Something Real (Atlanta Outlaws)

by Aja Cole

  "Don't get any ideas about rubbing one out before you see me, either," I whisper in her ear, biting her earlobe in gentle warning. With the last word, I head for the kitchen, whistling as I go. It's not long before I hear the front door slam and I don't even realize it until later that I smiled all through making lunch.

  God, I love that woman.

  Wait, what?

  "Dylan! Sit down, my man. We've got quite a few things to talk about." Trent would give me bad news with a smile and a clap on the back, so his happiness today doesn't say much to me about what this meeting is about. I drop into the chair across from him, popping a foot up on my knee and grabbing the hockey puck that sits on top of his desk like I usually do. I start to roll it around in my hands while I listen to him.

  "So, how are things?" He steeples his hands, leaning forward eagerly. Blonde-haired, clean-shaven and with a smile that has just enough imperfection for someone not to think he's wearing veneers - Trent Johnson looks like the poster-boy for privileged kids who've grown up. His great-grandfather started the agency, and he always knew he would head it up one day. Luckily for me, despite the nepotism, he's pretty damned good at what he does.

  "I should be asking you that." I raise an eyebrow. "Let's cut to the chase. What are the owners saying?"

  "You know, I am so glad you asked that." He sits back, crossing his arms, but there's a shit eating grin on their face. "Shayla was the best hire we've made this year, that's for damn sure. They love her. They love you. That engagement piece? Perfect timing. Hell, if it weren't for the way you are on the ice, I might be worried your new image was too soft."

  Hearing Shayla talked about like this is still just a job grates on me. Trent doesn't know anything has changed, but I still don't like the implication.

  "So...I'm good? They're not worried about their family-friendly team optics anymore?"

  "Well, it was about that but it wasn't about that." His face sobers. "I know we never talked about what prompted your weeks-long bender, but you should know that I know. And Harris does, too. We've kept it quiet, don't worry, but that's the real reason that something had to change."

  Well, fuck.

  "How?"

  "I'm your agent. I know your schedule better than you do sometimes. It wasn't hard for me after watching you either. I just put two and four together. Now, Harris? I have no idea, but you can rest easy that he's the only owner who does."

  "So then what was all of this about, really?"

  "Cleaning up your image a little bit, but also; Harris doesn't like shit like that on his team. He didn't want you sleeping with someone else's wife and fucking up the team dynamic. Call this saving you from yourself before anything else happened."

  "It's not like I make it a habit to sleep with married women." I scowl.

  "I know, but, you have to understand that we had to look out for everyone involved. You and the people who bet on you. That's how we keep good relationships."

  "Why didn't you tell me they were looking at Tammy's husband to join the team?"

  He puts his hands up, shrugging. "That's behind the scenes, Dylan. Hush hush. It wasn't my place."

  "Bullshit. It wasn't your place to sic a fiancee on me either, but you did that."

  He laughs, standing up. "Touché. I was only thinking of your best interests Dylan, and believe me when I say that, that woman? She's been quite the boon to you in only a short amount of time."

  Tell me about it.

  "But hey, the contract is almost up and you'll never have to see her again."

  "Well, I don't know about that," I flip the puck in the air, catching it. "I like seeing her."

  "What?"

  "I like her." Scratching my face, I debate just how much to tell him. "A lot, actually. And she likes me too."

  "That wasn't the plan, Dylan." The grimace on Trent's face looks like it's etched into his face, that's how twisted it is.

  "You said yourself that having her around has been beneficial, so wouldn't keeping her around be even better?"

  "No." Quick, not a second of hesitation. "The contract ends, she gets what she was promised, you do this breakup gracefully and show that you've matured and then you go back to being the single player that's focused on his game. That's the play."

  "What was she promised?" The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I remember that I never did get an answer on what she was getting out of this deal.

  "That's between Shayla and I, don't worry about it. Now, forget about staying together anyway because we're talking about trading to Toronto."

  "Toronto?" I echo, floored. Toronto isn't a light trade. They've been at the top of their games for years now and to join their ranks is basically to cement your name among the greats. It's like...a team of hall of fame players who kill it every time they get on the ice. They don't care about fresh talent or showy talent...consistent, lethal delivery is their MO.

  It's a big deal.

  "Toronto wants me?"

  "Toronto wants you." He nods, opening his arms with a wide grin. "We did it, my man."

  Still a little shell-shocked, I hug him, my mind racing as he claps me on the back. A few more agents even come in, and someone opens champagne but I'm a little numb through it.

  What happens if you're traded, will she follow you?

  I know when my mom asked, she was asking thinking that Shayla was my fiancee. But this makes it an even bigger question mark because we're not really that far. I don't want to give her up or leave her behind, but I don't know if she's into me so much that she'll follow me to Canada.

  I don't do long-distance relationships. It's a recipe for me to end up like Tammy's husband, and they were in the same damn city.

  No, thank you. I don't need someone miles apart to pull the wool over my eyes, and I'm not so naive that I think you can trust someone enough not to do that.

  If there's an opportunity, they'll probably take it.

  Me being so far away? That's way too many opportunities.

