Strike: Dax

by Heather C. Leigh

  When I enter the dingy, fluorescent-lit room, I see Ross staring at a wall of accolades and awards that must belong to the occupant of this office. I expected Ross. I didn’t expect to see Gavin, but it shouldn’t surprise me. He’s one of the most caring people I’ve ever known. The one person who is noticeably absent, causing a nauseating cramp to grip my stomach, is Kate.

  Gavin smiles, rising from a tattered chair to embrace me, whispering in my ear so Ross can’t hear, “Got your back, man. Don’t worry about it.”

  Ross doesn’t seem as chuffed to see me. His face looks years older, even with his clean shave and expensive suit. Mouth downturned, Ross gives me a thorough, disparaging look before speaking. “Well. They’ve dropped the charges, so we can go.”

  I’m stunned. “Dropped them? Completely?”

  He walks over, narrowing his eyes. “Why? Do you want to stay in jail, Dax? Did you have fun in lockup overnight with the drunks and petty criminals? Make a few friends?” His voice is hostile, on the verge of a shout. But he wouldn’t do that, not here. Not in listening distance of a half-dozen coppers and another dozen random people in the lobby of the precinct.

  “What’s your problem?” I keep my tone low and even, knowing it’s even more important now than ever to keep my temper.

  “My problem?” Ross asks incredulously. “My problem is that you went completely batshit crazy at a college sporting event, punched three security guards hard enough that they may sue you for damages, caused a near riot, and destroyed property on the UCLA campus. And you’re asking what my problem is?”

  “You weren’t arrested, so what the fuck is it to you?” I fist my hands at my sides, itching to give Ross a piece of my mind.

  Gavin must feel the stress radiating off of me, because he steps between us to talk me down off from a rapidly approaching cliff.

  “Not here. Let’s get going.” He looks directly in my eyes, pleading with me to listen. “Everyone is tired, Adam and Hawke are worried, and I’m fucking starving. So can we leave this shithole and deal with this later?”

  The tension in my jaw aches, but I nod. He’s right. This isn’t the place to do this. Plus, I’m on the fucking edge of going mental again, and after yesterday that’s not something I’m particularly eager to repeat.

  “Let’s go then,” Ross says, tamping down his own irritation. For now. From the look on his face I’m certain to be getting a proper ass reaming later.

  We leave the cramped office only to be stopped by a copper in full uniform. Thankfully, it’s not the same one that helped bring me in last night. The guy was a wanker. Kept mentioning how celebrities expect special treatment or some other bollocks. I didn’t expect anything, stupid twat.

  “Where are you parked?” he asks, glancing at each of us.

  Ross steps forward. “We have a car waiting, why?”

  “You’ll need to call your driver and have him pull up front as close as he can. The media is here and there’s a lot of them,” the cop explains.

  Shit.

  I can’t handle anymore of that crap today. It was bad enough that we couldn’t watch my girlfriend’s fucking football match without being spotted and swarmed with fans. Now I can’t leave a building without a police escort?

  “It’s okay,” Gavin says quietly. “Your arrest is big news. It’s just the way things are.”

  I drag my hand down my face, scratching at the stubble and wincing when I pass over a sore spot on my chin where I hit the ground. “Yeah, but after yesterday…”

  “I know. Let’s just have the cops keep them back and jump in the car.” Gavin turns to Ross. “He doesn’t have to make a statement, does he?”

  “Hell no!” Ross’ eyebrows shoot skyward. “Rachel will get a press release out later today. Don’t say a word.” Ross looks at the cop. “Can you keep the media back?” Ross eyes me cautiously. Likely considering what would happen if one of those reporters were to bump into me or got in my face. After yesterday’s outburst, I can’t say I blame him.

  “We can keep them back. No problem,” he says with a wicked smile. “Let me get a few friends. Be back in two. Don’t move.”

  It seems Mr. Copper dislikes the media almost as much as me.

  Seconds later, six uniformed officers are at the ready, whisking us out of the office towards the front doors. I can hear the murmuring of the bystanders as recognition hits them. It’s a ripple effect, spreading outward from the center of the room to the edges until the entire police station knows we’re here.

