“And don’t think this little stunt of yours is going to change anything. Those people aren’t stupid. Ray Carlson will come to his senses eventually.”
My stomach is flip-flopping so hard I feel like I’m going to throw up. I hate these people. I hate this business and I don’t know what Reese ever saw in it. Maybe she’ll come to her senses too and realize how thankless of a job this really is.
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath as I squeeze past him. “Fuck all of you.”
I don’t know how I ended up here, but I am sitting on a bench over looking Lake Washington. I have released my hair from the ridiculous bun and removed the stifling blazer. In the tank top and trousers rolled up to my knees, I allow the afternoon sun to work its way across my bare skin. On the outside I am warm, but underneath it all, everything is stone cold.
I tried. It’s what I keep repeating in my head. I could have given up from the very beginning. But I didn’t. I tried and that is what is important. That’s what I can take with me.
I glance at my watch. I should go to the hospital to relieve Uncle Bobby. I should tell Reese the truth. I don’t know if she can hear me, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t lie to her. She’s been too good to me. When Dad died, when Mom got remarried, it was Reese who held me together. Now I have to do it on my own. Still, she should know the state of things. She should know I tried.
“Aren’t you cold?”
I jump at the sound of a voice behind me. Ray Carlson slides onto the bench, his frame easily swallowing mine, and he looks down at me, a warm smile on his face.
I shake my head. “It’s spring. I love this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Nothing like Texas. I’m a sweater, so this is perfect.”
Oh, God. Why did I just say that? Like he needs to know I sweat buckets at the drop of a hat. Cute, Sydney. Real nice. This guy really brings out the class in you.
Ray laughs. “Texas? You don’t strike me as a Texan.”
“Reformed,” I say. Then immediately regret my words. “There’s nothing wrong with it or anything. I guess I’ve just always imagined myself somewhere else.”
“Me too.”
My mind flashes on the belt buckle and boots from the day before. “Yeah, you’re nothing like I expected. I guess when I think football player I imagine a guy in the uniform. I knew you were a cowboy, so I was expecting…well, a cowboy.”
He laughs again, louder and harder this time. “A cowboy? Is that my reputation?”
“Well…I guess more of a farm boy. If you want to get technical.”
“Ah…that’s right, the bible-thumping farm boy from Idaho. I’ve heard that before. So what were you expecting then?”
“I don’t know. Someone a little more rough around the edges I guess.”
“Like you?”
“Excuse me?” I angle to face him.
“Forgive me, but I don’t think you’re all that reformed, so to speak. You’re outspoken, brave. You remind me of…” He sighs. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. My mom she’s…”
“Kind of high strung.”
Ray chuckles. “You could say that. She means well. But her methods lack finesse.”
I scoff. “You could say that.”
“And I’m sorry about last night.” He squints. “You look different in a dress.”
I smirk and turn my head to look back out over the water. “I guess I do.” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry too. I was drunk, which never happens. I swear. But I’d had kind of a bad day.”
We share a laugh as he stretches his legs out in front of him and an arm across the back of the bench. “You don’t have to be sorry. Master Chef Dude told me I dodged a bullet.”
“Apparently so. Dina Prince is piece of work. My friend Ronnie—she’s Reese’s best friend actually—grew up with Justice and Dina. Known them all her life. She always says the two of them are like the Eminem and Kim of this generation. You should be happy I swooped in when I did and rescued you from Justice’s fists. Not that I don’t think you could handle yourself.”
“Look,” Ray says. “I know things were pretty awkward for you at the restaurant. My mom was tough on you. And I’ll be honest, you looked completely out of your comfort zone, but…I don’t know…I liked what you had to say and I’d like to hear more, if you’re willing.”
“What?” I sit up straight, my heart racing. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean, I’d really like you to finish your pitch. I’ve got an outstanding offer. Sunday dinner with the agent of my choice. I choose you.”
“Seriously?” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I’m not an agent, Ray. Not even close. I just…I’m trying to do Reese a favor. I owe her everything and I don’t want to see everything she’s worked so hard for just—”
“I know. And I think you’re the only one who’s thinking about her at all. That’s why I want to give you a chance. I know I’m taking a risk here, but I think if she could choose one person to take over where she had to leave off, it’d be you.”
I swallow hard and a hug myself against a shiver. “She’s coming back you know. She’ll wake up.”
“Oh, I—Sydney, I know. I didn’t mean…I just mean she’d pick you to watch over things until—”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“So you’ll come? I’m giving you an official invitation. No ambush necessary. Sunday at six, if you’re in.”
I nod, unsure of what else to say.
“Here,” he passes me a card with a phone number and address scrawled across it. “And Sydney, bring your A game. The one I know you’ve got. You’re gonna need it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ray
I slip my cap on my head and grab my keys. Opening the front door, I nearly smack into Dad on my way out.
“Whoa. Where’re off to in such a hurry?”
“Meeting Jimmy in town. It’s his last day. Tell Mom not to wait up though, all right? We just need a night, so I won’t be back until morning.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, that’ll go over well. She’s not too happy this afternoon. Do I want to know what happened?”
