by Ward,Alice
“You look absolutely adorable,” I said, meaning it.
“It’s not too casual?” she asked, looking down at her shoes.
“No, it’s perfect.”
I took her hand and guided her out of the apartment and down the stairs where our driver was waiting with the back door open.
Whitney got her first peek at Ace’s bachelor pad, at least the outside of it as we pulled up. I had been there once, just for a minute after practice one day, so I was grateful they were headed out the front door as we arrived. If Whitney got a peek inside his party pad, she certainly would have more reason to complain about him.
The girls immediately started chattering, something about how cute one another looked, how they would miss each other, blah, blah, blah. I reached into the mini bar and opened two beers, handing one to Ace, smirking as I waited to see if he knew about the press. It didn’t appear he had heard anything.
“What’s wrong with you, man?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said casually. “Just wondering how you’re doing.”
“I’m great. You, on the other hand, are acting like a freak.” He gave a nervous laugh.
I managed to keep my mouth shut as we enjoyed a nice dinner, but when a large busted blonde came up to our table and asked for his autograph, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You’re not a single man anymore my friend, better be careful.”
The look he gave me was dangerous. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I lifted my glass to my lips, making him wait while I took a long drink. “You need to start reading the news or turn on your TV in between your little fuck sessions.”
He began scrolling through his phone, and when his face turned pale, I leaned over to check that he had found the photo of he and Holly. “This is bullshit!” he said, a little too loud for the quiet restaurant.
“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “She’s leaving tomorrow. You can get your bad boy reputation back in no time.”
I knew he hadn’t settled down with Holly. He had bragged to me repeatedly about his conquests in the men’s room, in the lockers after everyone else had left, and of course, the cleaning lady he banged one morning while Holly was in the shower.
I immediately regretted opening my mouth in the middle of dinner because everything went downhill quick. Ace’s mood darkened and he withdrew from the discussion. He snapped at everyone who came up to him and ignored Holly the rest of the evening.
Camera’s flashed, and paparazzi tossed questions at us so quickly it was impossible to respond. Whitney pulled my hand towards the car and out of the limelight, once again pissed at the attention. Ace seemed uneasy in front of the cameras for the first time, pulling his hand away from Holly’s and simply putting his hand on her back to guide her to the car.
CHAPTER EIGHT
e
Calvin
I stood at the airport security line where Whitney was saying her last goodbye to her best friend. Tears ran down their faces, their arms gripped around each other’s waists tightly. You would’ve thought they were never going to see one another again. I didn’t understand women and their heightened, and what I felt irrational, emotions.
Ace didn’t even come with us to see her off, so why did I have to?
“Keep Ace out of trouble for me,” Holly said as she made her way to the long line.
Yeah, right!
I waved, smiled, and gripped Whitney’s arm to pull her away before they clung back on to one another again. I managed to get her out of the airport and into the car before she fell apart for the twentieth time that morning. “She’s coming back soon,” I assured her.
I was happy to have Whitney back to myself, no more sharing her with Holly, but the thought of Ace pulling me back into the nightlife was lingering in my mind as well. Things would’ve been so much easier if she had never come.
“She really likes him,” Whitney said, her voice still shaky from her earlier meltdown. I pulled up to the parking attendant window where a young redhead with tattooed arms and a piercing in her nose chomped on a piece of gum. She lit up when she noticed who I was, her hand pausing on mine as I handed her the pass.
“Can I get your autograph?” she said in a soft tone that didn’t match her tough exterior, pushing a blank parking pass in my direction with a pen.
“Sure,” I agreed, scribbled my name and then winked at her as I handed it back. She was a hot little number with beautiful green eyes and thick red lips. I wondered what else she had pierced as Whitney slapped my arm.
“Did you hear what I said?” she snapped. Shit, no, I hadn’t listened to a word of it.
“Sorry, baby,” I apologized and pulled away from the window, leaving the hot young redhead forever, suddenly feeling irritated at Whitney for being the reason I would never know what other piercings were on her milky white body. “What did you say?”
