Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (14 page)

“
W
hat on earth
are you doing with my sheet?” My mother gasps as Jake thuds down off the bottom stair with the crisp linen wrapped around him.

“It’s a toga,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, I don’t think so there Caesar. How about you go put that back on your bed,” she quips.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He ignores my mother’s instructions and soaks in the scene. She’s got the game board unfolded and already has the player pieces ready to go.

“I’m setting up a game. We’re going to play Clue. I thought it might be a fun way to have some family time together,” she smiles up at him, but her lips draw down and her eyebrows furrow together when she sees the look of disappointment on Jake’s face. “Why, what did you have in mind?” She studies his white gown like she’s finally just realizing that he plans to leave the house like that.

“There’s a huge Halloween party down at the bar. I was going to spend some quality time with my big brother and his girlfriend by taking them out for the night,” he offers my mother his revised version of family time.

From the look on her face, I’d say she’s not buying it.

“Oh, that’s OK. Cameron and I don’t have any costumes to wear anyway,” Chelsea tries to diplomatically back out and wisely back up my mother in what is sure to become a showdown.

“Pffft, costumes? It’s not like you need anything complicated. Just put on a toga, like me, we’ll be a pack of Greek gods. With your body, people will buy that,” he quickly flicks his eyes over Chelsea.

“All right, no flirting with my girl. Off-limits,” I step in and wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close to me.

“Oh, you know what I meant. I’m just saying you did good, bro.” He grins his big, dumb, shit-eating grin from ear to ear and I can’t help but shake my head at him. Of course he wants to go out as a Greek God tonight. It’s the perfect costume for a man whose personality is so large it’s practically a myth.

“Jake, I thought you came to visit all of us, not just your brother. Would one night in kill you? I’ve already got the game set up and ready,” Mom points to the board in the center of the dining room table.

“Mom! It’s a Halloween party. It’s not just a normal night.” His eyes dart from her to me, “Besides, if I play my cards right tonight, I’ll be in the bedroom with Miss Scarlet showing her my wrench.” He gives a wink.

I can’t help the bubbles of laughter that escape my lips. Mom looks horrified and that awkwardness just makes this whole scene funnier.

“Oh, let them go have some fun, Beverly,” my father interrupts before Mom gets a chance to lay into my little brother. “You’re only young once, right Jake?”

“You know it, Pops,” he answers.

“Come on, Cameron, back me up here,” Jake throws me into the fire. “Do you really want to spend your Saturday night playing board games with your parents? Or do you want to come out and have a good time?” His tattooed arms flex as he throws them up onto his hips.

I look at the game on the table, then at my mother and back to Jake. Obviously his plans sound more fun, but I don’t want to get my mother all tied up in knots.

“Never mind,” Mom interrupts the silence hanging over us. “Go out and have fun. We can play board games another night,” she sighs. “There are more sheets in the linen closet, Cameron. I’ll grab some safety pins to help Chelsea keep hers from falling off.” She starts to shuffle out of the room in search of her sewing supplies, but whirls back around with her finger drawn at my brother, “And you! Don’t you be bringing strange girls back here tonight. If you want to… meet up,” she finally selects the least offensive option, “then you go to her place, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am!” Jake fires off a fake salute and Mom rolls her eyes and walks away.

I pull on Chelsea’s hand and lead her to the stairs so we can get our own version of togas happening, but she stops me at the first step.

“Are you sure we should go? I don’t want to upset your mom,” she looks down.

“No, it’ll be fine. Mom would be more upset if we didn’t go, trust me.” I reassure her.

“OK, if you’re sure,” she looks into my eyes. I slide my gaze over her shoulder to my brother and father chatting in the dining room. Jake is a lot of things: larger than life, boisterous, hell even obnoxious at times, but he’s also a great guy and he knows how to have fun. Besides, I’ve never held it against him that my father idolizes him. It’s not his fault that Dad acts the way he does. I’m sure, half the time he wishes he wasn’t always on such a high pedestal with our father. He just has a much more painful fall ahead of him if he ever fucks up.

“I’m sure. Come on, let me see those sexy curves of yours in a toga. I knew I’d get you between my sheets one way or another tonight,” I tease her.

The smile on Chelsea’s face warms my heart. With any luck, we’ll find a spot to tuck away and warm other parts of each other’s bodies tonight. If nothing else, I know that a night out with Jake is guaranteed to be unforgettable. And I’m in the mood to go make some memories.

