Chapter 3
THREE
kendra
Shit.
Me: No, we aren’t seeing each other again.
Douchebag: Why not?
Me: I told you it was only a onetime thing.
Douchebag: Onetime?
Fuck. I needed to be more creative when I named these guys.
It turned out I had four saved contacts with the name Douchebag, and I had deleted all traces of text conversations with them that might help me identify who was texting.
Regardless, if I’d named them douchebag, I wouldn’t go back on that decision.
After leaving this guy on read, I opened my dating app and scrolled through the messages to confirm that I was in the right place at the right time.
Tyler, 32, from Quincy, was late. Of course, he was late.
I scrolled through his photos, desperate to remind myself what about him got me to agree to meet.
When he strolled in the door, his appearance loosely resembled the photos on his profile.
It was clear that he’d used pictures at least five years old, and a good fifteen pounds ago.
No, I wasn’t down for fat shaming, but when he described himself as a fitness enthusiast, I expected him to look like he would make it up more than a short flight of stairs.
He spotted me before I could run. Damn you, bar tabs. I created a mental reminder to immediately cash out the next time I arrived first and ordered a drink.
“Kendra,” he said as he slid onto the bar stool beside me.
Well, he didn’t actually slide onto the stool; it was more of an awkward stumble.
The bartender immediately approached, and Tyler ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.
I caught myself rolling my eyes. Who ordered the most potent cocktail on the menu on a first date?
“How was parking?” I asked. He hadn’t exactly complained about coming into the city for our meet and greet, but he’d made a few comments about finding a place with a valet, so he wouldn’t have to struggle to find parking.
In Boston, we were broken records complaining about traffic, parking, and whatever sports team was currently breaking our hearts.
“I’d rather not talk about it. Let’s say it wasn’t fun and leave it at that.” His drink arrived, and he took a giant swig of it, finishing with a grating, “Ah.”
We weren’t even five minutes into this date, and I was already looking for a way out. Fuck me, even the sound of him swallowing annoyed me. Was that him breathing? I nearly gagged thinking about him hovered above me, the thought of his sex sounds added to my disgust.
“What was it you said you did again?” he asked.
I hadn’t. It was none of his business, and since I didn’t plan to see him again, I lied.
“I’m an accountant.”
As expected, his eyes glazed over. He sucked down the rest of his drink and motioned for the bartender to make him another.
“Are you planning to drive back home to Quincy tonight?”
“Weren’t we going to stay at your place?”
Um. Holy presumptuous. It was outrageous enough that it elicited a gasp from across the bar. My eyes darted to the corner, and fuck. Hawk. Not only was I on the worst date imaginable, but my boss was a witness to this mortification.
“That wasn’t a given. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”
Why are you apologizing, Kendra? Why is it automatically our fault if the man gets the wrong impression? Maybe it was his fault for this presumption?
“Why else would you think I would come into the city at this time of night?”
I shouldn’t be shocked. I had run into my fair share of assholes, but this one took the cake.
And yup, he sucked down drink two and ordered the third.
His agitation grew, and I had only become more resolved to leave this bar alone.
Now I needed to watch my back the entire way home, since I didn’t trust this guy not to follow me.
“Excuse me,” Hawk called from across the bar. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” Tyler slurred.
“I’m Kendra’s co-worker, and I just happened to overhear you acting like an asshole.”
Co-worker, my ass. Hawk, easily one of the wealthiest men in the city, and my fucking boss, happened to come to my rescue during a mortifying meet and greet with an idiot from a shit dating website.
“Well, you can mind your fucking business,” Tyler from Quincy stood up and puffed out his chest. The alcohol blunted the edge of his threat to Hawk, since he couldn’t stand straight.
While I watched him suck down two drinks, I could confidently say he had pre-gamed.
Not only was he shorter than he’d projected in his dating profile, he was significantly thicker around the middle.
His second impression was significantly worse than the first.
And I couldn’t help the giggle that ripped out of me just before Hawk slid off his barstool and adjusted to his full height of six feet something hellish tall.
“I thought you said you were 6’2”?” I asked through my laughter. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Hawk smirked, and we both quickly realized ridicule was the wrong tactic with the drunk asshole. Tyler swung his fists at Hawk, thankfully tripping over his own two feet, essentially knocking himself on his ass.
The bar manager came to our rescue and had Tyler by the scruff and up off the floor before he registered he’d fallen.
“Where’s your credit card?” The manager demanded.
“I’m not paying my tab. Not after this treatment.”
“Were you even planning to pay the tab in the first place?” Hawk asked with a knowing smirk.
