Blue 42 (Hail Mary Duet Book 1)

by C. A. Rene

“She’s tight, boys.” He grunts behind me, “I think we got ourselves a virgin.”

  Why did I have to stay in the shower for so long? Why didn’t I get out of here quickly? I knew he was pissed and I knew I egged him on today. How did I become so fucking naive? He withdraws and pushes back in, the pain making me scream once again into the wet towel.

  I hear a locker door slam in the distance and Sebastian hastily pulls out, as Jameson slams his fist into my stomach. The force of the hit has me doubling over and gagging hard around the wet towel, vomit hits the fabric in my mouth and rushes back down my throat. Breathing becomes impossible as the acid liquid spews from my nostrils and the towel still blocks my mouth.

  “Remember your place, Rookie.” I hear Avando sneer, “or that little pussy will be mine again.”

  They hurry out of the shower and I pull the towel out, inhaling a lungful of air. Everything hurts and I take my time getting to my feet. The room spins and I stumble into the wall, my hand slipping on the tile. I lose purchase and slip to my ass on the floor, grunting through the pain radiating back there. I refuse to scream and I refuse to walk out of here weaker than I walked in.

  If Avando thought he could break me this way, he would be sorely mistaken, and I won’t give him the satisfaction. I stand again and lean against the cool tile, taking deep breaths and spitting out the bile that’s collected in my mouth. I stumble back under the water and let the cooling liquid roll over my back and down my ass. I will never be caught with my back turned again.

  There’s no way I can go to Coach about this and even if I wanted to, the thought of telling anyone has my stomach rolling again. No, I will deal with this the only way I know how, and fuck, watch how fucking sweet my revenge will be.

  Chapter six

  Dixon

  Getting out of bed is extremely difficult this morning. I spent half of the night stressing about having to wake up and then the other half convincing myself that I could handle anything. Could I actually handle this though? As much as I’ve been through in my life, this is a first, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to be feeling.

  I was raped.

  Rape. A word I would never really associate with men on the receiving end. I know men can be raped, obviously, but just never like this. I don’t know. I feel detached from myself, like my emotions about the whole ordeal are locked up tight, and I am thinking about it like it didn’t really happen to me. I know why I’m doing that… I’m so fucking ashamed.

  It’s an hour before I have to get back to the field and I must force myself out of bed. My stomach is aching where Jameson punched me and I have other aches in places I have never ached before. The feeling that surges up inside of me is crippling but I push myself to keep moving and step into the shower. Once the spray hits me, my body stands rigid and I can’t seem to calm my heartbeat. The water mixed with the feeling of the tile beneath my feet has me tottering on the edge of losing it. It feels like I’m right back there.

  My fist hits the tile on the wall and I let loose a scream that’s been trapped in my throat since I pulled myself out of that shower stall yesterday. I let it roar from my chest until all the air is expelled from my lungs and my voice is hoarse. I didn’t work this hard to be brought down by a group of bullies. We are grown and I won’t let them think they got the best of me.

  I smash the tile one more time and breathe through the myriad of emotions I’m feeling. They’re twisting inside of me like a kaleidoscope and unfortunately for Avando, anger seems to be the most prevalent. I smear the body wash over my chest and angrily scrub it into my skin, scraping my nails across the surface. I feel my skin become irritated and slightly inflamed, a mirror to how my insides feel. I rinse myself off and slam down the faucet, effectively shutting off the water.

  After I have myself dressed and my protein shake in hand, the contents shaking from the onset of nerves, I head out to my car. I can face them and be a constant reminder of what they failed to accomplish, I won’t be chased out.

  The drive there is about ten minutes tops, and I blow out my breath as I park my vehicle. This morning, a longer drive would have been preferable, I’m not ready to just waltz in there, and my stomach picks that time to roll. Nausea hits me hard and I press my forehead to the steering wheel.

  Get it together.

  I grasp the door handle roughly and quickly pull myself out, I don’t want to sit there wallowing. I keep my head down and watch my shoes hit the pavement, one after the other in a slow jog. Each impact, jarring my stomach, and forcing me to harden up my insides. Nothing happened that I can’t handle.

