by J. C. Grant
David
As soon as I'd settled into the backseat of the Mercedes truck, I felt a sinking sensation in my chest. It hadn't alleviated on the drive to the airport and had only grown worse once we boarded the private jet.
“Dawn is already there—” Daniel started to explain as he sat across from me, interrupting my inner turmoil.
“Yeah,” I cut him off as I leaned back in my seat, staring at the ceiling. “Fergus filled me in.”
Daniel worked for Fergus, and he would be trailing me for the foreseeable future—at least until Dawn was taken care of. Fergus had given me two choices: leave Daniel with Austin or have him come with me. Daniel was younger than Fergus—my age most likely—and let's just say he wasn't ugly. Bottom line, he was not staying in my house with my wife while I was out of town, not even for a few hours. No. Fucking. Way.
“She was at the stadium yesterday when you were supposed to report,” he continued.
I fucking know.
That was the entire reason Austin wasn't coming with me today. And the way she looked when I left...
She'd refused to speak, and when my eyes met hers, I realized she might cry. It took everything in me not to cave, to tell her everything, right then and there. But I didn't want her worrying, or potentially being involved.
It broke my heart that she was hurting. But fuck if I didn't love seeing that pain in her eyes, knowing it was because she wanted to be with me.
Regardless, I wasn't risking her being anywhere near Dawn.
Fucking Dawn.
I was done being nice to that girl. I just hoped Austin would forgive me for what I was about to do.
For all of it.
“This won't take long,” he assured me, apparently understanding my frustration.
When I didn't look at him again, he fell silent, leaving me to my thoughts.
I had a gnawing feeling about Austin's screen tests. I'd been with her during the leading man auditions on Tuesday. She hadn't seemed impressed or pleased with any of them. I wasn't either, but her reluctance about the screen tests set my nerves on edge. And I just didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone.
It felt wrong.
It felt like I was making a huge mistake.
The only good thing I could see at this point was the flight was less than an hour, so making a trip home several times a week wasn't going to be a problem.
When we landed in Phoenix, the car Fergus had arranged was waiting, another Mercedes G. I was starting to feel like he was trying to tell me he didn't like my truck.
“Take me straight to the park, I wanna get this over with,” I stated, indicating Daniel could drive.
As soon as we arrived at the stadium, Daniel went to talk to security and I headed for the locker room. The first person I saw when I entered was Noah.
That guy got on my last nerve.
“Hey, man. I thought you were done with us,” Dwight said from beside me, distracting me from Noah.
Dwight was an average guy, average height, average built—for a baseball player. In all fairness, I didn't really know much about him, other than my ex was fucking him while we were dating, and then she married him. But me and him were cool.
“Not yet. Gotta make enough money to keep my wife happy,” I joked, though it was probably true for him.
“I was wondering how you got a hot piece of ass like this,” Jones yelled, holding up her magazine cover.
My jaw clenched as jealousy heated my blood knowing those fuckers had been looking at her, but I kept my practiced stoic mask in place.
This was what I’d been dreading, those assholes ogling her, jerking off to her pictures and shoving it in my face. Every. Fucking. Chance. They. Had.
“Yeah, now that she's got her own show, she's gonna leave your ass,” someone joined in.
They didn't know shit about us if they thought that was an option—Austin leaving me. Her ass would be tied up in the closet before that happened.
“She's going to trade you in for some hot Hollywood boy and leave your ass in the dirt—after she takes half your money,” Ramone added, through his growing laughter.
He was always an asshole.
“Fucking hysterical, guys,” I tried to blow it off.
But I was pissed. Wives were strictly off limits. Always had been. I wanted to point out the obvious—they were jealous they couldn't get anyone as hot as my wife—but I wasn’t going to bag on their wives like that.
And I had a feeling I knew why the locker room shit talk was suddenly being directed at me. It was no secret I wasn't a team player. I played for me, for the money, for the big endorsement deals.
There was animosity between me and my teammates before, but they always left me alone, probably because I'd never had anyone I cared about. When Sarah cheated with Dwight, I was mad, but I let her go without a word. I didn't care about her; I cared that females in LA couldn't be faithful or just fucking honest.
Now, I had a way for them to get at me.
A weakness.
Austin.
“Naw, man, seriously.” Martinez leaned in close. “You know she's going to be messing around with her co-stars, right?”
That stopped me short. Martinez's wife was on a soap opera a few years back.
“Don't worry,” he added quietly. “She'll have an affair with her co-stars, and if you play it cool, she won't leave. Don't sweat it.”
“He doesn't have to do that. He's The David,” Dwight yelled from behind me as I made my way to my locker.
“I hope she does cheat on you,” Noah sneered as I passed him.
My eyes cut to him and my body followed as I stopped, turning to face him, taking a slow, deep breath, barely restraining my desire to plant my fist in his pretty boy face. That'd be a bad way to start off spring training.
“You think I don't see you?” I asked quietly, staring him down. “How you take every opportunity to touch her? How you go outta your way to talk to her? Don't think for a second that what I do to you won't be ten times worse than what I did to Zach.”
