The Roommate Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  Moaning, Henry sinks into his chair. "How much?"

  "'Bout fifty grand—but that’s nothing! You make that in a week. Listen, I can hear you getting agitated. I need you to keep a low profile this weekend. Don’t go to no bars or restaurants, just stay out of sight."

  "Fine," he snarls.

  The voice continues in its chipper tones. "We’ll fix this, Henry. I’m already writing a tweet for you to publish to your followers. Sitting on this story will do you a world of hurt, so make sure you get this out there. People respect a man who owns up to his mistakes."

  I watch as Henry seizes the nearly empty glass of wine and drains it. "Okay. Fine."

  "All right. You have a good day."

  Henry ends the call, a stunned silence filling the room until Dad breaks it with a sigh and a weary shake of his head. "You stupid boy. I told you to give NDAs like candy."

  I glance at Grayson, who sits in his chair, smirking. He couldn't look more smug. "I guess things come full circle, don’t they?"

  "You did this?" Henry’s seat collapses as he stands.

  "Yeah, like I need more fucking drama in my life. No, you moron, I wouldn’t sell a story to the press."

  Dad’s hollow laughter rings across the table as he shuts his eyes. When they open, they’re staring at me. "She did it."

  Henry turns toward me, wild-eyed. "What?"

  "She did it, you idiot. That’s why she won’t take the job." Disgust fills his voice. "How much did they pay you? Enough to not worry about work for two years, I’ll bet."

  The blood drains from my face. "I would never do that."

  Henry’s stare glazes with hurt. "This will ruin me. How could you do this after I let you in my house?"

  "I didn’t do it!" After being his maid for the summer, he’s going to believe this? "I might be broke, but that’s one step too far."

  "You’re such a liar." Dad clenches his wine glass in his fist. "This has always been about money. That’s why she’s with your teammate, and why she sold that story."

  "Are you both out of your minds?" My shouts ring in my ears. "I wanted a family. A job. Not to earn three hundred grand on drama. Jesus, Henry. I’ve only spent the last couple weeks doing everything I can to keep this team together."

  "You hear that?" Father booms, gesturing toward me. "That’s the desperate sound of a woman searching for an excuse. Make no mistake, son. She did this."

  I shake my head as Henry meets my gaze, suspicion growing in his eyes. "It was you, wasn’t it?"

  "Henry, no! Don’t listen to him!"

  Grayson's hand curves over my shoulder. "I’ve been with her this whole time. There’s no way she could’ve contacted a reporter without me knowing."

  "Oh, like I’m supposed to believe you. Do me a favor and shut the hell up." Henry’s red-rimmed gaze pierces mine. "I almost bought your song and dance of wanting a family back."

  Pressure builds behind my eyes as my father’s lips curl into a weary smile. "What is the matter with you?"

  "Nothing," he shrugs. "I feel sorry for my son. He put his faith in the wrong people."

  I twist the napkin still clenched in my hands, refusing to give into rage. I want to shatter that calm face. Destroy his smug grin. "You’ve always hated me."

  My venom kills his amusement. "I treated you like one of my own."

  "I am. Your. Daughter!"

  "No, you’re not!" he screams, banging both fists on the table. "You’re not mine."

  "Sorry to break it to you, but I am your flesh and blood!"

  His voice goes cold with menace. "You are not."

  I barely hear myself. "What?"

  "Your mother had an affair. I didn’t find out until you were seven. By then it was too damn late. You had my name, and there was nothing I could do about it."

  My mind fills the gaps of that horrible, confusing time when my father suddenly gave me the cold shoulder. Mom was crying all over the place. On the steps of our house. When she drove me to soccer practice. I thought it was because Dad and I couldn’t get along.

  "Wait…she had an affair?" Henry says. "She’s my half-sister? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?"

  Bitterness bites into his words. "Your mom didn’t want you to know." He grinds his mouth as though the effort caused him great pain. "The only reason I kept you at home, Saffie, was for my boy’s sake. I didn’t want to shatter the image of his family, so I gritted my teeth and bore it all these years even though I can’t stand the sight of you."

