Team Russian (Saints Team Series Book 4)

by Ally Adams

  I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “I thought you were the expert on women, having been raised with four at home,” I said, tongue in cheek.

  “Apparently I’ve still got a few things to learn,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I want to see you again,” he continued. “We’ve got a bye this weekend, will you come over Friday night and let me cook for you?”

  “Can you cook?” I asked, lightening the moment.

  “Can I cook!” he scoffed and then reached for his phone. “Can I get Josh’s number before you go?” he referred to my excellent cook of a housemate.

  I laughed.

  “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

  “There’s nothing to makeup, we’re all good,” I said. “Friday night.”

  “Friday night,” he repeated, and gave me a smile. He rose and leaned in long enough to brush my lips with his and then he pulled away and closed the car door. He stood back as I drove off.

  Served me right for being an idiot. Now I was going home alone, horny, desperately wanting The Russian and it was all my own fault for being so high and mighty! Just kill me now.

  Chapter 13

  I got the job. I got the friggin job! I had made an idiot of myself on the phone when Karen—the Head of TV Production—had called me herself to tell me. I gave an almighty cheer, and then I got off the phone and did some more high leaps and cheering. Josh raced out of his room, pulling a T-shirt over his chest as he dressed for work.

  “What? What’s happened?” he asked, scanning the room for clues.

  “I got the commentating cable TV job,” I said, still jumping.

  He gave a loud whoop and raced over to hug me. We jumped around in a hug ... he was so supportive of me.

  “When do you start?” he asked.

  “Two weeks, so I’ve got to go in and give The Sports Daily notice today. My first commentary game will be here when my Suns play the Minnesota Leopards. I can’t believe it,” I said, stopping my jumping to get some air into my lungs.

  “Everything is working out as it should,” Josh said. “It’s a new start.”

  “It is, my next chapter,” I agreed. “Thanks for being happy for me.”

  “Of course, we have to celebrate in style!” he said, planning a gathering already. I swear he loved a get-together. Josh squeezed my arm and went to finish getting ready for work.

  I looked skyward to give thanks. I thought finishing playing was going to be the end of me ... that I’d be lost in the world. It was all I had known for almost a decade and everything I had ever worked for. Now I had this opportunity to keep using my skills but in commentary and to still be associated with the game I love. I was overwhelmed with joy. I wanted to call The Russian and tell him but a quick glance at the clock told me it was not yet eight a.m.; I’d leave it an hour or so and catch him at work. I made a cup of tea and plonked myself on the couch; I’d call Mom and Dad, and then I’d text Aimee and Steffi, and my coach, and Carlo, who had all asked me to let them know. Then I would get dressed and go into The Sports Daily and do the deed!

  I was now a cable TV sports commentator; Carla Brooker for Sports Network One, I said aloud, practicing using the call sign. I’m such a dick, but it sounded so cool.

  ****

  Half an hour later Josh had left for work and I had made all my calls and texts, plus got heaps of good wishes, bless them all. I was dressed ready to drop into The Sports Daily even though I wasn’t rostered to work today, but I needed to give notice right away to start at Network One in two weeks time. I had one major thing to do before I left the house and it was all I could think about.

  I moved onto the balcony, took a deep breath, and finding The Russian’s number in my phone, dialed it. I breathed in, my heart rate always went through the roof at all points of contact with him and after our frosty departure, I really wanted to smooth things over. It rang three times and I debated if I should hang up ... maybe he was in a meeting and was frowning at his phone and my name on his screen; maybe after our last talk he thought it was all too hard; maybe he was with someone ... don’t go there, that’s stupid, it is nine in the morning after all.

  Suddenly a male voice answered and it wasn’t The Russian.

  “Oh, hello,” I said, surprised. “It’s Carla here, I was looking for The Russian please?”

  “Hi Carla,” a very smooth voice said. “It’s Eddie here, The Russian’s business partner.”

  “Hi Eddie, we didn’t get to meet when I was in the office the other day,” I said. “You were clearly out working while The Russian was entertaining.”

  He laughed. “And that’s the story of my life,” he agreed. “Good news that you can play the big end of season match, pleased for you.”

  “Thanks Eddie,” I said, surprised he knew. “It’s a much nicer way to go out than just finishing abruptly mid-season. Anyway, sorry to bother you, I’m guessing The Russian is missing in action?”

  “He’s in with the coach,” Eddie said. “Probably getting dropped,” he teased.

  I laughed, knowing full well that The Russian was one of their A-list players and they had just re-signed him for three years.

  “But I’ll get him to call you when he surfaces,” he said.

  “Thanks, that would be great. See you at the game sometime.”

  “For sure,” he said.

  I hung up and realized I would only be reporting at one more Saints’ games now before I started my new job. But if the Saints games were on different days to my basketball games, I could go and actually sit in the grandstand and watch with the other wives and girlfriends, if I was officially The Russian’s girlfriend. I could be a WAG and The Russian could be a HAB ... husband and boyfriend, well at least at my final game. I didn’t know if HAB was actually a term, I’d have to research that.

