16. Monty
CHAPTER 16
Monty
L ater that evening, cat in lap, I was dozing off to Air Disasters when the door to the apartment opened. Parfait raised his head.
“Time to go to bed, Montgomery,” Tasha sang. “It’s past your bedtime.”
I regarded her warily. “You’re the one who has to be at work in six hours.” It was almost midnight.
“What can I say? Long date.”
“You don’t sound smitten.”
She shrugged and sat on the far side of the sofa. “He’s nice. But his English is limited.”
“Huh. Seemed pretty fluent yesterday.” My tone held an edge of cynicism.
Okay, a lot of cynicism.
“Maybe,” she conceded.
“So, did you have a good time?”
“Why do you care?”
Good question. “Because you’re keeping me up late.”
“Aw, you can’t go to sleep till I get home? How parental of you.”
“Yeah, well, I have to make sure you remember to lock the door and all that.”
“You sound like my dad. Kinda look like him too, with those plaid flannel pajama pants.”
“What’s wrong with my pants?”
“They’re so last century.” She pulled a throw pillow into her lap and hugged it. “I’m a big girl, Monty. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
That I knew. And she did a great job of it.
“I googled him,” I announced. “Did you know his mother’s last name is the same as a suspected spy family? I’m tempted to hire a private investigator.”
She rolled her eyes. “’Night, Montgomery.”
Soooo we were back to using my full name. I sighed, then masked it with a stretch, and before I said something too sentimental, I nudged Parfait off my lap and stood up to make a show of checking the locks. “’Night, Tasha.”
“Mew!”
Parfait trotted behind me. Once on the other side of my closed door, I sank into the desk chair and opened my laptop. After Tasha left the facility yesterday, Nana had told me she seemed open to the cookbook idea.
But Tasha had very little free time. Earlier this evening, I’d brought her recipe binder into my room and started typing it up. I figured it would be harder for her to say no if the big part of the job was done and I presented her with a document to edit in her leisure time.
But she had so little of it. The high school team had already been practicing daily for weeks, and her Friday nights or Saturday mornings were shot because of the weekly football games. Her only full day off was Sunday, but after church and family brunch, it didn’t leave her much time for a passion project.
I’d returned the binder at nine o’clock, wrongly assuming her dinner date would be over and she’d be home for bed by her usual turn-in time of 10p.m.
How wrong I’d been.
But at least I’d had the foresight to snap pictures of a bunch of recipes. I pulled up the first one on my phone and got to work.
There was no way I’d be sleeping anytime soon.
Maybe not at all.
Mascot Media Day was a league-wide event, and the Edge’s social media team had set up some wild and wacky photo and video shoots for me. A little groggy on my five hours of sleep, I sucked down the last of my second key lime protein shake after I parked at the practice facility in Denver. Jared and I would start here and drive to the arena after lunch.
He pulled in next to me and waved. I sighed at the realization of being stuck with him all day. I stretched my lips into a smile over my pressed-together teeth and saluted him.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I did. I just hated that he was a rule-follower and was constantly reminding me of what Ridgie could and couldn’t and should and shouldn’t do.
Lunch was provided, and when Jared took off to find his aunt, and probably someone to schmooze about a better job, I parked myself on a bench in the training room and zeroed in on Vladimir Ivanov .
In the most nonthreatening way, of course.
I had to send him a message that I would protect my roommate at all costs.
Xavier was spotting him on a weight bench. When they looked my way, I held up my chicken Caesar wrap in acknowledgement. Xavier leaned down to speak to the chump, and I smirked when he added additional weights to each side of the bar.
If he was trying to exert dominance, he’d need to lift more than 225 pounds.
The chump struggled with his tenth rep, and Xavier had to help him replace the bar on its rests. I made a show of yawning and feigned surprise when Vlad waved at me. I held my hand up and quickly looked away, as if he was the least of my interests.
Xavier moved on to a leg press, and I was annoyed to find Vlad striding straight for me.
“Don’t drip your sweat on my lunch,” I warned as he sat—too close—to me on the bench.
He pointed to my wrap. “Looks good. No carbs for me. Hurts definition.”
I lifted the bottom of my shirt and sucked in my abs to show him my max definition. “Doesn’t affect me any.”
His eyes widened. “Perhaps you might share your secret?”
“Perhaps,” I mumbled, then took a bite. It was no secret. I just ate a balanced diet and worked out.
A lot.
“What?” I asked. I didn’t like the way he was staring at me.
“Tasha—you care about her.”
“I look out for her,” I corrected. Firmly .
“She … We have a hard time communicating. My English is not well.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds fine to me. And you look good. Why do you need to open your mouth?”
He laughed. “I am not interested in being loved for body. Although…” He curled his arm and flexed his bicep. “It is extraordinary.”
I scoffed. “You say words like ‘extraordinary’ and expect me to believe you’re bad at English? Do I look stupid?”
He shook his head. “No. I think you are very smart. Which is why I would like to ask your help.”
“My help?”
He nodded solemnly. “To woo Tasha.”
I regarded him with a hard look. “She can decide for herself if she wants you to woo her.”
“Yes, but I have idea to move process along, and it requires, how you say, finesse.”
This guy’s propensity to go from speaking well to broken English on a dime rubbed me the wrong way.
“And no one else can help you?” Surely, one of the guys on the team could help. Jason Dexter had two college degrees and read as much as a bookstagrammer.
He shook his head. “I asked Xavier. He said you were the guy, since you know her best.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I pushed the last bite of the wrap into my mouth.
“I want you to translate—no, embellish?—my love letters.”
My gag reflex kicked in. I grabbed my water bottle and took a swig before my choke was noticeable.
“Your love letters?” He couldn’t be serious .
“Yes. You have never written love letters to woo a woman?”
