ROUGH RIDER

by Nikki Wild

  I reached for my phone, unlocking it with a few button taps, and then…

  The knocking at the door drew my attention. Didn’t I put a “Do Not Disturb” on the door? Is this the kind of service to expect at a layman’s hotel?

  The knocking resumed, harder now.

  “Lex? Lex, I know you’re in there!”

  Riley shifted around in her sleep slightly, and then her eyes darted open. “Who is that?” She sleepily asked, and I groaned my response.

  “That would be Jess.”

  She looked at me inquisitively, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Instead, I ascended from the bed, tossing on a pair of boxers and my pajama bottoms.

  With Riley’s eyes on me as she drew the bedding up to her neck, I lazily sauntered over towards the door and unlocked it.

  “Lex, you idiot! Why haven’t you been answering my–”

  I slid into position to block Riley from sight, but Jess had already seen her. Glancing over my shoulder, she looked at me with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

  “Lex, what the fuck?”

  “I met her yesterday,” I responded sleepily. “She spent the night.”

  “Yeah, I can obviously see that… hell of a night for you to pick, though,” Jess crossed her arms, a telling smirk plastered across her face. “I’ve been trying to catch you for hours…”

  “Why, what is it?” I asked curiously.

  Jess was always bad at hiding her emotions. Disappointment, maybe even fear, clouded her expression almost immediately. She took a deep sigh, and I knew the following news couldn’t be good…

  I heard rustling from the bed behind me. I’d almost forgotten about last night’s lay, and for a little privacy, I held the door ajar and stepped partially out.

  “Out with it!” I hissed the demand.

  Jess’s expression hardened – and then I knew the news was going to slay me. “A friend of mine in the agency says that Brett Barker is already considering… alternate possibilities for the latest contract.”

  My blood ran cold.

  “Who?”

  “My source itself is reliable, but the information… we’re not exactly–”

  “Not another word that doesn’t answer the fucking question,” I told her in no uncertain terms. “We both knew this could be a possibility. So tell me… who is it?”

  Jess took a deep breath.

  “Alistair Pritch.”

  My heart plummeted into my stomach. Pritch was a defender on our team, and a fiercely competitive one at that. His role was to protect the goalie and ensure that the football didn’t dare progress into the goalkeeper’s box… and he was very, very good at it.

  He was also my singular proper rival in the sport – the one person who kept me on top of my game by sheer necessity.

  “Pritch…” I responded blankly.

  “That’s right,” Jess bit her bottom lip. “Alistair Pritch is in the running. My source tells me that he’s the favourite contender for the contract.”

  It wasn’t just a simple rivalry between players. The National Team drew in the best football players from the entire country, from various leagues and teams. It just so happened that his and my teams were, for most of our careers, bitter rivals through and through.

  The goal for the National Team, as with any represented country, was to blur oppositions and contests to string together the best of the best.

  Of which I was the king.

  But Alistair… Alistair Pritch was the wicked chancellor to my reign. A viper in the grass, he followed orders and obeyed my directions… so long as there wasn’t any foolhardy alternative that would propel himself into the spotlight.

  The crowd loved him, too. I might be Lightning Lex Lambert, but the world knew Alistair Pritch as The Renegade. Pritch was clever; his disobedience was a wildcard for my game plans, but he made decisions that I had to begrudgingly call sound. He’d never make it look like he was actively rebelling against me – it was always a spur of the moment, completely reflexive maneuver.

  And it had helped win more games than I was willing to admit. Pritch was always keeping me on my toes, and always forcing me to stay sharp.

  Our rivalry was legendary.

  And now he was trying to rip my contract out from under me before I could even sign a page.

  “I’m going,” Riley muttered as she pushed past me into the hallway, fully dressed. I could only give a distracted, dumbfounded nod as she disappeared around the corner and stormed off.

  What the fuck is her problem? I thought to myself absentmindedly. I just got the worst fucking news of my week…

  “So, who the hell was that?” Jess asked curiously, glancing down the direction my partner for the evening had disappeared.

  “That was… Riley,” I commented.

  “Oh yeah? Why the sudden change? Thought you were going to lay low and, you know, avoid causing any sort of scandal while you were here…” She side-eyed me with a grin as I led her back into the hotel room. “Just couldn’t keep it in your pants, yeah?”

  “It was a little different from that,” I recalled apathetically, still sucker-punched by this new tidbit of information.

  Alistair Pritch, of all fucking people? Although, it made sense, in a way that made my blood boil…

  “Oh yeah? Different how?”

  I didn’t give any thought to the answer, which is probably why it was a particularly honest, straightforward one.

  “Riley impressed me.”

  “She… impressed you?” Jess seemed shocked. “This is new. Impressed you how, exactly?”

  “The girl had no idea who I was, and she took charge,” I thought aloud. “Such unwavering confidence. The girl knew how to stir me up, and she kept me on my toes.”

  “And you just let her scamper off like that?” Jess asked, cocking her head to the side.

  “What are you getting at?”

  My best friend shrugged. “I don’t know. For a minute there, it almost sounded like you respect her.”

