“Why do they get special treatment?” Jake grouses.
“Manny cuts a finger,” Rolondo says, “he throws shitty passes to me and it looks bad on me.”
“And North?”
“It’s his first time here. Stop asking questions and cut the damn bread.”
Laughing, I help Dex with the silverware and we’re soon eating the best Southern style home cooked meal I’ve had since I can remember. “Damn, Ro,” I say between bites of tender ribs, “if you’re in doubt about what to do after retirement, you could easily find work as a chef.”
He grunts, sucking a bone clean. “Me, Dex, and a couple of our friends from college have been thinking about opening some restaurants. Get in it early so we can learn what we’re doing.”
“No shit?” I glance at Dex who doesn’t seem to notice but shovels macaroni in his mouth without looking up. “Could be fun.”
Rolondo’s gaze slides to Dex, and his expression turns thoughtful, but he doesn’t linger. “Yeah. Never too early to plan.”
“I hate thinking about the future,” Jake says, grabbing another piece of cornbread. “Change sucks.”
“Change will happen whether you like it or not, man.” North takes a pull on his beer. “Resist all you want, but it will get you.”
“Like the Boogeyman, eh?” Jake says with a snort.
“I think about it,” I say. “The future.”
“Scares the shit out of me,” Rolondo admits. “Not playing ball. But what can you do? Such is life.”
“Not everything good in life revolves around football,” Dex says in a low voice. He glares around the table when we all go silent and stare at him. “Please tell me you chuckleheads know this.”
North sits back in his seat. “What, you mean women?” He rolls his eyes. “Try again.”
“Finding someone to spend your life with matters,” Dex insists in his quiet way.
North snorts. “Met a woman, fell hard. So hard, I insisted we get married. Wanted to lock that shit down, you know.” He flicks a crumb off the table. “Had two good years before she got bored and fucked my teammate. Well, three of them.”
“At once?” Jake asks, almost as if he can’t help himself. But then blanches when North gives him a death glare. “Sorry, it just came out…That’s fucked up, man.”
North sighs. “Maybe she did. Who the fuck knows.”
Rolondo leans in. “So you think that because your wife ended up being a cheater that it’s all bullshit?” He shakes his head. “Man, do not give her that power.”
“I’m not.” North scowls. “I’m just saying…” He makes an agitated sound. “I don’t know. Just don’t put all your hopes on a woman.”
“I’m not,” Rolondo says succinctly.
“Or a man,” North adds.
Ro’ shrugs but doesn’t look convinced.
I, on the other hand, am not liking this conversation. My chest is getting tight, and I find myself blurting out what’s on my mind. “Chess and I got together over the bye week.”
“What? Just now?” Rolondo’s brows lift high. “I thought you’ve been hitting that since the beginning.”
“Hey.” I glare at him, and he holds his hands up in peace.
“Sorry, sorry. I thought you were having relations with Ms. Copper since you met her.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs.
“Anyway,” I say. “She has her insurance check so she can get a new place but—”
“Let her move out,” North cuts in. “For the love of all that’s holy, just let her go and take it slow.”
Yeah. No.
“I get that you’re coming off a bad relationship, but I don’t see the problem with Chess staying. I want her to stay.”
He utters a long suffering sigh. “You ever live with a woman?”
“I’ve been living with her for a while now.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t been fucking—having relations—with her until now.”
Jake snickers, and I flip him off, as North keeps talking.
“Being roommates is one thing. You start sleeping with her and suddenly she’s going to expect more. Girlfriends have rights.” He hold up a hand and starts counting off on his fingers. “The right to know where you’re going. Where you’ve been.”
“I don’t mind telling her those things. I want her to know.”
North’s eyes drill into me. “The right to complain when your job keeps you away.”
“That’s true,” Jake says. “They do complain.”
“When have you had a relationship?” I scoff.
“I’ve dated. They always complain. Hell, hookups complain when you roll out of bed to gear up for practice.”
