Blitzed

by Alexa Martin

  Thirty-eight

  I always thought I knew how much I loved my job, but being away from it for a week made me even more aware.

  I love my customers. I love my staff. I just love it.

  My dad’s heart attack has made me realize how freaking short life is and how fast things can change. I feel like a new person. There’s this zest for life inside me that was never there before as I serve drinks and greet customers. Having my man looking fine and kicking some serious football ass on the TVs surrounding me doesn’t suck either.

  Poppy is at the hospital with my dad so I could come into HERS for a while today. Vonnie offered me a ticket for her box, but I’ve been gone for too long and I knew today was going to be extra crazy with it being a playoff game.

  Paisley took amazing care of the place while I was gone, and I know that I need to give her a promotion. She deserves it and I’d actually like the freedom to take more time off with the way things with Maxwell are progressing. She even came up with a playoff cocktail. I tried it when I got in this morning (when it’s your job, drinking vodka in the morning isn’t a problem, it’s dedication) and almost kissed her.

  “Two Championship Chuggers.” I place the icy mugs in front of the women in their Mustangs jerseys. “Just holler if you need anything else.”

  I start my walk back to the bar, weaving between huddles of women and a few scattered men, when applause and cheers break out all around me. I look at the closet TV and join in the celebrating when I see Maxwell getting off the ground with the football in his hand. He tosses it to the nearest referee and the camera zooms in on him as he runs to the sideline, his teammates slapping the back of his helmet as he goes . . . his tight ass looking extra freaking fabulous today.

  I make it to the back of the bar, but when I do, Abby is chewing on her bottom lip and looks nervous beyond belief.

  I feel my forehead wrinkle as my eyebrows scrunch together. “Is everything okay?”

  “I—I don’t know? A police officer came in. He said he needed to speak to you, it sounded urgent. I had him go wait in your office.”

  I look over my shoulder and see that my office door that’s normally closed and locked is cracked open.

  Now, if I were thinking clearly, I’d know that if anything had happened to my dad, Poppy would get in touch with me, and there’s really no reason a police officer would come when no crime was committed. But thinking clearly and rationally has never been my strong point, and fear nearly chokes me as I sprint to my office.

  I push open the door and see the officer in his uniform standing in front of my picture wall.

  “Theo.” My shoulders sag in relief. “What the hell? You scared me.”

  “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to.” He tucks his hands into his pockets. I’m not sure if it’s a move to highlight the fact that he’s armed or if it’s an innocent gesture, but either way, there’s something not right here.

  “Well . . .” I close the door behind me and make a point not to lock the door. Maxwell’s warning about Theo echoes in my mind. “What can I help you with?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you when I knew Max wasn’t going to be around,” he says, and a fizzle of unease starts to crawl up my spine. “I know he hasn’t been honest with you, and I don’t want you to be blindsided when this comes out.”

  The unease blossoms into full-blown dread. I know I should turn him away and wait for Maxwell to open up, but part of me just needs to get this over with.

  “Have a seat.” I gesture to the open chairs as I round my desk. My knees are already starting to knock together, and I’m thinking that sitting through this conversation is the best decision.

  “I’m sure you’ve caught on to the fact that there’s tension between us?” he asks.

  “Ummm, yeah. It’s pretty hard to miss.” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but this isn’t the kind of conversation I appreciate dragging out.

  “Well, it wasn’t always like that between us.” He leans back in the chair, and the acrylic groans under his weight. “We actually used to be really close.”

  Now this is harder to believe and does not match up with the little that Maxwell has told me. I stay silent and he picks up the clue and continues on.

  “Then he went to college and everything started to change. I’m older than him. I went to college, I know what happens when you’re away from the nest for the first time, and honestly, his freshman and sophomore years were fine. He did the normal sleeping around that athletes do . . . sorry,” he says when I cringe at the idea of sweet, caring Maxwell being the stereotypical asshole jock. “But his junior and senior years were different. His senior year, things were getting out of hand and our dad reached out to me. He wanted me to go check on him. I had just joined the force in Philly and he thought I could talk some sense into him.”

  I open my mouth to say something, anything, but it just opens and closes like a fish out of water.

  “You know . . .” He stops and looks at me. “Well, actually you might not know. But when you’re black and in these predominately white colleges, you already stick out. When you’re black and on these campuses and you’re slated to go in the first round of the draft, you become royalty. And that can go to your head . . . that did go to his head.

  “While I was visiting, he wanted to show me around. I went to a couple of his classes with him and then, it was a Friday, that night, we went to a party.”

  It’s like I drank acid and my stomach is eating through itself. I keep teetering between listening to the rest of the story and asking him to leave. I know how I feel about Maxwell, and letting Theo finish seems like a betrayal. But also, if he hadn’t kept leaving me in the dark, I wouldn’t be in this horrible situation to begin with.

  “The girls were all over him. Like I said, he was a rock star on that campus. Yes, all the girls were going to school and getting educations, but apparently that didn’t diminish the appeal of becoming a trophy wife.”

