Vile Intentions: A Dark Sports Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  Oh no. Poor Dad.

  “Umm... I’m okay daddy, I promise.”

  Maverick is tapping his feet with his arms folded before me and I find myself wondering if he’s crazy enough to yank the phone out of my hand and hang up on my father. I eye him suspiciously before moving away to find some privacy, but he’s tailing me like a spoiled puppy.

  “I’m not going in today.”

  “Or any other day.” I hear Maverick grunt and I spin around with a finger on my lips silently scolding him. He rolls his eyes and flops down on the plush sofa across from me, watching me keenly.

  “Who was that?”

  “Just somebody passing by.” That was definitely a lie.

  I’ve never lied to my parents before and I resent the fact that Maverick is the reason I just lied to the most consistent man in my life.

  “Why aren’t you going in?”

  I take a deep, steadying breath. There’s a seagull on an ocean screaming in my head as I try to figure out just how much truth to tell. I decide honesty by omission will have to do it. “Dad, I’ll explain later. I promise I’m okay. I just need you to trust me. I’ll see you guys later, okay.” My voice breaks on the last sentence, betraying my guilt and I know he senses it when he draws in a deep ragged breath.

  He must have been so worried.

  “Okay sweetie. You’ll explain yourself later. I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Yes sir. Bye daddy.”

  “Bye pumpkin. I love you.”

  The sharp sting of tears behind my eyes catches me by surprise and I try to keep myself from ruining my cell phone with my tears.

  “I love you too dad. See you later.”

  When I hang up, I walk over to the sofa and flop down across from Maverick who is staring at me in disgust.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask defensively.

  “Phone. Texts. NOW.”

  “Do not raise your voice at me, Maverick,” I snap, my already rancid mood soured by my dishonesty. “I’ve had just about enough of that from you today.” I toss the phone to him and watch him scroll through what I hope are the messages from Hamm.

  There’s nothing overly personal on there anyway so it really doesn’t matter. I watch as his face goes from relief to irritation.

  “Don’t you have anything exciting on here? Jesus, you’re about as interesting as a bag of nails.”

  “We’re not all wild and reckless. Some of us actually have something to live for.”

  “Welfare checks aren’t all that life-affirming, but whatever,” he says, tossing the phone back to me.

  Insensitive asshole.

  “Neither is dying at 18 in some back alley in a pool of your own vomit,” I clap back, matching his insensitivity. I regret it instantly.

  “Levvi was an amateur,” he sneers, but I actually have a moral compass and an awareness of lines and I know I just crossed one, so I choose to back off.

  “Whatever. You’re all idiots. You’ve seen the texts. You’ve deleted the texts. Now give me a change of clothes so we can make this whole nonsense legit before we kill each other and defeat the purpose,” I snap, pulling the towel closer to me as I stand and march back to the bathroom to grab a warm shower and wash my hair.

  The glass door of the shower slides open easily and I step onto the cool dry tile, ready to be sprayed and massaged by the warmth of the water.

  The solar panels at home had stopped working a long time ago so I haven’t had a proper warm shower, let alone a hot one in ages. The stall is outfitted with exotic smelling shampoos and oils and I close my eyes and allow myself to forget where I am or why I’m actually here.

  In this stall, Maverick does not exist. We aren’t getting married and my parents aren’t dirt poor. People don’t hate me for existing and I don’t have to try so hard to be tough because life isn’t always trying to kick my butt.

  The smell of jasmine and the tingle of peppermint on my scalp draws a contented hum out of me and before long I find myself singing in the shower to an old tune about the things a real man will do when he loves a woman.

  “You’re putting on quite a show,” I hear a sarcastic drawl on the other side of the shower and the shrill scream that escapes my throat threatens to shatter the glass all around me.

  “Get out!” I wail, covering my lady parts even though they’re mostly hidden by foam.

  I can tell that he’s laughing, but I’m still screaming on the inside.

  “Why are you hiding from your husband to be?” he chuckles, and I hurl the shampoo bottle at him.

  “Get out, you pervert,” I shout, and he folds his hands and leans against the door.

  “And if I decide not to? What are you going to do then?”

  I hear, rather than see the smirk on his face. The fog on the glass is starting to fade and pretty soon there’ll be nothing between us.

  “What do you want?!” I shriek, as his face starts to become clearer to me.

  The thumping inside my chest feels like a thousand fists from burly men.

  I turn the faucet back on in a desperate attempt to create steam.

  “Ask me nicely.”

  “What?!”

  “Ask me nicely to leave.”

  “Get out Maverick!” I shout, rolling my eyes at this dick move.

  “I can camp out here all day or I can come closer.”

  The thought of him seeing me fully exposed does terrible things to my mind and my body.

  “Maverick. Please.” I pause, tasting the words in my mouth with a scowl on my face.

  “Please what?” he asks, and I want to wipe the smug smile off his face.

  “Please get the hell out of the bathroom so I can change.”

  “Not nice enough.”

  I sigh. The warm water is great, but I don’t want to be in here all day. He already has me at a disadvantage so what’s the point? It’s not like I’m going to step out and strut my stuff in front of this moronic asshole.

