“Deac, I know. That’s what I was told.”
The boisterous music vibrated the mansion cream wall against my back. Half-naked women pranced around the room, inviting players into the large room to the left.
I didn’t attend the parties for myself anymore.
I did it to keep my best friend off my trail. Shit, I didn’t bargain for an orgy.
“That scene is all you, Deacon.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight, bro. Think I’ll chill right here.”
“I’m good, too.”
Deacon loved having an abundance of women at his disposal. Not tonight, though. He appeared preoccupied. He peeked at his phone and chuckled.
“Who’s that?”
I glanced over his shoulder. Deacon shoved his phone back into his pocket. “A chick I’ve kicked it with for months.”
“Only dating one chick?”
His face scrounged up. “Not really. I don’t know,” he sighed. “Listen, she has my attention.”
I chugged my beer. “She’s got you by the balls. Noted.”
“Never that, man.”
My gaze fell over the living room again. My friends and I grew up rich, so exclusive parties weren’t anything new to us. The only difference was Wyatt Oakley, Atlanta Falcons wide receiver. And my other best friend was Maxon Russell, a Hollywood movie star. Those two things had women whispering shit like, you can stick it in any hole you want. I learned how to keep the women at a distance. I’d say hi and throw my hand up, offering a wave. That meant, keep walking.
My phone vibrated against my leg.
Snatching the phone from my jeans pocket, I peeked at the screen.
Addicted to: What’s up?
Me: At a party. I’m coming over.
Deacon leaned over my shoulder. “That’s the right name for that chick because you talk to her all the time. Now she has you by the balls.”
I laughed.
“Are you settling down?”
The truth fell from my lips. “I hope so.”
He ignored my statement.
“What’s with the pink monster pic? Lakelyn uses those ugly avatars on her phone.”
My heart slammed against my ribcage. Shit, please don’t let this dude put two and two together.
“Last time I was over to her place, her phone lit up on the coffee table. Get this.” The back of his hand hit my chest with a thud. “She named this guy ‘The Monster.’”
He burst into laughter. “The avatar is a purple ghoulish looking thing.” He shook his head.
A couple of years ago, I convinced Lakelyn to spend the night. Her naked body draped across mine in my king-sized bed as she created those monster avatars. I changed her name in my phone to ‘Addicted To’ and she typed ‘The Monster’ in her phone contact info. We placed our phones side by side. It read Addicted to the Monster. Fucking perfect. I was addicted to her, and she was addicted to the monster. Me.
It was our own quirky little...us.
Addicted to: I don’t know about that.
Me: I’ll see you soon.
I stuffed my phone back in my pocket.
The chance that I’d tell Lakelyn about how Deacon had a feeling we were seeing each other was zero.
Gulping my beer, I glanced to the right. Four model type women hung off Johnny Farland as he approached.
Fuck me. You can’t escape him this time.
“Wyatt, how are you doing, buddy?” Johnny shouted over the music. He stretched his hand out toward me. We stood about the same height.
My eyes often gravitated to his thinning blond hair in the front of his head. First thing I noticed when I met him at one of my high school games.
He was a great wide receiver back in the day. A few of my college football team mates said they felt he was desperate to bring the Forty-Niners the next great player. He’d found a few, but they weren’t enough to make a massive impact. They needed a championship.
“I’m well.” I shook his hand. “You remember my best friend Deacon?”
He smiled. “I do. You’re the guy who chose to run your family’s law firm rather than go pro.”
Deacon winked. “That’s me. I left the game to my buddy Oak.” His heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“Johnny, it doesn’t matter how much money you offer Oak. He won’t leave Atlanta. His father retired from the Falcons. But you know this.”
A devilish grin crossed Johnny’s lips. “What are they paying you over there? Something like one hundred and fifty million.”
“Yup.” I dug my hands deeper in my pockets, wishing I had a toothpick right about now. It helped calm me when I was nervous, pissed, or agitated. Strangling this guy who wouldn’t take the hint after all these years fueled my rage.
“How does two hundred and twenty million sound?” Johnny rubbed his hairless jaw. He reminded me of a sleazy car salesman.
Deacon burst into laughter against the mouth of his beer. “You don’t get it.”
“It’s not about the money, Johnny.”
He released the women. They gathered around me, snapping selfies. I didn’t think shit of it. Women loved taking pictures with me.
“That’s enough of the photos.” I sat the empty beer bottle on the table beside me and stepped forward.
“Johnny, I wouldn’t ever play for the Forty-Niners. Not even if my career fell apart,” I growled, shouldering past him.
He stumbled. “You high and mighty piece of shit,” Johnny spewed at my back.
Stopping in my tracks, I balled my fists. Chest heaving, I spun and yanked him off the ground by the front of his pink shirt. His green eyes bulged as he gripped my big arms.
“Don’t ever approach me again. If you do─”
Deacon gripped my shoulder. “As your attorney, I advise against finishing that statement.”
I scanned the shocked faces in the room. Everyone held their phones up, snapping pics. I placed Johnny back on his feet. “Don’t contact me again. Pretend we don’t know each other.”
I popped back from the memory. “Johnny tried to persuade me to sign with the Forty-Niners for years.”
After reading Messy Mandy’s words on her Facebook page, I didn’t bother looking at the photos. The number four stuck out in my mind.
“Were their pictures of the women?”
“Yes, I’ll send them over.”
My phone vibrated. I stared at the various pictures of the women. Their names were Amy, Shannon, Tori, and Elizabeth. All tall, blue eyed, blonde with porcelain skin. I’d make it a point to not ever say their names again. They deserved to remain nameless in my mind. The last picture was the one they snapped, crowding around me.
He wanted to watch my career implode.
Fucking bastard. How long did Johnny plan to watch me suffer?
“Nancy, I’ll contact my attorneys in the morning.”
“That’s fine, Wyatt, but you need to get out in front of this now. Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?”
I palmed my head. “Yes, and no. My best friend and I were together, then I planned to go somewhere else, but after the excessive drinking I went home.”
“You’re sure you never slept with them?”
I sighed. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Ok. I’ll draw up the statements and send them over so you can give the go ahead. We’ll get a handle on the situation, Wyatt.”