  “Hey now,” I interject. None of my friends are simply “trophy wives” and that shit pisses me off. “I know a lot of wives and girlfriends, Theo, and they all have a hell of a lot to offer.”

  “Which is why their husbands married them. They weeded out the ones who had nothing to offer.” He shrugs and I want to disagree, but I don’t know if I can, so he continues on. “Anyways, there was one girl he wanted that night, and of course, she was the only one not paying him any attention. He followed her around the entire night and she laughed at his jokes and drank the drinks he brought her . . . and believe me, he brought her a lot of them. She never flat-out blew him off, but it was clear she wasn’t interested, and I told him that. But he wouldn’t listen.”

  Holy shit.

  As the direction this story is going starts to become clear, nausea begins to rise in my stomach.

  I shake my head, willing it not to be true. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t.” Not my Maxwell, he would never.

  “I was older, too old to hang in a college party, so I left a little early. But, before I left, I told him she was drunk. I told him that when a girl is on the verge of unconsciousness, she cannot give consent. He said he understood and that he wasn’t interested in her anymore anyways. So I left the party feeling good.

  “I woke up the next morning and he still wasn’t home. The party was at his teammate’s house, so I didn’t think too much about it. I hopped in the shower, grabbed a couple of coffees, and then headed back to the house. It was early, so when I got to the house, everyone was still asleep, and when I finally found Max, he was in bed with the drunk girl from the night before and they were both naked.”

  No fucking way.

  The roiling of my stomach almost causes me to reach for my trash can.

  “How?” I wipe away the stray tears that manage to break through the sick shock.

  “I’m really sorry that I had to be the one t
o tell you . . . or that there is something to tell at all, I really am.” He leans forward and offers me a tissue, his eyes earnest and full of regret.

  I take the tissue and blow my nose, giving in to the feeling of sorrow. “How did he get away with this?”

  “I knew he was entering the draft that year and was slotted to go high. I didn’t want his career to end before it started. So I woke him up and told him to leave. I hoped she’d be too drunk to remember what happened. Maxwell left and I was looking around the room to make sure he didn’t leave anything that would jog her memory, when she woke up. She rightfully started to freak out. She was screaming and crying and when people came to check on her, she pointed the blame at me. And what could I do? Everyone knew I was with Max, and if I denied it, they would piece together the puzzle and he’d be ruined. So I took the fall.”

  I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to fight back the second bout of nausea rolling through. This story gets worse with every piece of information he feeds me. I don’t know if I can handle any more. I was planning a life with Maxwell and not only did he assault a woman, but he let someone else pay for his actions. It’s fucking disgusting.

  “Is that everything?” I ask, ready to shut my door on the Lewis brothers for good.

  “Not quite.” He cringes and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The woman didn’t want to go through a trial and relive it all. So we settled outside of court.”

  This doesn’t surprise me at all. Who would want to get crucified in court for being a victim and relive your shame and pain for the world to judge? Certainly not I.

  “Okay?” I ask. My mind has officially shut down and is no longer capable of guessing what other dark corners this twisted, sordid tale is going to take me to.

  “When we settled out of court, Max obviously paid the settlement, and the girl signed an NDA. I thought it was over.” He takes a breath so deep that even I brace. “I got a call from a reporter a few months ago. She was looking into cases for a segment she was working on and got a sniff of the case. Somehow she was able to follow the money and link it back to Max. I’ve been keeping quiet, but she’s been reaching out to some of his old teammates, and I heard through the grapevine that’s she’s almost ready to air the piece.”

  It’s like the floor has been pulled from under me. My thoughts are running rampant and colliding into each other. It’s just too much.

  I start to laugh—a full-on belly laugh that cause tears to leak down my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to Theo, wiping the tears and trying to regain my composure. “I used to think my friends had drama. But this week my dad had a heart attack, my crazy mom came back and I had to have lawyers serve her divorce papers, and now, my boyfriend is going to be plastered all over the news for sexual assault.” My laughter starts to pick up again and a snort slips out. “I can’t even blame the Lady Mustangs for this!”

  “I know I probably messed things up with you guys, but even though we don’t talk, Max really is a good guy. He made a mistake, but I’m sure he learned from it. Just . . . can you tell him to call me? I’ve been trying to warn him about this, but he never hears me out. Maybe if you tell him, he will. I might have a way around this.”

  “Why should he get a way around this?” I ask, bitterness creeping into my voice. “Did his victim get a way around it? Serves him right that he finally gets what’s coming.”

  And even though I mean every single word, a piece of my heart shatters. For me. For the woman. Even for Maxwell, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

  “I understand if you don’t.” Theo unfolds his long body out of my tiny chair. “But he knows how to find me if you do.” He tips his chin and then he’s gone.

  The door doesn’t even close behind him before Paisley is inside my office and locking the door behind her.

  “What was that? Is everything okay?”

  “No, everything is so far from okay that I don’t even know how to get back to okay.”

  And then I start fucking crying. Again.

  Thirty-nine

  When I talked to Maxwell, we decided that he’d meet me at my newly decorated apartment after the game.