  When I leave the meeting, I start driving with no particular destination in mind. I just need to clear my head and think about how to convince her to come with me. Atlanta has been amazing, and it’s enabled me to meet Shayla…but I can’t pass up an opportunity like this.

  Fuck.

  22

  Shayla

  I didn't tell Dylan the whole truth.

  I'm not just having a me-day. I'm actually having a day out with my mom and Aunt Ernie, who just got back from her cruise. I want to tell them about Dylan and what's been happening, but I didn't want the first time they met him to be when I'm telling them.

  I'm not so sure they're going to be as accepting as his mom was, and I want some time to bring them around to the idea of him being in my life before I spill the other beans.

  I park at the nail salon, seeing their cars already there. When I enter, they're already in the cushioned chairs and they've left one between them for me. Greeting the familiar nail techs, I make my way to the two women who raised me. Setting my things down and stepping on the dais, I greet them both with kisses on their cheeks and settle into my chair as my nail lady starts to prep my feet.

  "How was the cruise, Auntie? You look too evenly tanned to have worn clothes." I say.

  "Amazing." She sighs, putting a hand to her chest. "I love that man so much, he knew exactly what I needed. And yes, I was nude whenever I could be. Thank god the beaches where we docked allowed that." Her hair is still in her vacation box braids, and the sun gave an even healthier glow to her deep brown skin.

  "I might have to get over my fear of being surrounded by that much water and book one." My mom chimes in, almost a total opposite of my Aunt. Relaxed hair that's cut to brush her collarbone and skin closer to a light toast, some people wondered how they shared parents. They've always been two sides of the same coin, though, and their relationship is pretty strong. I meant it when I told Dylan that there's no bad blood. If anything, I'm worried about them both teaming up to tell me how bad of
an idea Dylan is. It's pretty hard to argue with both of them, and that's exactly why I was such a well-behaved teenager aside from a few minor mishaps.

  "Oh, you know, we should go on a cruise for your birthday this year!" My aunt tells my mom, and I just enjoy listening to both of them talk for a little bit, mulling over what to say and how upfront to be. I didn't wear the engagement ring today. It's in my purse, though. I couldn't bear to leave that beauty at home, and I almost wore it on my other hand but decided not to risk it.

  "You're quiet, today." My mom nudges me with her shoulder eventually, "What's on your mind?"

  Go time.

  "So...I'm seeing someone."

  "Oh really?" Auntie chimes in. "Well, get to spilling girlie."

  "Well he's uhm...I met him at work, actually."

  "Your computer stuff?" Geraldine, who everyone's always called Geri has always referred to my coding and design as computer stuff. Not because she hasn't bothered to ask me about it or learn more, just because she forgets the specifics and it's always funny when she tries to talk shop. Last time I was over helping one of my stepsisters with some graphics, she was asking if you just use the copy and paste keys when you're doing composite images or blending layers.

  It was adorable.

  "No, the sports agency, actually."

  "Our sports agency?" Auntie perks up at that. "Who did you meet?"

  "Just a client that came in one day and we hit it off." I hedge.

  "Shayla Marie," she pulls out my middle name, the way she tends to do when I'm not talking fast enough for her liking.

  "Dylan Hunter."

  "Who's that?"

  "I..." My Aunt stops herself. "Are you serious?"

  I don't think now would be a good time to bring up the engagement stuff, so...I'll table that for now. The first thing she's going to do when she gets home is hit google, so there's no way I can not tell her today.

  I'm just not looking forward to her reaction to that, either.

  One bombshell at a time, you know?

  "I'm serious."

  "Is someone going to tell me who that is?" My mom presses. "I assume he's an athlete since you met him there and he's a client?"

  "He's a hockey player, yeah."

  "Hockey." She echos. "I feel like that's also code for you telling me that he's not black."

  "He's white, mama." I laugh because I hadn't even considered that factor. I've never dated a white guy before, so I didn't even think about if they'd care about his skin color. I don't think they're those types, but new situations have a way of bringing out new sides of people. "Is that a problem?"

  "Girl, you know I don't care about the color of someone's skin. Does he have a job? Does he treat you well? Those are the things that matter."

  "His race is the last of our problems, Geri. The boy's behavior as I've known it? Questionable." This from my Aunt.

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "It's not my business to share." She sniffs, sitting back in her chair and shaking her head. "You're a grown woman, Shayla. You just make sure you ask the right questions before you go getting engaged or anything like that."

  Gulp.

  It doesn't matter that we're not really engaged, but since it appears that way, I have to come clean.

  "Actually, we are. Long engagement though." I rush to add. "Very long. Like, really long." I emphasize, hoping it helps.

  "That's your child, Geri."

  "What? You helped raise her, Ernestine."

  "And? That impulsiveness is all your DNA." She scoffs, and the way she's tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, I know she's trying to calm herself down.

  So, my mom, the peacemaker when Auntie and I weren't seeing eye to eye as I was growing up - steps in.

  "Sweetie...have you known him long enough for that?"

  "What happened to when you know, you know?" I repeat the words back to my mother that she said to me when she went through her whirlwind romance with my stepdad, Chris.