  With a resigned sigh, I graciously accept defeat and through gritted teeth, summon the sweetest voice I can. “Maverick could you please step outside for a second? I need to change.”

  He claps his hands. “Very good, turtle, but it’s missing something.”

  “Maverick!”

  “Don’t spoil it now,” he teases and I wonder if my pride can handle baring my body before this ape. The longer he’s in here, the less I want to make him win but the more I think about it, the more it becomes evident that he’ll win either way. I hate it.

  “Maverick just-”

  “Say pretty please. And call me husband, not Maverick.”

  “Husband,” I start. My voice is raw from unshed tears. Why does this feel worse than him lighting my ass on fire?

  “Hus-” the word lodges in my throat and I turn the shower off. “Fuck this,” I mumble, stepping out of the shower and walking over to the counter to pick up a towel and my clothes before storming out of the bathroom, leaving a very surprised Maverick, trying not to gawk at me.

  8

  So far, all the points are stacked up in my favor. I had won the car thing by a very thin line and the pool thing by a fraction, but that bathroom stunt was definitely the biggest win of all. As suspected, I can make little miss ‘too good for her broke life’ here do just about whatever I want and I’m going to enjoy this newly found power I have over her.

  Still, I hadn’t quite expected to be flashed by her so soon.

  And the fact that she isn’t exactly tough to look at… I wasn’t expecting that either.

  Right now, she’s silently stewing in the passenger seat of the rental I ordered to drive us to my Attorney’s office. She’s wearing the peach dress Suzanna left the last time she came over. The more I look at her, the more I’m astonished about just how easy it is for her to look decent. The low neckline on the dress is a lot more impressive on her than it was on Suzanna, but the sulk she’s wearing…well, that’s not doing the whole look any justice.

  “You’re
stinking up the car with your sour mood.” I throw the words at her, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she reaches for her phone and starts scrolling through, trying to ignore me. I’m sure by now she realizes that she’s failing miserably. Knowing her, that’s pissing her off.

  “When we get out, you’ll need to smile. You’re going to be marrying an eligible bachelor. Act like it.”

  She flinches, but I’m not sure if it’s in response to what I’m saying or whatever nonsense she’s staring at on her phone.

  A gasp escapes her, and I glance over at her face, the color rapidly draining from her features. I’m jealous of whatever it is she’s looking at. I want to own and cause that horrified look on her face.

  “Pull the car over!” she shouts.

  “We’re in the middle of the highway. I can’t just pull the car over,” I scoff at her.

  “Pull off over there.” She points, but I’ve never really been good at taking orders and now is not when I’m about to start.

  I zip past the turn-off she pointed out and she spins around in the seat to glare at me. “Pull over the damn car, Maverick!” she yells, reaching for the wheel.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I shoot back, finally giving her what she wants as I pull over on the soft shoulder.

  She shoves her phone into my face and I swat her hand away.

  “Two years!” she shrieks, a vein I hadn’t noticed before pops up into her forehead.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “We have to stay married for two whole years!”

  I grab the phone from her and start reading the screen of the immigration website. Coach didn’t say anything about a two year bondage agreement. I don’t want to be married to anyone, let alone this raggedy maniac for all of two years.

  “Shit.”

  She opens the door and jumps out, wearing out the already soft shoulder with her pacing.

  “Get back in here!” I yell at her, rolling down her side of the window.

  “No!” She shouts back and starts walking in the direction of downtown.

  Seriously. Of all the many ways to waste my bloody time, this is the one I’m stuck with?

  I slam the door shut behind me and start after her, my Jordans crunching the loose dirt along the side of the road. Beth spins around when I grab her by the shoulder and I’m tempted to shake some sense into her thick skull.

  “And just where in the hell do you think you’re going, huh?” I shout at her and her eyes light up with defensive rage.

  “I cannot do this. I don’t want to do this! This isn’t worth it. You are not worth it.” Ouch. Much to my dismay, something in her words sting.

  I shove her away from me and step back, staring at her with her borrowed dress and unkempt hair both flopping carelessly around in the wind. Her shoes are worn and severely out-dated yet somehow she can manages to pluck up the unmitigated gall to scowl at me?

  “And just who the fuck do you think you are?” My jaw tenses as I try not to lose complete control over my fraying temper.

  “Do you think I want to marry you? Do you somehow think I derive even a modicum of pleasure from knowing that even though fraudulent, I am being bonded to you in any way?”

  Her cheeks flush but her eyes remain defiant and I’m determined to squash every bit of gusto that she seems to have stolen from someone much more worthy than herself.

  She crosses her arms across her chest and I take a step towards her, my shadow towering over her in an appropriately ominous tone.

  “You think you’re at a disadvantage here? What do you bring to the table? Your citizenship. You think that somehow makes you special?”

  “It may not make me special, but it’s exactly what you need!” she retorts.

  “I need to not be deported, you wench. That is what I need! If there was another way to do it, I’d do it. I’d much rather go to hell on a bloody unicycle than marry you. But here I am, enduring the very sight of you because this is mutually beneficial. Not because I want to and certainly not because I want you.”

  “Screw you!” she barks back but her bite doesn’t hurt at all this time.

