Winning Streak

by Alice Ward

  “It looks like a great bunch of guys,” I replied. “I’m sure we’ll take the league by storm.”

  “I like your attitude,” Rhett said as he pulled a chair from the table behind him and pushed it towards the booth. “Have a seat.” It didn’t sound like a suggestion, so I did.

  Our shots arrived, and we all cheered before pouring them down our throats. It was smoother that time, not nearly as difficult to swallow.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew Whitney was becoming angrier by the minute. “I really need to go,” I told Ace.

  “Rhett showing up and asking you to stay is not something you blow off,” Ace said sternly. “Especially for some girl.”

  “She just moved here, and she isn’t just some girl.” My tongue felt thick, and the words started to slur from my lips. I was lightheaded, my stomach was churning, and the heat in my throat from the last shot was burning its way through my gut.

  “Rookies with relationships never work,” Ace snarled. “One of two things happen. They dump the chick and go on to be amazing players, or they keep the girl and end up pumping gas at Sunoco.”

  “You’re full of shit,” I argued. “It’s not like that.”

  “Well, then, you need to break her in right, so sit, have another drink with your teammates and the man who signs your paycheck,” Ace insisted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe I was being so stupid. “She’s gonna have to get used to sharing you.”

  I looked around the table, at the expectations staring back at me, and knew he was right. I was here because of Rhett Hamilton. The least I could do was give him a few minutes of my time. Whitney would just need to understand.

  Rhett complimented me on my pre-season training. Apparently, he had been watching from the sidelines and through videos sent to him by the coaches. It felt good to hear him praise my efforts and even say he was lucky to have me on his team. Another shot was pushed in front of me, and then another.

  It was getting late, but Ace kept insisting that Whitney was pissed already, so why not stay and make it worth it. The more shots I drank, the more sense Ace made.

  I watched Ace’s hands, both of them traveling up the girls’ skirts. He pushed open the blonde’s legs, giving me a clear view of her shaved pussy before sliding his finger inside her. “Nice, huh?” he smirked.

  Her hips rocked back and forth against his finger, her eyes closed. Her breathing became rapid, and she acted as if she would orgasm right there at the table while we all watched.

  “You’ve always been a wild man, Ace.” Rhett laughed, watching the show. The brunette’s lips were suctioned to Ace’s neck as he continued finger fucking the blonde.

  This guy acts like a rock star. It’s incredible.

  Ace whispered something to the blonde, and she giggled. His finger slid out from between her legs, and she stood from his lap. Her eyes lingered on mine as she moved slowly toward me.

  Fuck, no. Oh shit.

  Before I could protest, she straddled me, grinding her sex into mine. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, she held onto my shoulders as she leaned back to give me a peek at the pink pussy Ace had just been teasing. Her flesh was smooth and pink, not a trace of hair anywhere. My cock hardened as her ass cheeks ground into my shaft. My eyes lifted from between her legs and focused on the large breasts that almost burst from her top.

  Alcohol flowed through my veins, more prevalent than blood, and when she pulled my head down into the softness of her ample cleavage, I didn’t fight her as hard as I should have.

  Shit. What the hell am I doing?

  Unwinding her arms from around my neck, I lifted my face from her breasts, getting ready to pull her off me.

  Slap!

  The sharp sting on my cheek surprised the hell out of me. I looked at the blonde, thinking it had to have been delivered by her, but she was staring wide eyed at someone beside me.

  As if in slow motion, my head turned, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Whitney was standing there, glaring down at me.

  “Whitney,” I murmured, still in shock that she was truly there.

  Her eyes were wild, her lips pursed tightly together, and her fists clenched by her sides making me think she was coming in for another swing. I pushed the blonde off my lap, stood and tried to reach for her.

