#Player

by Cambria Hebert

  I gave him the finger.

  “We good for the day? I’m gonna call the guys. Maybe you should sit down.”

  “You sound like a damn woman,” I muttered. “My arm’s broken. I’m not freaking dying.”

  In my pocket, my phone started ringing, and I grinned. It was probably Rimmel calling to beg me to get her out of going to the club.

  I pulled it out, but it wasn’t her.

  “Dad,” I said into the line. “What’s up?”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news, son.” That’s the thing about my dad. He never beat around the bush. He just came out and said whatever it was. I respected that.

  “What is it?”

  “The two NFL teams that were interested in you have rescinded their offers.”

  I knew this was a possibility. Hell, I knew it was practically set in stone.

  It didn’t make it any easier to hear.

  I plowed a hand through my hair and noted how damp the ends were from being on the field, throwing for so long. “Fuck,” I swore under my breath.

  “I think we knew it was coming,” he said. “With your arm the way it is, no one’s going to want to commit when there’s a real possibility you won’t be able to play this season. It would be a huge gamble on their part and could end up being a real loss financially.”

  “I know, Dad. You don’t have to explain.” I sighed. “They putting me back in the draft or am I just out ‘til I can prove myself again?” Just the idea of that made me exhausted.

  “I don’t know. I’m waiting on a call back.”

  We both knew what that meant. The NFL was cutting their losses.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Dad,” I said.

  “It’s a setback. But it’s not the end. You’ll be even better next season, and you’ll have more than two offers on the table.”

  It sucked to have been so close to something I wanted that badly only to have it yanked away at the last second.

  “Let me know if you hear anything else,” I said. Like when they call and say I’m out.

  “Of course. And, Romeo? Take a break this weekend. You started training just days after your accident. Rest is just as important for your body as movement.”

  “Yeah.” I agreed. “Okay.” It didn’t seem like a bad idea at the moment. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  When I hung up, Braeden was standing nearby looking at me. “What’d he say?” he asked.

  “I’m out. Teams withdrew the offers.”

  “That blows,” Braeden said.

  “Everybody on for Screamerz tonight?” I asked. Talking about the end of my NFL career before it even started wasn’t high on my list of to-dos.

  “Hells yeah.”

  “Good. Let’s hit the showers.” I picked up my stuff and we headed toward the locker room.

  Suddenly, I was feeling like a strong drink.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rimmel

  I felt like a walking Barbie.

  Ivy and Missy had entirely too much fun dressing me up.

  Of course, it isn’t like I protested much, so it really wasn’t entirely their fault. Thing was right now, talking about clothes and hair and listening to them chatter on about everything they read in celebrity magazines was a great distraction.

  It wouldn’t hurt to not think about everything for a little while, would it?

  Ivy curled my hair in those big messy curls like she’s done before. I’d had it up so much lately it almost felt weird to have it cascading down my back and over my shoulders. Normally when she came at me with makeup, I would have told her no. I didn’t like to wear makeup. It made me feel like I wasn’t being myself.

  But tonight I relented. Truth was, the makeup made me feel more like me.

  She used a light hand and kept it natural, but her expert application managed to cover most of the bruising around my eye. When I slid on my glasses, the rims covered the small cut high on my cheek and I looked like I did before Zach used my face as a punching bag.

  Aside from the foundation and light dusting of powder, she didn’t do much other than add a little bit of stuff to brighten my eyes (she told me what it was called, but I really wasn’t listening) and I added a tinted lip balm.

  Missy picked out a pair of denim leggings I forgot I had. It was one of those purchases my grandmother insisted on when we went shopping over break. They were a faded blue and had rips all along the front from the thighs down past the knees. They were tighter than I liked to wear, but because they were leggings, they weren’t uncomfortable.

  I didn’t really understand the concept of wearing jeans with a bunch of holes in them, but Grandma told me they were in all the fashion magazines.

  She paired the jeans with a black knit sweater that was also more formfitting than I would have liked. At least it wasn’t low cut or cropped so it showed my stomach.

  “Do you have any heels?” Ivy asked hopefully.

  I laughed. “You know I don’t wear heels. I’d kill myself.”

  “Well, mine are all too big for you.” She frowned.

  “Mine too,” Missy said.

  They both looked so sad I wasn’t going to be able to complete this ensemble with heels that I laughed. “I’ll stick with my boots.”

  Ivy groaned. “You wear those all the time.”

  I shrugged. “They’re warm.”

  Missy caught my eye and smiled. “Uggs as club wear, I like it.”

  They weren’t really Uggs, but they did look just like them.

  “Ugh,” Ivy said. “Don’t encourage her.”

  I gave Missy a grateful smile.

  “Fine,” Ivy muttered. “I’ll just wear heels big enough for the both of us.”

  Missy and I laughed as Ivy slid her feet into a pair of high-heeled, knee-high black suede boots.

  They definitely weren’t Uggs.

  With them she was wearing a pair of white jeans, a red tank top, and a black-and-white-striped jacket. Her blond hair was in a high ponytail that looked flirty and fun, her lips were painted red, and her makeup was flawless.

