Zander shoved off the couch. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing. Is it too much to ask that you guys clean up after yourselves?”
“That’s it. Everyone out. My sister and I need to have a talk.” The guys left without complaint, giving her a wide berth. Zander shut the door, then turned to her. “What’s going on? You’ve been snapping at us all day.”
“I’m allowed to have a bad day or a bad mood. You guys don’t have a patent on those.”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is way more than that. You’ve been acting weird since we met at the airport on Saturday. Three days of constant crabbiness isn’t like you. Are you sick? Did Oliver do something? Did Dom?”
She’d been desperately glad for the road trip, unable to stomach the thought of facing Dom or listening to his lies. She bit her lip, wanting to spill everything. But humiliation that she’d let it happen again kept her quiet. “I’m sorry. I’ll pull myself together.”
He touched her shoulder. “What the hell is going on?”
“Dom…” Her chest hurt. Inhaling a deep breath, she rubbed her hands over her face.
“Shit. I knew it. Did he hurt you? Do I need to kick his ass?”
“No. Well. I don’t know.”
“Tell me what happened.” His growl prompted her to talk.
“He had his ex’s demo…if she is even his ex…addressed to me. I think he was waiting for the right time to hand it over.” Probably after a bout of sex, when she was high on endorphins and low on functioning brain cells.
“People have asked you to pass along demos before. Yeah, it’s weird that it’s his ex, but…” He shrugged.
“I found it in his bedroom, under one of his shirts that stunk of perfume and was smeared with lipstick.” She left out the part about finally sleeping with Dom.
“Oh.” His eyes narrowed and his hands formed fists. “Did you talk to him about it?”
“He denied everything. But what else would he say?” Dragging her hand through her hair, she walked to the other side of the room. “This is almost like Oliver all over again. Pretending to be interested in me. Using me. We’re both traveling a lot. I don’t know what Dom’s doing when we’re apart. He could’ve been seeing her the entire time we’ve been together. Oliver lied to my face. Why not Dom?”
“I told him not to hurt you.”
“I’m done with relationships. Done. I was so stupid, thinking that he really cared, that he…” She stopped talking, throat thick.
“Hey.” Zander wrapped her in a hug. “You’re not stupid. He is.”
Her laugh sounded as brittle as her heart felt. “Or he’s enterprising. Just like the others.”
“When we get back home, I’ll kick his ass.” His solemn expression promised vengeance.
“Please don’t. I don’t want to give him or the situation any more attention.” The wound smarted like a Band-Aid ripped off too soon.
“I couldn’t kick Oliver’s because I didn’t find out about what the fucker had done until after he’d been handling the band. So I’m overdue. No one messes with my sister.”
“I’ll be all right. And I don’t want any more fighting. The Fury has been in the media for too many wrong reasons lately. I want you guys to mellow out. Please. You’re all I have.”
“You’ll always have us, as messed up and dysfunctional as we are.” He patted her hair.
“I know.” That didn’t help the aching loneliness. She sniffed back tears. Crying hadn’t solved anything in the past few days. More tears wouldn’t help now. Not everyone was promised a fairy tale and she’d been stupid to think that something special could develop with Dom.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On Monday evening, Dom flicked on the TV, ready to watch his teammates take on Sacramento. The media was having a field day with the team’s statement on his status. Suspended for further conduct detrimental to the team and is seeking treatment. Fuck. That sounded so much worse. He muted the volume and then rested his head on the back of the couch. His eye hurt, his lip hurt, and Irisa hadn’t answered his call or returned his text.
Life sucked.
Champ let out a bark and raced to the front door. Which could only mean one thing—company. And it wouldn’t be Irisa, because the band had a show in San Francisco. And since it wasn’t Irisa, he didn’t much care. But he pushed to his feet. Liam was the only person who had a key and could bypass the building’s security. And sure enough, his friend was on the other side of the door.