  All I’m aware of is Grayson's arms wrapping around me.

  He pulls me away. "You’re an asshole."

  The dishes slide to the floor, shattering as Dad stands up, red-faced. "I took care of her when she wasn't mine! She’s the reason my wife’s dead. God, if you hadn’t been such a bitch growing up, she’d still be here."

  My world is upside-down, and I don’t know how to right it again. The man I thought was my father, who taught me how to fly-fish, was never my dad at all. He hated me the moment he found out, and instead of cutting us loose as he should have, he kept us close. It turned his heart toxic. Everything’s my fault.

  And there’s nothing connecting us but hate.

  The most disastrous weekend comes to an end as Grayson escorts me into the ranch house. I make a beeline straight for my room, sickened by the sight of every Grizzlies jersey, the reminder that my brother shares only half my DNA.

  I didn’t even ask who my real father was.

  Does it matter? Did he ever come looking for me?

  Grayson shuts the door behind him, his handsome face creased with worry. "You okay?"

  I smile weakly. "You must’ve asked me that a million times."

  He sinks into the bed next to me. "I know, but that was some heavy shit, and you've said nothing about how you feel."

  Gutted would be one way to describe how I feel. Numb is also another good word. "I’m just ready for it to be over. At least I understand why he treated me like he did."

  My eyes bead over with tears. Maybe I'm not as indifferent as I thought. "I can’t stay here a minute longer."

  Grayson wraps his arms around my waist. "I’ll come with you."

  "But you have a few more weeks here."

  He laughs. "Saffie, I was only here to piss off Henry, and now that things are beyond untenable between us, I want to leave. The guys will understand."

  "Okay." Happy tears slip down my face.

  I should tell him soon, while it’s pounding behind my ribs like it was at Luke’s house.

  I love you.

  He’ll think I’m crazy. His limbs will stiffen, and he’ll smile. It’s only been two months, but I love him from the marrow of my bones. He’s never made me feel like anything less than the most important person in his life.

  A text beams on my phone. I grab it, silencing the sound, but I glimpse the message.

  Listen to this.

  "What the hell?" An audio file is attached.

  I hit play, and Grayson's voice fills the tiny speaker. "I only started dating her because I wanted to be traded."

  Air squeezes from my lungs. I meet Grayson's panicked gaze. "Wait," he says.

  Another gut-punch. "This is you speaking."

  "Yeah, it is," he admits.

  I throw his arm off my waist, clutching the phone to my chest. "You used me."

  "Saffie, it’s not how it sounds. Wait!"

  I burst from the room, my mind pounding with rage. Every inch of me that he touched aches, as though he infected me. I power down the hall, tears blinding my vision.

  Titus sits up. "Oh, hey! Saffie. The Vampire Journals is on."

  Five of them lounge on the couch, but Henry’s not there. "Where is Henry?"

  "Whoa. You’re crying." He glances at Grayson. "What the hell happened?"

  "Where is my brother?" I scream.

  "I don’t know! Probably in his room? Hey, wait!" Titus chases me as I fly down the hall, to the bedroom I’ve never been inside.

  My foot ki
cks open the master suite, and for a moment I laugh with shrill amusement that he claimed the biggest bedroom for himself until I see him calmly sitting at his desk.

  He barely looks at me as I shove the phone in his face. "What is this?"

  Henry faces us. "Oh, I recorded our meeting with Tanner, the team manager. I thought I might need leverage in case Grayson blew the lid on my affair, but apparently my sister—excuse me—half-sister was the worthless one."

  "That’s not the full recording!" Grayson bellows. "Play the whole thing, you piece of shit."

  Henry gazes at the two fists seizing his collar and smiles. "No."

  I listen to the file again so that Titus and the others hear it. Grayson flinches at the sound and lunges for my phone. I lift it out of reach. "Is it true? Did you date me just because you wanted a trade?"

  Anguish crumples Grayson's face. "Saffie, that’s not all I said. I told them—"

  "Answer the question! I’m tired of being jerked around. The least you could do is be honest for once in your damn life."