  Opening the door, I take my final nervous breath, and drop my shoulders back, nothing happened here yesterday. The thought stays firmly in my head as I pass the weight room and head into the locker room.

  “Hey North.” Zeal holds his fist out to me from his seat on the bench, “that was amazing yesterday. Welcome to first string.”

  “Thanks man.” I bump his fist with mine.

  “You really are fast,” he comes up beside me and leans in close, his hand hitting my shoulder. “They’ll get over it.” He says quieter.

  Zeal wasn’t the one that attacked me, but his closeness is chipping at my carefully constructed wall of defence, and that can't happen.

  “No worries,” I slide out from under his hand and close my locker, “I got it covered.”

  “I know.” He nods with another smile, “today we hit the gym for a few hours and then the field.”

  “Cool.” I swallow thickly.

  The thought of being in that closed space with the three guys that attacked me threatens that defence once again. I close my eyes as I hear Zeal head off to the gym and breathe slowly. No, they won’t take this from me.

  My mom’s face appears behind my closed eyes, the awed look on her face when I bought her new place, and the excitement when she had a proper kitchen to cook in. Then Danny’s face appears, hard in anger, toughened by the very streets I’m working to get him out of, and his eyes saddened with what he’s had to do to stay there.

  They won’t take this from them.

  My stride doesn’t falter as I make my way to the gym, determination for my family once again blocking out everything else, and I swing open the door roughly, letting it bounce off the wall.

  The sound reverberates around the room and I feel eyes on me as I stalk over to the leg press machine. If I can’t take my frustrations out on Avando’s face, then I might as well put it to use in here. I feel his eyes on me and I can tell it’s him because it always feels the same. Like something dark and inky slipping their cold dark fingers along my spine. Thankfully, him and his rape posse don’t say a fucking word because I’m ready to rip out of my damn skin. I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I heard his voice right now.

  Two hours later and with my muscles aching, I head back into the locker room and change into my uniform. He’s here in the room because I can feel that same feeling, only this time I’ve expended my energy and I don’t give a fuck. I can feel the anger continue to rise as I get dressed, slamming my locker closed. I grab my helmet from the rack and storm out to the field. I pity anyone who tries to tackle me today, I can’t guarantee their faces won’t be pressed to the fucking grass.

  I run towards the gathering second string and Coach blows a quick breath into the whistle, “North, you’re playing with first string today. Might as well get used to them.”

  North not Rookie, it’s a start and I can’t deny the pride that squeezes my chest. It’s where I want to be playing regardless of who I’m playing with. Zeal holds out his hand with a wide smile and I firmly grasp it in my own.

  “Welcome to first string, North.” His eyes are shining with excitement.

  “Thanks, man.”

  Just as I’m pulling on my helmet, Avando, Jameson, and Ortiz run onto the field. Avando raises his brow when he sees me in the huddle.

  “You lost, Rookie?”

  “Coach put North with us today.” Zeal claps m
e on the back, “and probably for every day afterward. Get used to it.”

  I can see the words get to him, get used to it, and he probably wants to bend me over right here in front of everyone, just to put me back in my place.

  Zeal begins to tell us our play and I can feel Avando’s eyes boring into the side of my face, that inky darkness trying to consume me. I push it from my mind, concentrating on Zeal, and preparing revenge in the form of outshining the three pricks beside me. That’s what Avando is most worried about with me being here, that I will steal his spotlight, and I’m going to do just that. Then laugh in his fucking face afterward.

  Coach blows the whistle and we line up, Jameson brushing my shoulder as he passes me. I run by Avando to my spot, hearing him snarl, “pussy bitch,” as I go. Zeal calls out the play and then I feel the heightened energy as everyone moves into place. The ball is hiked as Zeal steps back into the pocket, then I’m running past the defensive line. Zeal bides his time as he waits for me to get open and as soon as he sees his chance, he’s throwing me the ball.

