Chapter 9
POPPY
“So, I heard a little rumor…”
I spin around from my locker to find Rodrigo standing right there, eyes huge behind his spectacles, eyebrows waggling up and down.
“Rodrigo!” I gasp, my gaze flitting side-to-side. “This is the ladies’ locker room…”
“Oh, pfft.” He waves a hand, rolling his eyes indulgently. “I’m more of a lady than half the whores around here.”
I bite back a smirk.
“So…” Rodrigo leans in, his smile knowing. “Brookes Devereaux, huh?”
I quickly turn back to my locker in a pathetic attempt at trying to hide the truth. Looking at my reflection in the small mirror on the inside of my locker door, I slide my sun visor on, making sure it doesn’t ruin the sleek ponytail that just took me forever to secure.
“What about him?” I shrug a shoulder, opting to play dumb.
“Victoria overheard Peter tell Richie that Joshua said Brookes beat the hell out of a bunch of drunk D-bags on the twelfth green because they were hassling you, and that you’re his girlfriend!”
“Oh my God.” I laugh because honestly, the way gossip travels around this place, it’s like being back in middle school. Turning, I meet Rodrigo’s dubious stare. “No, Brookes did not beat the hell out of anyone, but he did tell them to back off.”
“Oh.” Rodrigo looks deflated at the lack of dramatics.
But, since this is actually happening, and, as of right now, I’m under contract as Brookes’ fake girlfriend, I offer a small, slightly coy smile.
“And, yes. Brookes and I are…” I trail off because, for the record, I’m possibly the worst liar ever to exist and, in hindsight, maybe agreeing to be someone’s fake girlfriend was a terrible idea.
“Oh!” Rodrigo shrieks, covering his mouth with his hands, his eyes nearly bugging out of their respective sockets. “I knew it!” he mutters from behind his palms, one eye narrowing suspiciously. “When I saw you two in the parking lot last night, I knew something was going on.”
All I can do is smile, tugging nervously at the hem of my polo shirt.
“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” Rodrigo groans, but then catches himself, holding a hand to his chest as he says, “It’s okay that I say that, right?”
“It’s fine.” I laugh. And it’s the truth.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find Brookes Devereaux attractive.
He’s kind of everything—tall, muscular, tattooed, eyes that resemble a clear August sky…
that kind of everything. The whole package.
But he’s also my pseudo boss right now, so I turn back to my locker to grab my ID card, avoiding Rodrigo’s unwavering stare.
“So, is it true?”
“Is what true?” I ask, looping my ID lanyard over my head and grabbing my water bottle
“The monster cock rumor?”
“What?” Startled by his question, I drop my water bottle, the metal clanging loudly against the tile.
Rodrigo picks the bottle up for me, handing it over, his eyebrows dancing up and down yet again. “Does he really have a monster cock?”
My cheeks flame as I try to muddle my way through a response. “I-I… It’s new… I don’t know… y-yet.”
“Oh, girl. I think you’re in for quite a surprise.” Rodrigo pulls his phone from his pocket, and before I can even prepare myself, he’s thrusting the screen in my face.
Rearing back, I’m forced to blink a few times before finally coming to enough to see a zoomed-in image of a khaki covered crotch, with a penis-shaped outline that, in Rodrigo’s defense, could only be described as a monster… cock.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, unable to hide my shock and, frankly, my horror.
“Yeah,” Rodrigo says with a smirk, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Better start doing your Kegels, girl.”
“Poppy?”
I jump at my name being called, turning to see my manager, Carrie, standing in the doorway to the locker room. Carrie’s face falls when she notices Rodrigo.
“I was just leaving,” Rodrigo sing-songs, tucking his phone back into his pocket and flashing me a conspiratorial wink before skulking past Carrie with a rueful smile.
“Hey, sorry.” I hurry toward Carrie. “I know I’m a few minutes late, I—”
“You’re so fine!” Carrie interjects, her smile wide. And, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been on the receiving end of a Carrie smile, let alone a giddy one like this. But, of course, it has Brookes Devereaux’s name written all over it.
“Actually, I have your shift covered. You’re free to finish up now, girl.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Go spend time with that delicious man of yours.”
