a better look at the label, I saw the small italicized print – Artist: Celeste Vaughan.

  Chapter Eleven: Victoria

  I was scrubbing the wine bottle rings on the counter when I heard the whistle of the doorbell.

  “Just a second!”

  I peeled off my rubber gloves and grabbed my wallet, jogging to the front door.

  “Wow, you're earl –” I opened the door, blinking. “You're not the delivery guy.”

  “No, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint.”

  Ace leaned against the doorway. He was wearing a black tank top and loose gray sweats, but it was the most lucid I'd seen him in a good while. His bright brown eyes were clear and focused, and his beard had been completely shaven clean. I tightened the knot on my bandana and stepped aside, letting him in.