  I eyed Missy’s outfit again—the one that made Ivy think we had to go out rather than stay in. I had to admit she did look like she needed to be seen.

  Her dark hair looked as sleek as ever, and every time I looked at it, I couldn’t help but have a little bit of hair envy.

  She caught me ogling her, and I smiled. “It’s nice to hang out with you. I’ve missed seeing you around.”

  “Me too,” she replied.

  “Well, no more of that shit,” Ivy said, drawing both our gazes. “No more brooding over guys who don’t deserve it.” She looked pointedly at Missy, who blushed. “And no more being stalked by some psycho who’s finally locked up where he belongs.”

  I didn’t mention that technically Zach hadn’t been punished yet. I didn’t think she would appreciate my commentary.

  “Tonight we dance, we drink, and we have fun!” Ivy proclaimed and picked up her bag.

  I didn’t feel as excited as she sounded as I went to pull out the gold necklace that used to be my mother’s. I added it to my outfit and slid on my boots. The gold bracelet Romeo gave me still adorned my wrist, and I paused to look at it before grabbing my coat.

  When I stood up, a stack of mail on the corner of Ivy’s desk caught my eye. The top piece was addressed to me.

  “You coming?” Ivy asked from the door.

  “Did this mail just come today?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah, I totally forgot about it.”

  I nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

  Missy and Ivy moved out into the hall, and I quickly tore open the letter.

  It was a bill from the ER.

  I swallowed thickly when I saw how much those few hours cost me. It was over a thousand dollars. I didn’t have a thousand dollars.

  At the bottom of the bill in bold letters it said: UNINSURED.

  Way to rub it in.

  “I’m not getting any younger out here!” Ivy
yelled from out in the hall.

  “Coming!” I yelled and slid the bill under my pillow. I’d deal with it later.

  I had no idea how, but I would.

  The inside of Screamerz sort of made me want to do just that.

  I don’t really think that’s what they intended when they decorated the place, but it was the outcome all the same.

  It reminded me of a warehouse, a huge wide-open space. The floors were polished concrete and the walls were covered with what looked like large sheets of aluminum. Beer signs and neon lights decorated the walls and track lighting covered the high ceilings.

  The music was so loud it made the gravel in the parking lot vibrate beneath my boots as we passed a group of laughing people loitering at the entrance.

  Inside, the music was even louder, the very air vibrated with it, and people were everywhere. A large crush of bodies was in the center of the wide-open space, all gyrating and dancing to the beat. Toward the back of the club was a giant DJ booth with a man at the controls. He had on a pair of oversized headphones, and the sight made me snort.

  Apparently, the music was too loud for him too.

  Around the perimeter of the room were a bunch of tables of varying shapes and sizes. The bar stretched the entire length of the place on the left side and had to be at least thirty feet long. Almost all the barstools were filled with people, most of them college age. Behind the bar, at least five bartenders were serving drinks, and I saw a couple waitresses walking around the floor with trays of drinks.

  “This place is awesome!” Ivy said and grabbed my hand to pull me farther in.

  I gripped her fingers as she tugged me through the crowd, afraid I was going to be swallowed up by all the people. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, like I’d fallen down a hole and ended up in some strange land.

  And just like every strange land, everyone else looked entirely at home and it was me who was the odd one out.

  I dared a glance at Missy just behind me. She flashed a broad smile and shimmied her shoulders to the beat of the music.

  Clearly, I wasn’t going to get any help from her.

  Somehow Ivy found us an empty table. It was a small round one with four seats. The three of us plunked down, and I wondered if anyone would notice if I hid beneath it.

  “Drinks then dancing!” Ivy yelled over the music.

  I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t dance!”

  Missy laughed. “You do tonight!”

  Oh my. This was a huge mistake. Screamerz was so not my scene.

  Ivy laughed and put an arm around my shoulders. “You know what you need?”

  I was afraid to ask.

  “A drink. You need a drink to loosen you up.”

  I held up my wrist displaying the wristband they put on me at the door, a marker that I wasn’t twenty-one. All three of us were wearing one.

  Ivy grabbed the sleeve of my sweater and pulled it down over the band. Her and Missy did the same. Did they really think that was going to work?

  There was no way we could just walk up to the bar and order a drink without them asking to see our wrists.

  At that moment, some drunk guy stumbled into me from behind. My chair tipped forward and I smacked into the table edge, but Missy caught my shoulder and kept me from smashing my face.

  “Hey!” she yelled.

  The guy righted himself as beer sloshed over his glass and on his hand. “My bad,” he said, taking in the three of us sitting there.

  His smile turned into more than just a polite apology. He took in Ivy and Missy, his eyes appreciative. Then he looked at me.

  His eyes narrowed. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

  “Me?” I squeaked. “No.”

  He took a swig of beer and squinted over the rim of his glass. “I totally know you,” he said but offered no more explanation.

  Ivy smiled. “You’ve probably seen her on campus, and maybe on TV? She’s dating the quarterback of the Wolves.”

