THE HARDEST YARDS (A BAD BOY FOOTBALL ROMANCE)

by Andrea Rose

  “That he does.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got more business to finish off. Lovely to meet you.”

  Wes left and Tyler caught the closing door with his foot.

  “Your turn.”

  I sneered at the disinterest in his face.

  “Feel something.”

  “Talk quieter.”

  “No. I’ve let men walk over me before but I won’t let you.You manipulated me, you prick. ”

  His nose blew.

  He released his foot and stormed up to stand before me.

  I forgot how much I missed the way he smelled post-shower, doused in freshly sprayed cologne.

  I buried my nose in my scarf, fighting the urge to reach for his warmth.

  Climbing fury tightened my chest and fevered eyes glowered above me.

  Tyler’s throaty growl swelled to a yell. He scratched his fingers up the barricade he’d built between himself and me.

  “Touch me.” I inhaled my whisper.

  He took a step back.

  “Touch me, look at me, talk to me. What happened to seeing lonely, Tyler? I’m lonely. I miss our late night texts, the sneaking around, the laughter, the rush…I miss you.”

  “No.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  “I’m cruel?”

  “Do you consider how your devil-may-care approach to life affects the lives of others?”

  Tyler hung his head.

  His fist met the concrete wall.

  Then again.

  “Careful of your hands.”

  “I’ll be careful with whatever the hell I want,” he said and punched it one more time. “Leave.”

  “You’re gonna end this without telling it to my face, you heartless bastard. Say it’s over. Say you give up first.”

  He couldn’t open his mouth.

  He’d done it too: Romanced me and fucked me over.

  “Unbelievable. I’m not gonna let you treat me like I’m some…”

  ‘Oh, the wa-ter!/O-oh, the water…’

  My arm dug violently through my bag to stop my ringtone playing our song. I hadn’t changed it!

  A wet bar of soap in my clammy hands, it toppled around the floor.

  ‘And it stoned me to my soul…’

  My hands patted along the carpet until I’d tapped the Ignore button.

  Tyler’s hand reached in front of my face to give me a helping hand. I slapped both hands to floor, picked myself up and slung my bag over my shoulder.

  Hands rested to hips. “May I have some privacy?” he said. “Gotta call Phoebe about somethin’.”

  “Phoebe?”

  “Yeah, y’know, my girlfriend.”

  He didn’t hesitate on the word like he used to. “Is…something going on between—?”

  “‘Course not. You think I’m that much of a pig I’d fuck one of your friends right after you? That how little you think of me?”

  “I’m sorry…I know…”

  “You don’t know. You have no idea, actually.”

  I wiped my brow. “Listen, have you talked to her recently?”

  “Few days ago. Said I’d call after the game.”

  “How many exactly?”

  “I dunno. Three?”

  “Shit.”

  “What?” His brows lowered and a hand latched to my arm.

  He was worried.

  About her.

  They did hang out a few times without me.

  Doubt kicked in—Was something real starting between them? Is that why she’s been out of contact for days? Because of guilt?

  “Ari.”

  “I—I’m not sure but neither London, LA or her family have seen or heard from her. I don’t know whether to worry. There’s no one else I can panic to. Oh, shit…If Yuri finds out I lost her too…”

  His lips parted. “Relax. Where do you think she is?”

  “I’m an East Coast contact, I don’t know her every whereabouts. There’s no sign she checked into her hotel in the city and she’s due at a big interview tomorrow that I’m in charge of.”

  “Her Instagram—she said if she doesn’t update it for a few days I should worry.”

  He sidled into me to lift my phone from my bag.

  “Need help?” I asked the technophobe.

  “Nope. Girls’ve been giving me tech lessons.”

  I stared over his shoulder, hating I wasn’t one of those girls anymore. I also begrudged him for the app opening straight onto Phoebe’s profile.

  “Five days since she updated,” he said and I squeezed my phone in my hand.

  Tyler squeezed atop it.