  She turned quickly, mumbled something that sounded like “fuck you,” and stormed toward the front door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Whitney

  My nails dug into my clenched fists, and I could still feel the burn on my palm where it planted hard against Calvin’s cheek. This blonde, whoever she was, obviously didn’t care that I’d arrived. Her skirt was still hiked up showing her pink slit not only to Calvin but to anyone nearby.

  What was I thinking? I should have never come here.

  I couldn’t think in that moment, and I certainly couldn’t stand to listen to Calvin’s apologies. I pushed my way through the crowded bar and out the front door. “Whitney, wait!” Calvin’s voice called out as I hailed a cab. My arm was gripped, and I spun towards the man who was supposed to love me. The man I’d given up everything for.

  “Don’t—” I started, trying to jerk away from his grip.

  “Please, Whitney, forgive me!” he pleaded, louder than I would have liked. People passed us by, staring at our openly displayed drama and offering up looks of pity, disgust, and some of amusement.

  I just want to go home. Not to Calvin’s, but home to Indiana.

  “I told them I had to go. I promise I tried to leave,” he said, his words slurring together as he drooled and spoke at the same time. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair sticking up all over his head.

  This was not the boy I fell in love with in high school, not the one who played college baseball and winked at me from the pitcher’s mound, and he was certainly not the one who promised to love me forever.

  A yellow cab pulled to the curb, and the driver leaned towards his open passenger window. “You need a ride or what?”

  “Yes,” I said, moving to the back door. Before my hand could reach the handle, Calvin had me by the waist, crying and begging for me to listen and not to leave him. “Get in the car, Calvin,” I ordered. “You’re gonna be arrested for public intoxication.”

  I opened the back door and guided Calvin inside the cab. My fingers smashed against the metal frame as I created the barrier to stop his head from slamming into it. Once he was safely inside, I thought about sending him home alone, but where would I go? All my clothes were at Calvin’s, so I climbed into the back seat next to him.

  “I’m so sorry, Whitney. Please forgive me,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t how it looked. I… she… it wasn’t how it looked.”

  I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say in that moment. I was pissed. I had no idea who that girl was, or why she was spreading her legs for my man, or why he allowed it. He was drunk, useless right now, and I just wanted to get him to bed.

  The cab pulled up in front of Calvin’s apartment building. He was nearly passed out, leaning heavily against the window, and had drool falling from the side of his mouth. I reached into my purse and handed the cab driver a twenty.

  “Thank you,” I said, embarrassed beyond measure.

  “Do you need help?” he asked.

  “No, I got it,” I replied and clenched my fingers around Calvin’s nipples, twisting and pulling until he let out a yelp. “We’re home.” My voice was amazingly calm.

  His eyes were so red I could barely see the blue in them. He climbed out of the cab, stopped at the steps of his apartment building and puked on the sidewalk.

  Great, now I’m supposed to take care of him?

  “I love you,” he mumbled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I guided him into the building and then up the three flights of stairs. My back was aching from supporting most of his weight, and my head hurt from the anger that was raging through my veins.

  Finding the key was no easy task with Calvin leaning on me as I dug through my purse,
but I finally managed to get us both inside before waking any of the neighbors.

  Calvin tried to fall onto the couch, but I pulled him down the hallway to his bedroom. A large king bed was situated in the center of the room, perfectly made thanks to me. Two glasses of champagne sat on the nightstand where I’d planned a romantic greeting when he arrived home.

  But he didn’t come home, did he? No, he was busy getting a lap dance from some slut!

  I let him fall back onto the mattress and pulled off his shoes. I wasn’t sure if he had a bag or anything at the bar, and as soon as I started worrying about it, I stopped myself.

  He doesn’t deserve my concern.

  I worked the button of his jeans open then pulled down the zipper. He was like dead weight, not cooperating at all as I lifted his backside to pull the denim away from his body. His legs were dangling over the edge of the bed, and his eyes would barely stay open as he tried to speak. I couldn’t make out anything he said, just “sorry” and “love” stood out from the mumblings. My body was too sore, and I was too angry to bother with pulling him up higher onto the mattress. Instead, I grabbed a pillow, shoved it under his head and tossed a blanket over his limp and lifeless body.

