“Rashida, I am truly sorry that this happened. I don’t want it to come between us, to get in the way of a good thing.”
“It’s already between us,” she insists. “And is that what I am to you, a good thing?”
A second tear falls, then another on the opposite cheek.
“That’s not what I meant. I just don’t want this to end before we see if our relationship could be…”
I don’t know how to finish my sentence.
“If it could be serious? Is that really what you want? Because something tells me you’re still having too much fun to commit yourself to anyone. And you proved that last night.”
“I just want— “
“You don’t know what you want, Marcus. That’s the real problem here, and you’re in no position to deny it.”
It dawns on me that she might be right. I’m not sure where I want this relationship to end up—all I know is that I don’t want it to end. I want to continue to see Rashida, which doesn’t seem possible right now, and I also don’t want to lose my relationship with Jayden. I adore that little guy, and I know he likes me.
“I understand that you don’t want to see me for a while,” I say, and she frowns in return, the tears starting to drip regularly down her face. “I would still like to spend some time with Jayden while you and I sort things out.”
It sounded good in my head. If I could see Jayden occasionally, I’d at least have a shot at working back into Rashida’s good graces. The furious look in her eyes tells me I may have missed the mark, though.
“Are you crazy?” She raises her voice so much that I wonder if her neighbors can hear. “And that’s not a rhetorical question; I mean it seriously. Are you actually insane?”
“What?”
“You and I are finished, Marcus. I hope you enjoyed what I gave you, because I’m suffering now because of it. And you will never see my boy again, ever. Now get the hell out of my condo and my life.”
She walks to the door and holds it open, tears now streaming down.
“Rashida, don’t do this.”
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare put this on me. You did this when you betrayed my trust.”
I try to stare into her eyes, to let her know how much she means to me.
“Just get out. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
I know a thing or two about women, and I’ve learned that sometimes you have no choice but to let them be mad for a while. I decide not to continue pushing for forgiveness right now. Maybe after she thinks it over, she’ll realize that what I did wasn’t so bad after all.
26
Rashida
In many respects, ending my relationship with Marcus is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
It’s hard on me as a mom, because I see how hurt Jayden is about not being able to see Marcus any more. I didn’t realize the extent to which those two had bonded in such a short time. He obviously needs a man in his life—just not that one.
It’s hard on me physically, because I know the pure joy I’m giving up in bed. Sex with Marcus was extraordinary, and we had only begun to scratch the surface. Maybe he’s accustomed to sex like that, but for me, it was an unexpected treasure—fun, passionate, playful, gratifying and far more intimate than it should have been, considering we were only together twice. I’m going to miss all that terribly.
And of course, it’s hard on me as a woman. Although it’s only been three days since I told him I wanted nothing more to do with him, I already feel a gaping hole in the center of my being. I realize now that I had fallen hard for Marcus Jennings, famous athlete and, as Yvette had once pointed out to me, notorious player.
I’ve had to end relationships before, but this was the first time I ever had to end one right at the point where everything seemed to be perfect.
I know my priorities didn’t change when I got into bed with Marcus. It’s my job to raise my son to be a strong, responsible, good-hearted human, and if a man is going to be a part of that, then he needs to embody those traits himself. Sadly, Marcus is not there yet, and I honestly can’t imagine that he ever will be.
I’m going to allow myself to grieve for a few more days over this huge loss and the empty feeling I’m left with. Then I will pick myself up, dry my tears, and move on with my life.
For now, though, all I can do is ache.
27
Marcus
Mason has good news a few days after my return from Houston. He puts me on a conference call with the three-person team at Restaro and they let me know that my play during the Houston series, and the many interviews I did, have raised my Q-Rating to twelve—a jump of nine points. They tell me that’s huge, and it’s rare that anyone has that big a change in such a short time unless it’s a negative change. It looks like being careful to always smile when you’re on camera and saying what people want to hear is starting to pay off. Those sixty points in our final game couldn’t have hurt, either, and realistically, even the picture of me kissing Lexi Snow probably helped a bit.
Badly in need of a distraction, I gather up the Hollywood Bad Boys Club for a weeklong blowout in Cabo. This thing with Rashida has spun me off my axis and there’s not much I can do about it since she refuses to take my calls or answer my texts. I need a little tropical Baja air, a bit of fishing, some drinking, and of course, women on vacation looking to party. At least that’s the thought. If Rashida doesn’t want a relationship, then I have no obligation to be loyal, right? I briefly consider a trip to Houston for a tryst with Lexi, but I’m still pretty pissed off at her for what took place there. Maybe it’s better if I fuck someone less famous, in a place where there aren’t many paparazzi.
Surprisingly, the other three Bad Boys are all able to clear their schedules for a week. Perhaps sensing that after my dad’s death I could use a boys-only excursion, Drake and Mason don’t ask if they can bring their girlfriends along.