Liam lifted a brow as he studied Dom’s face. “How’s the other guy look?”
“Funny.” He stepped back to allow him entrance.
After greeting Champ, Liam stood. “So, what happened?”
“With what?”
“Come on, dude. Your eye. The busted lip.”
“I wasn’t in a fight.”
“Okay. Then did something fall on you? Did you use your face as a catcher’s mitt?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Or did Champ do it?”
Dom cracked a smile. The movement stung his lip. “Man, you’re crazy.” But his friend cared, and he was tired of hiding the real story. “Might as well grab a beer and a seat. This’ll take a while.”
They sat on the couch, and while his teammates took turns at the plate, he relayed Natalie’s visit and Irisa’s experience with Oliver. Liam just listened. “So, Irisa finds the demo and the shirt I had on when I saw Nat. You remember how much perfume she wears? The shirt reeked. Irisa got really upset, thinking I was cheating on her. She’s freaking out and trying to leave, and I’m trying to hold on to her and explain, and Champ’s running around us, going nuts because we’re yelling. He slams into her while she’s pulling away from me, and she flings out her arms to regain her balance. Those damn rings she wears cut into my face, and her other fist did this.” He pointed to his eye.
Liam slowly shook his head, a grin forming on his lips, and then his laugher rang out, echoing around the large room.
“It’s not funny.” Dom scowled at him.
“Sorry.” Liam gestured to Dom with his beer. “But you have to admit if it didn’t happen to you, it would be funny.”
“She dumped me and I’m suspended. So, tell me, when does this get funny?”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Liam immediately sobered. “She dumped you?”
“She didn’t believe I didn’t have ulterior motives.”
“That sucks.”
“No kidding.” It ticked him off all over again, and he didn’t have a clue how to make it right. But he was glad he wasn’t alone with his thoughts anymore. He needed the distraction of Liam and his humor. “You staying to watch the rest of the game?”
“Sure. Seeing what the other mascots are doing is always good.” He settled on the floor with Champ. “Dusty blew a gasket when he saw you, huh?”
“Didn’t want to hear any explanations. I could’ve been mugged for all he knew. Ramon wasn’t any better. And their statement makes it sound like I have serious problems.”
“Well, to them, you do.”
Dom grunted and drank his beer. The most serious problem of all was getting Irisa to give him a chance to explain. Short of planting himself in front of her door and making her listen, he didn’t have any ideas. And he couldn’t even do that one because the band was out of town.
On screen, his teammates took the field. Andrew Nokes filled in for him at center field. Annoyance slithered and then coiled, turning his blood hot. His role. His spot. His team.
The following morning, his mood was as dark as the coffee in his travel mug. Thanks to awful traffic, he entered the room for the anger management classes a few minutes late. People looked up when he entered and he slid into the first open chair he saw, at the back, and close to the door.
An older man, with graying hair and glasses, stood at the front of the room. “I’m Dr. Williamson. Let’s start by making introductions. Tell us your first name and why you’re here.” He began with a woman on the oppo
site side of the room.
Dom slid down lower in his seat. His presence didn’t reflect well on the team. He’d always prided himself on being the best player he could be, the best teammate, and a man worthy of putting on the uniform and representing the club in the community. What if his charity suffered because of his actions? At that moment, the person he was most angry with was himself.
Finally, his turn came. He straightened. “I’m Dom. I’m here because my boss sent me.”
Dr. Williamson’s gaze rose to Dom’s left eye. Damn shiner. Damn bad luck. The ball cap he’d worn helped to hide the black eye, but not completely enough. “Problems at work?”
“Something like that.”
The doctor nodded. “Feel free to share as much or as little as you’d like this week.”
A few people on the other side of the room spoke in whispers and he heard his name. Dom leaned back in his chair and listened to Dr. Williamson’s soothing tone.
It was going to be a hell of a long week.