My eyebrows knit together, my smile wavering as I hesitate. “I… are you… sure?”
Carrie nods. “Yeah. Technically it’s a conflict of interest to have you working here now that you’re… dating a… member.”
“Who’s dating a member?”
I stiffen at the shrill sound of Kendall’s voice, concealing my grimace as best I can when she struts in, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder.
Next to her, her best friend and fellow cart girl, Julie-Anne, smiles from me to Carrie and back again, her blue gaze doing a slow, slightly shrewd assessment of me.
“Well, Poppy, of course!” Carrie boasts, grabbing me and showing me off like I’m her favorite employee despite saying no more than a handful of words to me in the year that I’ve been working here.
“You’re dating a member?” Kendall asks, her tone less than pleasant.
I nod, swallowing around the lump wedged in the back of my throat, my smile wavering.
“Who?” She casts a glance at Julie-Anne, the two sharing a knowing smirk. “Bobby Atkins?”
My teeth grit. For the record, they’re being assholes.
Assuming the only member who could possibly be interested in dating me is Bobby Atkins, who is shorter than my five-feet-two-inches with a husky build, who is, in fact, a really nice guy, just obviously not up to their level of hotness, or so it seems.
“Oh, girls,” Carrie chides half-heartedly with a laugh, playfully smacking Kendall’s arm. “No. Poppy’s dating Brookes Devereaux.”
I watch as both Kendall and Julie-Anne’s jaws fall to the floor in sync, both of them gaping at me, eyes wide, Julie-Anne even has a vein popping in her forehead. For a moment I’m worried she might be on the verge of an aneurism.
“B-Brookes… Devereaux?” Kendall says, slowly, like she might have misheard.
And, I can’t help myself. Normally I would never be so smug, so self-assured, but these girls are just so mean, through to their core. So, lifting my chin slightly higher, I offer an arrogant smile. “Yes.”
Unexpectedly, Julie-Anne suddenly bursts into tears, spinning around and running out of the locker room, her wailing sobs fading off down the corridor, and quirking a brow, I look from Kendall to Carrie and back again because what the hell just happened? “Is… she okay?”
Kendall scoffs, gawking at me like I’m the certifiable one. “Julie-Anne has been trying to catch Brookes’ attention ever since she started here. She even sent him nudes—” Snapping her mouth shut like she might have said too much, she places a hand on her hip, appearing to take a steadying breath.
Forcing a smile, she offers me another head-to-toe assessment, a look of doubt in her dark gaze as she practically spits, “Good for you, Poppy.” And with that, she spins and walks back out of the locker room with another flick of her silky black hair.
Carrie winks at me, mouthing the word jealous before turning and, with a wave, walking out of the room.
And, when it’s just me, I sag back against the wall and remove my visor, and, looking around the empty locker room I release a heavy breath realizing that no matter what, there’s no going back now; Kendall’s probably going live on one of her social media accounts and within minutes, the whole world will know that I am the woman who snagged the one and only Brookes Devereaux.
When I get back to the apartment earlier than normal, I’m relieved to find Simon is not there. I don’t like seeing him at the best of times, but I specifically do not want him here while I’m packing my bags to take to Brookes’ house.
I’m contracted with Brookes until October.
I don’t know why October, but that at least gives me a solid three months to save money and start looking for a place by the end of September.
And, since I have no desire to come back here, I decide to pack everything.
I don’t have a lot. Mostly clothes, a few framed photos, some books.
The bulk of my belongings is my earrings and the tools I use to make them, but everything is in bins so I have it stacked neatly in the corner of the room.
My phone shudders from the nightstand, and I reach for it, surprised to see Brookes’ contact on the notification screen.
Brookes: Looks like we’re official.
He’s included a link, and I click on it, my stomach knotting into a ball when I see a social media post from a well-known celebrity gossip account that shows a photo of Brookes mid-swing with the title: Golf’s Bad Boy Bachelor Off the Market?
I take a seat on the edge of the bed, reading the story that goes into detail, down to the fact that Brookes Devereaux is rumored to be in a relationship with a cart girl, my jaw falling open when I read a quote from an alleged source close to the professional sportsman.
“She’s not even that pretty.”
