The Southern Nights Series

by M. Never

  “No, what?”

  “Going back next year and dominating that title. What better story is there than a comeback? Than redemption? The way I see it, we’re just set up to be legendary.”

  I stare quietly at Telly, Rodney, and Landon. My guilt has been eating me alive. “Do you all feel the same way?”

  Landon and Rodney nod vigorously. “Life is freaking amazing. I’ve been in the NFL for one year, and I’m a conference champ, went to the Super Bowl, and have endorsements coming out of my ass. And you are a main contributor to that,” Landon boasts. “One game doesn’t define you,” Rodney tacks on. “And maybe with all that extra money, you could hire a golf pro so you don’t kill anyone on the course.” He just has to throw a dig in at Landon. I swear it’s compulsive.

  “Are we straight, Q?” Telly puts his hand out. A little bit of pressure alleviates in my chest as he smiles at me. I clap his hand and smirk. For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel so low, or tormented, or at fault.

  “We’re straight,” I confirm.

  “Good, ‘cause we got some partyin’ to do. It’s my last weekend of freedom. We need to get CRAZY!” he bellows, doing his victory dance around the green. It’s a booty shakin’ strut with a signature helmet swipe.

  Rodney and Landon join in, and now there are three massive football players owning hole four the same way they own the end zone. Something inside me breaks, and despite my neck still throbbing, I bust up with laughter. A deep, rumbling laugh that ends up being cathartic.

  “C’mon, Q! Don’t leave us hanging.” Telly does this robotic dance walk thing toward me. I shake my head but stand. Then I let it all go with my boys. I pull out some old school dance moves, pump my pelvis, and do a little spin like nobody’s watching.

  I won.

  After our little victory dance on the golf course, I started to feel like my old self again. And with that came my confidence, cockiness, and desire to win. So, I did. By four strokes. Not bad for a guy who hasn’t swung a club in months.

  Landon has gotten nothing but hassled by the rest of the guys for nearly decapitating me. That story was priceless at dinner. My neck looks ugly though. It bruised bad and in the worst spot. Every time I move my head I’m reminded it’s there.

  Telly’s bachelor party has lived up to expectations. Everyone is full, drunk, and currently being rubbed up on in a VIP lounge of a strip club. It’s not really my scene, but it comes with the territory. I sip my beer and watch the shenanigans as time winds down.

  Football players party hard, especially when given an excuse and in the off season. The liquor is flowing, testosterone is raging, and bills are raining. God, I can’t even begin to think how much money is in those girl’s G-strings.

  “Dance, sugar?” a busty blonde offers me.

  “I’m good.” I tip my beer bottle. “Just watching.”

  “You sure? Maybe something a little more private is your speed?” she hisses in my ear.

  “Nope, not my speed at all.” I lightly push her away. “I’m good right where I am.”

  “Okay.” She puckers her hot pink lips. “But if you change your mind, come find me. I’m Star.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Not. The only woman I’m interested in disappearing into a champagne room with is my fiancée.

  I wonder if Laney would actually be up for that? I fantasize how killer she would look in a shiny G-string and nothing else. Under fluorescent lights giving me a lap dance.

  Blood flows like a raging river to the head of my cock. Thank God I go home tomorrow.

  I’m sure the last few weeks have been complete hell for Laney. I wasn’t easy to deal with. I’ve been withdrawn, depressed and moody, but she never let her frustration show. She was just supportive. She gave me my space and was there when I needed her. I’m a total fucking dick. I was taking for granted all the great things I have in my life. I lost a football game. Not my career, or a friend, or a loved one.

  I’m pretty damn blessed, and I lost sight of that for a minute.

  Things are coming back into focus now, and I owe Laney something big. Some jewelry, a vacation, maybe l’ll surprise her with a dream honeymoon. Tahiti is first on her wish list. Laney isn’t one for expensive gifts. She likes simple things, but a woman as amazing as her, a woman who puts up with loving me and deals with the craziness of my life, deserves to get spoiled once in a while. And I have no problem spoiling her rotten.