“I said she likes him,” she repeated with a harsh tone, her eyes snapping fire at me. I thought back to the redhead and her soft eyes looking at me in adoration. The woman I loved only seemed to look at me as a credit card or someone to bitch at.
“Who?” I asked, realizing it was a dumb question as soon as it fell out of my mouth.
“Holly likes Ace,” Whitney barked and crossed her arms over her chest in irritation.
“Oh, well, I hope she likes him since she’s fucking him” I said calmly, not really understanding the problem, or how I was supposed to resolve it.
“Has he mentioned having any feelings for her?” she asked.
Oh God, why me?
Ace mentioned plenty of feelings about Holly. To name a few — her ass felt tight, her breasts felt like a perfect fit for his mouth, and oh yeah, he felt like she couldn’t get enough of his rock hard cock — but I was pretty sure that wasn’t the sort of answer Whitney was looking for.
“Not really,” I said instead.
“Nothing at all, not even that he likes her?” she pushed, her voice growing gratingly high.
“Well, he obviously likes her or he wouldn’t have spent that much time with her,” I said. “But, guys don’t talk about that kind of stuff, especially not guys like Ace Newman.”
Whitney had spent the entire week trying to tell Holly that falling for a guy like Ace was a bad idea, so why was she now pushing me to try to what? Play matchmaker?
It felt like fifth grade. Check yes or no. Should I slip him a note at practice? Do you like Holly? It all felt insane to me. Thank God she was gone. Maybe she would find another poor sap to fall for in the meantime and forget all about Ace. Wishful thinking, I knew…
“I just feel bad for her,” Whitney pushed herself down into the seat of my new Porsche, a purchase I made without her consent a couple days ago. When I told her it was my money, I found out how angry she could get. I had no idea my sweet girl had fangs, but I know now.
Her legs were crossed, and her knees fell towards me. My eyes focused on the smoothness of her skin and the hem of her skirt. She looked damn sexy in this car. I was glad she didn’t fight me too hard on keeping it once I promised to never make a large purchase without her again. I did actually feel bad about my decision once she pointed out we hadn’t even looked for a place of our own yet. She was right. But again, she’d had her friend come running to her rescue, and it had been a pretty hectic week.
“She’ll be fine,” I assured her and punched the buttons on the stereo until I found an old rock song I liked. I turned it up just enough to stop her from trying to continue the conversation, but not loud enough for her to realize that was the purpose.
I pulled in front of our apartment building with only enough time to give her a quick kiss and reassure her once again that her friend was a big girl and that she would be fine. My eyes lingered on her legs and got a quick peek of her white panties as she tried to get out of the low car with some dignity. I could see why Ace liked this car. Not a bad view from the driver’s seat.
The door slammed shut, and she bent over into th
e passenger side window. “I love you,” she said sweetly. “I’m sorry for going on about Holly, I just worry about her getting attached and Ace not feeling the same.” She smiled, and her eyes melted into mine before she turned and walked away. As I pulled off, I felt bad. I knew that Ace didn’t feel the same way about Holly, not if love or even serious like was involved.
He wasn’t capable of love.
“Hey, hot shot!” the man of the hour called out as I entered the locker room.
I turned, smiled, and gave a quick wave before heading to my own space, hoping to avoid some long drawn out story about some hot blonde or two brunettes that he banged while I drove Holly to the airport and listened to Whitney cry about how he would probably hurt her. Hell yes, he was going to hurt her. That’s what Ace did. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. The thing was, Holly knew that going in, so why the hell was everyone so surprised?
And why would Holly be any different from the rest?
“You’re late,” he hissed as he patted me on the back. “Big scrimmage game today,” he continued without any real regard for how insensitive he was being.
“Yeah, I had to take Holly to the airport,” I snapped back. His face changed for a moment, almost like he felt bad, but quickly turned to his crooked smile.