  My fingers glide along the stippled leather surface and I tuck it to my side, running by and watching as a few guys try to catch up with me. My anger, my stress, and my shame are seeping through my feet as I run, slowly leaving my body.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see our defensive tackle, Dex Carver, getting too close and so I take my chance, running out of bounds to avoid taking the tackle. The last thing I need is to risk fumbling the ball the moment I hit first string. Heading back to the line of scrimmage, I can still feel the hatred radiating off Avando, but at this point my adrenaline is kicking in and it’s only fueling me to play harder.

  At the snap, I take off like my feet are on fire, pushing myself to the limit, wanting to show everyone just what I’m capable of. I can feel someone gaining on me and I look back to see our defensive end - Alonso Lopez - just as he’s diving at me from behind, attempting to trip me up. I hurdle out of his reach just in time and keep on going.

  As if our minds are in sync, I turn right as Zeal is throwing the ball my way. I dodge another tackle and watch as the ball spirals perfectly towards me. My heart is thundering in my chest from the exertion and adrenaline, but there's no way I’m missing this. Jumping up and reaching with both hands, I catch the ball in the tips of my fingers. Not wasting a second, I quickly tuck it tight to my body and take off towards the end zone.

  My feet pound the earth in a quick staccato and as that end line rushes forward, I scream into the air. This is why I’m here and no one is going to take the love I have for this sport away.

  Once we’re back in the locker room, my body is begging for a hot shower, and I refuse to acknowledge the anxiety that’s threatening to resurface. I need to face it and I need to be prepared.

  I grab my towel and head into the showers, shedding my clothes into the hamper along the way. Once the cool tiles touch my feet, nausea begins to swirl low in my gut, but I tamper it down and head to the same stall as yesterday. I won’t let my fear rule my decisions.

  I hang up the towel and turn on the hot water, waiting for the steam. I step in, keeping my back to the wall, and dip my head under the water, letting my eyes close. The hot water sluices down my back, soothing the tired muscles, and I groan at the feeling.

  I open my eyes and see the three of them, my vision blackening with anger. I rush forward, naked, uncaring, and grab Jameson. I use his and the others' surprise; and slam his head into the tiled wall, satisfaction coursing through me as he sinks to the floor.

  “What the…”

  The sound of Avando’s voice sends the anger soaring and I turn on him, slamming my fist to his mouth; grinning when Ortiz raises his hands in surrender and begins to back away.

  I stand over Avando while he’s on his knees and spit at his feet, “I may not act like it, but I’m from the streets, you little bitch. You got the drop on me yesterday because I had my back turned, don’t think I’m soft because of it. I can guarantee, it will never happen again.”

  Sebastian gets to his feet and I watch as his tongue snakes out, running along the blood gathering on his bottom lip. My chest is moving rapidly up and down, my eyes never leaving his golden ones. I can see the rage simmering in the amber orbs and I wait for his retaliation. Jameson’s groan from beside me breaks our stare down as Sebastian’s eyes flick to him and then back to me.

  “You think you’re street?” Avando sneers.

  “You think you’re straight?” I retort and his eyes flare again. “Were you coming back for seconds?” I let my lips curve upward slowly, taunting him.

  He takes a few steps back and Jameson stands to his feet, giving me a once over. It’s in his and Ortiz’s eyes that I’m beginning to see respect.

  “Watch yourself.” Avando warns and I laugh.

  “No, you watch yourself.” I throw back as they leave the shower.

  I know how to watch myself and with these guys, I must be on my guard constantly.

  Chapter seven

  Sebastian

  The rookie has a fucking death wish.

  He actually asked if I was straight, does he want to fucking die?

  “Bro, where did he come from?” Jameson has an ice pack to his swollen temple.

  “Clemson.” I growl and throw a bag of coke to the table.

  “Nah,” Jameson shakes his head and winces, “where did he grow up?”

  I should know this, it’s something we’re all told about the rookies before they get to camp, but I missed North’s bio. He’s tougher than I gave him credit for but that doesn’t mean shit, and it makes me want to prove it to him that much more.

