Chapter 5 #2
We all then took our seats. Sally and one of the other waiters came over, and between the usual bursts of banter, there was a toast to Phoenix and Reed for their victory.
They won the friendly Match Play game by scoring the highest. We then placed our food orders, and as I was looking at the menu, I felt both Jasper and Reed’s eyes on me.
Why I even bothered with food was beyond me; my stomach was wound tight that I doubted I’d be able to keep anything down.
And when I didn’t think it could get any worse, my mother started flirting. She was laughing so hard at what Reed was saying, I was surprised she didn’t give herself a hernia.
I knew I needed to push on through the cringe, but it was tough. As I mentioned earlier, kill me, kill me now.
REED
She looked like a fucking angel. Storm's tits were pressed against the golf dress she wore, begging for my hands. Her hair was also in a ponytail again, bringing back steamy images of how I would wrap it around my fist while she sucked me off.
Taking my eyes off her for a second as she sat on the opposite side of the table, I drew my head back to what her father was saying. He’d demanded I call him Dominic, and I was only too happy to oblige, seeing how that pissed her fiancé off even more.
“I must say, you’re a natural, Reed.” he then turned to his wife, who was looking at me like I was her next meal. “He’s never played a full round before. It was a sight to see. We soon drew the crowds.”
Storm’s mom had a similar appearance to her daughter, but much more buttoned-up and snooty. I’d always thought so. She was the type of woman who would probably eat a banana with a knife and fork.
Rachel Summer’s mouth curved in a sultry way as she said, “I can imagine you draw the crowds wherever you go, Mr. Prescott.” Would it be weird asking her to call me Reed, bearing in mind—I’d been inside every one of her daughter’s holes?
I decided against it. I’d almost blown my cover from the get-go when Phoenix had pissed me off by asking if I knew which fork to use.
I’d been fidgeting with the cutlery out of nerves, and the event was hardly silver fucking service.
“It’s only brunch dickhead,” I’d grunted under my breath. To which he’d replied.
“Just saying, at the table, you were never very good with your hands.”
My snappy comeback hadn’t been appreciated.
“Why don’t we ask your sister how good I was with my hands?
” This had caused Nix to start choking on his eggs and Storm to shoot me one of her death glares.
The type she only ever polished for me. Thankfully, Jasper hadn’t heard: his head was probably too far up his own ass to take anything else in.
He’d tried to give me a few tips during our game, bearing in mind that we were still in the lead at that point.
The smarmy bastard. I’d rather set myself on fire than ever take pointers from a guy who was a total dickwad.
And to think I’d had every intention of playing nice: the kind of bullshit I usually despised.
I tuned back into what Dominic was saying, hiding my smile. Storm’s expression said that she wanted my head on a stick.
“You should come to the Gala next weekend. It’s a charity function to raise money; your presence would increase the number of guests, I’m sure. What do you think?” Summers said with a keen expression.
“I can’t imagine a charity function is the scene of a football star, surely not?” Jasper said. Big words, answering for me, considering I’d just handed him his ass on the green.
Shrugging, I questioned. “What makes you say that?”
“Won’t you be out partying at the weekend?”
I smiled, keeping a polite expression on my face and turning to Summers. “Sorry, Sir. I’ve been ordered to keep a low profile in the press. Just until everything is finalized with the trade.”
The man wasn’t having it. “But surely, your presence at a fundraiser would only make the Patriots look good.”
“It isn’t about that at the minute. We don’t get to pick and choose what we attend. The team’s PR would need to speak with my PR. There’s a whole lot of backwards and forwards before I can officially attend any event that may have media coverage.”
Jasper decided to pipe up at that moment. “So, you’re a bit like a puppet then. You must do what the club tells you?” The stupid, ignorant asshole. I may have been a star, but playing football was still a job, and all jobs had bosses. What the hell was his problem?
My eyes drilled into his. “Of course, to a certain extent. We’re all accountable to someone, aren’t we?”
He grunted with a sour look and tucked back into the shit he was eating.
Mr. Summers, who must have picked up on the animosity, cleared his throat and added.
“Well, you should come anyway. Incognito? There are some great prizes to bid for.” I almost agreed, knowing that Storm would be there, but I also knew she’d be there with that cocksucker.