  “I worry, don’t I?” I mumbled.

  “I’m sorry I can’t come find her with you.”

  My eyes glared at him.

  Not coming?

  ‘Oh, the wa-ter!/O-oh, the water…’

  “Fuck’s sake,” I stomped, silencing Yuri who’d tried ringing a second time.

  I backed away from Tyler. “You’re coming to find your missing girlfriend with me, right?” I asked. “What if she’s in trouble?”

  “Ari, these are the most important weeks of my life here. We’re nearing the finals.”

  My whole body fell. “This is me. This is Phoebe. Who are you?”

  30

  “I can’t believe I actually thought you’d come.”

  Ariana, a body that begged to be held shivered in the cold with me two yards back from her.

  “How could I go to the city?” I said, slipping a well-chewed toothpick from my mouth. “I’m in the most crucial moment of my career, babe. Are you kidding me? I have a tour to finish, a week worth of training, press junkets then a final in Baltimore off this win. I can’t. Our future’s on the line here—Our professional one.”

  “She’s your girlfriend who could be in trouble.”

  “That’s not my battle. It’s sucks. But I can’t risk anything here with the team. Storms are blocking roads everywhere.”

  “Then rent a fucking helicopter.”

  I stepped in close and smoothed my fingers down her hair like I’d been allowed to once, allowing me a taste of temptation.

  She slapped me away. “Tyler…”

  “I can’t do it. I’ll send Chrissy with you. I don’t need her for a while anyway with Gavin here.”

  “OK.” Her pink nose sniffed and she scooped her furry coat further around her. “See you later, Tyler.”

  My hands returned to my pockets seeing her wander off into the snowy morning toward her cab. It took everything not to chase after her and say the thing I wanted to say the most:

  ‘This will all be worth it soon.’

  “Fuck!”

  I had to bide my time and behave…

  …For her.

  I’d committed to wait out the two years until our contract let us be together.

  In the time until then, I’d keep her close and be most obedient client La Maison had ever seen so she didn’t stress. To achieve that, Ari needed to hate me so she’d stay away.

  Two years being hated by your soul-mate for the lifetime I planned on having with her…

  …It’d be worth it.

  I couldn’t leave. This future of ours wouldn’t work without a career to go back to next year. I’d do whatever I could about Phoebe from the road.

  31

  The championship travelled South, putting me further from reach to protect those I cared about.

  I hadn’t decided which felt worse—Emptiness or the burden of caring.

  We spent a day in hard training until Coach gave us leave a couple days.

  At the Lightning’s Texas hotel bar to celebrate one night, I called Ari to check-in.

  “Soda and lime,” I said to the barkeep wiping the counter.

  “Tyler King, my man, have a shot on the house.”

  “I appreciate that. Gotta politely decline. Nutritionist wouldn’t be too happy with me. Cheers though.”

  Ari picked up my call with a grunt.

  “Any news?”
I asked her.

  “I said I’d call whenever we find anything else.”

  Phoebe had been tracked to Heathrow last Friday but that’s where the trail stopped. I didn’t talk to to the girl much about her life back home.

  Selfish bastard.

  My teeth grated down.

  I’d had an attitude since having to let Ari walk away in that snow storm in Chicago last week. Trying to make the woman you love hate you wasn’t fucking easy, nor was sacrificing now for a future you might not even get.

  A hand slammed the bar beside me. “Two this way.” Josh Hale flashed his veneers at me.

  The bartender poured the shots for the raucous crowd of over-excited giants who barged into the room and spooked the patrons.

  “Are you in a bar?” Ari asked under the noise.

  “Yes, drinking soda and lime!” I shouted.

  “Y’comin’ back to the Presidential Suite for some stripper action, pretty boy!” My line of defense came up behind me and ruffled my hair.

  I dipped out, complaining to them about being on the phone and pressed a finger to my ear.

  “Yo, Tyler,” Josh said. “Shots.”