  He should be thankful I didn’t put that pillow over his face!

  It was obvious he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, so I shut off the light and moved to the living room. I had already made myself at home here during the hours I waited for Calvin to arrive, but now it didn’t seem like home at all.

  My phone vibrated in my purse. I searched for it until it was found near the bottom under my wallet. My best friend’s face appeared on my screen and tears welled up in my eyes.

  “Hello,” I said as calmly as I could.

  “What’s wrong?” Holly asked frantically.

  “Nothing.” I wiped tears from my cheeks as I spoke.

  “Bullshit, Whitney, spill it!” Holly demanded.

  We’d been best friends since grade school, probably even before. As far back as I can remember, Holly was there. So it wasn’t a surprise that she picked up on the anxiety in my voice. “It’s just been a long night,” I admitted.

  “Is the apartment bad? Are you in the ghetto?” she asked, her voice filled with panic. “If you are, don’t stay there, get a hotel.”

  Her panic made me laugh a little. “No, the apartment is really nice and in a wonderful neighborhood.”

  “Has Calvin done something?”

  My throat clenched and swallowing became more difficult as I fought back my tears.

  “Whitney?” she asked softly. “What did he do?”

  My heart raced as I gripped the phone tightly in my hand. I wanted to tell her, but then again I didn’t. She was almost like a little sister to Calvin, always making wise cracks about him and saying he wasn’t good enough for me. And she was mad that we’d both moved away.

  Did it matter now?

  After a deep breath, I told her everything.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice small. She seemed as shocked as me.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.

  The thought of going back home saddened me. I didn’t want to leave, not really, but how could I stay? Our life had been all planned out. After college, Calvin would go on to play in the majors, then we would be married, have a family, and live happily ever after. Nowhere in that plan was a blonde slut grinding her skanky twat against Calvin while he ignored my calls.

  Who was this man? Only a day with his new team and he was already putting them first. Where did that leave me, us?

  “Come home,” Holly murmured.

  “No, I’m going to stay,” I stated firmly. “I want to hear his explanation.”

  “Then I’m coming there.”

  “No, please, there’s no reason for you to come, I can handle this,” I assured her, walking to the window and looking out.

  “Whitney, you’re in a strange city, alone, and Calvin is acting like an ass. Just how do you plan to handle it?” she demanded.

  I had no idea. “I’ll talk to Calvin, I’m sure it was just a mistake.” The moment the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them, knowing Holly would think I was excusing Calvin’s bad behavior. I was right. It clearly infuriated Holly by the growl coming from the other end of the phone.

  “Fine, talk to Calvin, but I’m still coming,” she said.

  Before I had a chance to protest, she’d already hung up. My heart sank at the thought of how she would handle things once here. I knew she loved Calvin, even with the digs she constantly tossed in his direction. She was jealous that he had taken me away, but that wasn’t his fault. I wanted to spend all my time with him, I loved him. I love him.

  My throat was dry and my belly grumbling. I hadn’t eaten since I thought Calvin would take me somewhere special when I arrived. So much for that.

  The kitchen floor creaked as I stepped onto the old wood slats and I thought I heard Calvin stirring in the bed. I paused and heard snoring, he was still asleep. I opened the fridge, searching for something to snack on. All that was inside was a pizza box with one slice of cheese pizza that was beginning to look more like a science experiment than a meal, two cans of beer, a jar of mustard, and cartons from a Chinese take-out place that I didn’t dare smell.

  Wow, he really did need me here. How was he surviving?

  It was still fairly early, and I saw a pizza place just a block from his apartment. I grabbed my keys and purse and snuck quietly out the front door. Outside, the air had a strange smell, not like the country. It was thick and muggy, and the humidity clung to my skin like tape on glass. Oh yes, New York City, what a wonderful place to be!

