Chapter 11 #2
She lays her hand on my knee, making me recoil. “Jameson, it’s fine. I won’t tell my uncle we hooked up if you won’t.”
“Remove your hand,” I say quietly through clenched teeth. Her eyes widen, but she does what I’ve asked. “You will keep your hands to yourself tonight, or I will talk to Coach about how disrespectful you were. This is not a date. There will be no hooking up. Are we clear?”
“Jeez, fine. God,” she grumbles. “Would have been nice if he’d asked a player without a giant stick up his ass, but okay.”
As we pull up to the venue, I turn to her. “I don’t have a stick up my ass. You don’t know anything about me. I just prefer to have consent when interacting with a woman. If I touched you when you didn’t expect it, or didn’t want it, I’d be crucified. Same should be true for me, right?”
“Oh, come on. You’re being ridiculous,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “No professional athlete says no to a hot girl. Not even the married ones.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, as I open the door. “I don’t know any married athletes that would say yes to another woman.”
A venue employee waits beside a side door, motioning for us to walk through.
I had the foresight to call ahead and request we not enter through the front.
Many of these events will have some kind of red carpet where local news, and sometimes national publications, will take photos.
Not a chance in hell am I allowing one damn picture to be out there of me with this woman.
I can already tell Tessa would love her fifteen minutes of fame, probably do interviews herself, and blatantly lie about the entire night.
“Where are the paparazzi?” Tessa asks, proving my point.
“In the front,” I answer.
“Why didn’t we go in that way?” she pouts.
“Because we aren’t here for that. Again, this isn’t a date. You clearly aren’t here for the charity. I’ll introduce you to some teammates once we’re inside.”
“Really?” she says, her voice much perkier. “Do I get to veto anyone?”
“Nope.”
“You know, this is exactly why my uncle chose you. You’re boring as fuck.”
As we’re guided into a large ballroom, I turn to Tessa, lowering my voice. “I won’t introduce you to any of my married friends, or anyone in a relationship. I’ll introduce you to the single ones who will be fine with a one night stand. Sound good?”
“Maybe I’m interested in a relationship.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Are you?”
Tessa huffs as she visibly deflates. “No. But I don’t like you insinuating I’m a slut.”
“You said you wouldn’t tell your uncle that we hooked up. At that point, I’d barely said two words to you. You knew nothing about me except for my job, and how I look.”
“Well, I’m not a slut.” Chin up in defiance, her eyes have a sheen of tears in them, and I immediately feel awful.
“Alright. In the future, don’t suggest sex right when meeting someone. And make sure the man shows interest before you touch him.” Then I say something I’m even surprised comes out of my mouth. “I don’t like being touched unless I know it’s coming.”
Tessa’s mouth drops open. “Seriously? How do you play football? It’s all touching!”
“Because I know what to expect then. And I’m desensitized to it after playing it for thirty years. It’s a sensory thing.”
“Wow. Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You’re right, I should have been more cognizant of how you might feel about things.
” In my periphery, I see her chewing on her lip, and her hands are clasped tightly against her abdomen.
The facade she wore in the car is gone, and I finally see a young woman who got a little too excited about tonight.
“Thank you for apologizing. Now let’s get in there. Coach said there was a silent auction. Did he at least give you his credit card?”
She giggles. “He did. He told me to try and be practical, but that seems like a subjective word. What does practical mean? In the eye of the beholder and all that.”
I chuckle as I beckon for her to lead the way. “Let’s go spend your uncle’s money.”
Two hours later, I’m slightly buzzed as I hang with Maddox.
Tessa has flitted all around the ballroom, making friends wherever she goes, and has bid on just about every item available.
She bid on a Michelin starred restaurant meal for two, a weekend trip to Vail, a hot air balloon ride in Colorado Springs, and a behind-the-scenes brewery tour.
I bid on a suite for Wolves games, a vacation home in Aspen, snowboarding lessons, and a set of cooking lessons in your home.
“Does Coach know his niece gets around?” Maddox asks.
