The Baller (14 page)

I was entirely lost in the kiss and didn’t even notice that the plane had taken off until we came up for air. “See. Takeoff is awesome if you just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“I’ll have to try that more often. Wonder who will be sitting next to me on the way home?”

“Not even funny.” The way he looked at me quelled the growing feeling of uneasiness that had crept up the last few days. It was football season. I, of all people, should know that was where his focus needed to be.

We caught up for a while until my Xanax began to kick in, and I eventually leaned my head on his shoulder and dozed off. When I woke up, we were already landing.

“I wasn’t sure you were breathing there for a while.”

I stretched in my seat. “I was really out.”

“I know. I tried to wake you to join the mile-high club, but you didn’t budge. Got as far as slipping off your panties, but after that you were like dead wood.”

“You did not.”

He shrugged and smirked. Then went back to studying his playbook.

I smoothed out my wrinkly skirt and while I was at it, I discreetly checked for panties.

Brody didn’t look up from his book when he spoke. “Knew you’d check.”

Two buses transported us from the airport to the hotel. Rather than the normal lobby check-in, we were escorted to a conference room where a half-dozen hotel staff walked around with a checklist and gave out key cards.

Of course, Brody didn’t need to give his name. “Good afternoon, Mr. Easton. Welcome to Sonetta Hotel. I’m Gail. If there is anything out of the ordinary that you need, both mine and the manager’s cell phone numbers are on the back of this business card, and here are two keys to your suite.” She scribbled something down on her clipboard and turned it toward Brody, handing him a pen to sign.

“Thank you.”

Gail turned her attention to me. “Are you with the team or press?”

“She’s with me,” Brody responded.

The clerk nodded and looked like she was about to move on in the room full of players, so I piped in. “I’m also a guest here. I need to check in.”

Brody narrowed his eyes at me, then spoke to Gail, “She doesn’t need a room.”

“Yes. I do.”

“You’re not planning on being in my bed tonight?”

Gail looked as uncomfortable as I did with this conversation. “I didn’t say that. But if you embarrass me anymore in front of this nice lady, no, I won’t be in your bed tonight.”

I turned to Gail. “Maddox, two Ds.”

Brody didn’t say another word until Gail was done checking me in. Then he extended his hand, offering her the keycards back. “I’d like to check out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like to check out. I don’t need the room. I’m staying in hers.” He nodded toward me.

“Um.” Poor Gail looked confused. “Your room is a suite, Mr. Easton. Ms. Maddox’s is a standard room.”

“Does hers have a bed?”

“It does.”

“I’d like to check out.”

My room was on the sixth floor. Just as Gail had said, it was standard. A bed, dresser, small mini fridge, TV and bathroom. Brody stored our suitcases in the closet while I went to freshen up. I felt like I’d just woken up from a full night of sleep, rather than a medicinally induced nap. When I came out, Brody was lying in the center of the bed, his hands clasped leisurely behind his head.

“You didn’t want to stay with me?” It was the first time I’d ever heard his confidence waver. There was something endearing about it. I hiked up my skirt and climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips.

“I have to put my expense reports in each week, and I didn’t want anyone to ask where my hotel bill is.”

“Why would they care if you didn’t put in a bill? You’d be saving them money.”

“My boss already gives me a hard time. He was against my being promoted; it was his boss who picked me for the job.”

“Why didn’t he want to give you the job?”

“Because he’s a sexist jerk who thinks women don’t belong in the locker room. Sound familiar?”

“I just gave you a hard time because I thought you were hot as shit.”

“I was trying to do my job.”

“I know. I’m a selfish bastard. I didn’t really think about that. I just wanted to screw with you, and I got carried away.”

“And what about Susan Metzinger? You were so vocal that she shouldn’t be allowed in the locker room.”

“Susan Metzinger shouldn’t be.”

“And why not?” I hoisted my women’s lib flag proudly.

“She came into the locker room and grabbed my junk. I wasn’t interested.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Gleason from WMBC caught the whole thing on film. He was interviewing Smith at the locker next to me.” He paused. “One of the seven Smiths.”

“Why didn’t you expose her? She ran you through the wringer in the media.”

“I guess I felt bad for rejecting her.”

“So you really don’t have anything against women in the locker room?”

“I have something against you in the locker room.” He pulled me from sitting to lying on top of him.

“Why?”

“Because the only dick I want you seeing these days is mine.”

“That’s an oddly sweet statement.”

“I’m an oddly sweet kinda guy. Now shut up and kiss me.”

My bottom was still sitting on his hips, but I was bent at the waist, my chest pressed to his. My lips rested lightly against his. “I’m on top, you know. You told me this wouldn’t be your favorite position with me.”

“Better make sure I was right.”

***

Brody had a team meeting, and I had some work to do. When he came back, we ordered a ridiculous amount of room service and spent the rest of the night in bed. Since I’d had a nap, I wasn’t tired. And since Brody only required four to six hours of sleep, even though he did ten times the exercise of most in-shape humans on any given day, he wasn’t tired yet either.

After a few more go-arounds exploring each other’s bodies, we were back to our own unique form of getting to know each other. That was, I asked normal questions, and Brody shot off ridiculous ones. For the most part, it kept things light. Until he stumbled unknowingly onto the part of my life that I didn’t talk about.

I was tracing figure eights on his bare chest when he came out with yet another oddball question. “If you could interview anyone from your life, living or dead, who would it be?”

I didn’t think about my answer, but perhaps I should have. “Drew Martin.” My finger stopped drawing. The second the words came out I wished I could take them back.