  The two cops in front open the doors and move directly in front of us, caging us in and the media out. And it’s a good thing, because outside, it is a shitstorm of epic proportions.

  “Dax! Dax! Are you going to jail?”

  “Dax! Has Lila dumped you for your cheating?”

  “Dax! Care to comment on the destruction of property at UCLA?”

  “Dax! Is it true that you attacked security because Kate was pulled from the game?”

  What? I try to turn to whoever asked the last question, but Gavin is right behind me, shoving me into the backseat of the waiting limo.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he hisses. Gavin’s harsh tone shocks me right out of my fury. He’s never angry. Never. Gavin is the epitome of the laid back, California surfer. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s more like me than one would think at first glance—burying his emotions under a thick layer of stereotypical ‘whatever dude’ instead of the stone façade I prefer to use.

  Our eyes stay locked for a moment longer before I relent, deflating back into the leather seat.

  “Fine. You’re right. I’d be proper fucked if I punched someone outside the police precinct.”

  Ross glares at me from the seat opposite us. “That would be an impossible sell, Dax. I can see it now.” He holds his hands up as if highlighting a glowing marquee, “Rock star jailed for assault as he’s released from jail…for assault.”

  Gavin’s lips twitch. Then Ross’s do the same. I can’t help it. As shitty as the last twenty-four hours have been, the laughter bubbles out of me, my sour face broken by a grin. Soon enough, we’re all choking from our demented senses of humor.

  As I wipe the tears of laughter from my eyes, I pray that this won’t be the last bit of enjoyment I get for a while. Even with the confusion and Gavin’s distraction, that jouno’s words are stuck in my head, hanging over me like a guillotine ready to fall.

  “Dax! Is it true that you attacked everyone because Kate was pulled from the game?”

  If she was kicked out of one of the most important games she’s ever played in because of me? The shitstorm has only just begun.

  Kate

  “Hullo.”

  Dax’s quiet greeting when I open the door to my flat isn’t what I expected. It’s not even close. He’s wearing baggy cargos and a pullover with the hood up, partially obscuring his face.

  “Hey,” I respond stupidly, thrown off by his cold demeanor and his strange choice of clothing.

  What did I expect? For Dax to come in here ranting and pissed off? For him to sweep me into his arms and crush his mouth down onto mine letting me know everything will be all right? For Dax to stand stony and silent like he does with everyone else? I don’t know. All I know is that this… subdued, defeated Dax isn’t someone I recognize at all.

  Dax says nothing, so I fill the awkward silence. “I called Gavin. He said it was better for me to stay home. I wanted to come to see you at the jail, Dax. I did. The media… well, you know.”

  He nods, his dark eyes evading mine, landing on everything in the room except for me. A trickle of fear slithers down my neck, making the fine hairs stand up. Something is very wrong.

  “Your face—” I move to touch the swollen skin of his jaw, stunned when Dax steps out of reach.

  I swallow thickly. The tiny thread of fear has now blossomed into a huge knot of pure panic. My heart races in my chest, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears.

  “Dax?”

  “We can�
�t do this anymore,” he says harshly, still looking everywhere but at my face.

  My mouth is dry, my tongue thick. “Can’t do what?”

  No, no, no, no. He can’t. He wouldn’t. He promised!

  “This.” He points back and forth between us. “I can’t do this. Us. A relationship. Whatever.”

  My entire body burns from the sting of his words, my gut cramping with anxiety. “Why?” I whisper, already knowing the answer. He’s famous, gorgeous, and going to be massively successful. I’m me. A student. A tomboy. A nobody footy player from Hackney.

  “You know why,” he growls. “Don’t make me say it.”

  A flood of anger temporarily replaces the feeling that I’m worthless and inadequate. It rushes in like a freight train, giving me the strength to pretend I’m not affected by his words.

  “Fucking say it, Dax! Don’t be shy. Spit it out,” I hiss. “Is it so you can fuck Lila? Or revert back to your whoring ways? Or maybe you never stopped whoring and I’m the fool who believed you?”

