Chapter 14
Rome
The last time I went on a road trip when there was a woman in my life, we fought every single day on the phone. Via text. Even emails.
I have a feeling it’s going to be very different with Billie.
The moment I got on the plane she texted me a picture.
Of a pierced belly button.
A little silver hoop with some kind of shiny red stone hanging from it.
It’s just a picture of her torso, below the boobs, and above her panty line, but I know it’s her.
And my mouth waters.
Fuck. Me.
“You already met someone? Right on!” Connor Brooks, who doesn’t even look old enough to shave, gives me a nervous grin, like he’s worried about my reaction to catching him peering over my shoulder.
Shit.
It’s a pain in the ass that my teammates still walk on eggshells around me, and on top of that, I didn’t realize he was paying attention to what I’m doing—I’m going to have to be a lot more careful in the future.
“Just someone I met at a club a few weeks ago,” I reply as nonchalantly as I can. “I haven’t had time to see her again.”
He relaxes a little. “Well, if you’re not interested, give her my number—that belly ring is hot!”
“You and Effie on the outs?” Marty Nadeau, a guy on the team who’s only a couple of years younger than I am, leans forward, smacking Connor on the arm.
Connor shrugs, the playful look on his face replaced by something akin to hurt. “She’s going to be gone the next few months. Australia, the South Pacific, all the Fashion Week stuff, and a bunch of back-to-back shows and photo shoots. We decided to give it a rest while she’s gone.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I dunno.” His face is shrouded. “We’ve been together a while. Casual, on and off, but we never took a serious break before. Not like this. I think she’s screwing some producer she met in Scotland.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“Communication is key, kid.” I say the words even knowing I’m usually terrible at communicating with women I’m involved with.
When I was hired, the team GM encouraged me to make friends with my teammates, a subtle reference to the fact that I usually don’t.
It doesn’t come easy to me, but I’m trying.
“Listen to him,” Marty adds. “Talk to her. If you’re not happy about the separation, it’s important to speak up. Trust me, I let things like that go far too often in my marriage. Look where that got me.”
“Uh, engaged to one of the most beautiful women in the world?” Connor says, making a funny face at him.
Marty laughs. “Well, yeah, that. But I mean, putting my three kids through a divorce. Moving them across the country and then back again. And though the two little ones don’t really miss her, Martin, Jr. does.
He asks every night where Mommy is. He loves Stevie, my fiancée—” he says to me “—but he still misses his mom.”
“Two divorces but no kids, thank fuck,” I mutter.
“Be glad,” Marty murmurs. “I love them but it made the divorce so much more complicated than it should have been.”
“Effie’s a free spirit,” Connor says after a moment. “And I never want to hold her back. If that Scottish guy is what she needs, then I have to let her do it. I miss her but I’m not going to chase her.”
“Why not?” Ivan Rochenko, a big Russian player on the team, looks confused. “I would chase Chey to the ends of the earth if she tried to leave me.”
“Yeah, but she loves you. It’s different with Effie and me. We don’t use the L word.”
“Do you feel the L word?” he asks.
Connor looks away. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”
“Then maybe it’s good you two are on a break,” Marty continues thoughtfully. “Gives you some time to figure out your feelings. Usually, when it’s the right woman, you just know. It’s hard to explain but you do.”
Yeah, no doubt about that.
I can’t vocalize that, though, because even though Bodi has his headphones on and isn’t participating in this conversation, he might still be half-listening.
“Well, it hasn’t taken Rome here any time to settle into the L.A. dating scene,” Connor says, switching the focus back to me.
Great.
Just what I need—attention on my love life.
“Not true,” I respond, shaking my head. “I’ve met some ladies, but no one special.” Damn, I’m already lying to these men. Men I need to form a bond with if there’s any chance at all of me coming back next season.
But I don’t have a choice.
Not when it comes to Billie.
“There are a lot of fish in the L.A. sea,” Connor says. “And I plan to reel in as many as I can while I’m single.”
“I think I’m a little old for that,” I say. “And since I don’t know if my contract will be renewed this summer, I’m keeping things simple. Wouldn’t be fair to get involved with someone when I might be in Alaska or Toronto or who-knows-where come fall.”
Where was all this common sense when I had my tongue stuffed down Billie’s throat?
“Makes sense.” Connor starts typing on his phone and the conversation seems to die off.
