NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (12 page)

Shit. He knew he should’ve ignored it. Eventually, Grady would have called Ash.

“Just what the hell does Ray want me to take care of? I want to choke that fucking liar out myself. I’m done with him and his heaping fucking mountain of bullshit and lies. I’ll be there in thirty.” Sam was already halfway to the master bathroom, his mind reeling with options on how to handle Dwayne’s latest fuck up, before he stopped and backtracked to where Ali sat, unmoving.

Leaning over, he put his hands on her narrow shoulders. “I gotta run and take care of this, babe. I’m sorry. We’ll talk tonight, okay?” He kissed her forehead quickly and headed for the shower.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sam.” Her soft voice trailed after him.

“What?” He reached in and turned the faucet to cold, his adrenaline surging at the thought of breaking Dwayne’s nose in an hour, watching him bleed all over his ugly black and white marble foyer. “Come talk to me while I shower.”

His head was already under the spray when he saw her, wrapped entirely in a bed sheet, sit on the edge of the whirlpool tub across from his steam shower. Biting her fingernail, she watched him silently as he took the fastest damn shower of his life. Dripping water on the travertine floor, he was toweling off when she spoke again.

“I can’t see you anymore, Sam. This thing has run its course, I think.”

The words penetrated his whirling thoughts and he stopped long enough to stare at her in astonishment.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me, Ali? You’re breaking up with me? Right now, while I’m in the middle of this huge shitstorm?” His voice was loud as he dropped the towel and walked into the closet, now more pissed at her than Dwayne. Why was she doing this? And why right this goddamn moment?

She followed him, leaning against the doorway. “Breaking up with you? What, are we in high school? Should I give you back your letter jacket?”

Ignoring her sarcasm, he rifled through the drawer of his built-in dresser. “Is this about last night? Or is it about the questions you refuse to answer? Because this tight-lipped thing of yours is really starting to piss me off.”

The look on her face said he’d scored a direct hit. “It’s not like we’re dating, Sam.”

Yanking on a pair of charcoal suit pants, he grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it, shocked at her comment. “You don’t think we’re dating? So, what is it we’re doing, then? Are we just fucking? Is that how you see this, Ali?” She stood there, staring at his fingers as he quickly buttoned the white, pinstripe dress shirt, her silence sending his temper over the edge.

“Is it?” he yelled in angry disbelief, and she jumped at his shouted demand. Sam felt a twinge of regret, until she looked him in the eye and nodded her head in agreement.

Jesus fucking God, he did not need this right now. He already had an epic mess on his hands with Dwayne. And Ray, his egotistical agent and the one paid to take care of these bullshit problems to begin with, was conveniently absent. Grabbing his wallet and phone off the nightstand, he stopped long enough to take a deep breath, trying to control his temper, both at Dwayne and Ali. She really thought this was only about sex. If Sam wasn’t so pissed off, he might laugh about it. This relationship—or whatever the hell label Ali wanted to put on it—was as far from being only about sex as Sam had ever had. There were plenty of women in his past that he’d screwed without a single intention of pursuing anything beyond the bedroom. Never even considered them friends. More like acquaintances with occasional benefits. He hadn’t given a good goddamn how their day was, or where they were going in life, or what their hopes and dreams were. There were no promises, no commitment and definitely no confusion regarding the word
relationship
.

But with Ali, it was different. Had been from the first time he’d seen her sitting alone on the beach in the dark. Maybe it was his desire to find something more, something real, for the first time in his life. Or maybe it was just fucking payback, because he’d been thinking about proposing to her less than twelve hours ago, for fuck’s sake, and now he was getting the royal brush off while she was still wrapped in his goddamn bed sheet. There was no doubt they had great sex, and yeah, most of their time was spent doing just that, but the bond went deeper. Sam could feel it in his bones. Something was going on in that pretty head of hers and it wasn’t good. It wasn’t right, either, but thanks to a colossal shithead named Dwayne, he had no time to get to the bottom of it.

“I can’t do this right now, Ali, but this damn sure isn’t over. We are not over. And we’re gonna talk tonight and get this shit straightened out, okay?” It was an order, not a question.

