Chapter 2
Tanner – a man who has no desire to be taken seriously
Tanner
I make my way to the table where my teammates, Gage, Nolan, Brock, and Corbin, are sitting with the offensive coordinator for the Seals, Coach Knox.
I wave the bottle at them. “It’s moonshine. The bartender insisted we try it.”
Brock snorts. “Insisted? Or gave you the bottle to get you out of her hair?”
I feign flipping my hair over my shoulder. “She was smitten.”
Coach Knox barks out a laugh. “Smitten?”
“It means to be strongly attracted to someone.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Usually me.”
Nolan chuckles. “Attracted to your money is more like it.”
“Don’t get snippy with me because you got turned down last night.”
He narrows his eyes at me, but before he has a chance to respond, the lights flash and the bartender jumps onto the stage. I forget all about the quarterback and his pathetic love life as I study her.
I thought she was cute with her long brown hair and light blue eyes before. But now that she’s standing on the stage, I can drink in her lean, long body. She’s tall, which I appreciate since I’m over six-foot-three. And she’s lean with slight curves. My mouth waters at her perky breasts.
Her light blue eyes I want to drown in sparkle. “Are you ready for some Mermaid Karaoke?”
The crowd cheers.
“Single ladies! It’s time to don your fins and sparkles. Can you catch a smuggler? You’ll need some serious chops.” She motions to the woman at the side of the stage. “To start us off, our very own Smuggler’s Hideaway native, Addy.”
She hands the microphone to Addy and jumps off the stage. I wave her over. “This is the bartender...”
“Alaia,” she fills in.
I smile at her. “Alaia, do you want to drink a shot with us?”
She shrugs before grabbing the bottle of moonshine and pouring us shots. She lifts her glass into the air. “Here’s to the bootleggers. Masters of the sneaky sips and secret stashes. Thanks for keeping the party alive.”
“To the bootleggers!” we shout.
Holy cow. My throat burns from the moonshine. I barely manage not to cough the way the rest of the team does.
Alaia waves before marching off. I’m not letting her get away that easily. I stand to follow her.
Before I catch up to her, my phone rings. I dig it out of my pocket – intent on hitting ignore – but swear when I read the display. Sam calling.
Shit. My agent is not happy with me. What am I supposed to do? Ask for identification each and every time I snap naked pictures with someone?
“Sam, my man,” I answer the phone.
He grunts. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re in deep trouble.”
I blow out a breath. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t reach out to listen to your fake apologies.” I wince. My apologies aren’t fake – usually.
“Why did you reach out?”
“To warn you.”
My heart hammers in my chest. Is it time? Was he unable to hide the news from the press? He promised he could for at least a few months. Is my time up?
“About?”
“If you get in trouble on this island, I’m dropping you.”
I gulp. “Dropping me?”
“I will no longer be your agent.”
“But you’ve been my agent for nearly a decade.”
“And I’m tired of all your bullshit. I spend more time dealing with your scandals than all of my other clients combined.”
He also makes a shitload of money off me, but I keep my mouth shut. Reminding him of how much he earns from working for me isn’t going to help this situation.
“I’ll behave.”
“I’m serious, Tanner. I don’t want to hear about one disgruntled woman or you streaking through the downtown or stealing someone’s car for fun.”
I scowl. “Women are never disgruntled with me.”
“Tanner Long! I’m serious. I don’t want a whiff of a scandal, or this relationship is over.”
“Aye! Aye! Captain.”
“Good,” he mutters and hangs up.
I stuff my phone in my pocket and hang my head. Sam is an insufferable ass who doesn’t hesitate to give me crap. But if he’s no longer my agent…if this scandal erupts…it could mean the end of my career. Football is the only thing I excel at. The only thing I want to do.
I make my way to the bar and find an empty stool. I motion to Alaia.
She stands in front of me. “What’ll it be, darling?”
I force myself to smirk. “A shot of moonshine.”
She frowns as she studies me. “What’s wrong?”
“What could possibly be wrong? I’m sitting in a bar filled with beautiful women dressed as mermaids.”
“And yet you look like someone kicked your puppy.”
“I don’t have a puppy.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “What’s going on, Long?”
“Uh oh. You gave me the last name treatment. It must be serious.”
“Enough with the joking. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You don’t know me.”
No one knows me. Not the real me. “Everyone thinks I’m having fun all the time,” I mutter. “Gets exhausting after a while.”
Alaia edges closer. “What’s exhausting?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. I’m your bartender. Anything you tell me is covered by bartender-drinker confidentiality.”
I laugh. “Bartender-drinker confidentiality?”
“Yep. It’s a real thing.”
Her colleague shakes his head behind her. “Don’t believe her. She’s the island’s biggest gossip.”
Alaia gasps. “I am not.”
Her colleague lifts his eyebrow. “And you don’t write The Siren’s Spill either.” Alaia glares at him until he lifts his hands and backs away.
“What’s The Siren’s Spill?”
Alaia rolls her eyes. “It’s a gossip column I write once a month for the Smuggler’s Gazette.”
I rear back. “You’re a gossip columnist?”
She scowls at me. “I’m a serious journalist.”
“Who happens to write a gossip column every month?”
She spits daggers out of her eyes at me. “Who happens to need the money from a gossip column to pay her rent.”
“Why don’t you write serious articles for money if you’re a serious journalist?”
“Why didn’t you catch the pass from Quarterback Allen during the playoff game?”
I raise my hands. “Point taken.”
“Good. Because I’d hate to ban you for the summer. There aren’t many places to drink on the island.”
I place a hand on my heart. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I totally would. Unless you tell me what’s wrong. Or are you going to drink away your sorrows?”
I wish I could confess to her. Tell her all of my sorrows. I don’t have a person to confide in. But she doesn’t care. She’s merely being nosey.
“Drink away my sorrows.”
She slams a bottle of moonshine on the bar in front of me. “I warn you. Enough shots of this and you’ll be spilling your secrets to me in no time.”
“Challenge accepted.”
She pours us each a shot and hands me one before raising her glass in the air. “To smugglers, bootleggers, rumrunners, and the mermaids who loved them!”
We clink glasses before I down my shot. It shouldn’t be possible, but this one burns more than the previous one.
“What the hell is this?” I sputter.
“Moonshine.” She winks.
“It doesn’t taste similar to any moonshine I’ve drunk before.”
“You’re not in Kansas anymore, Tanner Long.”
I motion to the room filled with women dressed up as mermaids. “Obviously not. Kansas is not obsessed with mermaids.”
“Poor Kansas.” She sighs. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
I hold my glass out to her. “Fill me up, bar wench.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Bar wench?”
“As in female server in a bar. Not a low-status servant or sexually promiscuous woman.”
Her mouth gapes open. “I don’t know what I’m more surprised by – you knowing the definition of bar wench or you understanding the word promiscuous.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”
She rakes her gaze over me. “Yes, there is.”
“Now do you want to give me your telephone number?”
She barks out a laugh. “You are a charmer, Tanner Long. Too bad for you, I’ve been bartending at Mermaid Karaoke since I was old enough to pour a beer. I learned awful quick how to spot the players.” She points at me. “And you, Mr. Wide Receiver, are a player.”
I shrug. I can’t deny it. Not when she obviously knows the truth about me. “We can be friends.”
She pours us new shots and raises her glass to mine. “Friends.”
I grin. “This is going to be fun.”
“You have a strange way of pronouncing trouble.”
“Follow me and I’ll show you how much fun trouble can be.”
She rolls her eyes before a customer yells her name and she hurries off. I stare at her ass as she sashays away. This summer is looking up.