  I clutched my bag as close to my body as possible — like my mother had warned me to do — and walked down the block towards the glowing red neon sign that read pizza. Horns honked, people cursed in the street, and the sidewalks seemed to slide like an escalator under my feet as people rushed quickly by in both directions. All the chaos was making me dizzy.

  The bright red sign was flickering as I stared up, probably a fuse or bulb going bad I presumed. Inside, an elderly couple sat in a booth towards the back each sipping coffee from Styrofoam cups. So much for the planet.

  “What can I get ya?” a wide man with a chubby face and short black hair asked. I stammered for a moment, trying to read the menu that was displayed behind him on a chalkboard.

  “Just a slice of pepperoni,” I said. “And a Sprite.”

  I watched him reach in with his bare hands and grab a slice of cheese pizza that was under the warmer in the front counter. He slapped it on a flimsy paper plate and then used the same grease and sauce covered hand to grip a plastic cup from the stack in front of him. “That’ll be ten bucks,” he said. I almost choked. Ten bucks for a pop and one slice of pizza? I handed him a twenty and noticed the large plastic jar on the counter that was marked tips as he gave me my change back — one five and five singles. I always tipped, but he hadn’t use gloves, and the food was highly overpriced compared to back home, but I shoved two bucks into the jar anyway and found a seat near the front window.

  The elderly couple’s arms were stretched over the table, hands clasped together as their eyes locked and their smiles widened. That’s what I wanted for Calvin and me.

  Unable to look at their sweet display of affection any longer, I stared out the window, watching people rushing by. The diversity was incredible, from men in business suits to punk rock looking teens to what I think were streetwalkers. The pizza was greasy, so greasy I had to sop up most of it with my napkin before I could even eat it. Once in my mouth, wow, what a burst of flavor. Oregano teased my tongue, the sauce so smooth, and the cheese so gooey and delicious it made me let out a soft moan.

  The people on the streets continued on their journeys, all seemingly in a rush to get somewhere, or away from where they had been. My eyes were growing tired, my belly satisfied with the large slice, but I really didn’t want to go back to Calvin’s. I alm
ost said home, but that wasn’t my home.

  I cleaned up my mess, slid from the booth, and walked back out onto the crowded sidewalk.

  “Whitney!”

  I turned to find Calvin standing in front of me. No shirt, a pair of jogging pants, and shoes that didn’t match. “What are you doing out here alone?” he asked frantically, still slurring his words, weaving unsteadily on his feet.

  “I was hungry.” I was still pissed but softened a little that he had been worried enough to come look for me, especially in the state he was in. “I thought we would have dinner, but you had other plans, remember?” I snapped, still not willing to let him off the hook that easily.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding so sincere, his eyes growing even redder. He reached for my arm, and I didn’t pull away. He leaned heavily on me as we walked towards his apartment building and up the three flights of stairs to his door. “Please forgive me. I promise it wasn’t what it looked like, and I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

  He got heavier and heavier, although I could tell he was trying very hard to shake the drunkenness off. His face wore a stress that I had never seen before, and his voice trembled a little when he spoke.

  “I can’t believe you aren’t still passed out,” I told him as I slipped the key into the door.

  “I was so scared when I woke up, and you were gone,” he said. “I saw your suitcase, so I knew you hadn’t gone home, but this place can be dangerous for a beautiful young woman out there alone.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close to his chest. I could hear his heart pounding, racing rather, and the smell of alcohol oozed from his pores. “Come to bed.” His voice was a whisper. “Tomorrow will be better, I promise.”

  Tomorrow. Oh shit, Holly will be here tomorrow.

  I stripped down to my panties and snagged one of his t-shirts from his closet, pulling it over my head. He lay on the bed, propped up with two pillows and grinned as he watched me. “Damn, I missed you,” he said.

  I had missed him too, terribly. “All I want to do is go to sleep,” I hissed. “We can talk about what happened in the morning.”