Chapter 6
SIX
DAYLEN
“What’s the difference between Iron Man and Iron Woman?” I ask at the poker table while examining the hand I was dealt.
Tanner raises a thick, dark eyebrow as he blows out a plume of cigar smoke. “What?”
I answer, “One’s a superhero and one’s a command.”
All the guys start laughing.
Monthly poker games in Tanner’s mancave have become a tradition among my closest group of friends, who all happen to be Tanner’s clients.
Vance is always here, along with three professional baseball players from the Philly Cougars.
Layton Lancaster recently retired, but he was the face of the Cougars for over a decade.
Trey DePaul is their third baseman who’s happily married with a baby son.
Cruz “Cheetah” Gonzales is their speedy center fielder, who’s dating professional softball player Kamryn Hart.
To say that Kam is my dream girl would be an understatement.
She’s smart, sexy, talented, funny as hell, sassy as sin, and just plain perfect.
Unfortunately, Cheetah met her first, so I immediately backed off.
I would never interfere in my friends’ relationships, but he found himself a rare gem among a sea of unremarkable stones.
Her twin sister, Bailey, also a professional softball player, moonlights as Tanner’s nanny. She’s much more subdued than Kam, and I’m pretty sure Tanner is in love with her. They’ve been secretly fucking for nearly a year, but Tanner refuses to talk about it, and we don’t pry.
Layton is married to one of their teammates, Arizona Abbott. They eloped last year but are having a big reception this fall during our bye week. It was cool of them to do it then, enabling Vance and me to attend.
The Cougars had a day game today, and the WAGs are having themselves a girlie night, so it was the perfect night for us to have our monthly game, which gets hard to schedule at times.
I love this group of men like the brothers I never had and truly cherish this time of busting balls, good food, good drinks, and lots of laughs.
Our season starts this week, and things are about to get crazy for us.
It’s been a fun summer. We’ve spent a lot of time with the Beavers players.
Besides Kennedy, I like all of them very much.
Sulley and Vance seem to have achieved a level of peaceful co-existence.
I know he has a crush on her, but he refuses to talk about it.
Tomorrow is the Beavers’ last game before our season begins, which means Kennedy is about to lose our bet, and I’ll join her postgame interview. Watching her try to win over Champ all summer has been a riot.
I can’t imagine Kennedy normally gets turned down by men, so this rejection must be rattling her.
I’m sure men usually fall at her feet. As much as I dislike her, her body is ridiculous, and no straight man could possibly be immune to it.
She has the best tits. I had a wet dream thinking of what they might look and feel like the other night.
I woke up disgusted with myself, but it happened.
I think it’s because I’m always being subjected to watching them bounce.
Be it on the dance floor or the stadium floor, she’s always moving around, and they’re bouncing. It’s hypnotizing.
Women’s tits are the reason I know God has a sense of humor. He creates the most perfect, squishy stress reliever in existence, but then he puts it on the one thing that causes the most stress.
Kennedy has mostly given up on Champ. He obviously pays her no attention, but watching her swing and miss has become my favorite pastime.
She tries not to be obvious in front of everyone, but because I know what she’s trying to do, I keep a careful eye on her.
And I know exactly what I’m going to say and do on camera tomorrow night to embarrass the shit out of her.
We agreed to no limits, and I’m going to smash it out of the park.
Layton smirks at my Iron Woman comment. “You better not tell that joke in front of the girls. You’ll get your balls fried for it.”
Vance’s trademark scowl momentarily disappears. “Daylen gets his balls fried all the time by Kennedy Jeffries. It’s a fucking riot. She hands him his ass on a daily basis. They’re gonna hate fuck one of these days. I just hope they both survive the encounter.”
I purse my lips. “I will never touch that bitch. She and her fucking red flags drive me nuts. I was wearing white jeans the other night, and she told me that’s on her red flag list. What’s wrong with white jeans?”
Cheetah scrunches his face. “They’re kinda girlie.
