CHAPTER 1
GRAYDON
Three…two…one…
I drop the battle ropes to the ground, my shoulders burning. “Fuck!” I yell as my hands fall to my hips and I walk off the fatigue from the physical exertion I just put myself through.
“Jesus, man. I think the seagulls out on the bay just heard that.”
Hutton Marshall, wide receiver for the Foghorns, and the only glimmer of hope for the offense, hands me my water bottle.
I squirt some water into my mouth and continue to pace, letting my shoulders take a break after a grueling workout.
“Any reason you seem like you’re ready to rip someone’s head off?”
I pick up a white towel with the Foghorns logo printed on it and wipe away the sweat dripping down my face, neck, and chest.
Turning to him, I ask, “Does your contract state that you can’t be forced into any mandatory public appearances with the team?”
“Doesn’t everybody’s?” he asks, as if it’s a dumb question. “And if I’m required to show up, I’m compensated. Why? Is that not in your contract?”
I shake my head, already dreaming up the email that fires my agent. “No, it’s not,” I growl before squirting more water in my mouth. “Which is why I have to go to the fucking zoo today for some new initiative to make the team look better.”
“Wait…what?” he asks.
“Apparently, the owners of the Foghorns, Bombers, and Rogue came up with a bullshit plan to create a sense of community with the sports teams here, and I’m the lucky motherfucker who was picked for the job.”
“Shit.” He chuckles, which makes me shoot a glare his way. At six foot five and two hundred and eighty-eight pounds of rock-hard muscle, I’m not a fucker to be messed with. “I mean, uh…dude, that sucks. Can’t your agent get you out of it?”
“No, he’s the dickhead who got me into this mess.”
And sure, I told him to lock me in with the Foghorns with a no-trade clause so I could remain here for the longevity of my career, but Jesus Christ, I didn’t mean give away all my goddamn rights.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m going to a fucking zoo today.”
He winces. “By yourself?”
I shake my head and move toward the mats, where I grab a band and start stretching my sore muscles. “No. There are two dickheads from the Bombers and the Rogue coming too.”
“Is it Asher Peppers?” Hutton asks. “I went to school with him at Brentwood. When I moved back here, I tried meeting up with him, but he’s been a recluse.”
“No, some new kid. He didn’t speak once the entire time. Bennett Brinkman.”
“Oh yeah, he’s the third baseman. Fucking killer of an arm. He has potential to be a franchise player.”
“How do you know this?” I ask.
“I pay attention to what’s going on in our city. Doesn’t hurt to make friends with people other than me, you know?”
“I’m barely friends with you.”
He clutches his chest. “You wound me, man.” He helps me stretch my hamstrings as I lie back and he pushes at my ankle. “Who’s the other guy?”
I roll my eyes. “Some clown who’s going to test me.”
A smile creeps over his mouth. “Is it Oden O’Connor?”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
He chuckles. “He’s the only Rogue player I could think of who’d be even slightly marketable to the public.
The rest of the team are a bunch of assholes, castaways, and players who are too much of a problem to deal with.
The owners put them all on the same team.
It’s going to be a recipe for disaster, and I can’t fucking wait to watch it play out. ”
“Well, he’s a moron.”
“I’ve seen his socials; he’s more…lighthearted. He came from the Vancouver Agitators. I remember the uproar around the trade. I don’t think the dude has a fighting chance on that team. They’re going to eat him up.”
“Why did they sign him if he’s not like the others?” I ask, hating my curiosity because the less I know about the other guys, the better.
“Because they needed someone fast and someone who could score; he was the one.”
“Well, he seems like a tool.”
I switch legs and Hutton pushes at my heel, almost giving me more of a stretch than I can handle, but I breathe it out.
“So what do you think you’re going to do at the zoo?” he asks.
“No fucking idea, but I can tell you one thing I won’t be doing.”
“Making friends?”
“That and picking up animal shit.”
“They’re not going to have you do that. If anything, they’ll probably take pictures of you holding your arm out while a bird rests on you. People will think it’s cute and then you move on with your life. Seriously, this public appearance shit is a breeze. Show up, smile, move on.”
“Yeah, I fucking hope so.”