“Why do I know that name?”

“He was in the draft the year after you. Second round. Kicker.”

Brody shifted us so we were both lying on our sides. I would have preferred to keep my head on his chest, where he couldn’t look at my face.

“Should I be jealous?” He said it half joking.

“I don’t think so.” I swallowed. The words never got any easier to say. “He’s dead.”

“Was he a relative of yours?”

I shook my head.

“He’s from your life?”

I nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He surprised me when he pulled me to him and kissed the top of my forehead. “Okay. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

Delilah

The Steel had a game on Sunday and then were playing on Thursday night again. Since it was a short recovery week, the team was heading back home right after the game, rather than leaving on Monday morning. That meant there wouldn’t be locker room interviews after the game Sunday. Field reporters could attempt to grab a key player or two as they walked off the field, but regular access to the entire team was limited to an after-practice open locker room.

Reporters could enter at five tonight. I worked from my laptop at the hotel in the morning, managed to drag my ass to the gym for a forty-five-minute run, and got to the field where the Steel were practicing by three. I climbed the bleachers and sat watching the special teams unit run through drills.

It had been a really long time since I’d sat on the cold metal on a chilly fall day to watch a practice. Even though a huge part of my life had been spent on the bleachers of a football field, it was almost as if my life was in two acts, and the curtain had come down on part one. Yet here I was back again. It was almost surreal.

Talking about Drew last night and watching the team my father captained for so many years weighed heavy on my heart. When Drew and I had first started dating, he was a hardcore soccer player. He’d never even tried football. I remembered the first time I brought Drew around to meet Dad. We were in tenth grade, and he was half starstruck to meet the great Tom Maddox.

Dad told him to have a seat and spent the better part of two hours selling him on the benefits of being a football kicker rather than a soccer player. That fall, Drew tried out for the varsity football team and became the starting kicker.

A loud whistle brought my attention back to the field. Brody had been talking to Coach Ryan on the sideline while the special teams unit finished up on the field, but the practice squads were changing places now. The offensive linemen jogged onto the field while the other players jogged off. I couldn’t hear anything, but I watched intently as Brody took his place behind the center and pointed to various things. Players made adjustments and moved around at his command.

The man was no different off the field than he was on. He was aggressive, confident, aware of everything going on around him and completely in charge. I felt like a high school cheerleader, but I was also a little turned on watching Brody in action so closely. I’d missed this part of my life. I loved the game itself. But watching someone I cared about play out on that field did something to me. The catches, the leaps, the sheer athleticism of twenty-two men joining together to form one unit and compete. There was something just so innately beautiful about it.

Even though I’d never stopped being involved with football, something reawakened in me while I watched from the bleachers that afternoon. I wasn’t sure if it was my love of the sport or hope that I could one day again combine my love for the sport with a man on the field.

The locker room had a very different vibe after practice than it did after a game. It was more relaxed and laid-back; even coaches were laughing. Nick had flown in that morning, so I found him, and we got an interview with a rookie wide receiver who was starting this weekend, then moved on to bigger fish. Brody was surrounded by his usual long line, so I looked around for another player to grab in the meantime. Curiosity had me on the second longest line for more than one reason. Colin Anderson was about to play his first game with the Steel, and no one had yet discovered the reason behind the college feud with Brody.

Colin was changing at a locker four over from Brody, but the one player who was utilizing the space between them had already disappeared into the shower. Nick and I waited a solid twenty minutes before we were next to interview Colin. In my peripheral vision, I caught Brody eyeing where I was. He looked at me, glared at Colin, then turned his attention back to me until our eyes met.

When it was our turn, I introduced myself as I normally would. “Hi, Colin, I’m Delilah Maddox with—”

“Brody Easton.” He gave me a sly smile and then looked over at Brody, who was doing his own interview, but the two men locked gazes for a brief second.

“Actually, I’m with WMBC Sports News.” I attempted to change the subject. “Could I ask you a few questions for our Sunday pregame report?”

“Anything for you.”

Just what I need.
“Ready, Nick?” I had a bad feeling and wanted this over before I’d even started.

Luckily Nick never took long, and we were rolling thirty seconds later. “Congratulations on your trade, Colin. Are you excited to play your first game with the team on Sunday?”

“I am. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it feels good. I think I’ve found my home with the Steel.”

Even though I was dying to ask what had happened with him and Brody back in college, I didn’t. Something told me that Colin was looking for a reason to screw with Brody, and I wasn’t going to be the spark to ignite that old fire.

The interview went off without a hitch. Colin was actually charming and very professional. After it was over, Nick lowered his equipment, and I tossed my microphone into my bag. “Thank you for your time, Colin. Best of luck Sunday.”

He caught me off guard when he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “The pleasure was all mine.” As I started to walk away, he stopped me. “I’m in Suite 801. I don’t mind sharing if you’re down with it. It’ll be like the old days for Brody and me.”

What the hell?

“Come on, Delilah,” Nick said. “Locker room is only open for another ten minutes. We need to get Easton in the can.”

My head was spinning while we waited to interview Brody. Was that what the feud had been about? The two of them had been sharing women in college? I wasn’t naïve; there was a certain group of women who would do anything to be with a player. They didn’t even have to be professional yet. In fact, the football groupies were even more prevalent in college. Young bodies, raging hormones and the stardom that came with televised Big Ten football. Brody’s confidence with women hadn’t come from sitting in his dorm room studying. I knew there was ample opportunity for players; I even knew he was a player. I just didn’t need that reminder shoved in my face about the man I was sleeping with—a man I had started to fall for.