There was a flash of fear in his eyes before he backed down and walked away.
“I mean, she's cheating on you with Zach Stone, right? Or she was...” Martinez asked quietly as he followed me to my locker.
He was overly chatty, always had been.
“No, she wasn't—” I stopped short. I didn't feel like defending myself to these fuckers; it would only encourage them.
They were my teammates, not my friends; they could think whatever the fuck they wanted.
“Man, chill. We're just messing with you. But she's gonna, if she isn't already. You have your pick though. I say, if it's good for her, it's good for you.”
What would’ve been good for me was Martinez shutting up. I would've liked to say his words didn't affect me, that I was confident Austin would never cheat on me, but some absurd, irrational voice in the back of my head was saying, You're basically telling her to cheat, because you left her there.
“Look, it's no big deal,” Martinez continued to explain as I tossed my stuff in my locker. “I know my wife's cheated on me a few times—during filming, things happen. But she's never stayed out all night. She always comes home. She's never been weird. Never asks if I'm cheating on her. She never harasses me about where I am. So, it's really not a bad deal.”
That was exactly the kind of relationship I didn't want. I wanted Austin more obsessed with me, not less. I wanted her as far up my ass as I was hers.
Austin and I are nothing like them, was my new mantra.
Someone nudged me in the back as they passed by; then I heard a familiar voice.
“Dude, I don't blame you. I'd put up with my wife cheating if she looked like that,” Darren called out as he crossed the room. “And I'd fuck the shit out of those sloppy seconds.”
I turned to Darren, but before I could say anything, he continued. “I bet she's fucking fire in bed, isn't she? Like a fucking porn star,” he called out as he left the locker room.<
br />
A few of the remaining guys looked at me, smirking.
My muscles trembled, filling with rage, thick and vicious. I wanted violence and pain. Fucking craved it. Giving them a warning glare, I turned back to my locker, taking long, deep breaths.
I couldn't believe he had the fucking balls to say that to me. I'd looked up to that fucker my first season on the team.
He'd invited me to dinner with his family, his wife and two daughters. It had quickly turned into a weekly ritual. He'd let me in, let me feel like family, let me see a glimpse of a life I wanted.
Six months later, he destroyed that image when I found out he had a mistress he kept in a million-dollar loft downtown, even had a separate phone for her to call. She traveled with him to away games.
Over the years, the mistress progressively replaced the family. But whenever he thought his wife was cheating, he completely lost it, and for whatever reason, she was still married to him.
After the way things went with Darren I had steadfastly avoided attempting to get to know anyone else. I didn’t need that kind of drama or disappointment. I’d had plenty enough of that for a few lifetimes.
I quickly changed and tossed my clothes in the locker and sent Austin a text.
David: I fucking miss you already.
8:58 AM
I waited, hoping for an immediate response. After a couple of minutes, I put my phone back in my locker and reluctantly headed out.
Spotting Darren on first base, I made my way over.
“You disrespect your own wife, I'm well aware of that, but if you ever say anything like that about my wife again, I'll break your fucking jaw,” I warned darkly.
****
I was sitting in the living room, on the white oversized sectional, flipping through the channels, my thumb and foot tapping out a frantic beat.
Even after a three-hour team workout, two hours in the weight room, an hour getting my muscles worked over by Harold—the strongest trainer we had on staff—and a long shower, I was still tense. I still hadn't heard from Austin. I needed her here, next to me, on top of me.
Fuck.
Those guys had gotten into my head, fueling my insecurities. I tried to focus on the fact that I'd see her in less than twenty-four hours. I hadn’t called because I knew she was sitting in on auditions all day, and there was nothing worse than calling your girl and getting her voicemail.
Mmm...
Okay, it was definitely in the top ten, though. For me anyway.
Calm the fuck down, it’s only four, she’s still in auditions... Looking at pretty boy motherfucker’s that wish they were me.
Surfing through the channels for the tenth time, I decided, Fuck this.
I needed her here, tonight.
“Daniel, I wanna get this over with now,” I called to him as he stood in the kitchen.
Taking him in, I felt guilty. He was standing in the kitchen snacking on chips. I hadn't bothered to check if he wanted anything to eat; I was used to Fergus, who did what he wanted. And I hadn't requested any food for Daniel, because I hadn't expected him to be here. I was a shit host.
“Okay,” he said, pulling out his phone.
Almost exactly two hours later, Daniel informed me everything was set up.
“Cool, just let me get changed,” I muttered, heading to the master bedroom.
Opening my suitcase, I dug out a gray V-neck tee, worn jeans, a pair socks, and then grab my boots and quickly dressed. I felt the rush of excitement at the prospect of getting rid of Dawn and having Austin here before midnight.
Grabbing my phone and wallet, I headed out to the garage, climbing in the Mercedes truck. When Daniel started typing the destination into the GPS, I asked, “Where're we going?”
“Today I talked to some of your teammates, got their numbers. This restaurant is where a lot of them are going to be hanging out tonight, local hotspot. It'll make this seem less staged,” he clarified.
That was fine with me. Whatever it took.
