CHAPTER 28 DANNY
My phone’s loud ass ring wakes me at the crack of dawn, and that’s when I realize…I have no idea where the fuck I am.
I’m not at home, but I am in a bed.
Shit.
I glance over to my left.
Empty.
Oh thank God.
Unless Alexis is there, I don’t want anyone there.
But my own shifting and moving to look over there causes a searing pain to lance through my skull—a reminder that tequila shots are never a good idea.
All they tend to do is erase whatever happened from my memory…but usually not from the media, as history has taught me.
I reach over to turn off my phone only to realize…it’s not my phone at all.
In fact, it’s not even a phone.
“Brewer! Get up!”
It’s a voice, and someone is pounding on the door. I still don’t really know where I am.
“Are you dead in there?”
I think the voice belongs to…Brad?
I slowly force myself out of the bed to pad over to the door. My head feels like it weighs about fifty pounds as I try to hold it up. I toss open the door. “What?” I snap as my agent comes into view.
Confirmed. It’s Brad’s place, so that nice bed I was just sleeping in with those billion thread count sheets…I paid for those.
“We’ve got more headlines,” he says. He’s looking at me with some combination of a glare and total disappointment.
“What now?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
He reads to me from his phone. “Baseball’s Bad Boy Plants One on America’s Sweetheart Pop Princess after Epic Win.”
Ah, fuck. So the headlines are about my personal life rather than on my team’s unlikely win.
And that headline is going to land her in hot water with her father. Or maybe it’s exactly what she needs to get him off her back, to smudge that sweet little princess image she’s got going on.
I want to do more than smudge her, that’s for goddamn sure.
“I still like that title,” I mutter. I follow him as he walks away from me toward his kitchen.
“There’s a photo, as usual, and you may want to send an apology to her camp.”
“Right. I’ll get right on that one.” I roll my eyes.
I’ll text her later, but he has no idea that I have her number, let alone the fact that we text multiple times a day.
That she’s become my best friend over the last six months.
That the kiss last night was out of total instinct in my excitement over the win and I just wasn’t thinking.
Everyone else was kissing their girlfriends and wives and family members. It felt right, so I did it.
And now I have to live with that, but something I definitely didn’t think through was the fact that she also has to live with that.
I shift the subject away from Alexis. “What else do I need to know?”
“Podcast in a couple hours today with the Carpenter brothers, and oh, and there’s a new noise-canceling headphone on the market and I approved a deal that came through just this morning.
They want you to star in a commercial and they’re forking over huge dollars but it’s a tight turnaround.
” He hands me a cup of coffee, and damn, he’s a good friend to already have the hangover cure ready for me.
I like the sound of huge dollars. The World Series win is already increasing my value, and I can’t complain about that.
“When?”
“You’ll need to be in Los Angeles this Thursday and Friday.”
Los Angeles this Thursday. Now that is doable.
And potentially Alexis Bodega will also be doable while I’m in town.
“Send me the details and I’ll be there. Anything else?”
“That’s it for today, but on behalf of your management team and your publicist, please take it easy the next few days. Please? And clean yourself up. You still smell like stale tequila.”
I laugh, which causes another searing pain in my head. “How did I get here last night?”
He rolls his eyes. “You celebrated with nine tequila shots, one for each inning. And then I brought your sloppy ass here to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit.”
“That’s disgusting. I’m a man. I don’t vomit from drinking too much.”
“It was a close call there for a while, but you’re right. You didn’t. But nine tequila shots was dumb either way.”
“Touche. I’ll limit it to eight next time.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s merriment in them that tells me he knows I’m not going to change.
Though I can’t help but wonder if Alexis had been there, would I have gotten so wasted?
Fuck no I wouldn’t have. I would’ve been too damn busy shoving my tongue down her throat.
Fuck I’m horny.
Brad gives me a ride back to my place, and I do, in fact, clean up with a shower and a shave before my podcast. I also puff the pen a few times just to get that nice, relaxing hit of weed that eases the headache.
I set up my ring light in my office with some baseball shit set as the background behind me, and I turn on my camera.
I read through the notes Brad sent me to see the types of questions the Carpenter brothers are going to ask me. They’re brothers who used to play ball, and I’ve been a guest on their show a couple times in the past. It all looks pretty standard.
I connect to the call, ready as ever to talk about the sweet, sweet baseball victory of last night and how it feels to win another ring.
But after my introduction followed by some congratulations about what a great series we just wrapped, the questions aren’t about baseball at all.
“What was it like planting one on Alexis Bodega?” Jeff begins.
I freeze, and I’m certain my reaction is caught on camera, and furthermore, I shouldn’t be surprised that’s what they asked. Everything she touches turns to gold, so why wouldn’t they want the first interview with the man who kissed America’s sweetheart last night?
Just a clip of them asking me about it will probably cause their podcast to go viral.
I blow out a breath. “It was nothing. Just the excitement of the celebration,” I say, ducking my head a little as I answer.
Fuck it all. I’m not an actor, and I can’t help the small smirk on my lips.
Jeff’s brows shoot up. “Nothing, he says. You believe that John?”
“Not for a second, Jeff.”
Fantastic. Now I have the Carpenter brothers prying into my lack of judgment from last night before I even touched a shot glass, and I have the sinking feeling it’s going to fuck things up for Alexis and me.