I nod in agreement, understanding a little bit more about Colleen than I had before. I grew up an orphan, for all intents and purposes, and typically let that cloud my view of kids who grew up with parents in a family home. I’ve always thought that nothing could be worse than what I’ve been through, which is why I said as much after she was crying in the massage room after her father’s first interview. It dawned on me that growing up with the same narcissistic, ugly-souled human could cause just as much damage as being passed around foster care.
“You’ve got that right. They’re a necessary evil, and unfortunately, Jimmy is getting his fifteen minutes before he fades off into the background with his scandal. Don’t worry, it’ll happen. Just like all those guys who did steroids, or cheated with call signs, they were the talk of the town. Until it dropped them, and they’re even worse off now than they were when their trouble was the highlight of the news reel. Hopefully, he’s getting a good beatdown in prison.”
Walker snorts. “One can only hope. All right, man, enough energy has been focused on that motherfucker. Let’s play a round of pool before pong.”
A grin has my cheeks flexing, because I’m damn good at pool. Walker doesn’t know that, though, and I’m going to take a lot of sadistic fun in hustling the shit out of him.
21
Colleen
By the time I make it to my floor of the hotel in Baltimore, my feet are screaming at me and I have a headache building behind my left eye.
The lock flashes green as I swipe my key card in front of it, and the minute I’m behind the door, I kick off the heels that I stupidly wore on the flight here. It was a dumb move, one I thought made me look more professional, but after running into old acquaintances in the lobby and having to stand and chat for half an hour, my baby toes are paying for the fashion moment.
The air in the room is stale, as it is in most hotel rooms, but someone took the time to stock my favorite kind of flavored water and unzip my bag on the bed, so that’s a plus. Plopping down on the end of the fluffy, white linen king, I wiggle my toes. The feeling is glorious, my little piggies are set free, and I’m just about to fall back on the bed and consider letting myself doze off when my throat gets so dry, I begin to cough.
God, I need a drink. Of the alcoholic sort, at that, and I wonder if there is something stronger than wine or beer in the mini-fridge. Going to investigate, I find a mini bottle of gin, and a small bottle of tonic. Bless whoever left these here.
But upon further exploration, I find that my ice bucket hasn’t been filled. I’m usually not a diva about someone getting my room ready, but it’s been a long week. I’ve had to deal with another one of Dad’s interviews, the upcoming budget review process with all the Pistons’ shareholders, and I’ve been traveling with the team on this road series.
I’ve also had to file a restraining order against the two men who’ve now been identified as my attackers. They were taken into custody, and one was bailed out while the other still sits in a jail cell. The trial has yet to be scheduled, but I know I’ll have to testify. The thought makes my insides shiver. I’ve been in too many courthouses the past year.
I used to travel with the team a lot more, when my various roles in the PR or marketing departments called for it. As general manager, it’s still a job responsibility, but oftentimes I’m flying home in the middle of an away series to fulfill administrative tasks back at home base, no pun intended.
Sighing, because I really want that cold, stiff drink. I pick up the ice bucket and traipse into the hall. It’s not until I’m walking back, a bucket piled high with ice from the machine, that I realize
I left my goddamn key card on the dresser. Inside my hotel room. Along with my masochistic shoes.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
Weighing my options, I lean my head back against the door, stemming the urge to sob. This is the cherry on top of a horrible week, and why does it feel like I’m constantly taking one step forward to only take sixteen back? Somewhere, I better be tallying up dozens of karma points.
I don’t even have my phone to make me look busy when someone passes. I stand by my door like a weirdo, nodding and smiling at a couple who passes me. They don’t pay me much mind, but if I continue to stand here, others will pass and look at me like I might be trying to break into this room.
Just as I’m about to head for the elevator, sans shoes, hoping that I don’t bump into anyone I know, I’m greeted by the last person I’d ever want to see me right now.
“Hey,” a voice greets me, and I swing my head down the hall.
Shit. Of all the people who could catch me in this precarious situation. At least I’m not naked in nothing but my hotel towel.
“Hey.” I grin, the expression feeling fake on my face.
“You’re staying on this floor, too?” Hayes looks way too refreshed for just having taken the same plane ride I did, and his three-piece suit required of players to wear for travel is miraculously unwrinkled.
We haven’t spoken since the night in the supply closet. It’s been about a week, and though I’ve seen him peripherally at the ballpark, we’ve avoided each other. The gossip and rumor mill about us has slowed down, and chasing their next story about some other team’s player who had been caught with cocaine and strippers, so too had my assault fallen to the back of the media cycle.
But neither of us has broached what happened in that closet. Or what he said to me. I replay that moment over and over again, when I’m alone in the dark, and whenever I can’t seem to get it out of my head into the middle of a work day. He wants me, so bad that he aches. That’s what he said. Our texting has stopped, and it’s strange that I miss him, miss his witty banter throughout the day. So many times, I’ve picked up my phone to send him something, and then stopped myself.
I meant what I said in that closet, we can’t actually do this, but lord do I want to. There isn’t even a word for how much I want to kiss him again, for how deep the yearning is.
“I am.” I nod, hoping that he’ll just go to his room.
Hayes’ green eyes flick down to the ice bucket I’m holding. “I have to go get some myself, could use a drink. Is that what you’re doing?”
His friendly grin is loaded, and we’re both walking on shaky ground right now. As it is, it’ll be hard knowing he’s staying in the same hallway as I am.
“Yep, that’s what I’m doing.” I’m being strange, and he catches on.
“Everything all right?” Those gorgeous blond locks sway as he tilts his head to the side.
I blow out a breath. “Oh, everything aside from the universe trying to mess with me. Again. I locked myself out.”
Half-expecting him to laugh, I’m surprised when Hayes just clucks his tongue, tips his chin up, and shakes his head at the ceiling, as if to admonish the universe for trying to mess with me.
“Come on, let’s grab dinner.” Hayes nods his head toward the bank of elevators.
It’s the last thing I expect him to say, and my heart gallops like it’s trying to keep up with my rapidly unraveling mind.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “I have no shoes, and I really should just go downstairs and explain. Hopefully, the front desk will give me a new key. It’s been a long day.”