27. Joey
27
Joey
“ S urprise, sweetie!” Charlie hugs me exuberantly the next morning. I hang on, surprised to see her instead of CJ, whom I’d been expecting. Brent has come with me to answer the door and stands behind me as if it’s completely normal for him to be at my apartment.
“What are you doing here, Charlie?” I pull away and glance at Brent in a panic, but he appears unconcerned with his sister finding him at my place first thing in the morning.
“Helping you move. Where else would I be? Brent called me. Why didn’t you call me? Hey, big brother.” She doesn’t blink an eye at seeing Brent and hugs him. “You got here early.”
“You didn’t have to come help, Charlie. I know how busy you are with—”
“Shut up, wench. I’m here.”
I smile at our old joke, another term from Sandra’s old historical romance novels we’d read and laugh over.
“You have your hands full with your promotion, but thank you for being here.”
“How’s that going, Charlie?” Brent asks. “You like it?
“It’s good. Challenging.” Charlie was recently made a producer of a streaming channel sports show.
“That’s not a ringing endorsement,” I say.
“I like the responsibility of managing my projects, but I’m not crazy about all the travel.”
She picks up one of the framed photos of the two of us. There’s a note of anxiety in her voice. Something is worrying her, I’m sure of it. I’ll have to get her alone somehow before the day is over.
“Josie, is this everything going to the new apartment?” Brent brings over two huge black trash bags in which I’ve packed my clothes. He sets them beside several boxes containing my personal things that I’m taking with me to the new place. A bigger pile of boxes on the other side of the room will go into storage.
Ignoring Charlie’s raised eyebrows as she mouths, Josie? , I reply to Brent, “I think so. I’ll take one last look.”
It’s scary to see my packed belongings and scan the place I lived in for seven years, empty now of my personal possessions. Anxiety and excitement battle it out inside me as I think of giving up my apartment and a full-time job without knowing what will come after the next month and a half.
But giving up the comfort of my old life will force me out of the stagnant routine I’ve been in. Without this leap of faith, it would be too easy to fall back into the same rut once my interlude with the Firebirds—and Brent—is over.
“Yep, that’s it,” I say. “Except for these photos. I’ll take them with me to the new place.”
“Why are you taking so many when you’re only going to be at the place for a month or two?” he asks.
Charlie stares at him in outrage. “She has to have family around her!”
He eyes her with exasperation. “They’re photographs.”
“Unlike you, most of us like to be surrounded by reminders of our loved ones when they can’t be with us in person.”
I listen to Charlie and Brent bicker as we finish packing up the picture frames. The doorbell rings, and I open the door to CJ and give him a self-conscious hug when he holds out his arms. “Thanks for helping out, CJ. I could have rented a van.”
“I’m happy to help, beautiful,” he replies, still embracing me.
When he clings to me for a moment too long, Brent growls from behind us. “Haul your ass over here and help then.” He waits for me to step back before shoving a box at CJ, who just smirks at him. My heart does a happy little dance at the thought Brent might be jealous.
Yeah, right. Get a grip. He’s probably just warning CJ off, the way he does when a guy looks at any of his sisters.
We load up CJ’s SUV and Brent’s and Charlie’s cars and drop off more than half of it at the storage unit I’ve rented. It’s early afternoon by the time we pull up to the four-story walk-up in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood in Jackson Heights. My temporary home is on the third floor. Good thing I didn’t bring a lot of stuff to lug up all those stairs.
“I’m not feeling great,” Charlie says, going straight to the sofa to lie down.
“Yeah, right,” Brent teases. “You just don’t want to help carry anything up.”
Charlie just closes her eyes without responding. She really must not be feeling well.
“Can I get you anything, Charlie?” I ask, concerned.
“No, thanks. Just a little queasy. Probably something I ate last night.”
The guys tell me to stay upstairs while they carry everything up, leaving me to make the bed with my own linens. After several trips, they’re done and sweaty. I avert my eyes from Brent’s chest where his damp T-shirt is clinging to him. They refuse my offer to treat them to lunch, wanting to return to their places to shower.
“How about we all meet up for dinner later instead?” Brent asks.
“Sure,” I agree. “But it’s my treat. Thank you both so much.”
Once they leave, I send Charlie into the bedroom so she can rest more comfortably, and take a moment to appreciate the size of the apartment. Aunty said it belongs to a professor who is divorced , saying the word in a scandalized whisper.
From the few photos scattered around, the woman appears to be in her mid-forties. She isn’t much younger than Aunty, but this woman is the complete opposite of my landlady. The photos of the professor in skimpy dresses, drinking and dancing and even wearing a bikini, would scandalize Aunty.
The living area is gloomy despite having so many windows. First thing I do is open all the curtains to let in the natural light. Leafy trees in front of the building and a brick wall outside the side windows provide enough privacy to keep them uncovered, unlike the tiny windows in my old studio.
The professor has a lot of bookshelves that are covered in dust, as are the area rugs scattered all over the hardwood floors. I leave as much as I can untouched but roll up the rugs and put them in the spare bedroom that serves as the office. Then I dust everything and sweep and mop the floors. Only then do I unpack my photos, placing them in front of the professor’s.