Rolondo nods. “Fellas be talking about how their wives give them shit all season. And you don’t even want to know about training camp woes they’ll lay on your shoulders. Especially if you have kids.”
Frustration claws up my throat, and I run a hand over my face. “You guys are supposed to be making me feel better, not telling me this.”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing here?” Rolondo asks with a laugh.
I look at Dex who is still brooding. “You’re living with Fiona. Help me out.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “I don’t regret living with Fiona for a second. I love it.”
“See,” I say to the doomsday crew, while gesturing toward Dex.
“But,” Dex continues in that maddeningly methodical way of his. “I think she wants to cut and run on me.”
“What?” Rolondo and I say at the same time.
Dex looks completely blank as he picks at his thumbnail. “She’s depressed about all this shit, and instead of turning to me, she’s retreating.” It’s almost ponderous the way he tries to lift his shoulders in a shrug. “So I guess there’s truth to what they’re saying. This life isn’t easy on our loved ones. Not by a long shot.”
I slump back in my chair, as the guys start peppering Dex about his girl. My mind drifts to Chess. We always talk things out. Our relationship is built on communication; we had that down pat before we even touched each other. Chess wouldn’t retreat.
Yeah, but she’s been hesitant about you this whole time. She’s one step from freaking even now. How is she going to be for the long haul? When you’re gone more than you’re around. Do you blame her? Who would want that?
Heartburn hits me in a rush, and I rub at my chest. Fuck, why did I go out with the guys? Ignorance truly is bliss. The future is a dark, murky place I want no part of anymore.
North glances my way, his gaze knowing. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you,” I say without any heat. I know he’s only looking out for me. I still hate him a little at the moment.
“Don’t listen to all of this shit,” Dex says in a low voice. “I have friends who are in good relationships, happy relationships.”
“Are you happy?” I can’t help but ask.
He strokes his beard, clearly thinking about how to answer, which doesn’t bode well. We all fall silent, waiting.
“I’m in flux,” he finally says. “I’m in love with a woman, and she is my joy. And that scares the shit out of me.”
The table is silent as we all take in his words. North nods slightly, looking so mournful, my heartburn rises.
“Am I happy?” Dex repeats. “Yeah. I’m happy as much as a clueless guy can be. Am I at peace? No, not yet. But I’m working on that.”
“I’m depressed,” Jake announces, shoving his plate back from his place. “This conversation is depressing.”
“We can’t always be talking about the next Zelda expansion pass,” I say, shoving my plate back too.
Jake rolls his eyes but then looks at me. “What are you going to do?”
“I asked her to stay with me. I can’t take that back.” I. Don’t. Want. To. “So I guess I’ll proceed with caution and hope for the best.”
Sometimes I really fucking hate that I can read people so well, because my guys clear
ly think my new plan is crap. They’re kind enough not to say it out loud but the damage is done. By the time I head home in a cab, I’m popping antacids, in a foul mood, and slightly drunk.
Chapter Seventeen
Chess
* * *
Finn isn’t there when I get home. And I have to laugh at myself because I’d expected him to be. After all my huffing about independence and the chokehold of living with someone, I hate that I come home to an empty place. Oh, irony, you bitter bitch.
I find his note on the kitchen counter.
Went to Rolondo’s house for dinner. Didn’t want to text and interrupt your friend time.
See? Totally giving you space. ;-)
-F
At the bottom of the note, he’s drawn a smiling stick figure of a guy wearing a crown and holding a football and… I lean closer, peering at the drawing in the dim light, then let out a spurt of laughter. “Sick, sick man.”
Stick figure Finn also has an enormous stick dick. And it is clearly happy.
Grinning wide, I hold the note to my heart in a moment of complete sappiness then secure it to the stainless steel fridge with a fleur-de-lis magnet. Happy dick King Finn can now rule over the kitchen.
His note has cast out some of my sorrow. But not enough. It’s too quiet in the condo, the hum of the fridge highlighting the fact. I help myself to a glass of red wine and take it to my room.