I don’t like them for men either. I think chicks can be both green and red flags at the same time.
If you grab her by the throat and she smiles, you know right then and there she’s both.
She’ll definitely be a problem,” he wiggles his eyebrows up and down, “but you’ll have a lot of fun along the way. ”
Trey bites back his smile. “As the longest tenured married man here, let me give you some advice.” He winks at us. “Hold her hand in public, hold her throat in private, but smack her ass everywhere.”
Words to live by.
Tonight is the night. Kennedy keeps glancing my way during her team’s warm-ups. For the first time ever, she appears nervous. Fuck, this is going to be fun.
I purposefully wore white jeans, a Hawaiian shirt, sandals, and I capped it all off with a giant gold chain that would put Mr. T to shame.
I even managed to find the biggest, fruitiest drink they have in the arena.
I’ve got that in one hand and my Android in the other.
I’ve messed my hair up as much as possible and shaved my face in an uneven manner, all knowing how much she hates an unkempt man.
I think I’ve got nearly every red flag she mentioned working for me tonight.
The game hasn’t started yet, and I see Coach walking across the floor toward our seats. I nod at him. “Hey, Coach. You didn’t have to walk your old ass all the way over here. If you missed me, I would have come to you.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Humblecut, believe it or not, I’m okay walking twenty feet.
I come from a generation that had no remote controls.
When I was a kid and we wanted to change the channel, I had to fucking get off my lazy ass and walk over to the TV to change it.
And we only had four stations. And the reception sucked.
And I had to stand next to the TV sometimes just so it would work because I was a human antenna. ”
“Must be your magnetic personality,” I deadpan. “What brings you over, Coach?”
He looks me up and down. “Why are you dressed like the mentally slow guy from The Hangover?”
Vance, Presley, and Beau, all seated around me, burst out laughing. Vance agrees, “Holy shit, that’s exactly who you look like. All you need is a man-purse to complete the outfit.”
I proudly pull my new purchase, another of Kennedy’s red flags, from under my chair and hold it up.
“I love my man purse. By the way, it’s called a satchel.
I can’t believe more men don’t carry them.
So much better than having keys, condoms, and a wallet in my pocket.
I can also fit way more condoms in this, keeping my options open and plentiful for the evening. ”
Coach scowls at me. “Something ain’t right with you, Humblecut.”
I nod. “My father would agree.” I turn to Vance. “Speaking of my father, the fam is coming to the game tomorrow. Want to have dinner with us afterward?”
His face lights up as he nods before Coach retreats to his seat. Vance is amused by my silly, fun family. His coming home with me for dinners and holidays is commonplace. Since he’s had some drama in his hometown, it’s difficult for him to go home.
The game finally gets underway. Layla is playing particularly well tonight, with a ton of rebounds and points. I lean over to Presley. “Layla looks great.”
He raises an unamused eyebrow. “You lookin’ at my wife’s ass, D?”
I start to get defensive. “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I just—”
“Why not?” he interrupts. “She has the best ass.”
I chuckle. “Agreed.”
“But I didn’t marry her only for looks. I married her for her personality. I just didn’t realize at the time that it came with a variety pack.”
I laugh again as we continue to watch the game.
The other team is suffocating Sulley tonight, though they’re playing clean with solid defense, not the normal cheap shots Sulley endures.
She’s currently being double-teamed but manages to pass the ball to Kennedy, who pops the three. Kennedy is having a career night.
I look up at the board and realize she has a triple-double. That’s amazing and not easy to do, especially for Kennedy, who’s primarily used as a rebounder and for her excellent defensive and picking skills.
No less than ten times, she’s looked my way with worry written all over her annoyingly pretty face. It’s because if she’s one of the better players in the game, they’ll interview her. She knows what will happen if she’s interviewed tonight.
I’m sitting back in my seat with the biggest grin I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t wait to fuck with her.
The game finally comes to an end, and the fans begin to file out. Not me. I sit back and wait patiently for my big moment.