  His eyes widened. “That’s it!” he bellowed, and a few other people looked. He grabbed his buddy by the neck and spun him around. “It’s the nerd!”

  I glanced at Ivy and Missy. “Did he just call me a nerd?”

  The guy laughed and pushed himself between me and Ivy. His arm dropped over my shoulder, and he smelled like he took a bath in the crap in his cup.

  Ew.

  I tried not to wrinkle my nose when he leaned close to talk. “No offense, little nerd. You’re like the new team mascot for Alpha U.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I muttered.

  “Where’s number twenty-four?” he asked.

  “Its girls’ night,” Missy said, giving him a flirty smile.

  She could do so much better than beer breath.

  “I dig it,” he said, drinking more beer. I really wished he’d get his arm off me.

  “You think any of those bartenders wouldn’t notice the Alpha U mascot is wearing one of those bracelets?” Ivy asked, leaning close.

  The guy looked blatantly at her chest. “No worries. Drinks are on us.”

  “Oh, you don’t have—” I started, but he lifted his cup and shouted. “To the Wolves!”

  Everyone around us started howling.

  A waitress came by, and he finally let me go to put in an order for more drinks.

  Ivy and Missy gave me amused looks.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.

  “Team mascot?” Missy said, her grin getting wider.

  “Free drinks,” Ivy said.

  The two of them laughed and high-fived.

  Beer breath and his friends appeared through the crowd, dragging a table along with them and sitting it right beside ours.

  And just like that, we were at a table filled with people who were all way drunker than I’d ever been.

  Ivy and Missy were thrilled, and beer breath motioned at the seat next to him. Ivy gave me a nudge, so I moved down, with my friends taking up the space on my other side.

  The waitress came back with a huge pitcher of beer, a few empty glasses, and a tray of shots.

  One of the shots, and bright-blue one, was put in front of me.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Smurf balls!” Beer breath laughed.

  I looked at the girls. They each had their own Smurf Balls. “He wants us to drink balls.” I couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled out of me.

  Ivy picked up her glass and saluted the air. “To balls!”

  Everyone cheered and downed the shot.

  I sipped at mine. It didn’t taste bad for balls.

  “Do it!” Missy yelled in my ear.

  I shrugged and tossed it back. I felt the liquid heat of the alcohol all the way down to my stomach.

  One of the guys across the table was sitting with his girlfriend. She was pretty with long red hair and a simple hoodie. I wished Ivy had let me wear a hoodie.

  “I heard about what happened with Zach,” she said, leaning across the table.

  A few people who heard her looked at me.

  What was I supposed to say to that? Clearly, they wanted me to say something.

  “He’s a real douche,” I said.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Ivy said and sipped at a beer that appeared in her hand.

  “More balls!” the guy beside me yelled as another tray of blue shots appeared.

  Missy took two and handed one to me.

  I probably shouldn’t have taken it. I probably should have given it to the guy beside me. But the reminder of Zach and the image of that hospital bill I just opened were too fresh in my mind.

  I didn’t sip the Smurf Balls this time.

  I opened up my throat and tossed it down.

  My eyes watered, but my limbs started to loosen up already. The thoughts of Zach, my father, and lost insurance faded away to be replaced with a warm, fuzzy kind of feeling.

  Maybe Screamerz wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Romeo

  We stopped
at my place so I could put on something other than gym clothes before going to Screamerz. Braeden was ahead of me in his truck and pulled up into the driveway. Since I was going to drive us to the club, I didn’t bother pulling all the way up the drive, but parked the Hellcat down near the road.

  When I got out of the car and started up the drive, someone called my name. “Romeo Anderson?”

  I spun around as a man in a windbreaker, jeans, and sneakers came jogging across the street. I glanced behind him at the car that was parked on the side of the road across the street from my parents’.

  My eyes narrowed. “Who’s asking?”

  “My name is James Darling. I’m a writer with the Maryland Tribune—”

  I cut him off. “You’re a reporter.”

  I didn’t have anything against reporters in general, but this guy was sitting outside my parents’ on a Friday night, literally waiting for me. That made him an asshole in my book.

  “I’m a writer. I was hoping you could give me a quote on both pro teams withdrawing their offer of contracts this season. Think there will be any new offers on the table?”

  “How the fuck did you even know that?” I spat.

  He stopped walking. “The teams updated the list. You were removed. It’s public record.”

  “So you thought you’d sit outside my house to find out why?”

  He glanced at my arm and sling. “Your injury is also public record. You’ve been quite the hot topic in sports lately.”

  This pissed me off.

  I knew it shouldn’t. Hell, I could probably spin this to my advantage somehow, but I was tired, and pissed off I was getting booted out of the NFL.

  “Look, man, maybe we could set up another time to talk? Like during working hours?”

  He seemed like he wanted to object, but then he relented. “Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry if I bothered you. Sometimes being a reporter and getting an exclusive gets in the way of my manners.”

  I flashed him a grin. At least he was honest. “Next time, you should just lead with that.”

  He grinned back. “Yeah, maybe I will.” He stuffed his hand into the pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a white card.