  “Yo, Q!” Landon yells with two girls on his arm. The rookie is having a good ol’ time. “These ladies know a twenty-four-hour tattoo place! We’re gonna go get ink. You in?” He sways on his feet a bit.

  “Um . . .”

  “C’mon, Ellis, don’t be a pussy. Mark yourself already.” Rodney goads me by flexing his sleeved arm. “Don’t you want to look this good?”

  I roll my eyes. “I look good, inked or not.”

  “Bet Laney would like it.” Rodney hits me in my soft spot.

  “Maybe,” I ponder, draining my beer.

  “So, let’s go!” Landon howls, grabbing each of the girls’ ass cheeks. He’s on the road to a threesome, I call it right now.

  We settle our tab while a few of the girls change before heading out of the club. It’s like three a.m., and the effects of the alcohol are still going strong. When we walk out the front door, we’re bombarded by camera flashes. Word must have gotten out about the pro football players partying it up. Shielding our faces and the girls from the paparazzi, we escape into the waiting limo.

  Echoing laughs and giggles fill the stretch Lex as we pull away. One of the guy’s sitting next to me rolls down the window to give the paparazzi the peace sign. Such an instigator.

  We’re packed in tight so the body heat index is high and the intoxication is brewing.

  Rodney and Landon are completely captivated by their girls as we ride through town. Once we get to the shop, it looks like a clown car piling out. People just don’t stop coming.

  Inside the large parlor, neon lights glow, the sound of needles buzz, and the low hum of drunk athletes fills the space. The walls are covered with miles and miles of colorful art. Templates to choose from or ideas to gain inspiration.

  Some of this stuff is really detailed.

  “So, what are you thinking, Q?” Telly slaps me on the back. “Some tribal? Football number? Zodiac sign?” He snaps. “Passing record?”

  All commendable recommendations, but none I’m interested in at the moment.

  “I have something else in mind.” I take a closer look at some text and smile.

  Laney

  THE REGISTRY GUN beeps as I add a sterling silver platter to the wedding registry for Kam and me.

  “Oh, nice choice,” my mother compliments.

  “I thought so. Dad’s Thanksgiving turkey will look great on it.” I laugh.

  “Always thinking of others. That’s my girl,” she comments sarcastically as she squeezes me with one arm. Spending time with my mother these past few weeks has been beyond amazing. I can’t remember the last time we spent more than seven consecutive days together. I’m getting too used to her being around, and the fact that she is so involved with helping me plan my wedding is completely spoiling me.

  I wish she didn’t have to travel so much. I wish she would put down roots, preferably close to where I live. But that is a pipe dream. My mother loves her job. She lives for it, much like Kam lives for his.

  We peruse around Bloomingdale’s, looking at household items to put on the registry. I’m half distracted thinking about my big presentation Monday morning. I am finally revealing my designs to the partners at a business brunch. It’s a risk because the building is so conservative, but I really think this added piece will work.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” my mom asks as I stare off into space in front of a display of vases.

  “Hmmm?” I snap out of my haze.

  “You were daydreaming. Thinking about Kam?”

  “Oh, no. Not at that moment. I was thinking about my
meeting. I’m nervous,” I confess as the glass dances with sparkles in front of us.

  “Nervous about what? Presenting it?”

  “If they are going to be receptive to the idea. If it’s too out of the box for this project. You just never know. This design could make or break me in the firm.”

  “I have all the confidence in the world it’s going to knock their socks off.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Don’t doubt yourself, Laney. Confidence is the key to success.”

  “You would know. You’re a rock star in business. It seems all the people I love are superheroes in their given field, and I’m just . . .” I shrug. “Normal. Average. Human.”