She’s given earphones, and one of the broadcasters stands next to her with a microphone. The cameraman is in front of them as they prepare to begin her post-game interview.
She turns her head and gives me one last pleading glance as if to say don’t do this.
It’s just Vance and me. Presley is with Layla, and Beau left at halftime to get his beauty sleep.
Kennedy’s back is to me now, and she’s a few minutes into answering questions.
I stand and slowly make my way to her. While she’s mid-sentence, I grab her around the waist and dip her.
She screeches when my lips meet hers for a long, juicy, passionate-yet-closed-mouth kiss.
I was originally planning tongue, but the thought of kissing her like that turns my stomach.
I don’t need tongue to get my point across.
Her eyes widen to a size I didn’t know possible. I pull her back up and break the kiss. Looking straight into the camera, I grin widely and say, “Don’t I have the best sister ever?”
My video with Kennedy played on a loop on television and social media last night for hours until they finally realized it was a joke.
That we’re not, in fact, brother and sister.
She tried to correct things in front of the camera right away, but the interviewer and cameraman got out of there faster than Ashlee Simpson when she was busted lip-synching on Saturday Night Live.
The hours of humiliation Kennedy suffered fed my soul. I fell into the most peaceful slumber last night, with a bigger smile than I usually have after sex.
She vowed her revenge, to which I responded, “Bring it, sugar tits.” She equally did not care for that new nickname.
She made a whole big thing about having to disinfect her mouth. Blah blah blah. So unoriginal. She’s going to have to up her game to get one over on me.
We’re in the locker room just before our game. Coach is motivating us with his pregame speech. “Does anyone have any questions?”
I raise my hand. “I do.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “God help me. What is it, Humblecut?”
“What do you call identical boobs?”
I hear a few snickers from the guys.
I smile and answer, “Identities.”
The guys bust out laughing, but Coach stares daggers at me.
He has been doing it all day since the Kennedy kissing thing.
I had to explain that it was a joke due to a bet she lost to me.
I spared him the terms, but I think he understood why I did it.
I explained to him and assured him in no uncertain terms that there never has been and never will be anything between Kennedy and me.
KENNEDY
“Isn’t it weird that it’s socially acceptable to put someone’s genitals in your mouth, but if you eat a potato chip off the floor, you’re gross?” I declare to Sulley and Palmer as Reagan scolds her son for picking up a potato chip off the floor and popping it into his mouth.
We’re sitting on the other side of her suite at the Camels’ game, but we watched it all go down as the little devil sneakily grabbed the chip and quickly gobbled it down. Not surprisingly, Reagan didn’t miss it. She misses nothing.
They both giggle. Sulley answers, “I suppose that’s true. It’s been a few months since I’ve had genitals in my mouth. I wouldn’t mind that right about now.”
“When are you seeing Shane again?” I ask.
“Next month in Italy.”
“Right. You should have an open relationship and join Tinder. It’s so much better. The guy I was with last night was fire.”
Palmer’s eyes widen. “Last night? With all the shit surrounding Daylen’s declaration?” She smiles softly. “You have to admit, it was funny.”
“It was not funny. It was a mess. For hours. I needed something to take the edge off. I got this big, tattooed, muscular dude to come over and take care of business. Like five times. Otherwise, I would have murdered that Neanderthal in his ridiculous white jeans.”
The corners of Sulley’s mouth turn up slightly. “Are you sure it isn’t that white-jeaned muscular man you wanted in your bed last night?”
My mouth hangs open in both astonishment and disgust. “I’d rather never have an orgasm again than allow that human fungus into my bed.”
“Hmm,” is all she responds while she and Palmer share a glance.
The game gets underway. Daylen has a long catch for a touchdown, and during his celebration he does a fake dip and kiss like he did to me last night. He then looks up at our booth and makes a heart sign with his hands. Our eyes meet. I kiss my middle finger and blow it at him.
The fucker laughs while my rage boils over.
I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but I’m going to get him back someday.