I glance toward my truck and back at my dad. I don’t want to get into it. In fact, I want to drop the whole thing until we’re forced to deal with it at dinner tomorrow night. But I get the feeling I’m not getting off as easy I originally thought. She didn’t put up a fight with me, but she’s clearly making someone pay.
“It’s nothing,” I say. “Just a little disagreement.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with your sister does it?”
My head snaps up. “No. Why would you say that?”
“No reason.” He drops his gaze. “If not Mariah then it must be football. Just say it’s got nothing to with that girl from yesterday. I don’t think I’ve seen your mother that upset since…lord, I don’t even know when.”
“She’ll get over it,” I murmur.
“What’s that now?”
I sigh and remove my hat, running my hands through my hair. “She’s overreacting. It’s not a big deal.”
“Sure seems like a big deal.”
“Look, I get what she’s saying about Mr. Mahr. I do. But he’s not Miss Clarke. He doesn’t get me. He hasn’t been there.”
“Well isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? No contact. No influence. Isn’t there some kind of code of ethics?”
I let out a frustrated groan. “You don’t get it.”
“Why because I wasn’t a draft prospect? I played ball too you know. Had a few buddies that went pro. I know how these things are supposed to work and I think you know too.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t even want me to come to Washington. You wanted me to go to U of I like my mother. Remember? You would’ve home schooled me if you could. But I wanted to leave. So I did.”
“What’s your point, son?”
“My point is she got over a decision I made on my own then and she’ll get over it now. You both will. But it’s
not just that. If I hadn’t have gone to UDub, I never would have met Miss Clarke. She cared about my game when I was nothing. Just sitting on the bench watching the other guys get all the glory. She’s the one who gave me the confidence to stick with it, to keep practicing, to stay on the team.”
“And what did you give her in return?”
Uncle Dave’s face is a familiar shade of red and I can’t help but laugh. “What do you mean?”
“You want me to believe a complete stranger, who looks like that, just jumped in and took pity on you?”
“Who looks like that?” I laugh again. “What you think I was sleeping with her?”
“Were you?”
I sputter, shaking my head.
“Ray. You’re a young man, she’s a beautiful woman with an agenda.”
I press my lips together and take a deep breath through my nose. I will myself to calm down. I will not speak out of turn, no matter how much I want to. They’ve been good to me. I must respect them, but they’re making it difficult to be the easy-going, grateful nephew they’ve raised over the past twenty years.
“No,” I say calmly as I replace my hat. “I’m not having sex with Reese Clarke. Like I told Aunt Sheila, she’s a friend. She’s always been there for me and she’s never done or said anything inappropriate.”
“No one would blame you. It’s not even illegal or unheard of, but it would make a whole lot more sense. Your loyalty to her, I mean. If that’s the case, we’d understand, we’d—”
“Would you stop it?!” I cover my face with my hands and suck in a sharp breath. “Just stop. Okay? This has nothing to do with my frickin’ libido. It’s a decision I’m making. About my life. A big decision, I might add. And even though you’ve all wanted to dictate my every move since you landed legal custody of me, you can’t. Okay? It doesn’t work that way. My parents would have had to let me grow up, you know? They wouldn’t have been able to treat me like a boy forever. You can’t either. So just do me a favor and butt the hell out for once.”
I slam the door behind me and it isn’t until I’m sitting in my driver’s seat wiping a single angry tear from my cheek that I wish I could take my words back. But I can’t and I can’t change the situation either. They need to let go. I need to. I feel like a teenager all over again, only now I have the sense to fight back. Like my sister always did. Only I stayed and followed their lead. The most rebellious thing I ever did was choose my own college. But I’m still here taking their crap and sometimes I wonder if I always will be.
I ease into a booth in the far corner and watch Jimmy leaning over the pool table behind what I’m sure is his fourth girl this week. This one’s got jet-black hair and a bunch of tattoos. Pretty, I guess, but way too much make-up for my taste.
The bar is too crowded and despite that, I’m not in the mood to be seen. To be talked to by anyone. I’m an ass. I’m a terrible ungrateful ass. And it’s all football’s fault. I bring my glass to my lips and take long slow sip. It’s going to be one of those nights. I glance at my watch. Eight o’clock. I haven’t had a good beer in a while. With training I’ve avoided it and living back at the ranch, I haven’t had the nerve to try and sneak it past my dad.
I chuckle to myself. Mom’s got bigger balls than me. I can’t even count on my fingers the amount of times I’ve seen her sipping on a glass of wine, while he’s at one of his many church functions. Then again, maybe she never really snuck anything by him. Maybe it’s one of her many demands.
“As a pastor’s wife”, she always used to say, “I’m entitled to certain privileges because I’m also subject to certain disadvantages.”
I never asked what she meant. Never really much cared. But I’m pretty sure all it means is she’s got him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.
I down the last half of my glass and reach for the pitcher to refill it.
I lean back and close my eyes. It’s easy enough to drown out the sounds around me at this point. This bar, all these people, has nothing on my mom and sister’s earsplitting arguments. And even after I moved out, expecting some kind of peace, I had to contend with a roommate who loved to party as much as he enjoyed entertaining girl after girl, night after night. Quiet has never been a big part of my life.