T
he bass thuds
in the club, vibrating the floor, vibrating in my chest, traveling through each of us like tiny buzzing jolts of sexual attraction. I bet this feeling is half the reason so many drunken one night stands happen. With music teasing every nerve in your body with the promise of how good a bad decision can feel, it’s not a hard sell. Of course the other half of the reason would be my good friend liquor here. I raise my glass to myself and enjoy the warmth the booze and heat of the club spread through my body.

Jake and Cameron were right; a night out was definitely the way to go tonight. I originally wanted to stay put and keep their mother happy by playing board games I didn’t even care about when I was a kid. That’s the people pleaser in me, I guess. The one that won’t rock boats or take risks.

Fuck that.

Tonight, I’m not Chelsea the mousy schoolteacher. Just like every other person in this room, I’m taking tonight off from adulting. I’m surrounded by guys who are braver and stronger versions of themselves. Superheroes of every type surround us, complete with foam muscles. Girls dressed as slutty versions of every imaginable thing on this earth dance with abandon, free from judgment in their costumes. I mean, slutty butterfly? Whatever works for ya, I guess. I’m a fucking Greek goddess. Miss Taylor, the sweet second grade schoolteacher is nowhere to be found tonight.

I’m feeling naughty.

I look over to Cameron, returning from the bathroom with his brother and think about how I’d like to sneak him off to a stall and let him have his way with me.

I stand up abruptly, if not a little wobbly, and feel my smile slink across my face sneakily. Fuck he’s hot. He’s hot, he’s smart, he’s complicated and he’s all mine. I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve him. To deserve this happiness, but I’ll take it.

I take a single step toward him and a young man dressed in green scrubs nearly knocks me over, swooping between me and my man.

“Hey there,” the stranger sways slightly as he attempts to stare me down in what I think is supposed to be a smoldering gaze. It’s also entirely possible that he’s having a stroke. Jury is still out on this.

“Um, sorry, I’m just going that way,” I point my finger past his face to Cameron, but his gaze doesn’t follow.

“You know,” he slides his hand over his costume like he’s revealing a showcase showdown to me, “I’m a doctor.”

I feel like he expects me to react. Like I’m supposed to laugh or go along with whatever half-cocked idea he has cooked up. Instead, annoyance flashes from my eyebrows to my manicured toenails.

“Cool,” I try to sidestep him and make my way to my boyfriend, but he steps back in my path like a sloppy slow dancer.

“I’m, uh, a heart doctor,” he points to the toy stethoscope hanging from his neck. “I definitely need to check your heart,” he slurs.

Before I have a chance to think, let alone speak, he picks up his stethoscope with one hand and shoves his slimy hand down under the front of my toga with his other hand, squeezing my breast between his sweaty fingers hard.

“Ouch! Get the fuck away from me!” I cry out, wincing with pain and humiliation.

It’s a blur as he hits the floor in front of me. One second he’s got his gross hand on me and the next, I’m looking down at him on the dance floor. It takes a moment for my mind to process the fact that Cameron is straddled on top of him, punching his face like a boxing bag.

“Oh, shit!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Going around molesting others, you fucking piece of shit!” Cameron yells over the music.

“No, you don’t understand!” The idiot on the ground cries out, “I’m a doctor!” He clings to his feeble excuse.

“You’re gonna need a fucking dentist you fucking twat!” Cameron punches him in the jaw with a sickening thud.

“Cameron, that’s enough. Just let the bouncers take care of him. I don’t want you getting arrested!” I scream.

I look up across the club and sure enough a couple of burly men in golf shirts and frowns are making their way over to the scene in front of me.

“Shit, Cameron! Let’s go!” I try again.

Jake walks up to Cameron and I feel a wave of relief wash over me. He’ll pull Cameron off the idiot and help me out.

I watch in disbelief as Jake kicks the guy that Cameron is on top of, not once, but twice to the ribs. Hard.

Okay, so that probably isn’t helping.

The bouncers reach us and rip Cameron from the bloodied doctor below him. The other bouncer scrapes him off the floor by lifting him easily with one hand.

“What the fuck is going on here?” The bouncer holding Cameron yells in his face.

“That fucker stuffed his hand down my girlfriend's shirt,” Cameron looks like the poster child for rage with his face contorted with anger.

Well, this is the end of our night. I try not to wring my hands like fucking Olive Oyl from the old Popeye cartoons and I watch this all unfold.

“Is that true?” The bouncer eyes me up for a confirmation.

“Yeah, he grabbed my breast,” I answer.

“I fucking warned you before,” the bouncer holding Doc Mc-Groping shakes him like a rag doll between his fists.