  “You wish.” I make a face that I can see reflected in her shimmering eyes.

  “Get this straight right now, Beth Hendrickson. I don’t want you. I don’t want to be married to you. You’re nothing to me. You’re worth nothing-”

  I catch her hand mid-air and stop her weak attempt at slapping me.

  She tries to pull her wrist away, but my hold is firm.

  I can see her bottom lip quiver before it disappears between her teeth.

  “Get the hell back into the car so we can go to the god damn Attorney and get the bloody information we need to make sense of this shit we’re in.”

  I can hear her shoes scuffling with the dirt as I drag her behind me, but I’m too pissed to care.

  She yelps when I open the door and push her inside. “You get out of this car again you’d better be prepared to fucking walk because I will leave your ass in the middle of the highway. Got it?” I growl at her and her eyes stare back at me wide but dimmed.

  Good.

  That’s exactly where I want her.

  Firmly in her damn place.

  9

  There’s no confusion in my mind whatsoever about why this sharply dressed smooth-talker standing across from us, leaning against the polished mahogany table, is Maverick’s Attorney. He reeks of privilege and shady business so much, I’m certain it’s a personalized fragrance bottled and sold to morons like them at an obscene price.

  “So, let me get this straight,” he says, crossing his Manolo-clad legs at the ankles, showing off his bright red socks in deep contrast with his well tailored, three-piece navy-blue suit.

  “You ignored my warning for about six months that your visa was approaching expiration and now you’re two months shy of deportation and you want little miss...what’s your name again?” He barely glances at me.

  “Beth,” I mutter with a straight face, wanting to be anywhere but here.

  “Right, Beth. You want to force Beth to marry you so you can stay here?”

  “Nobody is forcing her.”

  I roll my eyes and he laughs. “She doesn’t look particularly thrilled to be here.”

  Maverick casts a sideways glance at me. “That’s just her face. It seems to be stuck that way.”

  I ignore his childish jab and get down to the facts. “I don’t think anyone put thought into this and because I’d like to avoid jail at all costs, I would like you to walk us through the process. And I’d like you to do it thoroughly.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Does it really have to be two years?” I plead and he nods, running his hand through his hair.

  “Ideally. It creates less problems that way. Sure, he’s the one that would end up deported if it’s ever revealed that this marriage is fraudulent, but you’re the one going to prison here.”

  “Fantastic,” Maverick groans.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve seen couples with less hope of survival make it through this process and with my expert assistance this will all be a piece of cake.”

  By the time he’s done explaining the ingredients needed to make this cake my head is spinning and I’m out of breath. Perhaps I should switch my intended major to acting because I’ll be putting on the show of my life with this whole sham.

  “So I guess we won’t be doing this today then.” I wince, looking down at my notes. This false wedding is actually going to be more work than I thought.

  “You want me to actually rent a tux and take photos with her?” Maverick asks after a few moments of being unnaturally quiet.

  Of course that’s all he got from the laundry list of things to do. He’s so vain!

  “It’s your ass on the line here, Maverick. This could have been avoided.”

  “I’m sorry, am I the ‘this’ you’re referring to?” I ask, tired of being treated as though I’m not even in the room.

/>   Mr. Da’Souza reluctantly turns to look at me with a fake smile on his face. “Listen, Rebecca.”

  “It’s Beth.”

  “Whatever. My client here-”

  “Let me just stop you right there.” I sit upright in the chair. From the corner of my eye, I see Maverick turn to look at me. It’s the first time either of them have actually acknowledged me properly since I entered the room. I can deal with a lot of things, but after Maverick’s damning speech on the highway, I think my tolerance took a nosedive in competition with my pride.

  I couldn’t even snap back at his hostility. I’m accustomed to Maverick’s physical torment, but I never assumed his verbal assaults would wind up being worse.

  My self-esteem took a hit, sure, but I’m not about to have them trample over me here too. This is as much my life as it is Maverick’s and I will not press my back against the floor while they stomp their polished boots all over me.

  “I’m not sure if you were paying attention,” I snap, “but I’m about to become his wife.”

  I can almost hear Maverick’s jaw hit the floor and I’d laugh if I weren’t so pissed.

  “All that crap you just listed wasn’t for some run of the mill high school party. This is my life we’re talking about, and sure, Maverick, my existence means nothing to you beyond my citizenship in the same way that yours means nothing to me besides your money, but my life has value and meaning to me. So, if you can just acknowledge that then we’ll be off to a better start. You keep referring to Maverick as your client as if you somehow don’t realize that I’m about to become your client too.”

  “Beth-”

  “Don’t speak to me, Maverick!” I snap.

  Da’Souza clears his throat and straightens his tie. I can tell I’ve caught him off-guard, but there’s a slight smirk in his eye that says he’s amused which only irritates me more.

  “I’m not going to say or do anything to compromise his citizenship even though I would love for him to pack his shit, and get the hell out of here and back to his Queen. If I go through with this, I’m stuck with him for two whole years of my life. So don’t talk to me about “your client”. Talk to me about the piece of shit that I’m going to be calling husband and do it as if I’m already your client because trust me Collin, I am.”