I glare at the words. Kendall, the bitch.
The story disappears, and in its place, Brookes’ contact flashes on the screen. And I contemplate not answering it. But, he’s my boss. So, with a quick breath, I slide to answer with a forced smile.
“Hey, Brookes.”
“You read the story, huh?”
“Of course I did,” I say. “I thought that was why you sent it to me.”
“Rule number one,” he says tersely. “Never read anything printed outside of Sports News Network or Hole in One dot com. Everything else is just trash concealed as journalism.”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing?”
I scan my room, taking in the mess I’ve made while packing. “Just getting my things together… to bring over to your place.”
“I can have it picked up by a moving company.”
“You overestimate me.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll be lucky to fill two boxes, a suitcase, and an overnight bag.”
“Poppy!”
I suck in a gasp, turning to the bedroom door. I locked it out of habit thank God, because Simon sounds… pissed. And I have a feeling I know why.
A fist pounds on the door, followed by a booming, “Poppy! Open up!”
“Poppy?” Brookes’ voice breaks through the thunder of my own pulse in my ears. “What’s going on?”
I collect myself enough to try and sound blasé when, in fact, I’m anything but. “Oh, it’s noth—”
“Poppy, open the fucking door!”
“Poppy, is that your ex?” Brookes asks, his voice low and steely.
“Can I call you back?”
“No, you cannot call me the fuck back,” Brookes guffaws. “What the hell is going on?”
“Just—hang on.” I hop up and, pressing my phone to my chest, I unlock the door and pull it open, glaring at Simon standing there, his face all red and splotchy, anger practically radiating from him.
“What is it?” I ask, as calmly as possible.
“What the fuck is this?” He shoves his phone right up in my face, and I’m forced to take a step back.
Sure enough, there, illuminated in front of me is yet another cringy gossip social media post, this one showing an actual photo of me—my Vista Palms staff ID photo, thanks a lot, Kendall—and a photo of Brookes, titled: Love on the Fairway.
“Well?” Simon presses impatiently, waving the phone in my face. “Is it true?”
“Yes…” I say with a shrug, hoping if I come across nonchalant and not at all as terrified as I am, he’ll give up. But Simon has a temper. He always has. He’s never hit me or anything, but he’s mean when he’s pissed.
“You’re dating this fucking guy?” He snorts a humorless laugh, his narrow-eyed glower looking me up and down, and I can practically see the meanness brewing in him.
“Yes.” I shrug again, because honestly, what more does he want. “In fact, I’m in the middle of packing to go over to his place right now, so if you don’t mind—” I try to close the door, but Simon slaps his hand again it, and I startle from the ferocity of the sound.
“Poppy!” Brookes’ muffled voice comes from the phone buried against my boobs, and Simon’s gaze flits to the device.
“That’s him?”
Ignoring Simon, I lift the phone to my ear. “Hey, I have to go… babe.” I almost grimace because I’m definitely not a babe kind of girl.
“This is a fucking joke. It’s got to be.” Simon laughs, but there’s little to no humor.
I ignore Simon again, telling Brookes, “I’ll be there soon.”
“You really think a guy like Brookes Devereaux wants to be with a fat pig like you?” Simon spits.
And, normally, jibes about my weight don’t affect me at all.
Especially from Simon. But the way he says it, accompanied by the look in his eyes when he says it, and the fact that, deep down, I know what he’s saying is true because Brookes Devereaux has already made it abundantly clear that the only reason he’s paying me to be his fake girlfriend is because there’s zero risk of him wanting to ever sleep with me, well… I’m only human.
“Brookes, I’ve gotta go.” I clear the pesky bubble of emotion that’s stuck in my throat.
“Poppy!” Brookes’ voice is low, gravelly and demanding.
“I’ll… I’ll be there soon.” I quickly end the call before anymore can be said.
“You’re pathetic,” Simon scoffs, shaking his head at me, his gaze scanning my room behind me. “And when he’s done with his… BBW kink… don’t think you can come crawling back here.”
Simon turns and I close the door, locking him out again. And then, as much as I hate myself for allowing his words to get to me, I turn and sag back against the door, sliding down to the floor and hugging my knees as my tears make their escape.