“Fuck you, dickwad.” Tyler’s attempt to act tough had us laughing even harder.
“I got it, Joe. Worth every penny to watch you throw the bastard out on his ass.”
The bar manager, Joe, who knew Hawk by name, said, “Thanks, JJ.”
After Tyler had been dragged out of the bar, I questioned him. “JJ?”
“Yeah, it’s what my Granddad called me when we first started coming here. Joe’s known me for years.” His eyes darted to the front door and then back to me, concern etched in his expression. “But you might as well make yourself comfortable, I don’t trust Tyler not to wait for you.”
“Sorry about that. I’m usually better at screening people.”
“You mean there are men worse than that jackass?”
I took my seat, and Hawk slid in next to me.
“Oh, absolutely. However, the anger is the worst. It makes them more unpredictable. My sister usually checks in on me about halfway through the date. Tyler didn’t even make it that far. I’m sorry, though. This was embarrassing.”
Hawk swallowed his beverage slowly. “Are dating websites the only way to meet people?”
I shrugged. “How do you meet people?”
“I don’t. I avoid every set-up my grandmother tries to plan. She finally seems to be resigned that the baseball team is as close to a wife as I’m going to get right now.”
“And they’re satisfied with that?”
“For now. I think they are holding out hope for my sister Colby to get married. Neither one understood when she introduced her girlfriend last year that it meant she was gay.”
“Oh no.”
“Yup. But it’s not like they’ll care or think any less of her. They’ll just innocently step in shit until then.”
“Well, my sisters both have relationships that are intimately connected with the Minutemen Organization.”
He nodded. “I know Kelsey is marrying Drummond at the end of the month. Who is your other sister dating?”
Shit. There I go running my mouth again. Kylie and Luc were not telling anyone connected to Sam that they were dating.
“It’s not exactly public, so please don’t share it, especially not with Sam, okay?”
“Um, okay. As long as they are two consenting adults, I’m not sure what the big secret is?”
“Me neither. But Kylie is refusing to introduce Luc to our family.”
“Luc? Lecompte?”
I nodded.
“What’s the issue? I mean, he’s probably a little older, but why the big secret?”
“I love my sisters and won’t say anything behind their backs that I won’t say to their faces. She’s being an idiot. And it’s going to be uncomfortable as hell while we’re all together at the wedding.”
His eyes widened. “I would pay to be your plus one to watch that.”
“Oh man, that would get some attention. But Sam didn’t invite you?”
Hawk took a swig of his drink. “I only took over the team recently. He might have invited my grandfather, but Granddad wasn’t as involved as I intend to be. So, who knows?”
We sat quietly and sipped our drinks.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Ha ha. I was thinking about your question earlier today. About how far the organization would be willing to go if a player did something seriously wrong. It’s not black and white, you know?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, what if a player is accused of sexual assault and it’s not credible?”
I stared at him. “Who is the judge of whether it’s credible?”
“Well, do we wait until he’s convicted or just accused?” he asked.
“I understand there are many shades of gray. But food for thought, false reports are less than 6%.”
He absorbed that statistic before he responded.
“So that means that 94% of reports are credible?”
I nodded. “And 63% of assaults are not even reported.”
“Why?”
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he wasn’t being an asshole and genuinely seemed to be interested in my answers. A question wasn’t an accusation.
“What happens to women who report? Even knowing that less than 6% of them are lying, they are treated like liars. They’re blamed for their clothing choice, asked if they drank too much, or led the man on.
We forget that consent isn’t one and done.
Consent can be removed at any time. Maybe they’re in a relationship and one night he pushes things too far. ”
“I know I asked you to put together a presentation. But I’ve got a bunch of old white dudes on the board. Could you add these statistics to that proposal? I trust you, but they’re going to want to see sources.”
I was painfully aware of the old white dudes in the organization. Many of them had been responsible for the rumors about my hiring. They hated outsiders and most weren’t ready for a woman to be in the corporate office.
“Of course. I’ll have it ready when I get back from Christmas vacation.”
Hawk stood up and tossed enough cash on the bar to cover all the bar bills.
“I come in here most nights. It’s within walking distance between the stadium and home. I’m more than happy to chase off handsy assholes whenever necessary if it makes you feel safer.”
“Did my boss just offer to be my wingman?”
He smirked. Damn that crinkle in his eyes softened his appearance. “Wingman or security detail. Either way, if it’s me or Joe here, you’ll be safe. Do you have a car here?”
“I Ubered. I just requested my ride.” I held up my cell phone and Sharon was three minutes away.
“Great. I will wait outside with you.”