  “Maybe I do,” I answered noncommittally.

  “Doesn’t sound like any Lightning Lex Lambert that I know,” Jess chuckled, pulling out a chair from under the obligatory writing desk and seating herself.

  “Yeah, well. Maybe I’m trying on something new,” I answered, stepping into the bathroom to wash my hands in the sink. I raising my voice over the hot, running water. “You know. Seeing how I like it.”

  “Well, pissing off your something new isn’t such a good idea!” She called out loudly from the other room.

  “What do you mean, pissing her off?” I asked, wiping my hands clean with a stiff, rough hand towel as I strolled back into the main room.

  “What, you didn’t see that look on her face?” Jess sharply took in a breath for emphasis. “She was livid. Doesn’t surprise me, though…”

  “You’re speaking cryptically,” I simmered. “You know that I don’t like cryptic. Get on with it.”

  “How does it look to you?” She asked. “She’s half-asleep, all cuddled up to you or whatever, and then some strange woman answers the door. You get up, you get into some hushed, heated conversation, all mysterious and shit, and then when she tries to make a show of storming off, you just let her? You realize that she was mad, and you didn’t even bother trying to stop her.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “That’s not what it was at all.”

  “Context, Lex,” Jess shook her head. “She doesn’t know who you are… unless you told her.”

  “Didn’t tell her a thing,”

  “Right. So, she doesn’t know who you are… she doesn’t know who I am… and she’s totally in the dark as to the secrecy. Hell, it probably looked like I’m some jilted ex-wife or some shit, coming to bother you.”

  I hadn’t considered that.

  “Fuck me,” I grumbled.

  I glanced down at my pajama pants.

  “I’m… not exactly equipped for this right now,” I mutt
ered. “You’re my publicist. Go catch her.”

  “I barely saw the chick,” Jess shrugged. “Besides, I wouldn’t know where to start. I’m not exactly private eye material, you know.”

  Grumbling, I pulled upon my wardrobe and whipped out a few choice garments. “Fine. I’ll handle it. If I’m lucky, she might come to me.”

  “You think so?” She asked, that mischievous smirk on her face again. “I dunno…”

  “If not… there was a Japanese girl who wandered in with her last night. I’ve seen the bartender speaking with her from time to time – I think they’re friends. I can probably follow up on that lead and track her down, but only if I have to. I don’t want to force it, after all.”

  Dwelling on these thoughts, I buttoned up my long-sleeved top, swapped the pajamas for slacks, and whipped a blazer over my shoulders. My publicist made and poured herself a cup of coffee, and then spat it out in my bathroom sink.

  “Ugh! This is fookin’ disgusting!”

  “There’s that chav coming out,” I teased.

  “Don’t you start with me,” Jess squinted an eye and gave me a defiant glare. “You know I’m not a damned, dirty chav.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  She looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel, but relaxed. I recognized that look – she was deep in thought, considering something that we’d both overlooked.

  “What is it?” I asked, stepping back into view. I was suited up and ready to tackle the day, even if that involved tracking down a wayward lay to straighten out some things.

  After all, the sex had been pretty good…

  And Jess was right.

  It really had been a long time since someone had impressed me.

  “This overnight woman of yours, this… damn the gods, what was her name again?”

  “Riley.”

  “Right,” Jess continued. “Thanks. This Riley. You said you found her challenging. Would you say you stand by that assessment?”

  I straightened my tie in the mirror.

  “I think so.”

  “She could be the answer you need.”

  I paused. “…Go on.”

  “What does Alistair Pritch have that you don’t, Lex? Really think about that for a moment. What makes him way more attractive than you for a corporate, multi-million sponsorship?”

  “Choose your words carefully,” I growled.

  “I’m not trying to stir you up,” she smiled. “Apply those critical thinking skills of yours. What does he have that you don’t?”

  I begrudgingly considered her question.

  “His record is weaker… but he’s a maverick on the field… he’s a defiant upstart, a wildcard, but a highly-calculating–”

  “You’re looking at the wrong details,” she coerced me. “Think about his stability.”

  “What are you getting at?” I demanded, whirling around to stare at her. “Do you have a plan, or not?”

  Jess smiled at me softly, the way one would at an adorable pet. I didn’t like it. “Pritch has a wife,” she responded. “A wife and a kid. He’s got a solid family, and that carries through to his reputation off the field. None of these playboy scandals of yours… he’s clean. Squeaky clean.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Everyone knows you’re the better player Lex, but he’s a safe bet,” Jess commented.

  “And that’s what Brett Barker wants,” I growled, driving a fist into the wall. I could feel it slightly give way beneath my pressure. “He wants a safe bet. No scandals, no fuck-ups.”

  “That’s right. He’s going to choose Pritch over you because you’re the loose cannon football star.” Jess threw her hands up as she spoke. “Sure, you have the prestigious record, the respect, and the wins under your belt… even if the National Team hasn’t won the World Cup beneath your leadership.”

  “The National Team hasn’t won a World Cup since 1966,” I clarified.