The one I wished would choke on that green fucking mush he was spooning into his mouth.
I was torn, as my being there would piss Jasper off, but I knew it was a bad idea.
“Sorry, Sir. I need to train. Coach wants to go through some film studies on tactics.”
“Tactics,” the guy I wanted to put in a choke hold started up again. “It’s football. Surely you just run as fast as you and slam into each other?”
“Jasper. Stop busting the guy's balls just because he thrashed us on the fairway.”
I ignored Dominic’s lame attempt to save me as Rachel Summer cleared her throat, displeased by her husband's crude language.
“My apologies, ladies. Anyway, Reed, if you change your mind, let us know.”
“It’s not going to happen. Sorry, sir.” At that moment, the desire to go to his silly fucking Gala powered through me.
Jasper had the balls to smile and comment. “I am sure it wouldn’t be your scene anyway.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Phoenix elbowed me in the fucking ribs.
During the rest of the meal, which was a mix of brunch from the main menu, the banter flowed. Most of it was directed at the league and me. Eventually, the conversation switched to golf handicaps, which I had zero interest in. Thankfully, the service was like light speed.
Phoenix and I had chosen steak and eggs.
Summers and his wife had steak with salad (accompanied by a side of an entire bottle of wine, chosen by her son-in-law).
So, what if he could pair the right wine with steak?
That didn’t make him a fucking superhero.
I imagined the prick cracked that same shitty knock-knock joke he delivered on the fairway every time he met new people; the unoriginal fuck.
Jasper had a woman’s dish of smashed avocado on toast with new potatoes: your typical pompous meal, and Storm opted for an egg white omelette, which she just seemed to push around her plate.
I remember her cooking an omelette for me when we were together.
That shit tasted like feet. Storm couldn’t cook to save her life.
As everyone had almost finished and the servers came to take our coffee order, her dish was just a plate of goo. I could see she was struggling with my being there, and I loved it.
Over me are you, sweetheart? I don’t fucking think so.
As he placed his knife and fork down, a man appeared beside Dominic Summers and spoke into his ear.
Summers’ face went bright purple, and he pushed to his feet, apologizing and saying he needed to take a call.
Storm was staring down at her goo, and Jasper and Nix stopped talking.
I had been pretending to listen for the most part and slyly watching Storm when her fiancé's head was turned. As Storm’s father walked away, her mother, Rachel, watched her husband go with a suspicious eye.
She, too, then excused herself and raced after him, taking her wine glass with her, full, I might add. Had Storm’s mother always been a lush?
When Nix glanced back from watching his father and stepmother rush away, I opened my mouth to ask if everything was OK, but was distracted.
Our female server from earlier appeared to be facing the wrath of Storm.
Her nametag said, Sally. She was standing at the end of the table by Storm and Jasper, wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, the coffee machine is broken. I have espresso or instant.”
Storm physically recoiled, staring up at the girl with blatant displeasure, “I don’t do instant coffee, I’m afraid, I’m not an animal.
” I bit my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing.
Storm Summers was still every bit the entitled princess, but fuck me, I still loved the blue-blooded bitch as much as I did before I left.
I looked away from the adorable look of horror on her face with a chuckle, and Nix cut me a look.
“Espresso will be fine,” Jasper suddenly added for her with an annoyed expression.
I did not appreciate the fact that he had ordered for her.
Again, my Middle Ages comment I had muttered when I’d found out about their sham of an engagement came to the surface of my mind. Fuck I needed to tell her I knew.
The snort left my mouth before I could stop it, and Nix elbowed me beneath the table, again.
“Is something wrong?” Jasper muttered.
Frowning, I motioned towards Storm with one hand. “I just think the lady can probably order for herself.”
Storm’s fiancé's face became stony before he shrugged and added. “She dithers. I was being helpful.”
“Really? I’ve known Storm a lot longer than you, and I’ve never seen her dither. In fact, out of everyone I know, Storm is the one person who has always known exactly what she wants.”
“Reed,” Nix said in warning. Storm went to comment, but at that moment, it was just me and dickhead.
“And what’s that, since you know my fiancée so well?” The intensity of the extended eye contact Jasper was daring to make: the ballsiness of it made my fists itch.