The days in Cabo are strange and it doesn’t feel like the kind of group vacation the four of us have taken in the past. Then it hits me that two of the four are in long-term relationships. Drake is engaged to Allie, and Mason and Claire are living together now. We talk a lot, and I tell them everything about me and Rashida, but it’s not enough. By the third night I can tell that just drinking and sport fishing with the boys is not going to get the job done. I need to get laid. If Rashida is going to keep me at a distance, then I’m going to find someone to replace her, if only for a few hours.
Between my recent media exposure and Drake’s always-high profile, the four of us get noticed anytime we hit the town. Tonight, that’s a good thing, as the more attention we get, the more options I’ll have available to me. We start drinking margaritas at dinner before moving to a bar where we do tequila shots. Drake asks me if something’s up, saying I’m not my usual self. I tell him it’s because I haven’t had sex in nearly three weeks, but that’s going to end tonight.
Right about the time I notice that we’re surrounded by women, including some hot ones, Mason and Drake say they’ve had enough and are heading back to our rental house. Maybe it’s no coincidence and they’re leaving to avoid temptation.
I put my arm around Mason and say, “You guys are pussy-whipped.”
He laughs. “True, but when you find the perfect pussy, you want to lock it up. You’ll understand the moment it happens to you.” Then he follows Drake out of the bar.
Fuck Mason. I’ve spent most of the night without thinking much of Rashida, and now he says something like that and makes me question myself again.
Link brings me back to the present. “Marcus, somebody wants to meet you.”
Standing next to him is a gorgeous Latina. I have no idea where she’s from, but she could easily be Miss Mexico or Miss Costa Rica—she’s that lovely.
“Well, hello there,” I say, realizing how sleazy it sounds. I get that way when I’ve had a few.
We shake hands and she introduces herself. Her name is Alicia and she’s not Miss Mexico, but she’s a fash
ion model. She’s evidently successful at it, too, because she doesn’t have that air of desperation that surrounds most of the women who try to meet me when I’m out. Alicia is wearing a loose little summer dress with a V-neck that shows just the perfect amount of her substantial honey-toned cleavage.
I want this woman.
By the time we’ve been talking for half an hour, I’m lightly running my finger across the exposed skin just above her knee. Meanwhile, she’s already leaned forward several times to tell me something in private, putting her hand on my chest or holding onto my bicep each time. Alicia wants to fuck me, and because she’s so damn lovely and smells like heaven, I’m going to see that she gets her wish.
After one too many interruptions by someone wanting a picture or offering to buy me a drink, I’m ready to do this.
“Hey, you wanna get out of here? Go someplace more private?”
Alicia smiles. Damn, she’s a beautiful woman. “Where do you want to go?” Her accent alone is enough to cause erections.
“Too many people staying with me, so there’s no privacy there,” I say. She arrived at the bar right after Drake left, and the last thing I want is for her to see him at the house and lose interest in me. That shit has actually happened before.
“We will go to my hotel,” she says. “I am staying in L’Ostra.”
I’m all in. L’Ostra is the most exclusive hotel in town. This will be fun.
As we wait for a cab, I take a good, long look at this woman. She’s extraordinary—tall, long legs, and perfect lips, with thick brown hair tumbling past her shoulders. And the sexy smile she gives me when we slide into the back seat tells me she’s looking forward to climbing into bed naked with me. The slender brown hand she rests on my upper thigh is a good clue, too.
Looking out my window so the cab driver doesn’t know what I’m doing, I place my own hand on Alicia’s bare knee and I slowly move it upward, creeping across the top of her thigh and under the hem of her dress. I can’t see her expression, but she’s not stopping me. By the time I reach mid-thigh, I can feel my cock growing thicker.
I’m getting a hard-on. Alicia puts her hand on my forearm. “Don’t stop,” she whispers playfully.
I move a little further up her thigh. Her skin is smooth and warm, and I have no reason to believe her pussy doesn’t smell as amazing as the rest of her does.
Still gazing out the window, I continue until I feel Alicia’s panties. When I slide a finger under and touch her already wet lips, she quietly sucks in a breath and tightens her fingers around my forearm.
It’s such a sexy reaction that I instinctively turn to look into those big brown eyes.
That’s when my brain starts spinning.
Dammit. Why now?
I ease my hand out of her dress, resulting in a sly pout from Alicia. She’s so goddamned sexy it should be criminal.
But I know I can’t go through with this.
I’m not sure what’s going on in my head right now, but I have a vague sense it has to do with Rashida. Something about her telling me to grow up, saying I was just another spoiled jock. The moment I also sense my father in my brain, it becomes too much. I know what I must do.
“Stop the car,” I tell the driver.
When he pulls to the curb, I turn back to Alicia and see a very confused face.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
Now I really feel like shit. She’s going to hate this.
“Alicia, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
I’ll lie to get out of this easier. “I have a girlfriend.” It feels like the truth when I say it.
She smiles. “It’s okay, I have a boyfriend. He’s in Mexico City now.”
“And he’s okay with this?” Nothing is making sense anymore.
“No, but he won’t know.”
