by Tijan
KC’s Dirty Rag was the leading gossip blog for Kansas City. It led in everything, be it scandalous, breaking news, or whistleblower stories. People didn’t turn on the local news channels if they wanted to know the real story on something. Instead, they logged onto KC’s Dirty Rag, and I’d forgotten that it loved spreading the joys of celebrity life, especially the Mustangs’ lives. Hendrix was usually featured. Sometimes Crow. A few of the other guys, but not Cut. Never Cut.
I could see Melanie’s soft porn comment.
The first picture looked like Cut was giving me breath. His forehead to mine, and we were both panting. The emotion was there. It was pulsating through the screen, and I felt winded just looking at us. Skimming down, there were more pictures.
My head in his hands.
His mouth on mine.
He was bent over me.
They’d been photographing us almost the whole time.
There was even a picture of Cut’s face right as he parked. His face was twisted in fury, and I gulped, remembering why he pulled over at that moment. But damn. The angst. The drama. The sexiness.
We were hot as a couple. Fuck yeah.
I wanted to frame this shit, but looking up, I swallowed my words. Cut was furious, and he was heading to the back, his entire body was rigid and tense.
Melanie was frowning at him, too, putting the coffee carrier on the table. “What’s his problem? You’re not a secret, are you?”
I shook my head. “No, but he’s never been on here before. I don’t think he likes it for his image.”
She shrugged. “Oh well. You’re fucking hot in those pictures.”
I grinned. I was. I’d take that compliment.
“Look.” She took the phone back and scrolled through, hitting another article. It was another website, this one of a more reputable news channel where they were known for only news and nothing too salacious. It was an article on me.
“Whoa. What?”
“Yeah. They wrote up a whole thing about Come Our Way and the grant that you won, how it was a big deal. They put where to donate for the kitchen. That article is getting a lot of buzz, too. People didn’t know you’re a big deal here.”
I frowned. “I’m not.”
“You won that grant. Only two other people have won that same grant. That’s a big deal, and…” She suddenly got quiet.
I fixed her with a stare. “What?”
Melanie only got quiet for a reason.
She let out a sigh, biting her lip and scrolled to the last part of that article. “They got ahold of the personal essay you sent in for the grant.”
My heart stopped.
My body swayed.
My legs almost gave out.
I was reading, and I couldn’t be seeing what I was reading.
Grants were tricky. Some were almost scientific and cold. They wanted straight facts, data, and information. They didn’t want personal items, but not the one I applied for. They wanted a personal essay for the reason I was pursuing that grant, and what I wanted to do with the money.
I laid it all out.
All. Of. It.
I told them about my mother. My dad. How I was getting my head in order as I went through therapy, but I told them about my past, about what I endured during my time with my mother. It was right there, in print, the essay I wrote, and how I knew what it was like to be desperate for a warm meal when you were locked out of your home.
This was out there.
Anyone could look it up, and they’d know my story.
This news site thought they were doing me a favor. The whole article was about me, but mostly about Come Our Way, but— Oh shit, shit, shit.
Melanie took her phone from me, and my fingers didn’t move.
“Babe.” She pulled me to her, and I went, laying my head over her shoulder. She hugged me, smoothing a hand down my hair. “I’m going to say something, and I hope you’re in the mindspace to hear it. If you aren’t, well, I think I’d say it anyway. I know that your past has never been a secret. You’ve never been ashamed of it, and I know this is a big difference between talking about it with your family and friends, but I’ve been thinking for a long time that you shouldn’t be in the shadows anymore. Then you started seeing Cut and I thought, ‘Finally! She’s going to get pulled from the background.’ And now this is out, and I think, I really think, you need to just own this.”
I started to pull away, but she caught my shoulders.
“Your story can save lives. What you went through, it’s not normal. I mean, it is, but it’s not. From where you were, to where you are now. You’re one fucking rad bitch, and you need to tell people about it. About you.”
“I’m messed in the head.”
“Everyone’s messed in the head. Some are just worse than others, and some deny it, some don’t even know about it. I’m just saying, you’re a fucking beacon of light. You were for me.”
“So, you want her to do what? Do a speech at the event in an hour? Capitalize on our private moment?” Cut’s voice came from the hallway, and it was low, and I heard the danger there. He was pissed, beyond pissed.
Melanie turned to face him. “No. I’m only saying she shouldn’t hide anymore, and she’s been hiding. All this time.”
He didn’t respond, but his gaze went to mine. He had his phone in hand. “The team’s PR department is already fielding calls about the articles. They’ve moved to get what they can pulled down, but they’re getting a lot of questions about you. If they’re getting calls like that, then I’d assume Come Our Way is getting a ton, too.” A pause. The edges around his mouth strained. “A national news channel already picked it up.”
Oh, whoa.
I couldn’t. I just frowned. “Is this normal?”
“No.”
“Cut’s never seen with a chick, and now they’re finding out about you, I’m not surprised at all. You’re made of golden gooey aura and shit. Everyone else will find out now too.”