  “I know that look,” Ortiz grumbles beside me, “this shit will get you kicked out of the league.”

  “Ain’t nothing going to get us kicked out of the league, you think that pussy bitch will say anything?” I look from Ortiz to Jameson, “he has a family he needs to feed too, I can bet my life on it.”

  “He handed us our asses today,” Jameson whines and the noise grates on my last fucking nerve.

  “You want to suck his dick now?” I sneer at him. “Is that it?”

  “Bro…” his face screws up in confusion but I cut him off.

  “Don’t call me ‘bro’ if you’re ready to suck the rookie’s dick.” I grab my own dick through my pants, “because believe me, you’re either sucking dick or getting your dick sucked, you choose.”

  “Sebastian,” Ortiz cuts in, “we’re on your side but fuck, this shit has gone too far.”

  Bunch of pussies wouldn’t last a day in Rochester and it makes my insides boil when I think of the rookie making them piss themselves.

  “I don’t need you anyways.” I grumble as I pour the powder on the glass top, “I’ll take it from here. You guys make sure you suck on those balls, too.”

  They’re smart to keep their mouths shut as I run my nose along the white oblivion, because I’m ready to fucking snap; and I have no problem adding to the nasty bump on Jameson’s head.

  Ortiz starts cutting the weed and rolling a blunt into the Backwoods roll as I sit back and watch him. I can’t involve them any longer in messing with North, the rookie thinks he’s too good for us and needs to be knocked the fuck down, but these two aren’t ready for that. They’re small-time gangsters, used to being told what to do, and never overstepping orders.

  The dirty shit needs to be done by me, that way I control everything, and no mistakes are made. I still see the fear in Jameson’s eyes as he holds the ice pack to his head and I would bet my life this bitch has never had a gun pulled on him, never thrown to the ground with the barrel of a pistol cold against the back of his head. All while some rival gang member searches his pockets for that night's drop off.

  Yeah, I’ve had plenty of guns held to my head, knives slashing my skin, and even a few bullets shot at me; but I’m here and you better believe I’m not going any fucking where.

  Rookie is probably basking in the win he had today. I hate that he took u
s by surprise, and I hate that he thinks he’s won. I’ll let him have it though because when I finally tear him apart, I’ll laugh at the defeat on his face; and right after he thought he’d won.

  He’s renting a townhouse in a nice little private, gated community. Like a good little rich boy now. Too bad the guard at the gate recognized me and when I said I was coming to meet a teammate, he was all too happy to let me in. Now I’m sitting in my car and watching his house like a fucking stalker.

  This shit takes time; watching someone and how they move, and then finding out what or who their main priority is. When you figure that out, you find the person’s weakness, and if I want Dixon North to actually go away, I need that weakness.

  I hate that this bitch thought he could just come on the team and land at the top, no work, and no struggle. That’s just not how this shit works, every one of us fought and bled to be where we are, and he needs to do the same. Respect is earned and I worked hard for this team’s respect, that’s why everyone listens to me when I talk.

  It wasn’t hard to find out the simple things, where Dixon North comes from, where he went to high school, and what college he attended. When you’re picked first in the draft, that becomes public knowledge and everyone is salivating for every last detail they can get.

  He was born and raised in Westport, Baltimore, Daddy dead, Mommy working three jobs, and a little brother who likes to get in trouble. Westport isn’t a good place to grow up in, a lot of gang violence resulting from turf wars, and soaring drop out rates for high schoolers.

  His front door opens and I watch as he steps out onto his porch, his eyes on the sun rising in the sky. He’s wearing an orange tank top and the color makes his rich skin pop, glistening in the early morning light. He’s stacked, his muscles defined and flexing as he stretches. He puts ear buds into his ears and then he’s jumping off the porch and jogging down the street.

  I get out of my car, pop my hoodie over my head and jog to the side of his house. He’s a corner unit and that means access to the back that the others don’t have. I keep tight to the brick wall and slowly follow it to the open concept backyard with no fencing to separate it from the neighbors. There’s nothing back here, no patio furniture and not even a barbecue, telling me this place is temporary.