by Pamela Yaye
“It’s not going to happen, Dad. We’re through.”
Her father’s jaw dropped, and Rodney groaned.
“Baby girl, what happened?” Cornelius put his soda can down on the wooden picnic table. He plopped down in the chair beside her and took her hand. “You’ve been talking my ear off for weeks about how great Demetri is. I thought you really liked him.”
I love him, Dad, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.
“It’s a long, sad story. One you definitely don’t want to hear.”
“Of course I do. I’m your dad, and anything that affects you affects me.”
“But I did something really stupid. Something I’m deeply ashamed of.”
Cornelius hugged her to his chest and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Everyone makes mistakes, Angela, and there’s nothing you could ever say that would make me love you any less.”
“Same here, sis. You’re my shero!” Rodney’s eyes were watery, but he wore a big, goofy grin. “Now, stop crying. We’re having a party this afternoon, remember?”
Angela didn’t realize she was crying until her dad grabbed a napkin off the picnic table and wiped her cheeks. His slim, narrow face was pinched with concern. The setting was all wrong, and so was the timing, but Angela knew if she didn’t tell her dad the truth now, she’d never do it. So, she swallowed the knot in her throat and gave his hand a light squeeze. “Dad, can we go inside and talk?” she asked, ignoring the butterflies flittering around in her stomach. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you years ago.”
Chapter 21
Demetri stepped up to the plate and tried a few practice swings. His right arm felt strong, better than it had in months. How fitting, he thought, shaking his head. The same week I’m cleared to practice with the team my relationship with Angela goes up in smoke.
Tired of lifting weights in his gym, he’d headed outside to his enclosed seven-foot batting cage, determined. The air was still and held the faint scent of rain. It was the first time Demetri had been outside all week, and the sun was so bright, it irritated his eyes.
Tucking his baseball bat under his arm, he took his shades out of his back pocket and slid them on. Now he could focus. Or at least pretend to. These days, he thought about Angela, and nothing else. He had been so bummed about their breakup, he didn’t have the strength to leave the house. It was easier to stay home than deal with the world. For the past week, he’d done nothing but eat, sleep and relive every second of his last conversation with Angela. And, still, after all this time, he couldn’t make sense of what went wrong.
The machine spit out a fast ball, and Demetri swung the wooden baseball bat with such force, he felt a slight twinge in his right shoulder. It was probably nothing, but he made a mental note to speak to his surgeon about it tomorrow at his checkup.
For the next hour, Demetri took his frustration and anger out on the pitches. And by the time he was finished practicing, his blue Nike T-shirt was drenched in sweat.
“Lookin’ good, bro! You’ll be back on the mound in no time!”
Demetri looked up and saw Nicco and Rafael leaning against the metal chain-link fence and gave them a nod. “What’s up? I had no idea you guys were coming to town.”
Rafael gave a shrug of his shoulder. “It was a last-minute decision.”
“How was Argentina?”
“Sinful,” Nicco said with a straight face. “But I loved every minute of it.”
“I bet you did.” Demetri narrowed his eyes and zeroed in on his brother’s left forearm. The words Dolce Vita were tattooed in block letters down the length of his arm. “I see you got some new ink while you were in Buenos Aires.”
“It hurt like a bitch, but the female tattoo artist gave me exceptional care afterwards.”
“That’s why you skipped my cricket match? Because you were too busy hooking up with some random chick?” Rafael looked relaxed in his striped polo shirt and khaki shorts, but when he glared at Nicco, his entire disposition changed. “Do you have to bed every woman you meet?”
“Of course not.” Nicco wore a sly smile. “Only the sexy ones, bro. You know that.”
Demetri and Rafael shook their heads.
“Speaking of chicks, are you still bangin’ that smokin’-hot TV newscaster?”
Demetri’s jaw tightened. “Her name is Angela.”
“My bad.” Nicco chuckled, held up a hand in a gesture of peace. “You still hittin’ that?”
“Knock it off, Nicco. I’m not in the mood.”
“You got too clingy, and she dumped you, huh?” Releasing a heavy sigh, he stepped inside the batting cage and clapped Demetri on the shoulder. “When are you going to learn that love doesn’t last? Guys like us aren’t cut out for relationships. We’re players, lady-killers, men who live for the thrill of the chase. That’s just who we are, Demetri. It’s in our blood.”
Rafael scratched his head and then gave it a hard shake. “Nicco, what are you talking about? It’s not in our blood to mistreat women or dog them out. Mom and Dad have been happily married for almost forty years, and he still dotes on her!”
“Yeah, but Moms is old-school. They don’t make ’em like her anymore. If they did, I would have burned my player card a long time ago!”
“Nicco’s right. Modern women are out for themselves,” Rafael conceded with a shrug. “I went out with that cute boutique buyer again last week, and after dessert, she gave me her bank-account number and told me to deposit her weekly allowance in a timely manner.”
“At least she didn’t steal your Benz and hightail it down to Tijuana!” A scowl wrinkled Nicco’s tanned face. “All women do is take, take, take.”