  But that was before I knew he was a total fucking scumbag.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” Dad asks for the millionth time.

  “Yes! How else do you want me to say it? I. Am. Fine,” I snap.

  He doesn’t flinch. Nope. He starts to laugh. “Very convincing, Brynn. I totally believe you.”

  “Real supportive, Dad.” I roll my eyes and bite back the rude comment on the tip of my tongue.

  “Supportive for what?” He reaches for one of the Jell-Os the nurse brought him. “You said you’re fine. I’m the one sitting in the hospital bed.”

  “Now I see where I get my dramatic tendencies from.” I walk to his bed and hand him the yellow Gatorade I had stashed in my purse. “You know you’re going home tomorrow, right? You won’t have nurses bringing you Jell-O all day.”

  “I know that.” He looks down, staring at the Jell-O like the secret to world peace is hidden inside, and color rises up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

  “Dad.” I bend over to try and catch his gaze, but he turns his head. “Dad? Is there going to be a nurse bringing you Jell-O?”

  “I’m just a nice guy and the nurses like to make sure I’m settled,” he says, still not looking at me. “I’m a good patient.”

  “I’m sure you are, but that doesn’t explain why you can’t look at me. Wait a minute . . .” I narrow my eyes in his direction. “Are you crushing on your nurses?”

  “No!” His head jerks up and he finally makes eye contact with me. But only for a second, then he’s back to being shifty again. “I mean, maybe I think Deanna is pretty, but I’m not crushing on her.”

  “Never mind.” I shake my head and try to clear away the images of my dad flirting with nurses.

  When I look at my dad again, he’s blushing harder than I’ve ever seen before. Yuck.

  Happiness.

  Bah humbug.

  There’s a quick knock on the door before I hear it open. Neither of us says to come in, but not even five seconds later the curtain slides over and Maxwell steps through.

  “Finally!” My dad whoops. “Maybe you can get her out of this foul mood she’s in.”

  Doubtful.

  “Yeah . . . I’ll try.” Maxwell looks at me, confusion and hurt written all over his face. I turn away from him before my icy heart tries to thaw. “How are you feeling? Heard tomorrow’s the big day.”

  “I’m great,” Dad says. He lifts his cup in the air. “I got my Gatorade and—”

  The curtain swings open again and Deanna waltzes in with a bag full of Jell-O cups. Of. Course. “Guess who brought more . . . oh!” She startles when she sees me and Maxwell. “Sorry about that, I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll just drop these over here.” She walks toward the sink, but she doesn’t get far before my dad is kicking me and Maxwell out.

  “You can stay,” he says. “They were just on their way out.”

  My eyes threaten to pop out of my head and I shake my head no as obviously, yet discreetly, as possible.

  He ignores me.

  Deanna talks instead.

  “I wish I could, but I have to check on some other patients. Call for me if you need me,” she says, but instead of leaving, she lingers for a bit.

  “Just wait one second.” My dad gestures to Deanna before looking at me. “I’ll call you in the morning when I know more about when I’m getting discharged.”

  He doesn’t even wait for me to respond before he’s adjusting his bed and talking to his nurse.

  What the fuck?

  I don’t know if I’m irritated at my dad’s flirty voice or if I’m just a bitter Betty that my relationship burned to the ground and now my dad�
��s love life is starting to take off.

  He deserves it. Don’t be a selfish cow.

  “Nice seeing you, Deanna.” I do my best to swallow back the bitchy undertone. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”

  “Have a good night.” Maxwell nods to them both and links his fingers through mine.

  My back goes straight at his touch. I leave my hand in his because I don’t want to cause a scene and my dad is in such high spirits. He loves Maxwell. I’m not ready to break his heart, at least not literally this time. But every second with him touching me confuses me that much more. Lust and desire are fighting with disgust and hatred.

  As soon as we reach the hallway, I snatch my hand out of his.

  “What’s going on?” Maxwell runs his hand over his freshly cut hair.

  “Not here.” I avoid his eyes and speed up my pace.

  His long strides catch up to me before I create any kind of distance. “Is everything all right with your dad? Is that why you came here instead of meeting me?”

  “I said not here!” I snap, startling the two older ladies walking past us. This is what I didn’t want to happen. I close my eyes and inhale and exhale until I know I have my temper back under control. “Listen.” I turn to face him. “I found some stuff out while I was at work today. I don’t want to talk about it here, and honestly, neither should you. Let’s just meet at my place and we can talk about it there, okay?”

  “Okay,” he agrees, but I can see the change in his posture, and the shutters close off his eyes. He’s a smart man. Before I talked to Theo, I might’ve called him the smartest man I know. So he knows as much as I know that we are over.

  * * *

  —

  SOMEHOW, I MANAGE to beat Maxwell to my place by ten minutes.

  I don’t know if I was driving like a bat out of hell or he was doing his best Sunday driver routine, but by the time he knocks on my door, I’ve gone over what’s about to happen so many times, I’ve almost psyched myself out.