That sexy smile, that adorable accent, that delicious light brown skin, that wonderful scent…
I’m sure I’ll regret not fucking Alicia, but I know I’ll regret it a lot more if I do. Maybe not while my cock is inside of her, but surely afterward.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t.” I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, inadvertently catching that scent one last time. I must be out of my mind to leave this woman hanging.
I fish some bills out of my pocket and hand them to the driver for his patience. I have no idea how much money that was, but I might have given him the equivalent of a month’s salary for a cab driver. Then I open my door and step out. A few seconds later, the cab pulls away.
Now where the fuck am I, and how do I get back to the rental house?
The twenty-minute walk back doesn’t help to clear my brain at all, maybe because of the tequila in my bloodstream. I did get a few funny looks and one car full of Americans stopped to offer me a ride, but that was when I was just two blocks from the house. I posed for a selfie with them, though, and they seemed thrilled.
“That game against the Rockets was sick,” one said. “Sixty points!”
“And you banged Lexi Snow,” said another. “You’re my hero, Marcus.”
Great. It’s no longer just a picture of a quick kiss, now it’s a confirmed hook-up. I wonder how long that story will dog me.
Still buzzed and confused, I enter the rental house to find Drake and Mason in the living room watching a movie. I tell them I’m tired and head straight to my room.
By the time I fall asleep, I’ve already decided to cut my vacation short.
“Surprise!”
She looks shocked to see me. Maybe I should’ve called first.
“Marcus!”
My mother unexpectedly bursts into tears and gives me a huge hug.
“You gonna invite me in?” I ask.
Over coffee, I explain my unscheduled appearance in Oakland.
“I was in Cabo San Lucas with some friends, and I realized the vacation I really needed was to come home and spend some time with you and Macie. Since we’d taken Drake’s plane to fly down there, he had his pilots fly me straight here this morning.”
“Is something wrong?” Mom knows me better than I know myself.
“No, Mom. I’m just struggling to get my brain wrapped around some stuff. Including Dad’s death, obviously. I thought it might help to spend a couple of months with my family. Is my room still available?”
My mom is a youthful forty-eight-year-old, but when her smile’s as wide as it is now, she looks even younger.
After eight years, my room is no longer just as I left it, but my bed is still there, and many of my trophies and pictures. My folks had already been forced to buy me a longer bed because I was six-foot-six my senior year in high school, so that’s not an issue. There are a lot of boxes in the room because they’ve been using it as a storage space, but I can work around them. It’ll do for now.
I don’t waste any time and get to work the next morning, making a few necessary phone calls. I’ve already told Mason, but I call my team at Restaro to let them know I’ll be away from Los Angeles for the summer. We arrange for me to fly back in for my May, June, July, and August Disneyland excursions with the 4gotten Kids Foundation. Then I call the Oakland Raiders front office and ask to speak to their general manager, who in turn puts me in touch with Raiders’ star receiver William Stanhouse. The dude is famous in the sports world for his incredible conditioning. I had seen an ESPN segment on William and his personal trainer, Keith Carson, and want to get in touch with Keith while I’m in Oakland.
Keith quickly sets up an appointment for us to set up my training schedule for the summer, and just after lunch I drive to his private gym. He’s a brother in his forties who has a bit of a belly and looks like he spends as much time eating as he does in the gym. But as he tells me, “You didn’t call to help me get in shape.”
By the time I leave an hour later, Keith has convinced me that just working out hard isn’t going to help me much.
“You tell me you want to be in the best shape of your life,” he says, �
�but you’re already in excellent shape. What you need is to improve is your fast-twitch muscles. You and I will have two-hour sessions in which we focus on improving your vertical leap, hand-eye coordination, abrupt stops, and your cuts and stutter-steps. We’ll also do an hour-long session of nothing but ball-handling drills. That’ll be six days a week of hard-core, cutting-edge workouts early every morning. In the afternoons, you should keep doing your regular strength-training, core and cardio stuff on your own as well. By October you will be quicker, faster, stronger and more explosive than ever before.”
Some jocks might think that’s overkill. There’s a theory that you can over-train and wear your body down, but that’s a theory I don’t subscribe to. The body adapts to whatever you force it to do. Keith agrees with my take. “Your body will let you know if you’re pushing too hard. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue for you.”
My training becomes the focus of my entire summer: morning workouts, home for lunch and nap, afternoon workout, dinner and spending time at night with Mom and Macie. On my sole day off, I still go for a three-mile run in the morning, but I take a little time later to hang out with old high school friends. No alcohol, though.
By mid-June I can already feel a distinct difference in my body, and I’ve added a full two inches to my vertical leap. I should have started doing this workout years ago. My diet is also strict, so I make my own breakfast and lunch, then eat a little of whatever Mom makes for dinner. If I ate her food three times a day, I’d be gaining weight despite the workouts.
During my time in Oakland, Macie and I get along great. I’m using her to get info on Mom’s mindset since Dad’s death, in case there are things Mom isn’t telling me. Everything seems to be as expected, though. All three of us are grieving and likely will be for quite a while. I ask Macie if she thinks Mom might take me up on my offer of buying her a house now.
Hollywood Bad Boys Club: Book 3: Marcus Page 18