Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance Page 8

  “You still there, honey?”

  “Yeah, I –”

  “Hey! Hey, Brooklyn!”

  The knot in my throat unraveled.

  I spun around, lowering my phone slowly. The audience spilled out of the auditorium doors. Ace's face appeared amidst the chaos. Wielding a bulky backpack, he dodged through the crowd, jogging towards me. His spiky hair flopped lightly against his shiny forehead, and the frayed laces on his orange hoodie swung wildly from side to side.

  “Brooklyn? Hello?”

  “Sorry, Mom. I gotta go. Have fun on the cruise.”

  I stuffed my phone back into my bag and ran towards Ace, meeting him halfway.

  “There you are, I thought I lost you for a minute –”

  I pounced on Ace, throwing my arms around his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist. His hair was all wet and his hoodie smelled a little funky, but I didn't care. I closed my eyes, breathing in every bit of him as I kissed him deeply. His arm swooped under me, holding me up with his big, strong hands.

  Slowly, I peeled my lips off his and slid off of him, my hands still clutched around his neck. I peered up at him, grinning at the pink lipstick smears and flecks of gold glitter that had transferred onto his cheeks and forehead. He lowered his backpack to the ground, stroking my face with the back of his hands.

  “Wow, well, look at you, doll-face.” Ace bit his lip, his eyebrows waggling. “You clean up real well.”

  “As always.” I giggled, squeezing his arm. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Texas with your dad college-hunting all weekend.”

  “I managed to sneak off for a bit, but I probably should get back by tomorrow morning.” Suddenly, he jerked away from me. “Sorry, that's probably why I smell like ass. I didn't have the 95 bucks for the bus that takes you straight to Orlando, so I had to take 3 different buses, or uh, I wouldn't have enough to take you out tonight for real food. You know, something that doesn't come out in 2 minutes –”

  I held onto him tighter, softening in his arms.

  “I can't believe you did that.”

  “Oh, well, yeah, I mean, I only caught the last 2 minutes of the show –”

  “Don't care. I just can't believe you came all that way to see me.”

  “Yeah, well. I told you I wouldn't miss it.” Ace looked away from me, his face swiftly reddening as he picked up his backpack. “Anyway, where's the locker rooms at? I better get dressed if we're gonna make that after party –”

  “Screw the after party.” I grabbed his wrist and craned my neck towards him, whispering in his ear. “We're going back to my hotel room.”

  XXX

  Ace sat on the foot of my bed with his arms stretched out behind him, his head tilted as he looked back at me. The hotel lamp cast a golden glow over the chiseled lines of his hard stomach. My eyes fell on the visible outline of his thick, hard length poking through the black fabric of his boxers. I loved the feeling of his eyes burning into me, clearly longing for me without uttering a single word.

  I pulled off my shell top and skirt, flinging them onto Whitney's empty bed. Ace sat up, watching me with the tip of his tongue sticking out one side of his mouth. I walked towards him slowly, stripping off my bra and panties along the way.

  “Holy shit. Wow,” Ace rasped, swallowing hard. “Just...wow.”

  I took control of his hands and lay his tense fingers over my breasts. And just like that, he snapped out of it. He cradled my mounds and lowered his face to my chest, his warm breath and hot tongue caressing my skin. I grasped the back of his neck, moaning as his mouth found its way around my nipple.

  As he sucked on the firming nipple, his hands traveled down my back. I bit my tongue, my body tingling at the warmth of his mouth and his tender touch. Without warning, he gave my butt cheeks a hearty squeeze and scooped me off the ground.

  I landed on my back, my hair fanning out over the hotel's spotless white sheets. He kicked off his boxers and climbed onto the bed, kneeling over me. My lips popped open. I reached for him with both hands, the moist folds between my legs twitching as I explored every rock-hard inch of his sturdy, hooded package.

  Ace spread my legs open gently. With one hand, he traced his fingers along the trembling flesh of my inner thigh. With the other, he glided them over my hot, dripping folds. I braced myself, scrunching up the sheets between my fingers.

  “Are you sure you're ready to do this?” His voice was low and husky, but it breathed comfort.

  With a small smile slinking onto my lips, I gave him his answer as I reached for his cock, steering it between my legs...

  Chapter Four: Ace

  2016

  “If I made you feel second best,

  Girl I'm sorry I was blind,

  You were always on my mind,

  You were always on my mind...”

  The dude had a nice, country twang to his voice, and if he wasn't waving his dick around, painting the wall with his piss, it would have been kind of pleasant.

