Game Plan (Lowball Bay Humpbacks #1)

Chapter 1

BECCA

"Are you really going to do this?" Grace Lee, my best friend since high school, held a tube of bright red lipstick in her hand. "I mean, wasn't it you who said if you saw Conrad Florence again, you'd knee him in the cock?"

I took the lipstick and pouted at my reflection in the mirror. The last time I saw Conrad 'Hawk' Florence, I was a handful of kilos heavier, with a face full of freckles and the confidence of a shy high school geek.

Which I was.

Not anymore.

I applied a layer of lipstick, then dabbed off the excess.

I set the tube down on the dresser and smoothed the sides of my form-fitting red dress.

I tugged the hem a little lower to show more cleavage.

The freckles, which hadn't faded, were expertly hidden under a layer of expensive makeup.

With Grace's help, of course. I usually made do with a swipe of lipgloss and a dab of mascara.

Today, though, I meant business.

"Do what?" I said innocently.

I sighed at my reflection. I had said that, but that was seven years ago.

Back then, I had the biggest crush on him.

Most of the girls at school did. He was tall, handsome and voted most likely to play in the AGL or the NFL.

When Mr. Leggit, our senior English teacher, asked me to tutor him, I found out Conrad had a brain as well.

Who knew?

We got close during those afternoons on his parents’ couch.

No, not like that. We bonded over our mutual love of Star Wars and poetry.

I was as surprised as anyone that the biggest jock in school liked a good rhyme.

We became friends. At least, I thought we did.

I even thought he'd ask me to the graduation formal.

Me, the biggest geek in school.

Funny, right? It gets worse.

When he didn't ask, I worked up the nerve to ask him. That feat alone took weeks, and Grace held my hand the whole way.

When I finally got up the guts, he didn't say yes. Oh no, it was far more awful than that. He laughed.

Laughed.

In. My. Face.

I ran out of his parents’ house and never went back. I didn't go to the formal either. I couldn't bear to see him, much less on the arm of Heather Wells, the leader of the school's marching band. At least he didn't go along with the stereotype of dating the head cheerleader.

On the other hand, our head cheerleader was Tad Humphries, and I don't think Conrad swung that way.

Still, Heather Wells with her perfect hair, beautiful skin and flawless body were bad enough.

I couldn't compete with girls like her, not back then. Now?

I glanced in the mirror. Golden blonde hair and an hourglass figure that filled my dress to perfection. Add to that the shade of red lipstick that looked perfect when smeared on a cock, and I was deadly.

"You know what." Grace crossed her arms. "You want him to see what he could have had."

I tried to deny it but the only sound which came out of my mouth was a squeak of indignation.

"I've changed a bit since high school," I said.

That was an understatement. I changed a lot. I even worked out so I didn't have to live on salad.

I cocked my head at myself in the mirror and wondered how much I'd have to work out to live on ice cream.

"Okay, fine," I admitted. "I want him to regret laughing at me. I want him to drool, and remember the fun times we had."

"He's probably changed a bit too," Grace pointed out.

I snorted, like the lady I wasn't. "He's probably a hundred times worse. Star quarterback for the Lowball Bay Humpbacks. Darling of the tabloids and bikini models everywhere."

I wouldn't criticise any woman for making a living, no matter what she did, but whenever photos appeared of him online, he was with a hot, half naked woman.

Not that I looked. No way. Okay, but only sometimes, and it was probably for work.

The guy I remembered, I once thought he had some substance. He seemed genuinely eager to learn. In reality, he needed to pass English or he would have been kicked off the team. The chances were, what I thought was eagerness was desperation and I was too blind to see it.

"That still hurts, huh?" she asked softly. "This is why I have cats."

I smiled. Grace wasn't Grace without a few stray cat hairs somewhere on her, even in an evening dress.

"I travel too much for a pet," I said. "Besides, I can't even keep a cactus alive." I nodded toward the windowsill where the poor plant had sat before I eventually tossed it.

"I still don't know how you killed a plastic cactus," Grace said.

"I have skills," I said ironically. I didn't know either, but the thing definitely wilted. "My love life is just as lucky."

"If Hawk Florence is a cactus, then you dodged a bullet there." Grace wriggled as though the insides of her thighs were uncomfortable. “Last thing you need is a limp prick.”

I laughed so loud, it would have been heard through the entire apartment building.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, then lowered it and grimaced at the smear of lipstick on my palm. That was me, all class. No wonder I rarely wore makeup; it would end up everywhere.

I washed my hands and reapplied my lipstick.

"How do I look?" I smiled brilliantly, and batted my eyelashes.

"Like you're ready to knock off his socks and shoes and leave him to walk home on his bare-ass feet," Grace replied, as only a best friend can. "He'll shoot his load in his pants the moment he sees you."

"I was going for 'crawling home on hands and knees,' but that will do," I joked.

Okay, half-joked. I wanted him to look at me. Really look at me, like he hadn't in high school.

Was that petty? After all, I was doing well for myself. I worked in the National Daily magazine's headquarters here in Lowball Bay. I owned the part of my apartment the bank didn't own, which was approximately a fingertip of space in the bathroom. Maybe the whole toilet.