Like a lot of men, we’re not big on discussing our feelings and it’s rare we have serious conversations about women. Wives and girlfriends are strictly off-limits, beyond niceties, not to mention sisters and other family members. Which means I have nothing to talk about.
Instead, I wait until everyone is doing their own thing and get my phone out to respond to Billie’s text.
ROME: Are you trying to kill me? Jesus. What if your brother was sitting next to me on the plane when that popped up?
BILLIE: He’s never seen it. He only knows about the ones in my ears and the eyebrow. Everything else is a secret. So he wouldn’t think anything of it.
ROME: He’s never seen you in a bikini?
BILLIE: LOL You’re funny. You think Bodi would let me wear a bikini? Don’t get me wrong, I own several of them, and I wear them all the time. Just not in front of him. When we’re together, I wear a frumpy one piece that he thinks is “cute.”
I chuckle to myself.
ROME: Now I kind of want to see it.
BILLIE: The bikini, the one piece, or my many piercings?
ROME: All of the above. Wait—are there more piercings?!
BILLIE: Ooops… I guess you’ll have to wait and see.
ROME: You really are trying to kill me.
BILLIE: Is that old-people talk for sexting?
ROME: Did you just call me old?
BILLIE: Maybe? I mean, I sent you a picture of my pierced belly button and you responded by telling me you want to see me in some frumpy one-piece…
ROME: I’m pretty sure you’ve misconstrued my response. However, let’s be clear—the piercing is hot as fuck. And if we’re ever alone together again, I plan to inspect it up close and personal.
BILLIE: Anything else you want to inspect?
ROME: Every inch of you.
BILLIE: Now who’s trying to kill someone?
ROME: You started it with that damn picture.
BILLIE: So… no more pictures?
ROME: Oh, you can send me pictures, baby. All the pictures you want.
BILLIE: Then I’ll have to get creative.
ROME: I’m looking forward to it. So, when do you start at the diner?
BILLIE: Tomorrow! She let me take home a menu so I can start memorizing it.
ROME: You have to memorize the whole thing?
BILLIE: Pretty much. I have to be familiar with every item on the menu and know how much it costs.
Each training class includes sampling a bunch of different items, so that part will be fun.
The first day is discussing the menu items and learning our way around the restaurant, and then a lesson in using the cash registers.
The second day is more sampling and learning our way around the kitchen.
And the third day is shadowing other waiters.
ROME: Sounds intense. How are you going to do all that and go to class and study?
BILLIE: I won’t be doing much sleeping, I guess. But if the money is as good as it’s supposed to be, it will make my life a lot easier. I might even be able to get my own place so I don’t have to impose on you and Bodi.
For some reason it bugs me that she has to work so hard.
She should be studying, going out with her friends, having fun—not working long hours and sacrificing sleep to keep up with everything.
It pisses me off that I can’t help her. Financially or otherwise.
ROME: You’re not imposing on me at all. I like having you around.
BILLIE: I like it too, especially the part where I don’t pay rent—but sleeping on the couch is getting old. Sharing a bathroom with my brother. Living out of my suitcases. Not having my desk to spread out on when I need to work on projects. It’s affordable but not that convenient.
ROME: I wish there was something I could do to help.
BILLIE: You have—you gave me a CAR. I’m truly not complaining. I’m very lucky that I have a free place to live and a car. I’m just whining a little. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.
ROME: Friends worry about each other.
BILLIE: Aw, that’s sweet. But really, I’m good. Anyway, I have a paper to work on so I’ll talk to you later. Text me when you land so I don’t worry?
ROME: You got it. Talk to you later.
I stick my phone in my pocket and close my eyes.
This is the first time in a long time I’ve allowed myself to get upset about my financial situation.
If I hadn’t married Lourdes, I’d be in a much better position financially.
She was exotic and sexy and a total gold-digger.
She opened credit cards in my name, maxed them out, and then let them default since I didn’t know to make payments until it was too late.
And of course, I was too blind to get a prenup.
Then I turned around and married Denise.
She was my sister Catalina’s friend, so I figured I’d be safe.
What a dumbass I was. I was lonely and trying to fit in, with a hot wife, big house, and wild parties.
She cheated on me, so I retaliated by doing the same thing—but only one of us was smart enough to get proof.
And it wasn’t me. The female judge in our divorce case didn’t like that at all and she made me pay for it.
Now, I’ve got a cabin in upstate New York that still isn’t paid for and no idea if I’m going to have a job in a few months.
What the hell am I doing with my life?