The door opened and Sasha came inside, carrying an outfit, her makeup bag, and she had a bottle of vodka with her. She stopped in her tracks, reading the room. “Apocalypse?”
Sasha was filled in, and in typical Sasha fashion, she had a lot of one-word comments.
Finally. Fuck. Fierce. Frenzied.
She didn’t elaborate on what the last word meant, no one asked, and we all moved on. It fit in with the theme, but Sasha was behind Melanie’s sentiment. She agreed with the ‘golden gooey aura’ and I needed a moment.
KC’s Dirty Rag didn’t take down the article, but the other news site did. My very, very personal essay was removed, but I knew it was out there. Fucking Internet.
“I keep my life private, and I keep my image about hockey.” Cut came to my bedroom’s doorframe.
Sasha and Melanie were using the guest bathroom to get dressed, and both were two drinks in. They had the sounds of Queen filling the apartment, and both were on the operatic part.
I’d retreated to the bedroom thirty minutes after Sasha’s arrival because it was a lot. Just…a lot.
Looking up, I said, “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. He’d changed, too, so he was wearing an all-black tuxedo. It was that kind of event, and he looked very 007-esque. When I was in a better mood, I’d be teasing about calling him a certain spy’s name in bed, but I wasn’t there yet. We hadn’t moved to the funny part of the day’s events.
“But when I first saw that image, I didn’t think about me. I thought about you. You were the only thing on my mind, and I was so damned scared that you’d pull away from me because of it.” He came forward, standing right in front of me. His eyes were pinning me down, holding me captive by the sheer need in them. He looked almost ravenous. And his voice came out choked, “I cannot lose you. I feel like I just got you. And there’s a feeling in me, like I’ve been searching for you since high school, since maybe that first time I saw you at the locker. I don’t know if that’s true, but I cannot lose yo
u. You understand me? But having said that, I agree with your friends.”
I closed my eyes, my head going down.
But he kept on, his voice so soft and yet, so clear to me. “I’m doubling down on what I said in the parking lot. I’m doubling down on everything. I’m not a person who thinks anyone deserves anything. I’ve always had the mindset that you earn it, that no one is entitled to anything. Except with you. You’re the only one who is entitled to everything good that’s coming your way. And now I need to tell you that I got another call. The team’s PR would like to officially represent you. They did more digging and informed me how prestigious the grant was that you got.”
That damn grant. I was starting to regret being awarded it.
Well, not really.
I thought about the guys who come to Come Our Way, and never. I’d never regret winning that.
“I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it…except you.”
“Your friends are right. People are going to salivate over you. Your entire story is worth telling. You’re worth telling. You’re worth showing off to the world.” He moved closer, bending down so he was kneeling before me.
He put a finger to my chin and tipped my head up gently.
He was right there, staring at me, looking inside of me, knowing me, knowing the struggles, knowing the good, and knowing the love. There was so much love coming from him. I couldn’t handle it. I’d never had someone look at me like that, except a dog that followed me around for a time when I was on the streets. He liked the treats I stole for him.
So that dog really just loved the treats I gave him.
He went with Herb, who started feeding him hamburgers.
That dog was kind of a wanker, too.
No, he wasn’t. I missed that dog.
I should look up Herb and steal the dog back.
No. I wouldn’t do that either—
“Cheyenne.”
I’d drifted. “Hmm? Sorry.”
“What are you thinking right now?”
“I was thinking about naming a dog Herb.”
He frowned. “I’m not asking your train of thought on that one, but can you come back to me? Can you focus on me?”
I nodded. “I will. I’m sorry.”
He cupped my face.
I was learning he loved to cup my face, and I was learning that I liked when he did that. No. I adored when he did that. I melted when he did that, and I was melting again. A full pile of goo on the floor, and then he ran his thumbs over my cheeks, and I really, really loved when he did that.
He finished it up with, “I want to show you off tonight. Will you let me?”
I already knew my answer. I think I knew it the first morning I woke up after our night. (Six. Times.) But moving on, I lifted my hands, took his in mine, and I had to tell him everything.
I put our hands in my lap and I looked at them.
“Stuff like this doesn’t exist for people like me.”
He looked like he was about to interrupt, so I held up a hand.
I kept on, “I don’t get the happy ending. I don’t get the family. I don’t get the mom or the dad. Even my uncle and my cousins, they were okay when I moved here. I think they were relieved. Then you wanting to be with me, or even around me, and that didn’t make sense to me. Nothing you did made sense to me, so I ran. I ran twice. But I can’t keep running. It’s stupid at some point, and now this is happening and I heard Melanie. I want you to know that. I heard her. It’s just a lot to take in, but she’s right. Sasha’s right. You’re right. I don’t care about the PR stuff. I have no interest in that stuff. I don’t even care that KC’s Dirty Rag featured us. I kinda think it’s cool because I doubt it’ll ever happen again. But,” this was the hard part, “I need to stop hiding and I need to be okay sharing my story because Melanie’s right. It could help someone. It would’ve helped me back then.”
That was the big takeaway from here.
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I love you.”
He meant it, and I felt it. All over me.