  "Well, I've got a little bit of age on you so when I knew, it was because I'd had a ton of bad experiences before that so I knew he was something I'd never experienced before." Her voice softens, and I can tell she's thinking about those crazy first few months. Aunt Ernie spent days trying to talk her out of it. But Chris actually turned out to be a good guy, and they've been together ever since.

  "You've dated what, two boys seriously before this one? And what, not even an engagement ring, it's so quick?" My aunt kicks in.

  "I do have a ring, but listen..." I mull over my words carefully, "Can you just trust me? It's not what you think, and...just know that right now, being with him makes me happy." I poke an elbow lightly into my aunt's side. "Isn't that what you always tell me? You just want me to be happy?"

  "Of course I want you to be happy," She sounds offended that I'm even asking. "You're as much my daughter as you are Geri's. But can you not just put the brakes on for a bit? Slow down?"

  "Long engagement, remember?"

  "I knew we should've gone for drinks instead," she rubs her temples, and my mom laughs. "I just want you to be careful, Shayla Marie. I don't want to see you hurt."

  "I'm always careful, Auntie. I've been careful for years." I look at my lap, taking out the ring from my small purse. Rolling it around in my hands for a few seconds, I slide it back on my ring finger. "Maybe it's time I tried something new."

  There was a lot more brevity in my voice than I intended, and neither my aunt nor my mom says anything for what seems like a long time.

  "You do what you feel is right for you, sweetie." My mom puts a hand over mine, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "We will always be here to lean on, no matter if it's good or bad."

  One down.

  I look at my Aunt's face in profile, my heart in my throat. I hate disappointing her, and I so badly want her to tell me that she's okay with this. It's a total mind-fuck because it's only half true, but I want her to want to get to know Dylan. I'm starting to feel like this ring is just a precursor to the real thing with him, and when that day comes, I want her right there with me.

  "You are really your mother's child." She sighs, turning to me. "But you're mine, too. And as much as I want to make decisions for you, I can't. So just promise me that you'll take your time...I better not hear about a damned elopement."

  "Promise."

  Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and opens them, nodding her head lightly.

  "Alright well...let us see this ring, then. And what is that bandage on your wrist?"

  Did I mention that my Aunt really isn't into tattoos either?

  23

  Dylan

  "Earth to Hunter."

  I snap out of my thoughts when I realize that Lachlan is talking to me, and has probably been trying to get my attention for a while now.

  "Get the hell out of la la land man, can you throw me some tape?"

  Grabbing the stick tape off the bench next to me, I toss it to him and he gives his thanks, turning back to his stick.

  I've been thinking about this trade and what to do about Shayla for the past two days. It's been bothering me so much that I couldn't even get it up last night. I can count the number of times that's happened to me, all of them because I was either too exhausted or too drunk. This time, though? I was completely sober and I wasn't even a bit tired, so it made it extra embarrassing. To Shay's credit, she didn't take it personally. She just laughed, kissed my dick on the tip, and said we'd do a raincheck. She went to take a shower and I just glared at it, willing it to perk up.

  No dice.

  Traitor.

  But damn, I don't want to have this conversation yet. I'm enjoying us too much, and I don't want to throw a wrench in things if she says no. But I also don't want to keep having erection mishaps, so something has to fucking give.

  Regardless, I need to screw my head on straight because if we win tonight's game, we're that much closer to the cup playoffs.

  If I stay in Atlanta, it'll be pretty dope sinc
e we're a newer team.

  If Toronto wants me...I'll be with them for the playoffs.

  But at this very moment, Atlanta is still my team and I'm going to play just as hard until that changes.

  Grabbing my phone, I do the same thing I've done before every game for years now.

  I call my dad.

  No matter where he is, even if he's in the stadium for the game - I call him.

  He always answers.

  "Skates laced?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Stick taped?"

  "Always."

  "Go get 'em, son." That same thread of pride is in his voice every time he says it, and it's always been a comfort to me.

  "Thanks, Dad."

  Tossing the phone in my locker, I close it and pick up my stick, filing out after the guys. I know Shayla's in the rink tonight, and that excites me, too. It'll be her first time seeing me play in person, and I wonder what she'll think.

  That's for later, though.

  Right now, we've got a game to win.

  It's the third period of a close game and I'm sitting in the penalty box, feeling only a little bit of a shame, but not much. I cross-checked Lewinsky, but it was either that or he got to the net, and it just so happened that the refs decided to clock this one.

  No sweat, we're still going strong and holding tied at 2-2.

  I scanned the crowd earlier and know exactly where Shayla is. What I didn't know was that my sisters were going to be in town, and both of them are flanking her with my dad on the other side of Diana. Turning in the box, I look past the excited fans and find her, grinning and throwing her a kiss. The crowd eats it up, and Shayla shakes her head but throws me a kiss back.

  My time in the box is up and head back out on the ice, doing exactly what I was born to do.

  I leave the locker room, catching Shayla's eye where she's leaning against the wall a little further down the hallway. My sisters and Dad are going to pick up food and meet us back at my place. I wanted to tell Shayla about the trade tonight, but I don't want to do it while everyone is in the house, so it'll have to wait.