  “Whatever,” Ari snapped. “You go enjoy yourself. Call you if I hear anything.”

  She hung up.

  I grabbed the shot on the brink of tipping into Josh’s throat, swallowing it instead. “Happy?”

  Getting fucked up tempted me too much. I had to get back to liquor-free my hotel suite before these guys dragged me down the rabbit hole.

  “There’s our pretty boy we missed in the showers.” A hard spank on the ass from line backer, Horner, as he climbed onto my back.

  “Last chance to party before the big one boys! Woo! King, the waivers’re signed, strippers are paid for and the lips are sealed….on our cocks!”

  I threw away a laugh, forgetting how rowdy this ogre got after a few.

  “What’d’ya say?” he asked.

  “Not tonight, Horner.”

  “Lady’s orders, Phoebe, ooh,” he said, whipping in the air. “Wppsh!”

  “Not. Tonight.”

  I kept walking. They stumbled and bumped me back to the sticky wood counter.

  “Bartender!” Horner shouted. “Let’s do ten slammers and three of your top shelf.”

  “I gotta get back.” I said and pushed them away

  “Old boy can’t handle it.”

  “Two years older than you, Hale.”

  To prove it, I spun around grabbed another shot and necked it back.

  “Come on, King,” Josh kept going. “It’s your last season. Have some fun with your fucking team before we get serious. Live a little, Jesus.”

  “Last season with the Lightning,” I corrected.

  “Whatever, Grandpa, just take the shots.”

  Three shots in a row, one after the other without a second thought…

  “There. Fun had.” I wiped my mouth, toeing Hale to meet him face to face. “I’m goin’ ta bed.”

  “Stay.”

  “Good night.”

  I waved my arm to them and picked up my coat off the rack by the door.

  “Oi,” Horner shouted catching me half-way out the door. “The fuck is the point in having you back if you ain’t even fun no more? Sulky asshole.”

  “I’m here to help you not be losers for the first time in your damn lives,” I said. “Nothing else.”

  “We don’t need you, King. We don’t need you on the team to win that Bowl. Hell, Josh beat your two hundred dash record in practice the other day. We’re winning, with or without you.”

  I fought my impulse to run at Josh.

  That asshole knew what he was taking from me. He’d been on my heels, nipping at them the older and better he got hoping one day I’d stumble.

  “You don’t need my help?” I asked them.

  Horner snorted. “Fuck no. You’re slow these days, King. So chill the fuck out and come have some goddamn drinks with y’boys for the last time.”

  Gavin sat in the corner hunched over a basket of fries and a magazine.

  “You’re the contingency plan,” I accepted and focused back on Josh’s baby face.

  I walked up and gimme’d my hand at Gavin. “Your Filofax,” I said knowing he keeps it in his inside pocket.

  “Why?”

  He pat his jacket. “I need my lawyers.”

  “Why you need them for?”

  “A restraining order on a fan. That nurse in hospital, you remember her?” Gavin believed it.

  The boys sat at a table, an array of liter bottles in front of them. My fists clenched. I had to endure my anger this time however bad it might get.

  Alcohol wouldn’t fix this.

  I knew the only thing that relieved me:

  Knowing I helped.

  My palm outreached. Gavin slapped something hard in it. “Your phone?” I asked.

  “That’s how we people keep numbers in the 21st century, numbskull.”

  He flicked it into my grip and guzzled some beer.

  “Y’know how to use it? Y’know how to make a call numb-nuts?”

  I showed him my middle finger and stepped into an empty booth.

  A member of my legal team answered the phone.

  I explained to her what I knew of Ari’s situation with her dogs and she said she’d help refer the case to someone more specialized.

  “Send her in tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon. We’ll see what we can do for her.”

  “Thanks. Please, no mention of my name.”

  “I’ll be as discreet as I can, Mr. King.”

  Gavin took the phone back and I fucked off, already feeling better.