By the end of the last class on Friday afternoon, he didn’t want to admit it, but the classes were helping. As he’d worked through the exercises and listened to the doctor and other members of the group, he’d realized a few things. He wasn’t really an angry person, not like some of the class participants.
Situations did set him off, namely every conversation with his father, and he couldn’t allow that to continue. Not that he had any idea how to broach the subject. Every scenario he pictured ended badly.
And he missed Irisa. Really missed her. He found himself looking for her in the pub each night, even though he knew she wasn’t in town. He’d tried her calling one more time. No luck. Knowing that she’d thought he’d lied, that he’d used her, gutted him.
He picked up his certificate of completion and shook Dr. Williamson’s hand.
“I hope you found this course to be helpful.”
He nodded. “A lot more than I thought I would. Thanks.”
Her parents’ choice of restaurant hadn’t changed in years. Irisa studied the floral pattern in the wallpaper, likely as old as the place itself. She downed her second cup of coffee and signaled for a third. As exhausted as she was, nothing would have kept her from flying home with Zander to spend Mother’s Day with her parents.
Her mom sat across the brunch table. “All of my friends have grandbabies now. I’m the only one who doesn’t. No pressure, but I don’t want to be too old to play with or hold my own grandchild.”
No pressure. Sure. The conversation, one they had often, had never bothered her, until now. She’d always laughed it off, but it wasn’t funny anymore.
Zander shrugged, not swayed by guilt, and stuck with his favorite line. “You have Shredder.”
A frown formed on her mom’s lips. “Your dog does not count.” She turned to Irisa. “You aren’t getting any younger.”
The fresh coffee in her hand didn’t lessen her frustration. “We give birth to rock albums. You can gush to your friends about that.” She looked to her dad for assistance, but he hid a smile and dug into his eggs.
Her mother’s hand covered hers. “Don’t you want to find a nice man to settle down with? And Zander, you need a woman to take care of you. Don’t you want to have families? My friends have some nice sons and daughters; maybe we could set up—”
“Mom. No. Just no.” Irisa gritted her teeth and smiled at the waitress refilling their water glasses. “Disaster. Fiasco. Take your pick. Not happening.”
“Yeah. No way.” Zander murmured a thanks to the waitress and earned a refill on his coffee, too.
“Leave them be. They’re young. They’re good kids. They have plenty of time.” Finally, her dad stepped in.
“Can’t you be happy knowing we’re happy with the way things are?” Appetite gone, she pushed her chocolate waffles around her plate.
“You’re not happy. I can see it in your face.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of having this same conversation.” After all her parents had sacrificed for her and Zander, she wanted to make them happy, but listening to talk about finding a good man hurt too much. The situation with Dom consumed her thoughts, a cruel taunting tease of love.
He’d called her and left a voice mail and a text asking her to call him. What was the point? She wasn’t going to play into his charade.
“Our girl works so hard. Maybe she’s worried about the tour.” Her dad’s forehead wrinkled and he observed her over the top of his glasses. “Is that it?”
“Yes, that’s it.” She grasped on to the suggestion. It wasn’t a lie. Worrying about the guys, the fights, and their moods was a constant. But if her mood didn’t change, she’d be subjected to more questions, and making her parents worry was the last thing she wanted to do.
Zander’s foot nudged her calf under the table. He knew the truth. “We’ll get through it. Team effort, right?”
Her dad relaxed in his chair and reached for her mom’s hand. “See? You did a good job with these two. They know the importance of family.”
“But if she’s worried, she’s not taking care of herself, and then she’s not going to be able to do her job well.” Her mom set her tea aside. “She looks exhausted.”
Irisa pasted a smile on her face. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. You know I never let family down.”
After brunch, she drove to the drugstore to buy eye cream, concealer, and an eye mask to combat the circles and puffiness under her eyes. She’d fix her face and convince her parents she was fine. Driving was easier since she’d ditched the wrap bandage. Her wrist had healed just fine.