Changing into pjs, I eye the bed with trepidation. Finn’s room is just down the hall in the far corner of the apartment. I’ve seen it. Of course I looked. But I’ve never really been in there. It felt like a threshold I’d dared not cross, as if entering it would make the temptation of Finn more real.
Picking up my glass of wine, I head for his room. It ridiculous how my heart rate kicks up, as if I’m trespassing. The room is dark, illuminated only by the light coming in through the massive arched windows facing the river and the one looking toward Jackson Square.
Creeping like a thief, I make my way across the wide space and flick on a bedside lamp. Like my room, his has a fireplace on one wall, but his room is double the side of mine and painted a rich, deep red. The color is too dark for me, but it feels cozy, like a cocoon. A king size bed of weathered wood and natural linen padding takes up one wall, while a sleeping couch takes up the other.
The TV is arm-mounted over the fireplace and I can imagine Finn pulling it out and making it face the bed so he can lie down and watch his beloved sports highlight shows.
It feels strange now that I’ve never visited him in here. He’s certainly popped his head into my room enough times to see what I was up to. Although, I always got the impression that he was vaguely disappointed that I hadn’t been naked. The imp.
I turn on the other bedside lamp and look at the artwork on the walls. There isn’t much, a few abstracts on the wall by the couch, a large black and white abstract with a splash of gold paint running through it over the bed. On the wall next to the bed, there is a large, framed picture of Haystack Rock in Oregon. A bit of landscape, which, I realize with a little jolt was featured in Goonies.
I stare at the picture and another frisson goes through me. Of all the pictures to have. Dust has settled on the edge of the white frame, so I know it isn’t new. It’s been there a while, sitting right where Finn could look at it while lying in his bed.
I turn away and investigate his bathroom. “Jesus.”
It is a palace. All white marble, a huge free-standing tub that could hold two people, a glass walled shower that could accommodate three. The toilet has its own room, and throne jokes run through my head as I close the door.
Over the tub hangs a glass chandelier fashioned to look like a sailing ship, a bit of unexpected whimsy that I love.
In all the pretty, he’s left his brush on the counter next to three tubes of various men’s hair products, and his toothpaste lays open by the sink. I fight the urge to cap it up and put it back in the little gray cup that holds his toothbrush. I’m not here to tidy.
The closet is just as impressive. Dark gray walls, white woodwork. Rows of dark suits, polished leather shoes, and then an entire wall of athletic shoes. He has drawers and drawers of casual clothes. A section devoted to athletic wear and gear. The place smells like him, lingering with the cologne he sometimes wears. The space is so big, he’s only taken up half of it.
The other half could be yours. Look at all those empty shelves and lonely rods, waiting for clothes to hand on them.
I swallow down a sip of wine and then turn around and leave. I don’t stop until I’m in my own, smaller room. I love this space. It’s comfortable, with a bathroom that, while perfectly done, is small enough to find in most homes.
Finn’s space is like a dream. Big and bold, it speaks of the highest echelon of wealth and privilege. His sheets are fine linen, his duvet cover is cashmere. I can’t even afford a cashmere throw. I glance at the cream-colored throw at the end of my bed and snort. Because it is cashmere, and it is Finn’s.
Am I really freaking out over Finn’s money? Or is it just a convenient excuse? I think about James and New York. James won’t be here anymore. My sounding board is leaving me.
With a sigh, I plop down on my bed and wrap myself in the throw. “I’m a goddamn mess who is talking to herself.”
I decide to ignore my brain and settle down with a good book that proves increasingly hard to read. My concentration is shot and my self-pity is ridiculously high.
I’m close to maudlin by the time Finn finally comes home. My heart gives a little leap when I hear him open then close the front door. He’s here. Finn will understand. He’ll give me a hug and let me cry on his shoulder. He’ll tell me everything is going to be okay.