  "Yes," he whispers, devastating me.

  The tears fall thick and fast. "Don’t ever call me again. You two are the same. You used me. I want nothing to do with you."

  "Shit," Titus says. "Look, Saffie, it’s like Grayson says. That’s only a piece of the truth. You gotta hear him out."

  He’s a liar, just like my sweet brother, who smirks as though it entertains him.

  I turn to my brother. "You’re the biggest bastard of them all. I didn't sell that story, Henry. You know I don’t give a shit about money, or I would’ve taken it when you offered it."

  A shadow of doubt fills his gaze, but it’s too late.

  Way too fucking late.

  "I never want to see you again, either." I turn from him, side-stepping Grayson, who begs me to stay.

  "Saffie, you can’t. Not until you’ve heard me out!"

  I yank my arm from his grasp, unable to believe I could have ever trusted that face. "You know what’s the crazy part? I thought I loved you, but you’re just another monster in my story. You got what you wanted. You hurt me."

  His whitened lips shake. "Saffie, I swear to God I didn’t want to upset you."

  "We’re done."

  Two little words, and it’s all gone.

  15

  Grayson

  My raw knuckles pound her door, voice hoarse from calling her name. The paparazzi staked out below the stairs throw me annoyed looks. They’ve been here for hours and have shot me from every angle. I shift my feet on the top step, working blood into my ankles as a bouquet hangs from my grip. The flowers won’t keep much longer in the heat.

  "Dude," a man says, a camera slung around his neck. "She’s not there. Do something else."

  I glance at the huddle of people below. "You can fuck off any time you like."

  "Hey, I’m just doing my job."

  Fuck him. I raise my fist to the wood again. "Saffie!"

  I’m not proud of the lengths I had to go to find her place, which is smack dab in Noe Valley on a quiet street with Victorian-style homes. A set of extremely steep steps leads to a dark green entrance, which clashes horribly against the salmon-pink walls.

  "Saffie!" I call out. "You can’t ignore me forever. I just want to talk."

  Floorboards creak as a shape through the fogged glass grows bigger. The lock slides and the door opens—to a woman I’ve never seen before.

  A set of high-arching, haughty eyebrows sit above shadowed eyes. Thick, brown curls frame a waifish face frowning with disdain. "Hi, I’m Grayson. It’s nice to—"

  "Fiona. You got a pass because it gave me a personal thrill to watch you beg to come into my apartment, but the stalking is getting old, man. Saffie wants nothing to do with you."

  I lift the bouquet. She crosses her arms. "Please. All I’m asking is for five lousy minutes. She didn’t hear my side of the story."

  Her eyes soften. "She doesn’t need to."

  "Yes, she does!" Damn it, will no one listen? "Give this to her and tell her to call me."

  Fiona takes the flowers reluctantly. "You’ve given us enough for me to start a job as a florist. Stop with them, already. I don’t have unlimited vases."

  I palm the door before it shuts, searching her eyes for sympathy. "I know I fucked up, but that doesn’t mean I’m a monster. I want her back. That’s why I’m here every goddamn day."

  She sighs, glancing over her shoulder. "You should talk to him."

  "No," says another voice.

  That’s her. Saffie.

  I glimpse her shining black hair and ruby-stained lips. "Saffie!"

  She scowls. "Fine. I will deal with him. Just move."

  Fiona retreats from the doorway before sending me a glare that seems to say: Fuck with my friend, and I’ll kill you.

  Photographers click madly as Saffie slides into view. My heart clenches at the sight of her. For three weeks, I’ve called and left voice messages. I’ve sent fleets of gift baskets and flowers accompanied with cards that probably sounded repetitive. I’m sorry, Saffie. Please forgive me, Saffie. You’re the reason I’m still here.

  Everyone told me to let her go.

  Looking at her again is like a fist releasing its hold on my heart for the first time in weeks, and yet it’s a gut punch because her mouth sags down, and her eyes shine with sadness. I want to kiss that frown away, but she flinches when I reach for her.