“I love you, too.”
The door was pushed open just as Cut’s lips lowered to mine, and we heard Sasha’s gripe, “You two are so cheesy that I can’t even be serious for my girl’s revelation right now. I feel like toilet papering this entire apartment right now.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “Let’s go. I’m drunk and I want to hit the event in my prime buzz time. If Nut-Brother’s there, I’m hoping to make a scene.”
Cut frowned at her, then me, when she disappeared from the doorway.
Melanie took her place and she was beaming. “I’m so fucking happy. I am also fast going past buzzed to drunk, so I second Sash’s vote to get there. I’m so buzzing right now that I’m forgetting why we’re all so hap—oh, that’s right. KC’s Dirty Rag.” She turned toward the kitchen. “I think we should stop at Dino’s Beans for more coffee. Cassie asked for a latte, too.”
Cut was frowning at me as he stood. He reached for my hand, helping me up, too. “I’m getting that the three of you are a package deal, but please tell me you don’t have a group name.”
My smile was wide and dazzling, because he had no idea.
He saw my smile, and groaned. “God. What is it?”
“We’re the Tomcats.”
His eyes widened. “Jesus. It’s perfect.”
Then, Sasha yelled, “Let’s fucking go!”
“Can you stop using my word? You know that’s my word.”
“Fuck.”
“Sash.”
“Vamonos!”
That was perfect for Sasha.
Koala Brother: You’re famous.
Koala Sister: No, you are.
Koala Brother: I’m serious this time. You are. My friends all told me, and Monica wants to get back together.
Koala Sister: Not The Monica
Koala Brother: So The Monica
Koala Sister: Dude
Koala Brother: I can see we’re staying in line with our last exchanges.
Koala Sister: Zero seriousness here, except when I tell you that your sister LOVES YOU SO MUCH!
Koala Brother: Right. Dude. No Monica.
Koala Sister: No Monica.
53
Cut
They had valet at the front door to usher people from their cars into the building.
“Hmm. Nope. Nuh-huh.” Cheyenne shook her head, pointing to the alley that led to their back parking lot. “No way am I walking in through the front door like this.”
I was refraining from grinning because it turns out that Cheyenne wasn’t sensitive about being hot. She stood out and she was okay standing out. She was wearing a cream-colored silky sort of dress. It flowed over her body like it was supposed to be taken off.
I groaned the instant I saw it, and both her girls started snickering at me.
I’d be fighting a hard-on the entire fucking night, but it was worth it. Driving all three girls to the event was a show by itself. One, they made no sense. At all. Sasha would say one word, and the other two knew instantly what she meant. Two, they laughed. A lot. And they snorted. And they made dirty jokes more than I heard in any locker room. And three, I now knew I never had to worry about Cheyenne when I was traveling for away games.
These other two took care of her, but it was reciprocated. They took care of each other. I never knew females could be like that, but they were all a trip when they were working at an energy level of ten.
Cheyenne leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’m going in with the girls. I need them for the entrance.”
The doors were flung open, and each got out as if they were marching toward their own movie premiere, through the back door.
Hendrix was coming out to meet me just as I was opening the back door. His smirk was deep. “Those girls are something else. Holy shit.” His shoulders were shaking. “They walked in, and the crowd parted. It was like Dead Sea shit. That Dean guy has no idea what to do.”
I
grunted. “You have no idea. Try being in the same apartment with them when they’re all three getting ready together.”
He laughed. “I would buy tickets for that.”
“Next time, because it’s going to happen.”
The other guys came over, and we all exchanged greetings.
Going to these events was part of the job, so it wasn’t anything special, but I saw that each one went over to greet Cheyenne.
Hendrix noticed me noticing and lifted up his drink. “That article got around already. There’s a group chat.”
Of course, there was a group chat.
I shared a look with him. “Are they being respectable in there?”
“No one wants to piss you off.”
“Good.”
The coaches came over.
The team’s publicist was next, and she was gushing about Cheyenne. “I have to meet her. Did you ask her about representation? And she’s stunning, and she works here and she—” The publicist wanted to meet Cheyenne, so I took her over to introduce her.
Cheyenne wasn’t quite ready for the publicist, but Melanie stepped in.
She took her extended hand, shook it, and drew her away from the group.
Then, Margo came over, and it was the same.
Cheyenne seemed surprised that the team’s owner had read the article already, but that meant I needed to educate Cheyenne about Margo. Margo knew everything. Then the other people attending the party came over to meet me.
I noticed Cheyenne moving toward Boomer, Reba, and Sasha remained at her side. She was covered.
The next hour blended together. Hendrix took my side, which was normal at these events. We rode them out together. The Dean guy came over.
He was frowning at me. “I had no idea you were dating our Cheyenne.”
I really didn’t like this guy.
“Our? She’s my Cheyenne.”
“Yeah.” Hendrix interjected, smirking, “She’s Cut’s Cheyenne. Get it through your head.”
He gave me a look the same time the Dean guy decided he was okay with it.
“That’s great! Are you serious? How long have you been seeing each other? What are your plans for—”