He walks right by my room, not even glancing my way, even though my door is open and the light is on. I watch him pass, my mouth hanging open.
For a moment, there is only silence in my room and the sound of him tromping into his. And then the yelling starts.
“Chess? Chessssss! Chester!” He’s so loud, I fear the neighbors will call the cops.
“Jesus,” I mutter, then call out. “What?”
Footsteps stomp and then he appears in the doorway, a big scowl on his face. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
He sounds so disgruntled, I want to laugh. “Ah… getting ready to sleep?”
This clearly does not appease. “Why are you doing that in here?”
“Because it’s my room.”
It’s as if he’s sucked a rotten lemon, his mouth twisting, his nostrils flaring. “This is not your room. It’s the guest room.” Sheer disgust and outrage drips from his lips. And he raises and arm to point down the hall. “Your room is that way.”
He stands, arms crossed over his chest, like some king waiting for an explanation. And I roll my eyes. “Excuse me for not presuming—ack!”
Finn scoops me up, puts me over his shoulder, and heads for his room. “Don’t even start with that. We’re together now. My bed is your bed.”
“Put me down, asshole!” The floor is way too far below.
“I will. Once we’re in our room.” He gives my butt a light slap.
“Jesus, you really are a caveman.”
“I prefer the Tarzan and Jane scenario,” he says easily. “I’d look great in a loincloth, don’t you think?”
“God, the ego on you.” However, I silently agree.
Chuckling, he weaves a bit, which freaks me out ,and I clutch the waistband of his jeans. “If you drop me, I will kill you.”
“I’m not gonna drop you.” He enters the bedroom and stops. “No, I lied. I am totally dropping you.”
With that, he plops me down onto his bed, more gently than I’d imagined. I don’t even bounce. I do, however, sit up and glare. “You crazy asshole.”
He just stands there grinning. “Stick and stones, Chess.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Finn scratches the back of his neck and frowns. “Huh. I guess it
doesn’t.” With a shrug, he flops onto the bed next to me, and the entire frame groans in protest.
I roll onto my side and really look him over. His skin is rosy and his eyes are glazed. The goofy, crooked smile is back in place. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, Chess.”
“What?”
“What, what?” he asks back, and then snickers.
I frown. The scent of beer and roast meat wafts off him. It isn’t a bad smell but not the norm. “Are you drunk?”
Supine on the bed, Finn lets out an expansive sigh. “Yeah.”
I bite back a laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
“Kind of hard to hide it.” He turns his head and eyes me. “Let’s fuck.”
The laugh I’ve been fighting escapes me, shocked and a bit breathless. “Yeah, let’s not.”
I only mostly mean it. Whenever Finn says fuck like that, my body reacts. Needy, but true.
His blue eyes are big and pleading. “But I want you.”
“I’m not big on having sex with drunk men.”
“Don’t knock drunken sex till you try it.” He gives me a leer that looks more cross-eyed than anything.
I snort. “Sorry, but no.”
“You think I’ll complain later that you took advantage of me?” Finn flicks the edge of his teeth with his tongue. “I promise you I won’t.”
“Maybe I’m afraid you won’t remember my name in the morning,” I tease.
“Not possible,” he murmurs. “You’re always on my mind.” He giggles then. An actual giggle. “It’s like that Willie Nelson song.” He starts singing “You Were Always On My Mind” with an awful twang, but he gives into more giggling laughter halfway through the first refrain.
“I thought that was an Elvis song.”
“Whatever the case…” He takes a big breath and sings, “give me one more chance to keep you satisfied…”
“If you don’t stop crooning like Willie, I’m going to leave,” I warn with a grin.
Finn’s face goes blank for a second and then he tries his best Elvis instead. He gets out two words before we both crack up. We lay on the bed laughing full out for a good minute before he catches my gaze with his. The last vestiges of my self-pity melt away and there is Finn and this moment where we’re both panting and teary-eyed with laughter.
The Hot Shot Page 23