“I didn’t think that one was ever gonna leave,” he said coolly. “She was cramping my style.” His head rolled around his shoulders like he was soothing a sore neck. “See ya on the field, kid.”
My fists clenched, and my shoulders tensed and tightened at his indifference for not only Holly’s feelings but my own. I was the one who had to listen to Whitney whine over the mess he was about to make, and kid, hot shot, really? Who did he think he was?
“What’s got you all wound up?” Marty asked, stopping me from taking a swing at something.
I shook it off, pulled myself together, deciding to take out my frustration on the batters about to face me. I patted Marty on the back and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Nothing. See ya out there.” I rushed him off so I could finish getting dressed and stretch my arm.
The scrimmage was brutal. We were up against the Yankees, who I might add, were none too happy to have a new team step onto their turf. My focus was gone, my pitches flying without my usual control, leaving opportunities one after another for the Yankees to score.
I was glad when it was over, relieved that I didn’t have to stand on that mound and continue the humiliation not only for myself but for my entire team. Coach was obviously pissed as I walked past him towards the locker room, his eyes glaring at me with more than just a little disappointment.
“Where was your head today?” he yelled directly at me once we were all packed in the central meeting area. “Obviously not in the game!” His ebony skin turned an odd shade of pale from the strain.
“We all have bad days,” Marty offered some comforting words as he patted me on the ass. He knew all about bad days. Hell, his last season was full of bad days.
Ace glared at me, and I ignored him. A part of me wanted to go over there and punch him in his smug face. He was the reason I wasn’t focused, his little tryst with Holly had created stress at home, and now on the field.
“Let’s go get a drink,” Marty said. “Shake it off.”
“Yeah, I could use a drink,” I admitted, realizing I didn’t want to go home, at least not yet. Whitney had enough on her mind. She didn’t need to worry about me as well. But, I’d be smart this time and call first and not stay out late.
“Good, I’ll meet you out front,” he said and left me to finish getting undressed.
Shit. Ace was already in the shower, and I chose one on the other side of the large room, ignoring him completely. One problem. Ace Newman wasn’t a man you could ignore, ever.
“Hey, hot shot!” he yelled loud enough to echo through the fucking stadium.
I exhaled and opened my eyes in time to watch him wrap a towel around his waist and head my way.
“What was going on with you today?” he asked. “Your little lady giving you shit?” His smile was smug, and the hollow laugh that sounded like it rolled directly out of his chest was condescending. “I told ya, never a good idea for a rookie to have a girl, always gets in the way,” he continued without any provoking. “Guess I’ll see you at Sunoco soon. I take premium unleaded, by the way.”
I closed my eyes, continued rinsing the soap from my hair and let his words roll down my back with the warm streams of water. Let it go, Calvin, he’s not worth it!
His laughter trailed behind him as he left the room, and I opened my eyes, shut off the water and grabbed my towel. I didn’t take much time to get dressed and left to meet Marty with my hair still wet.
“C’mon, I’ll buy you a beer,” Marty said as he climbed into the passenger seat of my Porsche. The car roared to life, and I spun my tires for the hell of it just as Ace walked towards his car.
Marty offered plenty words of wisdom, empathy, and advice, but I wasn’t sure how many I actually heard. He was a good guy, not a womanizer, not a heavy drinker, and certainly not an asshole like Ace Newman, but for some reason, I didn’t respect him the same way I did Ace. Even pissed off at him, I still had respect for the man.
I think Marty got the hint I wasn’t really listening once we pulled into the parking lot of Home Plate. The valet took my keys, gushed all over me in the same way that he had over Ace the first time I’d been here. For some reason, that gave me a strange satisfaction.
Inside the club, I received the same treatment that Ace had before. The hostess was quick to recognize me and took me to the VIP section where I received that fateful lap dance from the nasty blonde Ace was finger fucking. I slid into the booth, claiming it as my own and felt an even stronger, yet not so strange satisfaction.
“Two beers,” I ordered quickly from the brunette I vaguely recognized from that blurry night as Marty slid into the booth next to me.