Indy, the cat that came with the apartment, eventually peeks out from the sofa he crawled under when we first came in. She streaks past me and jumps onto the sunny windowsill and somehow makes herself comfortable on the narrow ledge. While we stare out the window, she allows me to pet her. And while I’m excited about starting what feels like a brand-new life, Indy appears pretty happy with her life just the way it is as she purrs away under my hand.
When Charlie and I pull up outside the rooftop restaurant in Midtown where Brent made reservations, I’m glad Charlie convinced me to dress up. The place is swankier than any I’ve ever been to.
The red dress she talked me into is one that Andi designed for me months ago. Unable to say no and offend my friend, I’d taken it but never worn it because it’s figure-hugging and reveals a bit more of my cleavage than I’m comfortable with. I’ve never had the guts to wear it in public before. To hide what I can, I insisted on wearing a black lace bolero, despite Charlie’s disapproval. To stop her from pouting, I wore the sexy high-heel sandals she’d given me on my birthday—also never worn.
I’d been nervous about Brent’s reaction to seeing me in the dress but worried needlessly. He didn’t say a word, even when CJ greeted me and Charlie with wolf whistles.
I’m even more thankful to be dressed up when we run into DeShawn and Alicia. They’re dressed to the nines to celebrate their engagement.
Compared to Alicia and the amount of flesh she has on display, it’s silly to be self-conscious. Her daring neckline exposes her breasts almost to the nipple. She must be wearing double-sided tape to keep the fabric from moving. I envy the confidence it takes to wear something so attention-getting.
Any confidence I’ve gained recently would have evaporated if I had to stand next to her dressed like a nun again—especially sober.
“Dawg, you couldn’t wait a few hours to bring your girl to dinner to do it up right?” CJ says, as the two do some complicated handshake that ends with a manly hug. Brent follows suit.
“I couldn’t help myself. It just bust out of me.” DeShawn replies, looking sheepish.
“Come and join us,” Brent says. “Since you’ve already popped the question, let’s celebrate. My treat.”
The hostess leads us to a semi-private booth where a bottle of Dom Perignon is already sitting in a bucket of ice.
“A toast to three beautiful women tonight,” Brent says after the bottle is open and poured, raising his glass. “A new job and apartment, a promotion, and an engagement,” he continues, glancing at me, Charlie, then Alicia. “Congratulations, ladies.”
We all toast and take a sip of the champagne—everyone except Charlie, who sticks to water, her stomach still a little upset.
The view, with the Empire State Building in one direction and the Freedom Tower in the other and all the twinkling city lights in between, is spectacular. At thirty stories high, a cool, gentle breeze makes the mid-July heat bearable.
I find it hard to believe I’m sitting at an expensive restaurant in New York City, having dinner, talking and laughing with three NFL stars. How quickly my life has changed.
Alicia’s friendly and outgoing nature keeps the conversation going. DeShawn is naturally quiet, letting her do most of the talking for him. Despite Charlie not feeling her best, she’s holding her own as well.
When Brent speaks, it’s to everyone else except me, it seems. His behavior gives rise to all my self-doubts, and I become quiet. If I hadn’t been lost in my misery, I’d have realized sooner my champagne glass is always full despite taking frequent sips of the deliciously sweet bubbles. CJ grins and winks at me when I catch him topping it off. He’s being his usual flirty self with me and Charlie. Brent glares at him, but CJ just winks in return.
When our plates are cleared, we linger over drinks and conversation. CJ takes our wineglasses and leads me to the other side of the rooftop for a view of the river. Brent flicks a glance our way, his eyes moving over me, lingering on CJ’s hand on my waist, then turning away as if bored.
All my insecurities come flooding in. He’s acted casual all day, as if we hadn’t spent hours in bed wrapped up in each other numerous times. Has he become bored with me?
I mentally kick myself for being so insecure, reminding myself of his words last night. As he leisurely explored every inch of my body, he murmured how he was going to miss it while he was at training camp. As a new member of the team, he had to stay in a hotel during those two weeks. He drove me over the edge several times before finally taking his own pleasure.
So why is he all but ignoring me tonight? We agreed not to tell anyone of our relationship, but he’s acting as if we’re barely friends, never mind lovers.
Something in me wants to goad him into showing some of that desire now, in public. When CJ and I return to the table with our empty wineglasses—when had I finished mine?—I muster all the courage I can and slip the bolero off. I watch Brent for his reaction and catch my breath at what I see. His eyes shift from my chest to my face, hunger blazing from them, like a starving wolf about to pounce.
My sense of triumph is short-lived. He glances away and never looks back.
Yeah, I don’t think so.
Though there’s barely enough room next to Brent, I sit at the edge of the lounge seat, pressing up against him so I don’t fall off. He inches away—to give me room or to put space between us? It doesn’t matter. I place my hand on his thigh unobtrusively under the table. With DeShawn on his other side, he can’t move more than an inch or two when he tries to shift away, so he picks up my hand and puts it on my leg without looking at me.
