4. Jason Kingsley
Chapter four
Jason Kingsley
It’s probably weird that killing is therapeutic to me. But shooting down digital aliens is helping to lower my stress levels significantly–that, and the hilarious argument my friends are currently having.
“Golf is not harder than hockey.” Shaw’s voice sounds through my headset. “I can’t believe you’d even attempt to make this argument.”
“Just because it isn’t a contact sport doesn’t mean it’s not difficult,” Miles replies.
“Golf is difficult, sure, but not more than hockey,” I chime in.
“See? Jason agrees. You’re an idiot.”
I snort at Shaw’s insult.
“I didn’t say that,” I say through my laughter.
“We’re going to lose if y’all don’t focus,” Emmett gruffly speaks up for the second time tonight. The first was a short hello when he logged on. He’s not much of a talker. Or a video game enthusiast. Which means we must be doing pretty bad for him to notice. I look at our stats, and sure enough we’re way behind. We have twenty kills and we need fifty. The other team has thirty-eight .
The four of us–five, when our agent Brock decides to join–try to play Halo together as much as our schedules allow. It’s the best way to catch up on each other’s lives, or in most cases, argue over pointless things while trying not to lose. Since we all play professional sports, it can be hard to get together, but it’s always fun when we do.
“E.T.’s right,” Shaw says and I snicker. Emmett hates that nickname, but Shaw refuses to give it up. He insists that Emmett secretly likes it. I’m not so sure. “Let’s focus, win, and then we can go over why Miles is wrong.”
I smirk and devote my full attention to the game. Miles mumbles some insult about Shaw, but goes quiet after that. We get the win, and I lift my controller in celebration.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I cheer.
“Now back to the topic at hand,” Shaw says.
“How about we change the subject instead? We haven’t talked in a while. I don’t want to waste our time on a stupid debate,” Miles says.
“Aw, have you missed us, Miles?” I ask in a patronizing tone.
“No, he’s just mad that he’s wrong. Is it even a debate if you don’t have any evidence?” Shaw says and I shake my head.
“I hate all of you,” Miles grumbles. Emmett clears his throat. “Except you, Emmett, you’re all right.”
“I’m hurt,” I say through laughter.
“You will be if you don’t start talking about something other than my very valid points about golf.”
“Because you’re right about us not having enough time, I’ll let that slide,” Shaw says. “I’m all good. Married life is amazing. Though it can be a pain to be married to my physical therapist. Sutton almost didn’t let me play tonight since we have a preseason game tomorrow and she’s worried about my wrist.”
“Didn’t let you?” Miles laughs. “Man, you’re so whipped.”
“If Ellie walked in right now and told you to stop playing because she wanted to hang out, what would you do?” Shaw asks. Miles stays silent. “That’s what I thought.”
I smile at their back and forth, but a pang of jealousy pulses through me at the same time. I’d give anything to have a woman wreck all my plans.
“Jason, how are things over there?” Miles asks, attempting to change the subject.
“They’re all right. The documentary crew is driving me nuts. They keep asking all these questions about my past. It’s like they’re trying to paint me in a bad light. I was hoping this would help my reputation, but with each interview, it gets harder and harder not to walk out and void the contract.” I rake my hands through my hair.
This is one of those times where I’m glad Brock was too busy to hang out with us. I don’t want him to know it’s not going as well as we'd hoped. He’s been working hard to clear my name after all those years I spent partying. I’m tired of being the bad boy of football. I want to get the contracts my teammates have, not offers for alcohol brands and nightclub openings.
“Are they doing the same to the other players on the team? Maybe if you band together you can confront them about a change,” Shaw suggests.
I sigh. “I asked around, and the other guys aren’t getting the same treatment at all. But they’re all married and have kids. I have a feeling I’m going to be the odd man out in the worst kind of way when this thing airs.”
“This is why I turn down those kinds of documentaries and exclusive interviews,” Emmett chimes in. “Journalists are all money-hungry leeches who want to suck the life out of your career.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
“That was pretty intense, E.T.,” Miles comments. “Is there a reporter out there that did you dirty?”
“No,” he grouses. “I just don’t like liars.”
“Fair,” I say, then clear my throat. I’m sure he’s thinking of his ex-wife who cheated on him. Best to move on from that subject. “Anyway, enough about me. How’s Ellie’s flower shop doing?”
Miles starts gushing about how great business is and how proud he is of his fiancée. I sink back into the couch and rub my chest. The ache doesn’t dissipate, and I end the evening like I have many others: wondering if things will ever change.
I pull off my helmet and resist the urge to groan. Today’s practice was a beast. We did some footwork drills and far too much conditioning for my liking. I’m ready to hit the showers and head home, but as I walk toward the locker room I notice the guys stopping. Willow must have one of her post-practice questions set up. I hang back and wait for the guys to go through, that way I might be able to get a moment alone with her. I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose.
Her bright smile falls as I approach. I tell myself I don’t mind. Lying doesn’t ease the sting though.
The sign she’s holding reads: If you were an animal, what would you be?
“Be honest, how many guys said a lion?” I ask and she surprises me with a soft laugh.
“Too many,” she answers, making me chuckle.
“They probably couldn’t think straight after practice.”
“That bad?” she asks, surprising me again. This is the most civil conversation we’ve had in–well, ever.
“Let’s just say an ice bath sounds pretty good right about now.” I squint as beads of sweat get in my eyes. I lift the bottom of my practice jersey to wipe it away. When I lower the fabric, I catch Willow staring.
“Did you get that on video?” I ask with a smirk. Her gaze snaps to meet mine. “In case you want to watch it back later.”
She rolls her eyes. “If winning games was based on humility, the Lions would be on a losing streak thanks to you.”
“It’s hard to be humble when the Willow Delmont was just staring at my abs. Have you seen you?”
Her cheeks tint a rosy pink, making me grin. Withstanding her ire is worth it if I get to see her blush.
“I need to get back to work. And you need a shower, I can smell you from here.”
I laugh at her brushing off my compliment. “You don’t want to know my answer?”
When she gives me a questioning look, I gesture to the sign.
“I’d be a penguin.” I start walking backward toward the locker room. She follows my movements with her camera.
“Why?”
I shrug. “They mate for life.”