I knew the television screens that surrounded the sports themed bar would soon blast the replays of the earlier scrimmage game, if they hadn’t already. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to be,” I smirked to Marty as if he had the ability to read my mind.
“Shit happens,” he mumbled and then took a long swig of his beer.
Frank arrived with a smile and an energy that felt nothing like my own. It was as if it hadn’t even bothered him that we had such a rough day, but then again, he didn’t play a position that was scrutinized as much as me.
“I’ve gotta make a phone call,” I said, excusing myself from the booth.
I dialed Whitney, and when she answered I wanted to climb through the phone and melt under her sweet voice. “Hey, babe.”
I jumped straight to the point. “I stopped for a beer with the guys. It was a pretty bad fucking day.”
Her voice went from sweet to sour in an instant. “Oh great, so you’re going back to hanging out with Ace and his whores now that Holly’s gone?” she snapped.
Jesus Christ, that fucker just keeps ruining my mood!
“I’m not with Ace. I’m with Marty and Frank,” I snapped back.
I stopped listening to her once her tone hit a certain pitch; it was like a dog whistle just falling on deaf ears. I couldn’t win for losing, and tonight I guess it was a fucking lose, lose!
“I won’t be late, I just need to cool off,” I said with forced patience into the phone, “I love you.” I hung up while she was still ranting about something.
Marty and Frank were arguing over another baseball statistic, a past time that I guess kept them both happy, but annoyed the fuck out of me and anyone else who was close enough to listen. “What do you think?” Frank pulled me into the argument as I sat down. “Who’s the better pitcher, Nolan Ryan or Cy Young?” They both fell silent and waited eagerly for my response, like somehow my opinion was going to be treated as gospel.
“Young won 511 of his 749 games, pitching over 7,300 innings. He had one hell of an arm, but Nolan Ryan was a machine, pushing out fastballs, th
rowing seven no-hitters and won the strikeout title 11 times.” I spouted out my useless knowledge of some of the greatest baseball pitchers of all time. “So, I guess I would say Nolan Ryan,” I gave my final answer.
“But, he never won a Cy Young award,” Marty pushed, obviously the one who was arguing that pitcher as the best.
I shook my head, realizing that the argument was going to continue no matter how I interjected. “They are both better than me, that’s all I know.” I laughed at my own remark to lighten the gloom on their faces and then guzzled half of my beer quickly to ease my pain of the day.
“Hey, Ace!” Frank called out, waving him over to my booth. Yes, my booth!
“Thanks for keeping my seat warmed up, boys.” He smirked before sliding in next to me as if we were best friends. His hand reached for my shoulder and squeezed as I refused to make eye contact. “I’m sorry I was hard on ya, kid, I know you had shit to deal with at home,” his words felt like tiny needles digging into my ears.
“You realize that the only mess I had at home was yours,” I snapped back sarcastically and offered up the same crooked smug smile he was famous for. I watched his jaw jerk back and forth, and his eyes twitch as he worked on a response.
C’mon, make it good. Can’t let the kid, the hot shot, get the better of you. Can ya, Ace?
“If you’re referring to Holly, she’s the one who clamped her small town lips around my big league dick and wouldn’t let go,” he finally said.
Marty began pushing towards Frank to move from the booth, and after a few good nudges, Frank got the hint, and they were both gone and moved to seats at the bar, away from whatever they feared was about to explode between the two of us.
“That’s just it, women line up to suck your dick, why fuck with my girlfriend’s best friend?” I asked.
The brunette who brought my first round showed up to drop off two more beers and a couple shots of Patrón. Her perky smile quickly washed out once she realized the tension floating between Ace and myself, and quickly left, leaving only the drinks and the wafting odor of her cheap perfume.
“You were there. She practically jumped on my dick. What do you care?” Ace barked and then gripped his beer. He leaned back in the booth, relaxing as he took a long swig from the bottle. “Is that your little side piece or something?”