“Heck no. What is this, the sixteenth century?”
A patronizing look crossed his face. “Dear Monty?—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Montgomery,” he corrected. “Love letters work. Every time.”
“Work for what?” And how many women had he written love letters to? “What’s your goal?”
“With Tasha? Everything.”
“Why?”
“Why not? She is beautiful, smart, talented, and citizen of the greatest country on earth.”
And there it was.
“You want to marry her so you can stay here?”
He nodded. “Someday, perhaps. She is easy to love, no? And her sister is married to my friend. She is perfect.”
“You don’t even know her,” I said, unhappy that a bitter tinge carried on my tone.
“I know enough to see that we could be good together. And make beautiful babies.”
This guy was the Russian Gaston. Tasha was more than a freaking trophy wife.
“You’re serious?” I asked.
He nodded. “Unless … unless her heart lies with someone else?”
I shook my head vehemently. “She hasn’t dated in a year. She’s a bit prickly, if you haven’t noticed.”
His face lit up. “I like that about her. So, will you help me?”
“Can’t you use Google Translate? ”
He sighed. “It does not have personal touch that you, knowing her all life long, could add.”
“And why would I help you?” I asked. This guy had nerve.
He regarded me curiously. “Don’t you want your friend to be happy?”
I shrugged. “Not with the wrong guy.”
“How do I become the right guy?”
“Seriously?” My face heated at the rate of an Instapot. “You either are, or you aren’t.”
A thought zipped to my brain just then. What if I could mold Vlad to be the guy Tasha needed? Maybe her ice would thaw and we could be friends again.
It couldn’t be too hard. I’d rewrite his letters and add a bit of flair that would resonate with her.
I knew her favorite color, what flowers she liked. I knew she spent a small fortune every Easter stocking up and hoarding Cadbury Creme eggs, hiding enough of them in her room to last a year of stressful days, despite the fact that they turned her stomach. I knew now what she could and couldn’t eat, even if she wouldn’t share her diagnosis.
And I knew what not to say to her.
“If you want to win Tasha,” I said slowly, “you have to do more than woo her. She’s smarter than a puck bunny and won’t be told what to do or how to live her life.”
“Just what I am looking for. An independent voman!” Vlad grinned in a way that made me instinctively recoil. I didn’t think he had nefarious intentions, but the guy seriously didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
I should help him, for both their sakes.
Tasha deserved to be happy. She shouldn’t have to live under the weight of her medical bills. If things went well with Vlad, maybe they’d get married and she could relax .
I wanted her to relax. She deserved to relax.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone. It’ll make us both look bad. I have a reputation I’m trying to build.”
“Ah, yes. Best bear ever.”
I cringed. “NO.” I stood up and pretended to itch a spot on my upper abdomen so I could lift my shirt to remind him I was bigger and bulkier, as Ryleigh had put it. “As a helper. The bear is just the vessel. And you can donate a thousand dollars to the children’s oncology unit for each letter I ‘help’ you with.”
“Right. Deal. Do you have paper?”
I stared at him. He was awfully presumptuous. And what was this? The twentieth century? “Text me what you want me to translate.”
While he went back to the locker room to grab his phone, I threw away my trash and tried not to regret what I’d promised. If Xavier liked the guy, that should be enough.
But still, it didn’t feel right to me.
Tasha hadn’t come home in that I-had-the-best-date-ever euphoria that women were prone to do. She didn’t hum or smile or gush about Vlad. Maybe she did to Penny or Gabby, but I’d seen at the party how cool they’d been with each other: No visible chemistry at all . No secret glances, no heated stares, no private jokes or laughs.
It wasn’t any of my business. But I’d help, see where it went. And be there for her when it didn’t work out.
Because it never worked out. Because Tasha had a talent for only attracting chumps.
Vlad returned, and we exchanged numbers. Then he texted me what he wanted to say to Tasha. “I ran this in translate app, but it didn’t convey the right tone. ”
I looked at the message. My sweet Tasha. In cloudy sky, you are the sun, brighten and shine up my day and my path. You make my heart large with love every time I see you.
I cringed. “How about this?”
In a cloudy night sky, ’tis you who light my way. The moon and stars are dulled by your shine, shining and sprinkling light on all that is dark in my world. Truly, my beating heart swells with every smile you bestow upon me. Your joy fills my soul and fuels my need to prove to you that I am worthy of your radiance.
Maybe I went a little overboard with the flowery prose, but Vlad wasn’t likely to care if I got carried away, only that it was effective and hit the mark.
I didn’t like the idea of Tasha being a mark.
Not my problem though. I hit send and waited while he read it, watching his smile widen each time his thumb flicked the screen to read more.
“This is perfect! Shedevr! A masterpiece! Exactly what I need.” He wrapped his arms around me. “Thank you!”
I stood, slipping out of his clammy appendages. “I also sent you the link to my foundation. I expect two thousand dollars to clear before I translate another one.”
“Yes, yes.” He stood up and held out his hand for me to shake.
Against my better judgment, I took his proffered hand. “See you around.”
“See you!”
I wanted to stay and scream at him that Tasha wasn’t the kind of girl a man with an empty brain could woo with good looks, charm, and purple prose. But I’d play the game, and when she realized he was a fraud, I’d help her to rebuild her confidence, like every other time.
Well, except that last time. The DJ thing had been a hit to both of us. I’d put money on the fact that she also felt relief when he’d taken a job in California and we weren’t running into him on a daily basis anymore.
Maybe things would work out with Vlad, like the pieces had fallen together for Penny and Xavier. Theirs had been a marriage of convenience, born out of a need for him to marry to save his inheritance. But they’d been friends first.
Tasha and Vlad didn’t know each other.
I suited up with guilt, wondering if I’d just set my coaching partner up for the biggest mistake of her life.