The bouncer holding Cameron lets go of him and smooths his hands over his crinkled toga. “Don’t worry about it man, we’ve got it from here,” he claps his hand on Cameron’s shoulder a couple of times before following his partner through the crowd, dragging the good doctor toward the exit.

“All right!” Jake yells, “Who wants some fucking shots?” If the fight phased him in any way, it doesn’t show. If anything, he seems happier now.

I watch Jake slide his finger under his nose, sniffing in deeply as he disappears over to the bar to grab the promised booze.

“You OK?” Cameron slides his hand over my shoulder protectively.

“Yeah, I mean, I dunno. That was just fucked up, you know?” I look at him for help with processing the million feelings racing through me.

“I know. I’m just glad I was nearby so I could take care of it,” he pulls me close and I can smell his musk mixed with beer on him. I know it’s old-fashioned and it might even be fucking stupid, but seeing him fight for me, protecting me from some entitled douchebag, has me all hot for him. I have half a mind to sneak him away into a bathroom stall or in a dark booth and show him how much I appreciate him in the universal language that all men intrinsically understand; with my lips on his cock.

I look up at him from under my eyelashes and pull his hand to guide him to the back booth in the corner of the bar. Fuck being a people-pleasing good girl. My inner goddess has plans for this Zeus.

“Yo! Cameron! Chelsea! Get your asses over here, I’ve got this all lined up!” Jake interrupts our moment, yelling and gesticulating wildly.

I look across the busy club to the bar and see a line of shots waiting. More shots then the three of us can reasonably drink.

I don’t have time to analyze it though. Before I can blink, Jake is pushing us toward the bar.

Once we’re saddled up to the heavy wood barrier between us and the bartenders, I can see that Jake has accumulated a groupie fan club of girls. From slutty Rainbow Brite to slutty cop, he’s got his slutty bases fully covered. All these shots suddenly make more sense.

Cameron and I both grab one, along with the slutty astronaut and slutty unicorn.

“Happy Halloween!” Jake yells, raising his shot glass high.

“Cheers!” A slutty chorus of voices chime in, mine included.

Like I said, the mousy schoolteacher was left behind tonight. I’m a fucking goddess and this night is still young.

Before it’s over, I’m gonna worship my man on my knees like the fucking amazing man he is, both on Halloween weekend and every other day of the week.

T
he sun splashes
through the bedroom window, painfully reminding my eyes that I’m getting too old for doing shots. Somehow, despite my headache and gauzy tongue, I’ve managed to get up and get dressed. If Chelsea is feeling as rough as I am this morning, it doesn’t show on her perfect face. You know you’ve got a true natural beauty when her make-up can be smudged after a night of drinking and she still looks breathtaking. For a moment the room spins around us as I admire the glint of gold flecks in her brown eyes.

Then again, the room might be spinning from my hangover. I clutch the edge of my old dresser and wait for gravity to feel like it’s working properly again.

“You gonna survive?” Chelsea studies my face.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just need some Advil and water. I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight,” she laughs at me. I peer over at her, wondering how she is so cheery and full of energy.

“And I didn’t realize my tiny girlfriend can drink even sailors under the table.”

“Well you know what they say about books and covers,” she shrugs.

“Yeah, I do,” I stand up straight.

“Ok, let’s get some breakfast. You’ll feel better after you have some toast,” she opens the bedroom door and I follow her out into the hall.

As soon as we reach the top of the stairs my pocket starts buzzing. I pull out my cell and see my coach’s number on the screen.

“I gotta take this. You go on down and get started on breakfast. I’ll be right there,” I slide my thumb over the screen and walk back to my room as Chelsea goes to eat.

“Hey Coach, what’s up?”

“Cameron, I’m glad I caught you.” His voice is overwhelmingly chipper. I don’t know what Chelsea and Coach Silver have been slipping in their smoothies, but I need to invest in some.

Or, you know, just don’t do shots.

“Yep, so what’s going on? Everything OK with the team?”

“The team? Yeah, they’re fine. Don’t worry about them. I’m calling about you, Cameron. I’ve got some great news,” my ears perk up and I focus on what my coach is saying. He’s not a man who gets easily worked up, so this must be big.

“Well don’t leave me hanging. What’s going on?” I prod him with the grace of a kid hitting a piñata full of candy with a stick.

“All right, well I just got word that there’s gonna be at least three different NFL scouts at our next game and that they’re coming to check you out. You’ve caught the eye of the big boys, Armstrong. You need to bring your A game.”