  He turns away and I can see his jaw clenching, the muscles in his cheek pulsing under the bruised skin.

  “Fine! Don’t tell me. You’re a fucking heartless wanker, just like always, Dax. Hide behind your macho bullshit, keeping everything bottled up inside like a real man, yeah? Why would I expect you to be any different now?”

  A flicker of remorse crosses Dax’s face for a split second. It would seem my tirade has hurt him. In the blink of an eye, it’s gone. He’s back to being the man of stone.

  “Don’t act all hysterical, Kate. We knew this wasn’t going to last. Yesterday proved that we aren’t meant to be together. You’re too—”

  “Fuck you!” I spit out. How dare he think he’s going to stand in my flat and tell me I’m not good enough for him? “Fuck you, Dax Davies!” I shove at his chest, trying to push him towards the door. His ginormous frame doesn’t move an inch, so I shove again, harder. “Go!” I scream in frustration, my hands trembling from the physical effort of holding in the tears that threaten to fall.

  I glance up to find Dax staring at me. If he weren’t here breaking up with me, I would swear I see something else in those dark eyes—heartbreak of his own? But no, he’s the one destroying what we have, shredding my soul and letting the bits fly away in the wind.

  He doesn’t deserve to look so miserable when he’s the one being so cruel.

  “Just go,” I beg, my vision blurry. I turn my back to him, unable to watch him walk out of my life. A tiny part of me thinks this is some sort of joke, that any minute, Dax’s hand will land on my shoulder and spin me around kissing me senseless while holding me in those strong arms.

  The soft click of the door closing tells me that it’s done. We’re done. As I sink down to the carpet, sobbing, my life crumbles to the ground. I always knew Dax Davies would destroy me.

  I hate being right.

  Dax

  “Wow, you look like shit.”

  “Sod off, Walker,” I snap from my seat in the kitchen. Annoyed, I pour another lowball of single malt scotch, downing it quickly.

  “Whoa! What’s with the whisky?” Gavin asks.

  I feel my lip curl up in response.

  “Forget I asked, man. If it’s about getting arrested, don’t worry about it. Your record is clean.”

  “Like I could give a fuck about my record.” I snag the bottle and tip more into the glass, splashing some on the countertop. “Fuck.”

  Gavin puts his hand over mine, gently extracting the bottle. He places it out of reach, knowing full well I can easily get it back if I want it.

  He snorts. “I know that’s not true. If you were arrested and found guilty, you could lose your visa. You could lose your ability to travel to the U.S. and other countries. So I know you care.”

  “Whatever.” I throw back the rest of the scotch, slamming the glass down on the table.

  “Now, what’s going on with you?”

  “Are we this fucking annoying when Adam is on the piss?” I ask with a humorless chuckle. I can’t believe I feel bad for getting on Adam’s case all those times, but right now, I do.

  “Yeah, we are,” Gavin responds, smiling.

  “Shit.” I rub my hand over my eyes. “I broke it off with Kate.”

  “You did what?” he yells. “Why? What the hell—?”

  Scowling, I glare at Gavin. He’s killing my buzz and I plan on getting good and rat-arsed. “Piss off, Walker. I had no choice in the matter. It’s not like I’m not gutted over it! It was for her own good. I’ll just fuck up her life. Now, give me the fucking bottle back.”

  “Not until you tell me why you did it.” Gavin moves the scotch behind his body.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I can get that back you know. Don’t make me hurt you.”

  The little shit smirks. “You wouldn’t hurt me. You’re a fluffy kitten underneath all that muscle.”

  “Walker, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” I warn. “Now give me the bottle.”

  Gavin pushes back from the table and stands to his full height, the whisky still behind his back. “I was at the game, Dax. I saw exactly what you’re capable of. It took four security guards to get you down on the ground and you still managed to hurt a few of them.” Unexpectedly, he slams the bottle down in front of me, making me flinch.

  Bastard.

  I reach out, curling my hand around the neck, but he doesn’t let go. Our eyes meet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gavin this angry. It’s subtle, but the fire in his eyes is unmistakable.