  "I can’t stand another day without you." My voice cracks. "Please give me a chance."

  "I’m only talking to you now because you won’t leave. Three weeks, Grayson. Take a hint."

  "You didn’t let me explain. That recording your brother took was taken out of fucking context. Yes, I said that, but I also said our relationship was serious, and that I regretted pulling you into this mess."

  She shakes her head. "It’s too late, Grayson. You had plenty of chances to tell me the truth."

  "And if I had you would’ve never wanted to see me again."

  She tosses her hair, trying to shout through the tremble in her voice. "Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. You used me to further your career. I can’t forgive that, and I won’t apologize for it."

  "What do I have to do?" I grab the door, the edges digging into my palm. "I’ll quit if that means I get you back."

  She meets my gaze, hesitating. Even Saffie can’t disguise the longing in her eyes. "Go away, Grayson. No more flowers."

  The door slams in my face, and I feel it as though it’s severing our connection. Paparazzi click madly as I descend the steps, wondering if the hollow feeling in my chest is heartbreak. It’s like she ripped out my pulse and stuffed my ribs with cotton.

  At some point, I’ll have to stop before the tabloids run wild with my antics. Love means letting someone go when it’s best for them, but I can’t accept that Saffie and I will spend a lifetime apart, not with the connection we have.

  "Grayson, did you break up with Saffie?" The photogs dog my footsteps as I take a right, heading for the Mission. It’s dangerous to walk the streets without a means of quick escape, especially when I’m bound to be recognized, but I want a mob to beat me down. I’ll trade physical pain for the ache pounding in my chest, the despair that we’ll never be together.

  No, I won’t accept that.

  Not until I’ve given it my best shot.

  I open my phone, flipping to my Twitter account where I type in a status.

  Will be making a major decision later today.

  I stagger into the gastropub in Union Square where I’m meeting Coach. My feet are raw from walking, and my scalp burns. It was blazing hot in the Mission, but I endured it as though my pain was a gift to her.

  I spot a broad-shouldered man with a crew cut sitting on the second level of the pub. I climb the steps, staring at the back of his head, and then the guy across from him. Henry.

  Goddamn it.

  Coach lured me here without mentioning that asshole would be present.

  Heaving
a sigh, I head for the table and note with deep satisfaction that Henry looks like shit. I think losing the Nike sponsorship hit him hard. He used to be the most sought-after athlete for companies looking to advertise. Now they’re dropping like flies. They might’ve forgiven a lapse of judgment, but not this. On top of everything, Kris has been making the rounds on social media, milking the drama for all the money it’ll get her.

  Almost makes me feel sorry for him.

  I pull the chair beside Henry and nod at Coach, who nurses a beer. A strange cocktail with a bacon garnish sits in front of Henry, who seizes it and drinks deeply.

  Coach frowns at him. "The extra calories aren’t worth it, son."

  Staring at Coach, Henry drains the rest of the drink and pops the bacon in his mouth

  I can’t resist taunting him. "Rough week, huh?"

  Henry grunts.

  Coach waves his hands, breathing in deep. "Look, I called you both here today because we have tough decisions to make. Fans are pissed at you, Henry."

  I laugh. "Yeah, no shit."

  His eyes wheel to mine. "They’re not happy with you either. Many of them caught on to the fact you only dated his sister to get back at him. Anyway, Tanner and I decided that this team dynamic is too toxic to continue."

  Which is what I’ve been saying for months. "Fine, I agree."

  "Someone will be traded," he says, watching us both. "It’s just a matter of who."

  "Grayson," Henry blurts. "He’s begged for this since the beginning."

  My mind’s full of Saffie’s mournful voice. She said I used her to further my career. "I’m not leaving the Grizzlies."

  Aghast, Henry faces me. "What are you talking about? This is what you wanted."

  " I changed my mind." It was worth coming here to see the panic blooming on Henry’s face.

  "What the hell, man? This is the ticket out you’ve been screaming for."

  I grab the menu, flagging the waitress. "I’ll have the kale salad with grilled chicken, please."