Demetri heard the edge in Nicco’s tone and sympathized with him. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what his brother was talking about. From the day he’d turned pro, he’d seen how ugly and manipulative people could be. He didn’t trust easily and had always believed that everyone outside of his inner circle was out to screw him over.
But then he’d met Angela.
Over time, she’d changed his views about the world. She didn’t care about his wealth or his fame, or spending his money, either. Angela loved him—just him—and she wasn’t afraid to check him when he was wrong. His girl told him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted to hear, and Demetri respected her for always telling him the truth. “Angela’s never asked me for a dime,” he said. “Hell, she wouldn’t even let me take her shopping, and every time we went out for dinner, she insisted on leaving a tip on top of my tip!”
The brothers chuckled.
“I’m never settling down,” Nicco announced, raking a hand through his short, curly black hair. “I’ll be a player until I die!”
“Not if Mom can help it,” Rafael said. “She wants daughters-in-law and grandbabies, and she’s not beneath plotting and scheming to get them, either!”
“Forget about Angela Kelly and move on to the next chick.”
“That’s just it, Nicco. I can’t,” Demetri confessed, staring out into the bright blue sky. Being in a loving, committed relationship was who he was, who he’d always been. He wanted Angela—and no one else.
“The best way to get over a girl is by banging a new one.” Nicco grinned. “That always works for me.”
“If I can’t have Angela, then I don’t want anyone.”
Two weeks had passed since Angela walked out on him. He thought of her day and night and would look at the pictures of her on his cell phone for hours. Demetri had racked his brain trying to piece together why she’d lashed out at him. But he’d come to only one conclusion and that was that Angela had lied to him. She wasn’t dating other guys, wasn’t seeing anyone else. When she wasn’t at work, she was with him, and on the few occasions she went out with her girlfriends, she texted him throug
hout the night. So, why would she make up a story about sleeping with other guys? Why would she intentionally try to hurt him?
“If I were you, I’d...” Nicco broke off speaking and whipped out his cell phone. “Hold up, guys. I need to take this call.”
“Something Angela said at the penthouse has been bothering me for weeks,” Demetri said aloud. “She said I deserve someone better, someone I could be proud to take home to my family. At the time, I didn’t think too much of it, but now it keeps playing in my mind.”
“It sounds like your girl’s running scared.”
“Of what?”
Rafael gave a shrug. “You won’t know unless you talk to her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t want me. She wants to play the field.” Inwardly, Demetri winced, but outwardly he wore a hard, stern face. He had to. He couldn’t let anyone know—not even his brothers—how much he was hurting. The truth was, he missed Angela so much, his body ached with need. He yearned to hear her voice, to feel her touch, to have her unconditional love, and he wondered how he could ever live without her.
“Son of a bitch!” Nicco shouted, kicking the metal chain-link fence.
“What’s the matter?”
“My assistant quit and is threatening to sue.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes and wore a disgusted face. “You slept with her, didn’t you?”
“It was an innocent mistake.” Nicco dragged a hand down the length of his face and released a deep sigh. “I had too much to drink one night, and one thing led to another...”
“You’re unbelievable,” Rafael fumed, folding his arms rigidly across his chest. “It’s time to grow up, Nicco. You’re not a kid anymore, and I’m sick of fixing your mistakes.”
Nicco started to speak but stopped when his cell phone rang again. He put it to his ear and turned away from his brothers. He spoke soft Italian to the caller on the line.
“I’ve only met Angela once, but it’s obvious she makes you happy,” Rafael said, his scowl gone and his smile sincere. “Since you guys started dating, you’ve become more outgoing, and now you’re using your celebrity status for good. That’s great, bro.”
“The woman called me out on national television! I had to get my act together, fast.”
“Demetri, don’t let pride or your fear of rejection keep you from the woman you love.” Rafael blew out a deep breath. “I did that once and to this day I regret not fighting for her. If Angela’s the one, don’t let anything get between you.”
Demetri pondered his brother’s words, truly considering what he’d said, and realized that Rafael was right. He had to fight for Angela, had to do whatever it took to get her back. She was his world and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He was ready to go the distance, ready to make her his lawfully wedded wife. He wanted kids, family trips and the whole nine yards.
“Thanks, bro. You’re the best!” Demetri chucked his baseball bat to the ground, kissed his brother on both cheeks and ran out of the batting cage. “Gotta jet. See you guys later!”
Chapter 22
Demetri jogged past the greenhouse and raced through the patio doors as if his life depended on it. And it did. He had to get to his girl, had to see her right away. He refused to live another day without her. Demetri was so consumed with thoughts of reconciling with Angela, he bumped into Nichola as she stepped out of the kitchen pantry.
“Where’s the fire?” she joked, dumping the bags of potato chips on the granite breakfast bar. “Do you and your brothers want to eat lunch outside on the patio or in the game room?”
“I’m not staying. I’m going to see Angela.”
“You two broke up.”
“I’ll explain later.” Demetri glanced around the kitchen and saw all of the food trays and bottles of wine artfully arranged on the glass table. “It looks great in here.”
“I made all your favorites and a whole pitcher of that sangria punch you love so much.”