When Daniel pulled up to the valet, I noticed two cameramen from TMZ, two police officers, and a dozen or more fans standing around the entrance.
Daniel had thought of everything, or maybe it was Fergus.
When I stepped out of the car, I was grateful there were no shouted questions, no attempts to get a rise out of me. But that all changed when halfway to the entrance a body slammed into mine. Hard.
It was Dawn.
And she had a death grip. I tried to disentangle her from me without hurting her, but she just kept hanging on, her nails digging in, and her mumbled words turned into screams the harder I tried to get her off me.
“Taylor, please!”
“Get off me,” I warned calmly, hoping the cameras were getting everything; plenty of proof that she was violating a restraining order and her probation.
“Taylor, just talk to me!” she screamed as her nails dug in deeper.
“Get the fuck off me.” Gripping her upper arms, I gently pushed her back.
Then I felt the burning sting of nails dragging across my lower back, drawing blood.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I shoved her away, much harder than intended.
When she stumbled back and landed on her ass, her screaming turned into crying.
Fucking perfect.
Glancing up, I took in the growing crowd surrounding us. Within seconds, the cops were pushing through, picking Dawn up off the ground.
Thirty minutes later, after talking to the police and handing the situation off to Daniel, I went inside to order us something to go.
“Can I help you?” the hostess asked warily.
I hadn't intended to drop Dawn on her ass; I just wanted her away from me and her fucking claws out of my back. Regardless, it looked like that's what it took to get women to stop flirting with me, as the hostess continued to eye me cautiously.
“Need to place an order to go,” I answered efficiently.
“Uh, yeah sure.” She handed me a menu. “Just go to the bar and they can take your order there.”
Taking the menu from her, I headed over to the bar. As soon as I sat down, I was hit with exhaustion and relief.
Exhausted from dealing with Dawn and relieved that it was over. Austin and I were going to have to give statements to get the situation taken care of, which was what I'd been trying to avoid, and there'd be a public trial, but there was no way around it.
Despite my own drama, I couldn't stop thinking about Austin, what she was doing and about the screen tests. Deep down, I knew they were probably going to be sexual in nature.
I knew my wife's emotional state was not significantly better than before we got married. If anything, it was worse. I opened her up, made her vulnerable. That’s the main reason I hadn’t put up more of a fight about her scripts; I didn’t think she’d be able to go through with the sex scenes, the nudity.
At least I hope not.
“Hi.” A high-pitched, breathy voice interrupted my selfish thoughts.
It sounded fake, like she was trying to imitate Marilyn Monroe. Not wanting to encourage her, I glance at her from the corner of my eye. It was times like these when I realized how extremely exceptional my wife really was.
Not just because of her physical appearance, but the way she handled herself. Austin didn't go out of her way to get attention like Miss Tryin-to-hard. Austin was confident and didn't want attention—that's how she got attention.
Miss Tryin-to-hard was an average pretty girl, the girl-next-door type. It was funny, my wife considered herself a girl-next-door type. She wasn't, not even a little.
“Hey,” I responded efficiently, giving her a slight wave, making sure she saw my wedding band.
“Are you here alone?” she continued.
“Yeah, my wife's busy,” I tried again.
“Oh, that's too bad.”
Her hand slid along the bar, closer to me as she pushed her chest out.
Once I really looked at her, I realized she wasn't the girl-next-door ty
pe; she was trashy. Her dress was too low and too short, and her hair... Everything about her looked fake.
She had wannabe baller wife written all over her.
Just as I was about to tell the girl to fuck off, I heard, “David Taylor?” Then felt a hand slide up my thigh.
Immediately, I grabbed it and placed the roaming appendage on the bar.
“Don't touch me,” I warned.
“Are you shy?”
“No, I'm married,” I responded, not bothering to look at her.
And where's Daniel?
His job was to keep me safe from Dawn, and aggressive groupies and fans; keep me from getting charged with assault.
“I don't mind if you don't,” she added.
I knew she was trying to be seductive, but she just looked stupid, leaning awkwardly against the bar, twirling her hair.
“You need to practice saying that in the mirror before you try it on any other guys... It's not coming off a sexy as you think it is,” I informed her matter-of-factly.
She grumbled something and turned away. I didn't dare turn toward the other girl again. I was hoping she heard the conversation and got the hint.
Once the women vacated their spots, I ordered my dinner and started planning how I was going to get Austin’s sweet ass in Phoenix.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Austin
When we arrived home, I was struggling.
Throughout the day, my jealousy flashed and simmered as I tried to convince myself David wouldn't fuck me over. But as the hours passed with no call or text from him, my fears grew stronger, my insecurities louder.
The abrupt change in plans had fed them, awoken those poisonous thoughts. Fears that he was a completely different person, The David, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Because that's what The David was, an image designed to cover up who he actually was.
Stop it! He wouldn't!
Then why hasn't he called?
Fuck, I needed a moment, time to myself to shove all my insecurities right back in the box they came out of.
“I'm going to go take a shower,” I told Fergus as I placed my purse and phone on the kitchen island. “Do you mind letting Chance out?”