Gretchen Michaels: Reminder: You’re expected to smile, take pictures, and sign anything held your way. You are yes-men, you’re there to help, show interest, and attempt to look like God’s gift to San Francisco. Any other behavior, and you’ll be fined by your respective teams.
I stare down at the text and hold back a growl. I don’t think I’ve ever hated a woman the way I hate her.
Sign everything held my way?
That’s easy for her to say. She doesn’t have to protect the value of her autograph. I barely sign anything now unless it’s for a kid because I learned from Daddy Dearest to limit autographs as much as possible. Looks like that’s about to change.
Grumbling, I open the door to my truck and heft my sore body onto the paved concrete of the back lot of the zoo. Luckily, they allowed us the option of private parking to avoid any run-ins with fans.
As I lock up my truck, I glance down at the two text messages waiting to be opened.
One from Gretchen…and one from my dad.
Gretchen: Meet up at Gate B, your zookeeper and Phil will be waiting for you.
Next I pull up the text from my dad as my shoulders tense just from his name popping up on my screen.
Troy St. John: Don’t let this zoo situation distract you from what the hell you’re really supposed to be doing. You need to be focused, because I’ll be damned if you embarrass me.
What a fuckwit.
As if I fucking care what he thinks.
Pocketing my phone, I start to head toward the gate but spot Oden O’Connor standing directly in front of me.
“Jesus,” I say, taking a step back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Thought we could walk in together.”
I adjust my black shirt before moving past him and saying, “I’m good.”
“You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says as he matches my stride. “Trust me, this is the last fucking thing I want to do as well.”
Ignoring him, I keep pushing forward toward the green gate marked with a B.
“And it might not hurt to, I don’t know, communicate since we’re in this together.”
“You can fuck off,” I say, reaching the gate just as it opens, with Gretchen and Bennett standing on the other side.
“You’re late,” Gretchen says.
“The fuck I am,” I say. “I’m five minutes early.”
“Which means you’re late. I wanted you here at least ten minutes early.”
Who the fuck does she think she is?
“Then maybe you should say that,” I shoot back, really not in the mood for her sass, or anyone’s for that matter.
I’m a moody dick as it is, but put me in a situation I don’t want to be in and you make me almost unbearable.
She purses her lips and gives me a slow once-over as she juts her hip out, looking to put me in my place. “Might I remind you about the attitude you’re supposed to have at these outings?”
“We’re still backstage,” I say. “Out of the public eye.”
“But there are employees all around.” She clenches her teeth. “So plaster a smile on that disgruntled face of yours and act the part.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch OC smirk, which of course makes me want to smack him right into the fence, but I hold back the urge, creating another layer of tension that tightens my shoulders.
“Follow me, boys.” In her pencil skirt, she leads the way through the back area of the zoo.
Dirty golf carts are lined up one right after the other, while dumpsters, shovels, wheelbarrows, and bins flank the sides of the worn-down, paint-chipped buildings.
Seems like they only put their money into the publicly viewed spaces.
We zigzag through some alleyways and then pass through the door of a large building with a thatched roof. Impractical, but also not my problem.
When we enter, a balding man in a navy blue suit with an annoyingly cheery disposition greets us. His eyes light up with excitement as we approach—he’s clearly a fan despite our terrible reputations.
Gretchen clears her throat and says, “I would like you to meet Phil Foreman. He’s the VP of public relations at the zoo.
We’ve spent a great deal of time on the phone and he can’t be more excited to have you three here, helping and bringing more awareness to the zoo.
Phil, please meet Bennett, Oden, and Graydon. ”
Phil steps forward and shakes our hands. I offer him a curt smile and try to erase the permanent scowl from my forehead.
“What an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Phil says as he clasps his hands together in front of him. “When Gretchen proposed the idea of having you come out and help around the zoo, I must say, I squealed in excitement.”
Squealed?
Who says—
“I might have squealed myself,” OC says, rocking on his heels. “Love animals.”
Oh, that’s who.
What a fucking kiss-ass. Jesus, and he thought we were going to be friends and commiserate? Not going to fucking happen.