Colorful balloons tied to an open house sign caught her attention. Coming to a stop at a crossroad she didn’t recognize, she swore. A drifting mind while driving wasn’t good.
Several cars were parked in front of the sign. She stepped out of the car and gazed up at a mansion adorned with charming gardens. Curious, she followed a few people up the winding path and through the front door. Large windows, hardwood floors, and a wide, sweeping staircase straight out of a nineteen-thirties movie. Calmness settled over her like a soft blanket. The house needed some work, but she could imagine the finished product.
Exploring every room took time, and more and more, the house felt like hers. She picked up a realtor’s card on her way out the door.
…I’ll settle for the staircase…
Maybe she could have part of her fairy tale after all.
After presenting his certificate to Ramon, Dom walked into the locker room, more than ready to don his uniform and get back on the field. Most of the guys called out greetings, but a few regarded him with less than friendly faces.
Slade clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome back.”
Adam joined him at his locker. “Good to have you back, man.”
“Good to be back.” Back where he belonged.
“Gemma wants to grill out tonight. Want to join us?”
He debated. Spending a few hours with his friends was one thing. Watching Adam and Gemma act like newlyweds was another. Especially since Irisa wasn’t talking to him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll head home after the game.”
Adam leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Have you heard from Irisa?”
Dom shook his head. Tried to pretend it didn’t matter.
“She’s coming with her band to your charity event, right?”
“She was supposed to. I haven’t heard anything from them about canceling.”
“So talk to her then. Make her listen.”
He nodded. Hopefully, he’d figure out by then what the hell to say.
Out on the field during warmups, he soaked in the sun, the crowd, the feel of his uniform, and the leather scent of his glove. Everything he’d missed during his time away.
“Torres! Yo, Torres!” The loud, rough voice yelled from the direction of the visitors’ dugout. Vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
He looked over.
Big Lou, Tiny, and a few of their crew all waved and raised t
heir beers. Big Lou stood, his Riptide cap barely fitting on his huge head. “Thanks for the seats, Dom.”
Laughing, Dom tipped his cap and gave the guys a thumbs-up.
His debt had been paid. He focused back on baseball. The stadium filled with a mash-up of every player’s walk-up song. Highlights accompanied the music on the Jumbotron. When his song came on, Irisa’s face filled his mind. If he couldn’t fix things between them, he’d have to choose a new song. Hearing “Cut Down” would be too much a reminder of what he’d fucked up.
After the game, he sat on the couch with Champ. Game highlights rolled across the TV screen. He’d had a great game, went three for four with a pair of RBIs, and most important, his team got the win. He rehearsed what to say to his dad. He’d made up his mind to hash it out, and wanted it done. Here goes nothing. He dialed his parents’ home.
His dad answered. “I was just about to call you. In the third inning, when you had that full count, you should have—”
“Can you quit the criticism just once?” Shit, this wasn’t easy.
“What are you talking about?”
He’d get it off his chest. “No matter what my stats are on the back of a baseball card at the end of the season, it’s never good enough for you.”
Silence came in response, then a large expulsion of breath. His dad was probably getting ready to blow. “I want to make sure you get the most out of your opportunity. Not like me, a career minor leaguer who got too wrapped up in partying and blew his chance at the majors. I only push because I see how good you are.”
He pushed off the couch and roamed his rooms, raking his fingers through his hair. “How good I am? You’re always pointing out the mistakes, the flaws. You’ve never told me ‘good job’ or ‘nice grand-slam’ or anything, but you praise Cruz and Rio.”
“Cruz and Rio don’t have your talent. They’re never going to make it big like you did. I’ve always been hard on you because of your potential.” His dad’s stern tone ground out as harsh as ever. “When I played, everyone praised everything I did. No one rode me hard, no one drove me to improve. I’m not going to apologize for pointing out things you can work on, and you should appreciate that I’m not kissing your ass. You have enough people fawning over you.”
Captivated Page 11