“Thanks, Nichola,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Ask the housekeepers to clean the master suite and to fill all the vases in the living room with yellow tulips. I’m bringing my baby back home tonight, and I want everything to be perfect!”
“Hell no! That bitch isn’t welcome here.”
Demetri felt his nostrils flare and his hands curl into fists. “Excuse me?”
“If you bring Angela here, I’m leaving.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“I’m serious, Demetri. I’ll walk out that door, and I won’t come back.” Nichola puffed out her cheeks. “You don’t need Angela or anyone else. All you need is me.”
“Nichola, it’s obvious you’ve had too much to drink,” Demetri said, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. “Go home and sleep it off, and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“But I have good news. That’s why I’m here. We’re celebrating!” She rushed over to the glass table, picked up two cocktail glasses and pushed one into his hand. “Your new reality show, Demetri’s Bachelor Pad, starts filming in September!”
Demetri scratched his head. He’d been out of sorts all week, and as grumpy as an old bear, but he didn’t remember Nichola ever mentioning a TV deal. “I don’t want my own show, Nichola. I’m a baseball player, not a reality star.”
“But the network is rolling out the red carpet for you.” Nichola was so excited, she was practically shouting her words. “Since I came up with the concept for the series and developed a kick-ass marketing campaign, they’ve agreed to let me be executive producer of the show!”
“Still not interested,” he said. “And I don’t care how much they’re paying.”
“Why not? This show could open a lot of doors for you.”
“I’m a private person. I’d hate the idea of cameras following me and Angela around twenty-four seven. It’s creepy. I won’t do it.”
Nichola held up an index finger. “Would you stop talking about her for one second and give some serious thought about this million-dollar deal?”
“There’s nothing to think about. My priorities are baseball, my family, Angela and—”
“Forget about that skank. She’s a whore and you deserve better.”
Demetri narrowed his eyes. The more he stared at his publicist, the more convinced he was that she was drunk. Her skin was pale, and her face possessed a crazed expression. It took supreme effort to control his temper, but he spoke in a calm, rational voice. “Don’t ever talk about Angela like that again,” he warned. “I don’t know what your problem is with her, but I’m not going to let you disrespect her.”
“I called her a skank because that’s what she is.” A smile filled her lips, and her eyes lit up like diamonds. “Your precious Angela used to be an escort.”
Demetri heard what Nichola had said, but he didn’t understand. He stood paralyzed as her words turned over in his mind. He didn’t believe it. His publicist was lying, just trying to poison his mind. But why?
“I hired a private investigator to check her out, and he uncovered a ton of dirt about her.”
“You did what?” The question exploded out of Demetri’s mouth. “For what reason? I never asked you to.”
“Thank God I did, or you would have done something stupid like marry her!”
“Nichola, watch yourself,” he warned. “You’re out of line.”
“You know what else the P.I. told me?”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust, but the expression on her face was one of pure joy. Nichola was enjoying every minute of this. For some sick reason she took great pleasure in smashing his hopes and dreams for the future.
“Angela’s mother died five years ago from a drug overdose. Shoot, for all you know, she could be a druggie like her crackhead mom.”
“Dammit, Nichola. Stop!”
Closing his eyes didn’t block out the loud, shrill noises in his head. He heard Angela’s tearful voice, then Nichola’s harsh biting tone, playing in his mind over and over again. You don’t deserve someone like me. You deserve better.... Forget about her, Demetri.... She’s a whore and you deserve better.... He was puzzled for a second, surprised that both women had virtually told him the exact same thing, but then something clicked. Everything made sense.
Demetri’s eyes shot open. Stepping forward, he asked Nichola the question circling his mind. “You confronted Angela about what the private investigator told you, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. It’s my job. That’s what any good publicist would do.”
“You told her she wasn’t good enough for me, that I deserve better?”
“Why does it matter? She’s gone, so forget her and move on.” Her tone was firm, all business, as if she were chairing a board meeting. And she looked the part, too, standing there in a fitted black dress and wearing millions in diamonds. “It’s time to move on to bigger and better things, like your own show.”
Anger burned in Demetri’s veins. He was so enraged that he wanted to grab Nichola and shake some sense into her. But instead of going after his publicist, he paced the length of the room. Three months ago, he would have punched a hole in the wall. But he wasn’t the same man he used to be. He’d matured. He’d learned to see the world through Angela’s eyes. And he wasn’t going to embarrass his family or the woman he loved ever again. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said, dragging a hand down the length of his face. “I need some time to think.”
“What’s there to think about? I know what’s best for you, and it’s this opportunity.”
“I’m not talking about the reality show. I’m talking about Angela.”
“God,” she raged, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m sick of hearing her stupid name! Enough already! I got rid of her, and she’s not coming back, so...”
Her tone consumed Demetri with such rage he couldn’t see straight. It broke his heart to think that Angela was hurting and that Nichola—someone he trusted—was the cause. He wanted to hate her, but his heart wouldn’t let him. Nichola had been his publicist for twelve long years, and he loved her like a sister. But that didn’t mean he was going to forgive and forget what she’d done. Her behavior was hard to justify and impossible to condone. Demetri pointed at the front door. “Nichola, you’re fired. Please leave.”