Putting a confident hand on the back of her head, he leaned down as he pulled her close, sealing his lips over hers for a long, deep kiss, trying his best to make an emotional connection.

To remind her that this was not all about sex. That it was really close to love.

***

“How the hell did you get dragged into this, Foster?” Sam pulled off his sunglasses as Grady followed him through the front door of Dwayne’s pretentious mansion. “There was no assignment last night or this morning.”

Having made it to the affluent coastal suburb of Del Mar in record time, Sam walked right into the large house, not bothering to knock or school his piss-poor mood. Wearing a scowl that sent smart people in the opposite direction, he jogged up the winding staircase in search of the screeching female voice that could be heard all the way out on the circular brick driveway. Grady was only a step behind.

“Well, I was on the receiving end of some pretty amazing morning se—
stuff
,” he corrected, grinning when Sam glanced at him, “when my phone rang. Now, unlike you, I’m dedicated to my job, so I actually answered it. It was Carla, calmly advising me that if it was my duty to keep Dwayne in one piece then I better get my ass over here because she was about to separate him from his favorite body part. I’m editing this, because she used some seriously filthy profanity.” His brows raised with his usual humor. “Stuff I’ve never even heard before.”

Hell hath no fury, Sam thought as he walked down the wide hall toward the master bedroom, passing an open bedroom door where he spotted two small children huddled together inside, their eyes wide and teary. The two girls were close in age, probably only a year apart, and he pegged them at four or five-years-old, maybe six. And the look on their faces told him this was not the first argument they’d overheard. Sam’s mind flashed back three decades to a similar situation, in a suburban upper class home that looked idyllic from the outside, with his mother sobbing and slurring her words as his dad, ever the commanding officer, lectured her on how to make a decent meatloaf. The sight of her familiar crystal tumbler, filled with ice and what his six-year-old mind thought was water, flying through the air to shatter against the wall just above his father’s head triggered an all out throw-down of epic proportions. He could remember Donna grabbing his hand and pulling him inside her tiny bedroom closet, clicking on her pink flashlight so he wouldn’t be scared of the dark. “Let’s sing, Sammy,” she’d said, swinging his arms back and forth, her God awful voice belting out their mother’s favorite song from start to finish. Donna’s butchered version of Dancing Queen, repeated many times over, did little to drown out the shouts of yet another fight.

And just when Sam thought he couldn’t get any more pissed, his blood pressure rose another notch and his temper skyrocketed at the sight of those traumatized kids. He stopped to pull the door shut as he walked by, but knew it wouldn’t buffer the sounds anymore than Donna’s dark closet or off key singing had.

“Hey, bro. What’s up? You here to protect me from this crazy ass bitch?” Dwayne’s voice was jovial as he nodded toward Carla, who sat crumpled on the floor in the middle of the master bedroom, openly sobbing. “Dude, she’s been straight up trippin’ on me for two hours, now.”

“Pack a bag,
bro
. Grab whatever shit you need and get the fuck out of here.”

Dwayne laughed, mistaking Sam’s seething command for a suggestion. “Now, come on, man. Why would I leave? This is my kingdom.”

“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna break both your fucking kneecaps.”

Dwayne’s head tipped back in surprise. “Are you for real, dude?”

Sam continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And there’s gonna be a dozen sports reporters staked out in your front yard in an hour, happy as pigs in shit to cash in on your legendary stupidity. An anonymous insider will feed them the whole goddamn story, including how you can’t keep your skinny dick in your pants long enough to fight off the clam chowder you caught from banging one too many skank’s.”

“You can’t do that. You work for me. Ray hired you to keep the cameras away.”

Sam smiled at his audacity. “Do you think I’m bullshitting you? I told you a few weeks ago that you were out of rope with me. As of this morning, Scorpio rescinded their contract with Ray, effective immediately. I couldn’t give a fuck less what you do now, as long as you do it somewhere else.”

Dwayne glanced at Grady. “Your homeboy just lost a shitload of dead presidents.”