“Doubtful. He told me he didn’t want her getting with an athlete, but she insinuated I’m not the first one she’s been around.” I take a long pull off my beer as I relax back against the wall.
“Murray told me about her,” he says, referencing one of the defensive ends on our team. “Said he met her out clubbing one night. She only dropped Coach’s name after he’d already taken her home.”
I wince. “How do we handle this? Tell him point-blank that she’s trouble?”
Maddox shrugs. “I don’t know. Sure am glad I’m not you, though.”
Another one of our friends joins us where we’re leaning against a wall. Max Callahan, a recent trade to the Major League Baseball team here, the Rocky Mountain Raptors, sighs as he surveys the room. All glower and growl, Max and I met through our shared agent. “I fucking hate these things.”
“Why are you here then?” I ask.
“Because Troy told me to go. The season just started, and fans don’t seem to like me.”
“Shocking,” Maddox drawls, and Max snarls at him. “What? You mean this sunny disposition isn’t sitting well with fans?”
“Guess not. It’s all bullshit. Fans back in San Diego loved me.”
I laugh. “No, they didn’t. But they put up with you because you kept hitting home runs.”
“And you haven’t hit one here yet,” Maddox adds, before looking at me. “Isn’t there some kind of thing about balls going farther in high altitude?”
“That is true,” I answer. “But our boy Max here hasn’t actually made contact with the ball yet.”
“Dayum,” Maddox whistles. “You ever gone a month without an RBI, Maxy?”
“No,” Max growls, “and don’t even think for one second you can call me Maxy.”
I hear a high-pitched cackle, and turn to see where it came from. “Crap. Does she look drunk to you? I told her not to get wasted. Coach even told her not to drink.”
“This isn’t a good look,” Maddox murmurs.
We all push off the wall, silently on the same page as we stride toward where Tessa hangs on Damian Scott, a rookie on the basketball team.
Damian looks less than thrilled with the situation, but Tessa is blissfully clueless.
Multiple empty glasses are scattered on the table, but Damian holds a longneck bottle of Coors in his hand.
My assumption that Tessa is drunk is most likely correct.
“Tessa,” I say sharply, when we reach them. Her glazed eyes slowly meet mine. “Remember what I said about confirming consent before touching someone?”
“Oh, Heyyyy! It’s my favorite ass stick!” she exclaims happily.
Brow furrowed, I stare at her. “Your what?”
“Ass stick. Stick ass. Something. I don’t know. You got something so far up your butt you can’t loosen up. Hence, the asssss stick.” Suddenly, she gasps. “Oh my God! Are you gay? Do you like the ass stick?”
“Jesus Christ,” Maddox mutters behind me, as Damian muffles a snicker.
I am not amused. “Not gay, Tessa. Just not interested in you.”
“Well!” she harrumphs. “I’ll have you know I’m a fucking tiger in bed, Mr. Ass Stick Ass. You wouldn’t even know what to do with me. I could rock. Your. Fucking. World.” She pokes my chest hard with every word, her entire body swaying.
“Okay, I think it’s time for you to —” I say, but I’m interrupted.
“Excuse me.”
I look over my shoulder to find a couple looking very displeased. “I’m getting her out of here.”
“Yes, well, you should leave too. We don’t need your kind making a mockery of this entire event,” the man says with a sneer as he glares at us. How a man five inches shorter than me manages to look down his nose at me, I’ll never understand.
“Our kind?” Maddox growls.
“The fuck?” Max adds.
“Yes. Your kind. Please leave.”
Tessa takes the opportunity to grab onto the lapels of my tuxedo jacket. “Oh, please. The only reason there are cameras here is because of these guys, you dusty old fuckers.”
The couple gasp in outrage. “The disrespect!”
Tessa cackles again, and I notice many heads turning our way. “We’ll leave, it’s fine.”
“No!” Tessa shouts, teetering in her stilettos, and she grabs onto my shirt. “They are the dissspectful ones. They need to ‘pologize to you. No one dissspects my man!”
Fuck me.
Can this get any worse?
Yes. Yes, it can.
Because the next thing I hear absolutely stops my heart.
“Jamie? You have a girlfriend?”