  “Laney,” my mother’s voice elevates as she turns me to look at her, “you are not average. You are amazing. You’re strong, smart, funny. Do you think just anyone can love a man like Kam or a man like your father? No. And let me tell you a little secret. Superheroes need humans to strive. You’re what gives us our power.” She takes my face, her blue eyes full of love and compassion. “You are still so young. You have so much to learn and such an incredible career ahead of you. Even if the partners don’t go for the idea, they will respect your initiative, and you will stand out to them for your creativity. Trust me, I know. A smart professional who shows promise makes an impact. Believe in yourself. I do. I always have. Even when you were five and you told me you wanted to fly helicopters, I believed you could do it.”

  “That’s still on my bucket list,” I divulge.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Please, promise me you won’t compare yourself. Just be you. It’s why we all love you.” She kisses my forehead. I nod.

  “Good. Now let’s go look at luggage for the out-of-this-world honeymoon I’m going to send you on.”

  “Mom.” I grab her arm. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But you are my only daughter, and I want to. Besides, who better than me to plan a trip? I know all the good spots,” she whispers conspiratorially.

  “Can it be someplace tropical?”

  “Definitely.” She drags me through the store. Just as we get into kitchenware, I stop short.

  “Oh, my God.” I hurry to a mannequin wearing an apron. It’s pink, frilly, obnoxiously sparkly, and proclaims “Queen of the Kitchen, Bitch” proudly across the top. In fuchsia lettering, no less.

  “Laney, really?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “For whom?”

  “Kam.”

  “‘Scuse me?”

  “It’s a joke. I have to get it.”

  My mother curls her lip in gaudy disgust. “If you must.”

  “I must.”

  I pick up Kam’s present from the kitchen counter. I had it wrapped in shiny silver paper. I tried to call him before bed last night, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I know what happens when he goes out with his teammates. Mayhem, but he at least usually sends me a goodnight text. I will make sure to give him plenty of shit for ignoring me when he gets home.

  I smile to myself. Kam has always made it way too easy.

  I’m supposed to be meeting my mother for breakfast so I won’t be here when Kam gets home. I’m saving this baby for later. I can’t wait to see his face. Hopefully it makes him laugh. I miss hearing Kam laugh. I miss seeing his easy smile.

  I pray this weekend did him some good.

  Finishing the last of my coffee, I hear something that catches my attention during the celebrity gossip portion of the weekend news.

  “A few New York elite were caught partying it up last night at a popular strip club right outside Myrtle Beach,” the newscaster in plaid excitedly exaggerates. I spy on the television screen close to a dozen familiar faces escaping out the front door of the club with a few girls mixed in. One face gains my full attention as the broadcast goes on. “It seems New York’s golden boy didn’t miss out on any of the fun. Wonder what the future Mrs. Ellis will think?” the man mocks as the video freezes on an image of Kam in the limo window with an obnoxious red arrow pointing at his neck. It feels like I’ve been slapped in the face in front of the whole northeast. Kam smiling with a gigantic hickey displayed proudly on his neck. Rage ignites inside me like I’ve never felt before.

  When I told Kam to go blow off some steam, I didn’t mean with a fucking stripper.

  Kam

  I CAN’T WAIT to see Laney. She’s all I could think about on the plane ride home. I concocted a huge plan to take her out to her favorite restaurant tonight, shower her with compliments and affection, and let her pick out whatever she wants at the closed jewelry store. She deserves at least that. And then when we get home, I’m going to make love to her while she’s wearing that piece of jewelry and nothing else.

  My blood is pumping already. I haven’t felt this good in weeks.

  “Lemon!” I burst through the front door of our condo, ready to tackle Laney, but I’m met with a surprise instead.

  “Asshole!” I duck just as my prize, signed football comes careening toward my head. It misses me by half an inch and shatters the window behind me.

  What the flying fuck?

  “How could you!” Laney verbally pounces on me as I collect my bearings. What the fuck is going on?

  “How could I what?” I put my hands up and take a step back as she charges.