I didn't need to impress any guy.

Except this one.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Grace picked up the lipstick tube and slipped it into my bag.

"In case I get tongue-tied?" I asked. "What's the worst that could happen?" All right, I might march in and declare myself to be the proud owner of a toilet. I'm pretty sure even I wouldn't be that awkward.

Maybe.

"Tongue-tied, panty-tied—" Grace gave me a meaningful look, one side of her mouth pulled up, along with one eyebrow.

I blushed and cleared my throat. "That's not going to happen. I have more pride than that, you know."

"Uh-huh." She looked me up and down and raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows.

Okay, she had a point. I usually interviewed people while wearing a sensible skirt, sensible blouse and, of course, sensible shoes. My name might as well have been Rebecca Sensible Anderson.

Well, not today. Today I was out to raise more eyebrows than Grace's.

"Just be careful, okay?" she said. "I don't want you getting hurt again. There's only so much ice cream in Victoria."

I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at her. She helped me through all of my crises, breakups, moves, new jobs, dead plants. Even the time our old dog was hit by a car and had to run everywhere on three legs. Poor old Rusty was long gone now, but Grace still stuck around.

I gave her a quick hug. "I know you don't mind watching romcoms and eating double choc-chip ice cream with a side of tequila."

"Oh, hell no, I don't mind that," she said. "I mind seeing you cry because some jerk didn't treat you right. You deserve better."

She smiled and started to pack up the bags of makeup she brought with her for this occasion.

Some day, I'd have to take her shopping with me to buy my own.

If I went alone, I'd come back with three trays of blue eyeshadow, to match my blue eyes, and several bottles of bright purple nail polish.

What? I have a thing for purple, okay? That and red.

The point was, I was clueless when it came to makeup, and Grace was the queen. She could have gone into professional makeup for movies and the like, but she chose public relations instead. Something about helping people not fall on their faces appealed to her, I guess.

I suppose I can consider myself her test subject.

I, on the other hand, went into journalism, where people falling on their faces was big money.

I hated that side of it, and avoided it where possible. I preferred the kind of stories which inspired people to help make the world a better place. I guess, in spite of everything, I'm still an idealist. I still want to see the good in people. Even Conrad fucking Florence.

I also knew not to put certain shades of red together with purple. I'm clueless, not colourblind.

I pushed my glasses onto my face and grabbed up my phone, bag and keys, in order of importance.

I opened the door and let Grace out first.

"Tell me how it goes, okay?" she said. “If you don’t, I’ll sprinkle white cat fur all over your favourite black skirt.”

She wouldn't actually do that, but as threats went, it was effective. I would never get all that fur out. The stuff was like glitter. Cute as her cats were, I didn't need to wear their hair for the rest of my life.

"I will," I assured her. "You'll be the first to hear all the juicy details."

"What are friends for if you can't live vicariously through them?" Grace said with a sigh, then she grinned so wide I saw her back teeth.

"I really need to set you up with that guy from work," I said.

"The guy with the boxes of condoms in plain view?" Grace asked.

"At least he's safe," I argued.

"At least they're not used," Grace said, mouth twisted in disgust.

"Ewww." I matched her expression. "Yeah, that would be horrible."

I pressed the button for the elevator and nodded at one of my neighbours as she shuffled past.

"Are we still on for dinner on Wednesday?" I asked as cheerfully as I could. Gladys lived alone and no family ever checked up on her, so I'd taken to inviting her to eat with me every couple of weeks.

"I'll be there with bells on, Becca dear." Gladys smiled, showing a couple of missing teeth, but with so much warmth it made my heart hurt that she was alone in the world.

"Great." The elevator pinged and Grace and I stepped inside.

"She's lucky to have you," Grace said when the door closed.

I made a face. "If she was really lucky, she'd have dinner with people who cared about her, not some stranger in her building."

"You do care about her," Grace insisted. "You wouldn't invite her in if you didn't."

"I guess so. But I mean the people who are supposed to care about her, not a stranger.

" I shrugged. It seemed like the decent thing to do.

Who in the world couldn't use more kindness?

"You should come too. Gladys tells the most amazing stories about growing up and seeing the world change.

She even remembers when phones were attached to the wall. "

Grace's eyes widened. "I thought that was a myth?" she joked.

I laughed. "It's true." My smile faded. I wasn't sure if technology made things better, worse or just different. We could reach people easier, but people like Gladys were still alone. It didn't seem right to me.

"I'd love to come to dinner," Grace said. "I'll bring the ice cream."

"I'm starting to think you're a bigger addict than I am," I teased. "Maybe we need a support group."

"Nah." Grace waved her hand in dismissal. "Support groups are for people who want to stop."

I laughed. "That's true." I had no desire to give up eating it. Or cock, for that matter.

The elevator pinged and the door slid open.

"It's not too late to go back and change," Grace said.

I checked my watch. "It is, though. Ready or not, this interview is going to happen."

"Poor guy won't know what hit him," Grace said.

"That's exactly what I'm hoping for," I replied.