“Then you’re in the right place,” Phil says. He turns to Gretchen and asks, “Have you informed them of what they’ll be doing?”
Gretchen shakes her head and smiles. “I thought I’d give you that honor.”
“Oh, wonderful. Well then, follow me.”
Follow him?
Why does this feel like a setup?
He leads us out of the building and straight into the main area of the zoo. I half expected a media session with cameras and a photo opportunity, but instead, he offers us a seat on a three-row golf cart.
Huh, maybe the media opportunity is somewhere else.
Since I’m the biggest guy here, I hop on the back of the golf cart on the rear-facing seat, only for OC to slide in right next to me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snarl at him, trying to move my shoulder away from his.
“Catching a ride. Not going to fucking walk next to the golf cart.”
“Sit next to that Phil guy,” I reply, wanting to spread my goddamn legs.
“There’s a cooler up there.”
“Are we fighting?” Gretchen asks, turning around from where she’s seated next to Bennett.
“Nope,” I say as I try to move my body as close to my side as possible, but I feel like a sardine next to OC. The guy isn’t as big as me, but he’s still fucking huge, and I’m sure it’s a comical sight watching us try to fit into this golf cart together.
“Hold on,” Phil says as he starts the golf cart and pushes forward. “Whoa, this baby has probably never carried around this amount of muscle.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as we move through the zoo, onlookers pointing as we drive by.
Camera phones point at us.
Visitors gawk.
And I can feel my defenses rising.
I’m already uncomfortable.
And it’s been five minutes.
Phil pulls up shortly to another building and puts the golf cart in park. When he hops out, he gestures to us to follow him behind a fence, out of the public eye.
Once again, there’s no media anywhere.
What the hell is going on?
We gather around, OC standing next to me, Bennett next to him, and Gretchen tapping away on her phone as Phil clasps his hands together looking like a proud motherfucker about to deliver us delightful news.
My guess is, I’m about to despise what comes out of his mouth.
Clearing his throat, he smiles at us. “This is an opportunity we never thought we’d secure, so to have you three here means so much to the board of directors, our staff, and most importantly, our animals.
” Yeah, because animals can sense three celebrity athletes in the confines of their captivity.
“Since Gretchen didn’t break the news to you, I’ll bring you up to speed.
” Irritation creeps up my neck because I can feel it; I know it’s coming.
This is not going to be an easy media day.
No, I think I’m about to be sentenced. “For the next two months, you will be the official liaisons for the zoo, focusing with zookeepers on a specific animal to raise awareness, generate funds, and create a habitat that enriches the visitors’ experience. ”
The fuck did he just say?
Did he just say two months?
Two fucking months?
“Wait, two months?” I ask as Gretchen tears her eyes off her phone and stares me down, a warning in the form of a devil’s gaze.
“Yes, I know, we wish it was longer too,” Phil replies.
Not what I was getting at.
“But you are welcome to help out longer once you become acquainted. It will probably be hard to step away once you get into the swing of things and start interacting with the animals.”
Trust me, I’m willing to step away right fucking now.
Phil rubs his hands together. “I know what you must be thinking…”
I hope my agent burns in hell—that’s what I’m thinking.
“What animal are you going to be assigned to? Well, this is the best part.” He pauses for effect, as if we’re waiting for the results with uncontained glee. Between the three of us jackasses, my money is on OC to actually be excited.
“Bennett, you’ll be with the lions.”
I glance at Bennett, who nods with a soft smile. Such a newbie; life as a professional athlete hasn’t scarred him yet.
“Oden, you’ll be with the giraffes.”
“I fucking love giraffes,” OC says with way too much pep.
“Language,” Gretchen warns.
“Right. Sorry.”
“And Graydon…” He pauses, and I swear, for a fucking second, I can see an evil glint in his eye. Like what he’s about to say is a part of some master plan to piss me off. “We paired you with the flamingos.”
Flamingos?
OC snorts next to me.
The corner of Bennett’s lip turns up.
And Gretchen doesn’t even bother hiding her delight.
He’s kidding, right?
I have to be paired with fucking flamingos?
For two months?
“Flamingos? Really?” I ask.
Phil nods. “Yes…flamingos.”
No.
Fucking.
Way.