  I don’t know if it’s because I’m half-pissed, or because I never saw it coming, or because, you know, it’s bloody Gavin, but before I can blink he has me down on the floor, pinned in some sort of fucked up ninja hold. One of my arms is wrenched behind my back, my shoulder joint screaming for relief. Gavin’s other hand is wrapped round my neck, doing it’s best to stop the flow of blood to my head. A sharp knee presses down on my lower back.

  “What the fuck, Walker,” I hiss, struggling to pull in a breath.

  “Go ahead and get drunk. Be a fucking pussy that won’t fight to keep Kate. But hear what I’m saying, Dax,” he leans over, his mouth inches from my ear. “You hurt her again and you’ll have to go through me to do it. I might be just a fag, but trust me when I say that I know how to fight.” He releases his hold and storms out of the kitchen.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Jesus. I need my mates angry with me like I need a hole in my head. Honestly, Gavin would understand why I broke up with Kate if I told him. But he’s right, I’d rather bury all my shit underneath the tough guy mask I wear everyday than discuss feelings and shit.

  Rule 2—Never let your emotions show.

  Fuck you dad. Fuck you for fucking me up so much I can’t have a normal relationship with a woman.

  I rub my shoulder while I think of all the ways she’s better off without me, even if I could open up to her. Kate’s future is in school, playing football and getting her degree. She should settle down with some wanker accountant and have children and a house and a dog.

  Being with me would lead her straight to heartbreak—tabloids, traveling, fame, paparazzi, bloody Lila—Kate’s better than all that crap. Subjecting her to it is cruel. I already made her miss the opportunity to play in an important game on Saturday. I can’t take any more of her future away.

  As much as I want to go straight to Kate’s flat and beg her to take me back, I won’t. I’ve always been a self-centered tosser, only interested in my own pleasure. Just this once, I’m not going to be selfish and stay until I’ve cost Kate every single thing she has. Unfortunately, this is the one time it will cost me everything.

  CHAPTER 13

  Kate

  “Cheers everyone!” I raise my red plastic cup, tapping it against those of my teammates’.

  Everyone in the frat house whistles and whoops at our victory toast. The house of Sigma Kappa Theta, a frat made up mostly of student athletes, is hosting a party for our NCAA Div
ision I Championship slash holiday party since winter break started today. My entire team is here, along with most of the men’s team and a bunch of other jocks.

  “To victory!” Myriah, our team captain yells out as a couple of enormous blokes lift her up on their shoulders.

  “Having fun?”

  I turn to find Wes, one of the few non-footy playing fraternity brothers right next to me, leaning in so I can hear him over the loud cheers and thumping music. We’ve met once or twice before at different parties at the house.

  “I am,” I shout back, swaying a little on my feet. Frowning, I hold up my cup. “What is this?”

  Wes laughs, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “It’s grain, babe.” I pull my brow down, so he explains further. “Grain alcohol, you know, like Everclear? With fruit juice.”

  “Oh.” I giggle, leaning into him. “I have no idea what that is.”

  Wes takes my cup, refilling it from a nearby pitcher. “As long as it tastes good, who cares?” He hands it to me, smiling.

  I grin back, happy to be free of my worries for a night. I take a big swig of the bright blue drink. “You’re right. Who cares?”

  Dax certainly doesn’t care, and the thought makes me want to lose myself for once, be reckless for a change. Stop being the good girl and have a good time.

  In the three weeks since Dax dumped me, this is the first time I’ve socialized outside of practice and classes and I plan on making it count.

  Myriah barges into the kitchen, wedging herself between Wes and me. “C’mon, Kate! Be my beer pong partner!” She grabs my wrist without waiting for an answer, tugging me into the living area. Glancing over my shoulder I see Wes with a dark look on his face. It sends chills down my spine. But Myriah doesn’t stop pulling me, so I turn away from Wes and focus on my teammate.

  All of the furniture has been pushed to the edges of the room, lining the walls and filled with students who are sitting and talking and laughing. In the center of the space is a large folding table with red plastic cups lined up on each side.