  I stumbled tipsy through the hotel lobby, happy I found a way to apologize to Ariana without words or her telling me no.

  If she could swallow her pride long enough to attend a meeting with these lawyers, she’d get her dogs back.

  I let money talk for me against Ari’s request—Worth it for the most important cause.

  I finished every small bottle I stashed off the maid’s cart and sat at the edge of my bed, TV blaring bullshit celebrity news in between deafening movie trailers.

  Inhibitions down, I turned over a polaroid of Ari beside the ranch fire, her burner number in Sharpie on the back.

  I usually stashed it deep in my Manhattan apartment for safe keeping. I forgot why I packed it in the first place.

  Ring, ring…

  Ring, ring…

  “Mailbox full,” came the robotic voice of her answer phone.

  Tapping the phone on my head, too wired for sleep, I returned downstairs for company and promised, after some cheering up from Horner, to do my best to think of where Phoebe could be.

  32

  “It’s Phoebe, Ari. I need your help with something. I’m safe, I…need your help though. I’ll…I’ll make it up to you. Please call me. Bye.”

  “There are no. New. Messages”

  Beeeeep….

  My head lay in my hands. The sun hadn’t risen. Four in the morning, I sat shivering on the fountain outside La Maison’s building. I’d waited all night here for the first security guard to arrive and let me in.

  Non-business hours—when none of my contacts answered their phones—heightened my already unhealthy stress levels.

  I tapped my fingernail on the screen.

  Days spent searching the globe, asking every friend, every person she Followed, apologizing for her missing appearances and where is she?

  …Hiding in her family home in South London while her parents were on vacation.

  The help she needed from me better not take up much time; I needed to finish a mountain of work before running across the city to the courthouse at nine.

  I rang the one call I wanted to make this morning.

  “Ari, my love!” KK squealed through the phone.

  I sighed relief and collapsed over the sweet cadence of Kelly. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you answered.”

  “Babe, I haven’t heard f
rom you in ages. Sorry we keep missing each other. This time difference is nuts…How are you?” She sighed.

  A seagull screeched behind her.

  A fast moving car screeched into the carpark behind me.

  “Forget me. Can you be the most amazing best friend?”

  “Always.”

  “Tell me about your trip so I can sit here and listen for a while? I need to hear about someone’s life who isn’t falling to absolute shit.”

  She paused. “Oh…Uh…Right…I’m on a beach. I have an actual sun tan. There’s so much hotness running around in front of me, I want to weep.”

  “The drink of the evening?”

  “A Manhattan and a champagne.”

  “You hate Manhattans.”

  “I know. I just…I buy them to pretend you’re here with me. Then I get mad when I get drunker, notice the full glass and miss you like crazy.”

  “OK, stop, I have work soon. No flaked mascara.” Taunting drops of rain dripped on my cheek. “Is Derek there?”

  “Yep.”

  A sigh from her nose muffled into the speaker.

  “KK?” I asked. “Is everything OK with you guys?”

  “Good. So good, actually.”

  “Oh. Why don’t you sound happy?”

  “Things are so good that we decided…”

  “…Yeah…”

  “Uh, to…move over here.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Yeah. Whoa.”

  My eyes grew wide. “Wait…Whoa. Is that why you extended your stay?”

  “Derek wanted to go on that trip to, aside from save his marriage, attend a dream job interview in Sydney…He starts next month. Derek already found us a place, too.”

  No words.

  “Babe, I’m so sorry. I never thought I could fall in love with a place but I’m so in love with it here. I’m so happy.”

  “Sorry, you cut out,” I lied and bit my knuckle.

  “Ari, please don’t cry. I wanted to tell you sooner.”

  “No, this is fine. Great. So great.”

  “Forget me. I’ll talk to more with you about in the weekend. How’s the job? How’s Tyler? Get in over your head with him yet?”

  She’d meant it teasingly.

  I stopped dabbing at my mascara the minute the skies opened up a massive shower.

  “I…”