  “Oh, I’m not saying you aren’t a capable leader, by any means,” she backtracked. “But you haven’t given him that hole-in-one. You’ve been National for, what, three years now? If you’d led the team to international domination, that’d be one thing…”

  “Not everyone on the team is as good as me.”

  Jess caught the primal, irritated tone beneath my voice. “Be that as it may… we’d be having a very different conversation right now if they were. Instead, the Head of Public Relations needs to make the wiser choice for corporate sponsorship.

  “Sounds like both of his highly-qualified options are: the popular, arrogant playboy, practically a force of destruction both on the field and off… and the defiant but grounded, beloved subordinate, who is still a pop culture icon and a member of the National Team.

  “Who’s he logically going to pick?”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Unless you show him something else.”

  “Something like Riley.”

  “That’s right,” Jess schemed. “No more of these ridiculous one-night stands, public intoxication feats, and making my job a living nightmare,” she told me. “You’ve got to settle down. Find yourself a nice girl. An American could work… it’s an interesting but believable choice for you. Someone who challenges you… someone who can keep you in line.”

  “And I have to marry her?”

  “Of course not!” Jess laughed. “But getting a girlfriend out of her is a step in the right direction, wouldn’t you think?”

  I dwelled on this a little longer.

  “You think it’s her?”

  “From the way you went all googly eyes when we were talking about her?” Jess asked, standing up from the chair and straightening out her outfit. “She’s a girl you sound like you actually respect. I think she’s a probably a good start.”

  5

  Riley

  Unsurprisingly, the English guy had turned out to be an arrogant prick.

  And the sex had been phenomenal…

  Isn’t that how it always worked?

  It wasn’t all bad… It’s just a shame that I didn’t have a chance to cut my proverbial tether and bolt before the woman showed up.

  I wasn’t sure who she was.

  A wife?

  A girlfriend?

  It didn’t really matter. I’d gathered up my things and just pushed my way out the door and the asshole didn’t even try to stop me.

  It wasn’t hard to navigate down to the ground floor and out the door. He was staying at one of the halfway-decent hotels in the area, and within a couple of minutes I was already on my way back home to my apartment.

  Oh well, I thought to myself. At least I got myself a great fuck in there before the sky came crashing down.

  The further away from the hotel I walked, the more that I considered the night. It had been more than just sex. Lex had pushed me to my very limits. The Englishman knew just how to excite me in the best ways, ramping up my passion before letting me dangle precariously at that precipice… letting me drift back… and then pushing me again and again, teasing me, until I finally begged for release.

  When the release came, it crushed me.

  I didn’t reveal the fact, but I experienced my first multiple orgasm that night. Most guys hadn’t really been particularly useful in the orgasm department, either finishing too quickly or not at all… but it was rare that I got to ride the climax myself.

  With Lex, I’d lost count of the amount of times he’d thrown me over the cliff.

  He was so brutishly rugged, and then there was that English charm of his. Every breath of his accent excited me, forcing me to hang upon his every last syllable. When he asked me to come for him, I couldn’t help but oblige… and my fingernails had dug into his skin, riding out the intense heat between us.

  And then he came inside me. It was the most incredible feeling in the world…

  “Oh fuck,” I thought aloud.

  I came to an actual stop on the sidewalk and considered the implications. What if he had b
een lying? I thought to myself. He told me that he was clean, and that he’d had a vasectomy… I had completely believed him without question.

  What the fuck, Riley?

  So maybe I wasn’t the first girl who made a mistake like that… I was better than this! I’d just cross my fingers and get myself tested. How did I let this happen?

  I continued strolling back towards my apartment. After twenty more minutes of walking, I was ascending the stairs up to my humble abode and clicking the key through the keyhole.

  It was time to see if my little taste of England had worked for my creative side… For the rest of the day, I decided to try painting. I needed something special if I wanted any chance of earning the attention from the one woman in the world who’s opinion really mattered…

  Gloria Van Lark.

  Van Lark was a legend in the museum world. As the head curator for the Spinnoc museum in San Diego, she was known for her tall, hawkish appearance and her fiercely volatile temper.

  This was a woman who was not to be trifled with, and who took her time very seriously. Just obtaining enough of her attention for an audience got you accepted into a number of distinguished museums around the country.

  Then, there was the significant hurdle of actually impressing her.

  Gloria Van Lark didn’t care for resumes and histories. The fact that I had been gifted with an artistic scholarship to Finland, allowing me to take a full year to pursue an isolated artist’s retreat, would mean precisely nothing to her.

  Neither would the gamut of smaller museums that already carried some of my work, or the fact that I’d been fully supporting myself through my painting since I was a young teenager.

  All that Van Lark cared about was the final product. After all, that was all that her clients and customers would see. It was probable that none of them would know these pieces of trivia about me, not unless I wound up with an exhibit, somehow…

  But that was wishful thinking too high for even my lofty dreams. Exhibits were mostly reserved for dead artists… And I was still very much alive.

  I found it hard to concentrate on the painting with my thoughts wrapped up in my irritation with Lex, and my fears that Gloria would never consider my work…