The Baller (11 page)

Nick turned off the camera. While he packed up the lighting, he said, “Great interview. Edit is going to have a hard time finding things to cut to get the final twenty-two in the can.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

Brody and I helped pack up the rest of the equipment. It was after nine by the time we were done. Nick glanced at his phone. “Want me to drop you at your date? You’re already late.”

“Thanks, but I sent him a text earlier and postponed.”

Nick nodded. “Drop you at home?”

“I’ll drop her,” Brody said. “Let me help you lug this shit to the van.”

I picked up a bag. Brody took it from my hand. “Stay. I got it. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, I rearranged the living room furniture back to how it had been before the interview. Brody came in just as I was finishing setting the throw pillows back on the couch.

“You should get some monogrammed throw pillows for the couch,” I said. “Make it seem less like a hotel and more homey.”

“When did you postpone the date?”

I held one pillow against my chest. “After I came out of the closet.”

“Not after I made you late?”

I shook my head. The way I’d felt when I walked out of that closet, I knew going on a date with Michael would have been wrong. Whether I was acting upon them or not, I had feelings for another man. It was wrong to begin a relationship with someone when my thoughts were really with someone else.

“You’re postponing it indefinitely.”

“Am I?”

He nodded and walked around the couch. Reaching for my hand, he looked into my eyes. “I can do exclusive. Hell, the thought of you with anyone else makes me fucking insane. I insist on exclusive. And dating. I’m game for whatever you want to do. The relationship part, I’m probably going to need you to bear with me on. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one. I’ll probably fuck up and piss you off a lot, but I’d like to try.”

Wow. I wasn’t about to mention that I’d been ready to give in to his sex-only arrangement. I guess I’d won the battle of the holdout.
By about thirty seconds.
“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. I’d like to try, too. You’re an arrogant ass. But there’s something about you I like.”

He picked up my other hand and brought it to his lips, dropping a sweet kiss on the top. “Awesome. Dinner, then fucking? Or fucking, then dinner?

“Gee. How is a girl to decide with such titillating choices?”

“Flip a coin. Heads—you give me. Tails—I take yours. It’s a total win-win for you.” He winked. “By the way, I really like when you work ‘tit’ into our conversation, dirty girl.”

I laughed. “How about we start with an actual date?”

“Let’s go.”

“Not so fast.”

Brody looked like I’d kicked his puppy. “What?”

“If we’re going to do this, let’s start it right. You have a game tomorrow. I want a real date. How about next weekend?”

“No way.”

“Impatient much?”

“Patience is bitter. It's the fruit that’s sweet.”

“Did you just quote Aristotle?”

“Maybe.” He yanked the hand he was holding, pulling me against him hard. “Dinner. Wednesday night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Okay.”

“Now kiss me already, goddamn it.”

I didn’t have time to respond. In a heartbeat, his lips were on mine. His arms wrapped possessively around me, pulling me snugly against him. My knees went weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I would have sworn there was a mass of butterflies flapping their wings in the pit of my stomach. With a groan that echoed through our mouths and vibrated down my entire body, he licked my lips and nudged my mouth open. His tongue aggressively pursued mine and then took everything I gave. The desperation and intensity of the kiss was like nothing I’d ever felt before. My hands dug into his hair as he grabbed a handful of mine and tugged my head back further to where he wanted me. I whimpered, feeling desire flow from him and wrap around me. I moaned when I felt his hard-on pushing up against my stomach.

Holy shit.

We stayed like that for a long time. Grabbing and groping. Pulling and needing. When he finally released my mouth, he sucked on my bottom lip and released a hungry groan. “Overnight bag. Bring a bag Wednesday. Because there’s no way I’m letting you go again.”

Brody

“You know, when I was a kid they had real football players. They wore leather helmets and didn’t have
bi-
weeks. What kind of a sissy athlete needs a week off in the middle of the season?”

“When you were a kid, they kept score by chiseling X marks into stone.” I tossed a jersey to Grouper. Next week was a designated throwback week, when the team wore replica uniforms from years back. I’d ordered an extra for Grouper III. “Tell Guppy I signed it with a washable marker this time. Don’t want his mother getting another smelly-boy call from the school.”

Grouper held it up and sighed nostalgically. “I remember this uniform. This was from the non-pussy-player period.”

“Bite me, old man.”

Marlene was sitting on the edge of her bed, a floral swim cap on her head. She was scribbling some notes on her notepad while the closing credits of
The Price Is Right
rolled on the TV screen behind her.
Guess I’m late today.

“Going swimming, Marlene?” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She looked up at me blankly. “Are you the bus driver?”

“No. I’m Brody. Remember?”

She still looked confused.

“I used to live next door.”

Recognition registered. “Willow’s Brody.” She looked around me. “Is she with you today?”

“Not today, Marlene.”

“She didn’t want to come?”

I hated when she asked me these questions. Sometimes it was easier when she didn’t remember who I was. “She’s working on an art project up at my cabin. You know how she can get when she’s working.”

That seemed to pacify her. So I changed the subject to one of her favorites. “How did you do today on your show?”

She looked down at her notepad. “I would have won the whole shebang. The woman who was in the finale, Kathryn, her name was, only had one oar in the water.”

“They can’t all be like you. Or it wouldn’t be much of a game, would it?”