I grip my glass and lean forward, taking another swig to wash down the lump in my throat. And that’s when I see her. Our gazes lock and she smiles a little and holds up her own glass. It’s much smaller than mine. And filled with a clear liquid. I hold my arm up in response and we bring them to our lips simultaneously.
I sit up a little straighter and clear my throat. My desire to be alone has suddenly vanished and instead, I revel in the opportunity to get exactly what I wanted in the first place. Another audience with Sydney Bucco. As I get up and make my way over to the bar, she grabs another shot glass and effortlessly downs it in a just a few seconds. She’s sucking on a lemon when I arrive.
“Hey,” I say.
“Ray Carlson. In a bar?” She swivels to face me, wobbling on the stool and I reach out to steady her. “This is highly unexpected,” she adds.
I laugh. “A little drunk are we?”
“Absolutely.” Sydney bobs her head. “Celebrating my good fortune, look across the bar and there he is.”
“Well, I haven’t signed with you yet.”
“True.” She wrinkles her nose, an act that makes her look even cuter.
I glance behind me. “Do you maybe want to join me? I came with my buddy, but as usual he found someone hotter to spend the night with.” I nod toward the pool table.
Sydney cranes her neck to look behind me and squints her eyes. “I’ve been coming to this pub for, I don’t know, six, seven months. And I can never get a goddamn booth. Always stuck here at this stupid bar. How’d you—oh, never mind.” She taps her index finger to her temple. “You’re a big star. Aren’t ya? The rest of us are just little people.”
I shrug. “Maybe you just need to ask nicely.”
This seems to amuse her and she holds out her hand. I take it, helping her down from the stool and leading the way toward the booth. She slides into my side, leaning her back up against the wall. She crosses her legs yoga style.
“Too much space between the table,” she comments. “Can’t have much of a conversation in all this noise. You have another glass?”
“I can get one,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Don’t bother. I’ve had enough to drink anyway. Besides I have to work tomorrow. Not to mention I’ve been requested to attend this fancy shindig at a fancy football player’s ranch.”
I smirk and stretch my legs in front of me. Then pressing my back up against the bench, I turn my head to face her. “So you’re coming? For sure?”
“Didn’t want to be rude.” Sydney gathers her long dark hair, and drapes it over one shoulder. A tiny tattoo of a cross and the initials C.B. on her opposite collarbone catches my eye.
“So,” I say, forcing my gaze from her slender neck to her wide brown eyes. “On the hunt for another client? Wyndham Wright maybe? I hear he’s still unsigned.”
“Technically,” she responds. “But that’s nothing but a pipe dream. Apparently his sister’s a lawyer, so that might never happen. At least not outside of the family. Stupid if you ask me. Never hire family.”
“Don’t you work for your cousin?”
Sydney snickers. “Yeah, and look how that turned out.” She lets out a deep sigh.
“I’m…I was so sorry to hear about Miss Clarke.”
“Why?” she asks. She rests her elbow on the table and props her head up at the chin. “Because she’s two steps away from the morgue or because you’re going to miss out on a multi-million dollar contract if she never wakes up?”
Her accusation stings a little, but I try not to let it register on my face.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That was a bitchy thing to say. Thank you. You know, for your concern and everything.”
“Sure.”
“So wh
at are you doing here anyway?” Sydney’s gaze drinks me in studying my every move. “I thought your people didn’t drink.”
“I spent five years at UDub. Those are my people.”
She grins. “Ah, so debauchery’s like a way of life for you then.”
“An occasional pitcher of beer, here and there.”
“That’s it? No cheerleaders? No wild parties?”
“Not really my thing. What about you? What do you do for fun?”
Sydney stares at me for a few moments and I shift in my seat, waiting for her response.
“I’m trying to figure out if you’re telling me the truth,” she says. “Or if you’re just trying to impress a potential agent. Not that you need help with that.”
“The whole church boy thing is a myth,” I reply, focusing on the way her hair flows over her bare shoulder. “For the most part. My dad’s a pastor, but it doesn’t mean I’m completely innocent all the time.”
“So, that four thousand dollar bottle of vodka I sent wasn’t an awful idea after all. Reese will be relieved.”
“Actually, I only drink beer. So yeah, it’s still sitting in the gift box it came in.”
“Damn it. What a waste.” She rubs her eyes.
“I drink once in a while. Usually when I have a rough day but, other than that, I pretty much stick to the books. And the gym.”
“Yeah.” She reaches out and her fingers graze my chest. “It shows.”
My gaze holds hers and she quickly pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to her palm. “I’m sorry. That was totally uncalled for. Shit, I’m a little buzzed right now. I swear I’m not always like this—the chick with the drink in her hand. I know that’s probably hard to believe considering the past forty-eight hours and all, but I swear—”
I chuckle. “It’s okay.”
Sydney nods toward the entrance. “Um, so yeah. I should probably head out of here.”
“Don’t. It’s okay really. Besides, you didn’t even answer my question. What do you do for fun?”
Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) Page 5