  I grabbed my bag, locked up my apartment and headed to my car. I just slipped in behind the wheel when my phone rang – The Russian!

  “Hey there,” I answered, on top of the world, and now The Russian was calling. “Did the coach give you homework?”

  “Brooker,” he said, in his lovely baritone voice, a sound of a laugh in his tone. “He wanted to congratulate me on a great season,” he teased.

  “Of course he did,” I said.

  “Well you saw right through that, I forgot you were an athlete,” he teased. “Okay, he just wanted to point out areas I could improve in ... coaches are never happy, are they?” he sighed.

  “Never,” I agreed. “Even after winning our grand final, Coach made us watch the game and work on our weaknesses!”

  “Tell me about it,” he agreed. “So how are you, beautiful?” he asked. Beautiful. I would ride on that one for hours. Sigh.

  “I am so good I could explode. I got the job!”

  “Brooker, you legend!” The Russian exclaimed. He sounded genuinely excited for me. “I didn’t doubt it for a moment, so when’s your first broadcast?”

  “In two weeks’ time, when the Suns take on the Minnesota Leopards, here.”

  “That’s brilliant. Having your own team for the first game will help ease you into it too since you know all their moves and their names,” he said.

  “True, probably why they picked it,” I said. “I hadn’t stopped to think about that.”

  “I’d better get some good champagne for Friday night then, so we can celebrate,” The Russian said. He was adorable.

  “Speaking of which, what can I bring?” I asked.

  “How about dinner?” he said, then laughed. “Just joking. Just bring you, I’ve got it sorted. About seven-thirty?”

  “Done. See you then and thanks for calling back.”

  “Really pleased for you, Brooker, this is the beginning of something big,” he said.

  Didn’t I know it, big was all around me at the moment, and there was something else big I wanted to get acquainted with too as soon as possible.

  Chapter 14

  I never thought Friday night would come ... seriously, the long
est Thursday of my life and Friday daytime dragged on ... what the ...? I was dreaming, hoping, desperately praying that The Russian would be my first really serious relationship – maybe my last, if you get the drift. But, no matter how mature, clever, independent and successful you might think you are at laying out your future, you are never too old for a major serve from your parents, and they timed that right before my date.

  In fairness, Dad was a gentle soul, not one of those fire and brimstone type reverends; Mom was the tough one, but I guess she’d had a few hard knocks in life. Dad sort of fell into the religious life ... he was working as a counselor in a hospital and often gave patients comfort or helped their families. After a while he wanted to do more than work with the sick and dying, he wanted to work in the community. So he decided to combine his faith with a job where he could help people every day.

  Mom was the church warden at the first parish that Dad got assigned to. Her job meant that she organized pretty much everything from keeping order in the church to organizing the maintenance of the grounds. It wasn’t long before she was organizing Dad, and they’ve been together ever since. They really were perfect for each other; they just fitted together.

  What I most loved about Mom was that she told it to me straight, I could always count on her for that. Dad on the other hand was so supportive which was great, but sometimes you just want someone who says “go for it” or “dumb idea”. You know what I mean?

  Anyway, I was in the bathroom blow-drying my hair for said big date when my phone rang. I didn’t hear it at first, and only just answered in time to find Mom on the line. She got stuck into me because it had been several months since I had come home for dinner, and really, as she pointed out, they were only a couple of hours away by car. I could even stay the night if I wanted to – no thank you, I loved my folks but that ship had sailed, besides I liked driving. Then like good cop, bad cop, Dad got on the phone and did the soft sell – how much they were missing me and how the family was important. Sigh, of course they were right. Then came the crunch ... they wanted to meet The Russian; Mom had seen him in the media, which meant her nosy neighbor had told them all about it and she hated to hear anything about her daughter second-hand, which I understood.

  I assured them I would definitely be coming home for dinner, but if they could just give me a couple of weeks to wind up my old job and settle into my new one—read between the lines, settle into Alex— I’d definitely sort something out and be home to tell them all about it. That pacified them for the moment and I got them off the phone.

  I did the final check—no lipstick on my teeth, my butt didn’t look big, no stray hairs, perfume not overbearing—good to go. I wished Josh a good night and he asked me if I had a condom. I gave him a look that initially said ‘that’s the man’s job’ and ended with ‘do you think I should take one?’

  I headed off, keen to check out The Russian’s place inside since I had only seen the exterior – it was one of four white condominiums scaling down the hill on the beach front, each condo boasting a huge balcony that faced the ocean and in touching distance of the beach. When I had dropped in the other day after work so he could drive us to his parents, I hadn’t gotten the tour; The Russian had been outside waiting for me. It must’ve been an amazing view, Sasha had mentioned Lucas lived in the same area.

  I was big on punctuality and it was just nearing seven-thirty when I drove into his street. I brought some divine creamy brie and crackers, plus liquor dark chocolates; I figured if the main course was a disaster, at least we had a starter and dessert.

  My stomach was churning with excitement and nerves, and maybe desire too; hard to tell with that much churning going on. And, I was going to work really hard at not doing anything that caused tension between us like the other night. I wanted the night to end on a high.