Sam took a step toward him. “You want a broken nose and black eyes when you give that apologetic press conference tomorrow? You know, the one where you cry like a pussy and beg the commissioner, the team owner and the fans to give a lying piece of shit like yourself another chance? If this hits the press, you lose a shitload of money yourself,
homeboy
.”

“Alright, dude.” Dwayne held his hands up, carefree smile in place as he walked into the closet and grabbed his Louis Vuitton bag, already packed for away game travel. “You’re a bigger ball buster than she is.” He nodded toward Carla before following Grady out of the room.

Taking a deep breath and wishing he was anywhere else but fucking here, Sam carefully turned toward Carla, hoping she would send him packing, too. Thinking of Ali, and her declaration that they were finished, had an annoying sense of urgency breathing down his neck, the anxiety dead weight in his gut. His day had already gone to shit and it wasn’t even noon.

“I’m so embarrassed. What am I going to do?” Carla’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

And Sam’s chin hit his chest. Mother. Fucker.

He sighed, knowing blunt was best. “Carla, honey, you need to decide if you can tolerate his bullshit because Dwayne is never going to change. It’s all up to you. He’ll be back in this house before you know it, acting as if nothing happened. Think about your kids and if it’s better for them to come from a broken home or continue to live in one. Whether you really want this kind of life. If so, then good luck to you.”

Sam’s phone rang and he quickly reached for it, hoping to see Ali’s name. Instead it was Ray, finally returning his calls. Tapping the dismiss command, Sam sent the asshole to voice mail and gave Carla one last piece of advice. “If not, call my office Monday morning. I’ll get you the name of a cutthroat lawyer who can break any pre-nup, no matter how ironclad.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The burner phone, riding shotgun in her boring, late model sedan, rang for the tenth time in as many hours. Ali stared straight ahead, her bug covered windshield reflecting the headlights of the oncoming cars. Traffic was surprisingly heavy on the well traveled interstate, considering it was close to midnight. Just crossing the border into the rugged and barren landscape of New Mexico, she’d been driving since late this morning, stopping only for gas, caffeine and red licorice twists. Trying not to spill her piping hot, truck stop coffee, thick as sludge and missing her usual dose of fat free soy milk, she reached over and cranked up the volume on her satellite radio, ignoring the ringing. Unfortunately, no amount of industrial sounding alternative rock could silence Sam’s words from earlier that day.

It was his phrase
heaping mountain of bullshit and lies
that had sent her over the edge. One minute, she’d been happily surrounded by his big body and spicy masculine scent, staring into trusting silver eyes and believing him wholeheartedly when he said he would never hurt her. And the next minute, she’d heard his one-sided conversation with Grady regarding his passionate revulsion for people who lied. There was absolute truth in what Sam had professed. He would never willingly hurt her. Instead, she was the one dishing out all the pain. The timing of Grady’s call couldn’t have been better because Ali had only been a second away from blurting it all out, starting and ending with Danny, and laying her heart on the line. But the moment had passed as quickly as it came, and Ali was woman enough to admit, if only to herself, that she was far too selfish to come clean. The judgment she would surely see in Sam’s eyes would send her to her knees faster and sharper, and with a lot more pain, than Danny’s fists ever had. So instead, she’d stood there in his bedroom with only a thin sheet covering her naked body and denied it all, lying straight to his handsome, distracted face, and instead of judgment in his eyes, she’d seen confusion and disbelief, and then a whole lot of justifiable anger.

Yes, they had a relationship. Yes, they were doing more than fucking, as he had crudely put it. And hell yes, it had been about the previous night, when he’d asked her to meet his sister and therefore, planted the glorious seed of possibility that they might have a future together. So after eavesdropping on his call, she’d made the hasty decision to end it right then and there. It was one thing to have Sam resent her because he thought she was a commitment phobic bitch. It was another to have him hate her because she was a liar.

And he would hate her, of that she was certain.

Ali laughed out loud at the irony. It had taken her six years to find the courage to leave a man who was manipulative and mean, but only a few weeks for her to walk away from one who was decent and good. Her heavy heart was in turmoil over it, her exhausted mind racing, and the only thing she really knew for sure was that she was one screwed up chick. And that she needed some time to breathe, to clear her head. To fix her past before she faced her future.