When he turns sideways to talk to DeShawn, I place my arm behind him, keeping it low, just above his belt, with the pretense of trying to see around him. My fingers brush over his waist, but he sits back and traps my hand against the seat so I can’t move it. I punish him by pressing my breast against his arm and bring my mouth to his ear as if I want him to hear me over the music. Shaking my hair forward to provide cover, I sneak a kiss behind his earlobe. He jerks away from me and excuses himself, practically pushing DeShawn out the other side.
Alicia moves to take his place and tells me and Charlie about her wedding ideas. I mention my dress was designed by a friend of ours, if Alicia wanted to talk to her about a custom design for her wedding dress.
When Brent comes back and sits across from me, I slide off one of my heels and rub my toes against his calf. Frowning at me, he traps my foot between his calves. I smile innocently at him and wiggle my foot away, placing it in his lap. To my great pleasure, I can feel him becoming hard. He grabs my foot, puts it on his thigh away from his erection, and holds on just tight enough so that I can’t escape.
Seeing as the game is on pause for the moment, I give my full attention to the conversation with Alicia and Charlie about wedding plans. Several minutes later, my body jerks in surprised reaction as his thumb moves, caressing the arch of my foot. An arc of electricity rushes straight up my leg to my core, instantly heating it up. I glance at him, but he’s not looking at me. A smug quirk of his lips tells me he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me.
“I need to use the little girls’ room,” Alicia says.
I hurriedly pull my foot away so I can put my shoe back on before sliding out of the booth. “I’ll come with you.” As much as I want to keep playing, I’ve come to my senses and realize the game is too dangerous to play in public. I need a few minutes to cool off.
Alicia talks nonstop, not needing me to say more than “mm-hmm” every once in a while. When we’re done, I tell her to go on without me. I need a few more moments to compose myself before facing Brent again.
When I exit the restroom, a hand grabs me. I whirl in surprise to find Brent, who’s already leading me through a door marked Employees Only and down a narrow hallway.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my heart racing. Is he mad at me and going to chew me out for being so immature? Have I given him a reason to end us?
Rather than answering, Brent brings me to a door that he unlocks with a key card. He pulls me inside and slams the door shut.
“I’m sorry, Brent. I shouldn’t have—”
I barely have a chance to see it’s some kind of office before he crushes my mouth with his. He drags me close and devours me. His tongue doesn’t wait for an invitation. It sweeps past my lips and into my mouth, taking my breath and my sanity. Just like that, my body ignites, and I kiss him back, starving for the feel and taste of him as if I hadn’t feasted on him last night. I wrap my arms around him, my fingers digging into his back.
He skims his hands down the backs of my legs, then up again, dragging the hem of the dress up to expose my behind. They reverse direction and slip inside my panties to cup my buttocks. He picks me up and leverages me against the wall. I wrap my legs around his hips, barely registering the cold wood paneling against my skin.
Clinging to him, I moan when his knuckles brush my overheated sex while undoing his own pants and rolling on a condom. Within seconds, he pulls my panties to the side, and his hot, hard length is at my entrance.
“This is what you were waiting for all night, right? Well, I hope you’re ready, baby, because I can’t wait.”
What little breath I have escapes me in a rush when he grasps my hips and drives into me, deep and high, making me cry out. He puts his mouth on mine, muffling my whimpers, and pummels into me, pistoning me against him. I have little choice but to hold on for the ride. I’m more than okay with that. He’s doing just fine and doesn’t need any help from me.
Within moments, I’m close to the edge. Making a slight adjustment with his pelvis, he thrusts and I go over, screaming into his mouth as I do. When I’m reduced to gasps, he buries his face in my neck and holds on to me tightly as he drives deep, once, twice more. His groan is long and loud against my throat as he goes still.
While we pulse together where we’re joined, he kisses his way up my jaw to my lips. I’m completely shredded by his tenderness. I have to blink away the tears before he can see them. Our tongues tangle for endless moments until our panting breath slows to normal. He leisurely ends the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
I drag my eyes open to find his already gazing at me. They’re stormy and swirling with emotions, but I’m not sure which ones.
He gives me one last kiss then pulls away. I’m glad he waits until my legs are steady enough to hold me up, or I would have crumpled into a boneless heap at his feet. He takes off the condom and ties it off before pulling up his pants. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion while I adjust my own clothing.
“Okay?” he asks gently.
Dazed, I ask, “What was that about?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he counters.
“Huh?” is all I can manage. My body is still tingling with aftershocks, and my mind has yet to start functioning rationally again.
“Baby, you were purposely trying to drive me insane with your teasing. I’m only giving you what you’ve been begging me to do for the last couple of hours.”
“I didn’t—”
“You certainly did. You want to tell me what that was all about out there?” he repeats.
I’ll sound like an idiot no matter how I respond. It’s just a matter of whether it’ll be a childish one or an insecure one, so I shrug and say nothing.
“Fine. We need to get back to everyone anyway.” He looks me over and smiles. “You may want to stop by the ‘little girls’ room’ first. Otherwise everyone will know exactly why you disappeared.”