“Really? That’s awesome! Do you know what teams they’re scouting for?”

“Well, I know one you’ll be interested in. He’s working for the Broncos.”

“Shit, that’s amazing!”

“You got it, kid. I know you’ll wow ‘em. This is your time.”

“Thanks, Coach.” I smile broadly.

“Don’t thank me. It’s hard work and skills that got you here. Now take it easy until the game and get your ass back here in one piece for drills tomorrow, got it?”

“I got it,” I can’t stop grinning. My cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard I’m smiling.

“See ya then,” he hangs up the phone and I race down my parents’ stairs and burst into their dining room where Chelsea is sitting with my brother and parents.

“I don’t know, that’s a tough one Jake,” my father is leaning in toward my brother in conversation. “I was never Special Forces, so I’m not sure how things like that go with you guys,” he continues.

Jake is clearly interested in my father’s advice, but I’m too excited to wait for them to stop talking shop for five minutes.

“Hey, guess who’s got three different NFL scouts coming to his next game?”

“Really!” Chelsea stands up from the table and throws her arms around me. I pick her up and swirl her around, gently placing her back on her feet.

“I know! Isn’t it crazy? This is really happening for me now,” I continue.

“Dude! That’s awesome,” my little brother chimes in. “Congrats, bro.” He gives me a nod.

“Oh, Cammie! I’m so proud of you,” my mother clasps her palms together. “Isn’t that wonderful, Don?” She prompts my father to do something other than scowl at his plate.

“Yeah, that’s great,” his voice is devoid of emotion. I’d be better off hearing nothing right now than hearing his empty praise.

“Gee, don’t get too worked up there, Dad. I don’t want you to have a heart attack or anything from the excitement,” anger begins to boil up inside me.

“Anyway, Jake, back to what you were talking about with the military,” my father doesn’t even look at me, “I’d say you might need to go through your chain of command on that one,” he steamrolls over my good news, leaving it shattered and unrecognizable on the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My eyes narrow to slits and my lips pull back into a sneer. “I come down here with the best news of my career and you just keep talking about this shit?” My neck tenses up as my shoulders grow tight.

“You know, Jake’s career is just as important as yours,” my father finally looks me in the eyes.

“Bullshit!” I hit my fist against the table, “His career is much more important than mine, isn’t it Dad? At least to you anyway. When have you ever spent even five fucking minutes giving a crap about what I’m doing? You’re trying to say that it’s too much to ask to give me five minutes? Or how about five seconds to say ‘congratulations’ or, I don’t know, ‘I’m proud of you’ or something?”

A crimson trail of anger burns across my father’s cheeks and he slides his chair back from the table loudly, standing tall to stare me down.

“I don’t know where you think you get off talking to me like that in my house, young man, but if I want to talk to Jake at my dining room table about his actual career that he’s actually working instead of the dream you’re chasing, then I’ll do so.” He clenches his jaw tight.

“That’s right Dad, ‘cause what I’m doing isn’t real, right? You know, it’s amazing you’re such an expert when you’ve never even been to a single game. Not fucking one. But that’s OK. Why support me and my dreams unless you share them too, right? Well, I’m sorry I didn’t stay in the military so you could vicariously relive your glory days through me like you do with Jake, but I’d much rather chase my dreams all over a football field and make myself happy than work a career that was your dream to begin with.”

My father points at the kitchen door, “I think it’s time you left.”

“Don! No! Will you two stop?! This is way out of hand,” my mother interrupts, but neither of us stop glaring at each other.

“No, Mom, he’s right,” I don’t blink. “I wouldn’t want to waste anymore of Dad’s time. It must be exhausting the way he has to pretend to give a shit about me for seconds every day. Let’s go, Chelsea.” I jerk my head toward the door and finally break the stare down between my father and I.

“Bro, come on. Let’s all just talk about this. You don’t have to go,” Jake calls out, but I dash up the stairs two at a time and quickly toss our things into our bags.

Not a minute later, I’m guiding Chelsea out the front door while my mother and brother try to get me to change my mind. The only person who should be saying anything is dead silent. I give my mother a quick kiss on her cheek and clap my brother’s shoulder before Chelsea and I walk out the front door.  

I refuse to look back. I won’t waste any more of my time looking back at the father who has never been there for me. Everything I am, everything I’ve done, it’s because of me. I’m the man I am because I fought to become him. No, I won’t look back. Not now at his stone face. Not at the years and years I tried but failed to make him care. My future is bright; my future is forward. From now on, that’s the only direction I’ll be looking.