  “Don’t fucking play dumb. It’s all over the news. You and your good time last night! Jesus, Kam, if you were going to cheat on me, could you have at least been discreet about it? Did you have to flaunt it in my face and make me look like a goddamn jackass?” she unloads, and I’m left speechless.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t. Don’t you dare,” she cuts me off. I have never seen her so livid. “I have done nothing but try and be the doting fiancée the past few weeks. Tried to give you everything you need. Space, time, understanding, love, and this is what I get? A public slap in the face? I know you’re upset, and I know you are hurting. But I don’t even know who you are right now.” She rips off her engagement ring, and I choke. Her focus is zeroed in on my neck, and it’s then I realize what she thinks.

  “This isn’t a hickey.”

  “Oh, please.” She chucks the ring at me and I barely catch it. “Don’t insult my fucking intelligence. I saw you come out of the strip club with all those girls. It looks like one of them latched on to you like a suction cup. Did you let her suck your fucking blood like a vampire? That damn thing is huge.” She pushes past me, and I grab her arm, desperate for her to calm down and just listen.

  “Goddammit, Laney.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me.” She jerks away, anger raging in her big blue, watery eyes. For a split-second, things are calm, silent. Laney shakes her head at me with shame before she escapes out the front door. I’m at a loss what to do. Should I chase her? Give her some space and let her calm down? My decision to go after her is too little too late, because just as I make it out the door, she speeds off in the silver Audi I bought her for her birthday.

  I slump on the sidewalk eating her dust.

  Shit just got really fucked up.

  Laney

  I POUND ON my mother’s hotel room door.

  I kept it together the whole way here, but as soon as she answers and I see her confused face, I break down in tears.

  “Oh, honey. What happened?” she asks as I fall into her arms.

  “Kam and his big fat hickey happened,” I blubber. My mother walks me inside the suite and places me down on the living room sofa. The room is modern and spacious and full of natural light from the large windows, but all I see is gray. She hands me a wad of tissues and places a glass of water on the table as I cry it all out. I feel so . . . stupid. And betrayed and let down. I always believed in Kam, even when we weren’t together, but if this is what life is going to be like. If his highs and lows spin him out of control and he makes destructive decisions like this, our future is over before it even began. I wipe my wet face with the tissues and take a big gulp of
water.

  “Can you tell me what happened now?” My mother sits next to me. Her hair is in a bun, she has no makeup on, and she’s still in sweats. It’s a form you very rarely see my mother in. Usually she’s all class all the time.

  “Kam cheated on me in front of the whole world.” I’m completely humiliated.

  She gives me a strange look. “Kam cheated?”

  “Yes.” I sniff. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Because it’s Kam.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Honey.” My mother shifts me so we are face to face. I can barely look at her. “I have known a lot of men in my life. Good ones, great ones, terrible ones, and I can tell you Kam is one of the best. He’s head over heels in love with you. I can’t believe he cheated on you.”

  “You’re taking his side?” I ask, aghast.

  “No. I’m not taking anyone’s side. I just find it very hard to believe.”

  “He has a hickey the size of Jupiter on his neck. Evidence.”

  “Well, that I can’t explain. But did you at least hear what he had to say? Did he admit to cheating on you?”

  “It was splashed all over TV.” I erupt. “What more proof do I need?”

  “Did you hear him out, or did you just react?”

  “I reacted,” I admit. But I saw it with my own eyes. He was at a strip club, leaving with girls. His eyes were bloodshot, and the hickey. “You have no idea what it’s like to love a celebrity.” Living with constant ridicule, under a microscope. You sneeze, and someone tweets about it. It’s pressure all the damn time.

  “I don’t?” She snorts. “Cold-hearted business bitch leaves lovable Chef Riley,” she quotes. “Your father and I were over long before he became a household name, but I still caught the heat when we divorced. I understand, baby. I do.”

  I forgot my parents were still sort of together when my dad’s career started to really take off. Technically, they were still married, but my mom traveled so much it was like they were living apart.