  I stopped at the security gate—it was a gated community—and the guy on the gate checked me off the list. He welcomed me and told me The Russian’s place was the second condo. I thanked him and drove on. Each of the condos had a private entrance, a level of their own –seriously! The Russian was pretty gracious to rave about my place compared to where he was living. I parked on the street outside and, juggling the chocolates, cheese and crackers, I made my way to the front door, adjusting my clothes one final time. Deep breath. As I approached I heard voices; I looked behind, but I was alone. I moved closer and the door to The Russian’s condo was ajar and the voices were coming from inside. I was just about to knock when I heard the female raise her voice. I stopped in my tracks. Had he a girl in there? I didn’t know what to do now. I bit my lip, standing on the doorstep like a groupie.

  “I came back to see you,” I heard her say.

  “I didn’t ask you to come back to see me,” The Russian sighed. “We’re over. That’s it ... you go and live your life, I’ll live mine. Good luck and all that.”

  It was Leesa; his ex-girlfriend was there on my date night. Fuck, fuck, fuck it. All my dreams for the night were just fading in front of my eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to call it off,” she said, “I just thought we needed time out.”

  “And you were right,” The Russian said. “The first time, the second time and the subsequent ten times you called it off.”

  “So what is this? Payback? Now you’re calling it off?” she demanded, with a raised voice.

  “You, me, whatever. Leesa, it’s over. We gave it a fair go but we’re different people, it’s amazing we’ve lasted this long.”

  “We’re not that different. We both love sex and partying, and we have a brilliant time together. “

  I pulled the knife out of my heart at the thought that they loved having sex together, and took in a small breath. I was frozen to the spot.

  The Russian’s voice remained calm, but I could tell he’d had enough, his sentences were becoming clipped.

  “I don’t like partying. You love fucking partying, that’s why you can’t take my lifestyle. In fact, I don’t know anything we have in common.”

  “Why do we have to stay here though?” she whined.

  “Because I’ve got a three-year contract that’s just been renewed – a huge fucking contract ... this is my career, this is what I do, what I want to do,” he said, voice raised.

  “Doesn’t mean you have to stay home all the time.”

  “You don’t get it. I’m in training, I’m playing professional soccer. This is my career.” Again his voice was raised and filled with disbelief.

  “It’s frigging boring. You don’t need to work, you know Daddy said he’d give us ...”

  “Leesa!”

  “Well he will, we could travel and party,” she whined.

  “I want to play professional soccer. You want to party. Go party. Go screw around every night like you were doing anyway. You’re free to do whatever you like.”

  “So, are you serious with this bitch?”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t speak about Carla like that, and yes, I’m serious about her. Unlike you, she gets the need to train and perform, we have things in common ... and she’ll be here in a minute, so time you headed off. Thanks for dropping in.”

  “So a sweaty athlete turns you on now?”

  “A champion,” The Russian corrected her.

  I didn’t hear anything for a moment, but she must have looked upset because The Russian spoke again in a softer voice.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you, Leesa, but we’ve flogged this horse. There are so many more men out there better suited to you than me, you’ll know that the minute you find one that you click with, and you’ll wonder why you wasted so much time with me,” he said.

  “Because I love you,” she said.

  “Love or habit?” he asked.

  I heard her scoff. I took another breath; I’m sure I had forgotten to breathe given the ache in my chest. I loved what The Russian had said about me but I imagined the pain of being in Leesa’s shoes and having those words spoken to her about some other wo
man. I would just die.

  I heard her voice again, this time raised and a little hysterical. “You don’t even give a fuck about ... forget it, you’re weak, you’re just a fucking weak asshole,” she was yelling now.

  “Fine, happy you’ve said that? Time you left,” The Russian said.

  “I’m really pleased I slept with Jason, because you’re a loser,” she continued.

  I heard a loud thump, like The Russian had punched the wall, and she screamed.

  I raced in – Lord knows why, you would think I would run the other way, but I couldn’t leave her alone in there if he had hit her. I’m sure he wouldn’t have hit her. Would he hit her?

  Then I saw her slap him hard across the face; The Russian was a big man but that even knocked him back with shock more than impact. His face was red with the imprint of her hand, and then he saw me.

  “Carla,” he said, turning to face me, his eyes wide. Behind him was a huge hole in the plaster wall. So that was what he had thumped.

  “So this is Carla,” Leesa said, taking me in. “Nice to meet you, I’m Leesa. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me,” she said, smiling.

  “No,” I said, “I haven’t. Are you okay?” She had a bruised cheek and a large scratch down the left side of her face; it was red and raw and recent. But surely The Russian hadn’t been part of that, had he?

  I saw The Russian look at me with shock, then to the wall and to Leesa as he put it all together.

  “I didn’t do that to her, you can’t seriously think I’d hit a woman?” he said, his voice hurt. “Tell her, Leesa.”

  Leesa just gave him a smirk and then turned to look me over.

  “Tell her,” The Russian thundered, well out of patience. I stood there with my cheese and chocolates, caught between the two of them, my romantic night gone for good.

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, he didn’t do it, but he could go after whoever did it,” she said, and turned to face him again. “You’re a fucking pussy.”