“That Barker’s microphone is too skinny. I don’t know what he’s trying to prove.”

I chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not sure on that one either.”

Marlene took the remote off her nightstand and flicked the TV off.

“What time is swimming? I didn’t realize they changed the schedule.”

“Eleven.”

I looked down at my watch. It was five after twelve.

Marlene and I shot the shit for a while, and eventually Shannon walked in, carrying a small clear plastic shot glass containing a few pills. She handed them to Marlene with a cup of water.

“Are they running late for swimming?” I asked.

“Nope. Swimming isn’t until Wednesday at two.”

I glanced sideways at Marlene’s swim cap, then back to Shannon.

She shrugged. “She got upset when I tried to take it off of her this morning. I told her swimming wasn’t until tomorrow. She told me I had shit for brains. Right, Marlene?”

Marlene nodded and handed her back the empty pill cup. She spoke as if she were verifying the time. “That’s right. Shit for brains, that one.”

Shannon gave me a thumbs-up and a wink as she left the room.

An hour later, Marlene let me help her remove the rubber swim cap. The damn thing was so tight, it left a red indent across her forehead where the edge cut off her circulation.

“I’m going to get going. Late practice this afternoon.”

She nodded. “You kiss that granddaughter of mine and tell her not to work too hard.”

“I will.”

Delilah

After I’d returned from a two-hour session in the editing room, the receptionist walked into my office carrying a tall glass vase full not of flowers but of
water
. The puzzled look on her face matched mine. Until I saw that the vase wasn’t actually empty. A single blue beta fish was swimming around, and the floor was lined with a layer of blue and yellow colored gravel. She handed me the small florist’s card, glanced at the other vase on my desk—the one full of sticks—and walked out, shaking her head.

I unsealed the card.
I named him Brody. You’re welcome.

I smiled, remembering our conversation about me never having a pet before. For a man who’d told me women didn’t really want bullshit flowers and sweet gestures—what they really wanted was a good banging against the wall—I was pretty sure he was giving me both today.

Later that afternoon, I was viewing a replay of my interview with Brody on my laptop. The sound of his gritty voice and the confidence he exuded was a little like foreplay for our date tonight. I was anxious, excited and nervous all at once. Closing my eyes as he spoke, I leaned back in my chair and visualized him standing before me, that commanding voice telling me to undress.

Unbutton your shirt.

Take off that bra.

God, even imagining it stirred a feminine place in me.

Lift that skirt.

Higher, Delilah.

You know what I’m going to do to you…

A knock on my office door startled me, and I jumped out of my seat.
Shit.

“Hey. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.”

“Michael. Hi. Guess I was lost in my work.” I had texted at the last minute to cancel our date the other night, and he’d been very understanding. I hadn’t exactly lied when I told him an interview was running a few hours later than planned and asked for a rain check. Last night, he’d texted me to cash in the rain check I’d promised—and not knowing how to respond, I just never responded.

“Just stopped in to say hello. See how you were doing.”

“I’m good. Busy. Sorry I didn’t text back yet. My schedule has just been so crazy lately.”

His eyes zoned in on the roses he sent displayed on the file cabinet behind me, then he took note of the vase full of sticks on the corner of the front of my desk. He looked justifiably puzzled. They added something to my otherwise drab office—perhaps a splash of crazy. Yet he didn’t question the oddity.

“Would you be up for grabbing a bite for dinner tonight?”

“I actually have plans for tonight. Sorry.”

“Work again?”

Michael was watching me, waiting for a response. It felt odd to tell him that I was going on a date. Probably because of my gnawing guilt that the date was with the guy I’d canceled on him the other night because of. So I lied. “Yes. I need to reshoot part of an interview I did.”

A look of relief passed over Michael’s face. “Man, being the boss around here doesn’t earn any perks, does it?”

“I guess not.” I tried to laugh it off.

“One night next week, then?”

I nodded, leaving things very noncommittal. Thankfully, my phone rang.

“Excuse me a minute.” I was relieved to get out of the conversation and answer my office line. “Delilah Maddox.”

Brody’s sexy voice growled through the phone. “Did you bring an overnight bag to work?”

I looked up at Michael; he was still standing in my doorway. “I did.”

“You actually don’t need anything in it. I’ll pick you up in an hour. You’ll get your date. Then I’m going to give you my own version of those sweet gestures you like so much.”

I cleared my throat. “Okay. That sounds good.”

“Is someone standing there?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Are you wearing a skirt?”

“Yes.”

“Take off your panties before I pick you up.”

“Umm . . . ”

“An hour, Delilah. No panties. I’m salivating at the thought of tasting you.”

The phone disconnected, and I was left sitting there like an idiot, my body buzzing and my mouth hanging open.

“Are you okay?” Michael looked concerned.

“Yes.” I blinked myself back to the moment. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll let you get back to work. Call you next week?”

“That sounds great. Sure.”

Maybe by then, I’d grow a backbone.

***

In the ten minutes I stood in the bathroom stall, I’d taken my underwear off and put it back on three times. The outer door opened again, and two women whose voices I didn’t recognize walked in, chatting.
This was ridiculous.

I decided to rise to the challenge. I balled the black lacy thong I was wearing in my palm, then stuffed it into the zippered compartment of my purse. Stepping out, it felt liberating. I washed my hands and headed to the exit of my office complex.