Pippa was during my “how many holes can I squeeze my dick into” phase. I probably would have screwed a hole in the wall if I had thought it might help take my mind off Iris.
Which brings us to the actual reason Deck should worry about tonight’s game.
“Me and Caleb are cool.” The lie comes smoothly. “But if the media makes shit up, why should you care? More butts in seats if they think there’s drama, right?”
Deck’s too sharp for my own good. He narrows his eyes and crosses thickly muscled arms across his broad chest. I always think of him like a lion with his tawny hair and eyes. Dude is still cut up even though he’s a few years out of the league. My eating and workout regimen were the first things he adjusted when I joined the team. He may be a front office executive now, but he was a baller first. He’s hands-on with the players, and right now he’s trying to wrap his hands and head around this Caleb situation.
“If you say so, I believe you,” he finally replies after a few seconds. “But I’m trusting you to be the bigger man if he starts shit on the court tonight.”
I will my face into not giving a damn and shrug carelessly, faking nonchalance like a motherfucker. “At least you picked up on the fact that he’s an asshole,” I say. “Most are fooled by the golden boy act.”
“Why do you think I didn’t draft him?” Deck dips his head, a cynical brow raising an inch. “I know a carefully crafted image when I see one, and Caleb’s daddy’s been carefully crafting that boy since he was in diapers. Now he’s used to getting everything he wants. I’d hate to see him when he doesn’t.” He points a warning finger at me. “Thus, this little talk. The two of you always go at each other hard, and you seem to always come out on top.”
“Not always.,”
He got the girl.
And I deeply resent him for that.
I’m gonna hold my shit together with iron will and rubber bands tonight, though, no matter how he provokes me. It’ll require complete focus. I haven’t allowed myself to wonder if Iris will be at tonight’s game. It’ll be packed, and I probably won’t even know if she comes. I assume she attends his home games.
That damn lucky bastard.
To look up in the stands and know that woman is pulling for you must be the best feeling in the world. Maybe one day I’ll find out for myself, even though I know it’s not likely. They’re two shakes from getting married. They’re living together and have a kid. I understand all the odds are stacked against me, but something inside doesn’t give a damn and keeps holding out hope.
“I know you, August,” Deck continues softly. “Whatever it is that has you and Caleb snarling at each other every time you meet, keep it locked down tonight. I don’t want flagrant fouls, ejections, fights—none of that shit. Capisce?”
I swallow the defiant response swelling in my throat, a rebel yell that wants to declare I’m gonna wipe the fucking floor with Caleb. Not in a fight. Not playing dirty. No, I want to humiliate him fair and square. I want to outplay him.
Like I always do.
“Capisce,” I assure Decker before suiting up.
Iris
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I tell Ramone, the bodyguard Caleb assigned to Sarai and me for tonight’s game.
It’s not unusual for professional athletes as popular as Caleb to have security for them and their families, but we’ve never used it before tonight. We don’t need it, but Caleb insisted.
“Really, you don’t have to sit with me,” I say, holding onto my patience.
Ramone’s face goes from impassive to obstinate. “Protecting you is my job, Ms. DuPree,” he says, his voice as stiff as the collar of his heavily starched shirt.
“Your job?” I shift Sarai on my hip and juggle the nachos I bought as we make our way to the seats Caleb secured. “You mean just for tonight, right?”
He blinks at me as if I’ve asked him a hard question. He’s saved by the bell when someone calls my name from behind.
“Iris?” the deep voice asks again, prompting me to search the cluster of people around us. “Is that you?”
A huge smile overtakes my face when I spot Jared Foster.
“Oh my God, hi.” I take a few steps in his direction, side-eyeing Ramone, who is with me every step of the way. “So good to see you.”
“I thought that was you but wasn’t sure.” He smiles warmly, looking from me to Sarai. “And who’s this beautiful girl?”
“My daughter, Sarai.” I brush dark curls back from her forehead and drop a kiss there.
“So you’re the reason Mommy wouldn’t come work for me,” Jared says, bending to peer into Sarai’s dark blue eyes.
“Pretty much.” Regret spears through me right alongside the pride I feel when I look at my little girl. “I can’t exactly hustle and grind and travel and do all the things the internship would have required right now.”
“True.” Jared reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet. “But maybe circumstances will change, or the job will.”
He proffers a business card to me, which I stare at like it’s Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket. I don’t have a free hand to take the card, and I’m too shocked to, anyway.
“I’m not with Richter anymore.” He realizes my small dilemma and slides the card into the open front pocket of the baby bag hanging from my shoulder. “My cell’s on the card. When things settle some, call me.”
I glance from the card poking out from the bag to Jared’s handsome face. “I’m with Sarai’s father, Caleb Bradley, and we live here in Baltimore, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to . . . that is to say . . .” A brittle little laugh breaks over my lips. “There are just a lot of obstacles.”
“Let nothing hold you back or keep you down,” he says, kindling my memory. “Isn’t that what you told me in our interview?”
“Yeah.” I return his smile. “I guess it is.”
He smiles, his eyes curious. “Bradley, huh? Would never have guessed.”
“You know Caleb?” Of course. Everyone knows him. “I mean, personally?”
“No, only by reputation.” Jared grimaces as if that reputation isn’t great, which makes no sense. Everyone loves Caleb. Living with him, I’ve seen the holes in the polished façade he projects to the world, but few do.
“We should get to your seats, Ms. DuPree,” Ramone says firmly, aiming a sharp look at Jared.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Jared says easily, addressing me and ignoring Ramone. “You have a beautiful daughter, Iris. Call me when she’s a little older if you decide to venture back into the workforce.”
“I will.” I hesitate a beat before asking the question that keeps turning in my head “Why? Why would you want me to come work for you? We had one interview, and I—”
“Impressed me,” he cuts in. “It wasn’t just what was on paper. It was you. Your passion for sports. Your love for basketball and your grit. Your intelligence. It all showed in that interview. A lot of people would love having you on their team, and I’m one of them.”