  I propped one leg up against the bench and straightened up against the grimy tiled wall. The lighting in the small cell filled the whole place with this ugly, yellowish tint. I'd been stuck in this hole for over 4 hours, but the literal reek of shit and bad drainage was still stinging up my nostrils like I'd just been thrown in here.

  “Maybe I didn't hold you,

  All those lonely, lonely times –”

  The weight on the bench shifted as the man on the other end jumped out of his seat, hurling his fist at the wall.

  “You better shut the fuck up or I'ma knock out whatever teeth you got left in there.”

  The singing dude reeled around with a crazed smile, exposing a mouth that housed less than 10 silver dentures and blackened teeth.

  “Calm down, friend.” He shook out the last few drops and tucked his wrinkled dick back into his pants. “We're all in this tog –”

  “Ain't nobody your friend. And the fuck did you piss all over that wall for? The toilet's right there!” The dude next to me squared back his shoulders, taking a menacing step towards Bootleg Willie Nelson. “Now, you're gonna clean up that wall in the next 30 seconds, or I will –”

  “Anybody ever tell you what pretty eyes you got, boy?” Willie pushed his chest up against the dude with a creepy, high-pitched cackle. His glass eye hadn't moved once this whole time.

  “Yo, get off me, you freak.” The dude staggered backwards. The “Thug Life” ink in place of his eyebrows flew up in alarm.

  “I got plenty more where that came from, boy.” Willie grabbed at his crotch and started squeezing as hard as he could. His knuckles had gone white, but he was still giggling like a schoolgirl. “If you like, I could squeeze it right out for ya –”

  “Naw, man. Naw, man. I'm good.” The dude surrendered with both hands up, shuffling backwards to his seat like a spooked puppy.

  Willie released his grip, skipping back to his piss corner.

  “Oh, well, your loss, I –”

  He jerked his head towards me, screeching to a halt as if he'd just realized I was there. I kept my chin up, but I avoided his probing gaze. Intrigued, the dude to my left turned to face me with his own shifty eyes. My heart was thumping in my ears, but I kept it cool and looked straight ahead. The overwhelming decay inside Willie's slacked mouth wafted in my face.

  “You... I know you...Why do I know you? You stole my burger last weekend, didn't you? Hey, I found it first and I called dibs –”

  “I think you got the wrong –”

  “Yeah, I think I've seen your face around.” The other dude leaned towards me, sneering. His face brightened. “You that dude from the Jets, ain't you?”

  “Listen, guys.” I scratched my nose, my shoulders stiffening. “I don't know who you think –”

  “Warner!”

  A stocky, neck-bearded cop strode down the hall and stopped in front of our cell. I rose to my feet, my shoulders loosening. The cop reached for the keys in his belt and unlocked the door.

 
; “Your ride's here.” He yanked open the door and stepped aside, letting me through. “The case is being handed over to the authorities in New York. Don't leave the city. A Detective Morales from the NYPD will be swinging by your address for a visit later on this week.”

  “No worries, Officer, I won't. I got nothing to hide.” I replied evenly, following him down the hallway.

  After processing, I slipped my wallet and keys back into my suit coat and headed straight out the building. There was a cab parked out front. A man with a silvery army crew cut leaned against the passenger door with his arms folded over his burly chest.

  Shielding the sun from my eyes, I walked down the front steps to join him.

  “Hey, Dad. Thanks for coming down –”

  “Just get in the cab.”

  XXX

  I dragged my shoes across the doormat and towed my suitcase through the doorway, checking the place out.

  Outside, the house was in as poor a condition as it was when I left home. Several shingles were missing, the gutters needed a good cleaning, and the house could use a fresh lick of paint. But stepping foot inside, I could hardly recognize the place.

  All the random socks, dirty jerseys, and other teenage clutter I used to leave strewn around the house was gone. The lumpy, beat-up couch I grew up with was now replaced with the $8,000 black leather couch and recliner set I got for him. The new set was facing the 60-inch Smart TV I got Dad, my birthday gift to him last year.

  It looked like he'd done a bit of decorating on his own, too. A pool table sat in place of the rickety dining table. I could see a brand new bookcase and desktop through the open door of the study, too. But not gonna lie, I caught a little dust in my eye when I saw the walls covered with New York Jets posters and the display cases brimming with Ace Warner memorabilia.

  “I like what you've done to the place.”

  Dad slammed the door shut and threw his keys onto the coffee table. He made a beeline for the fridge and grabbed himself a beer, cracking the bottle open. Sighing, I made myself at home on the couch and parked my suitcase next to me.

  “So, how's work? Do you still hang out with your buddies, or do they act all weird around you now 'cause you're the big boss man?” I leaned back and swung my leg over the other, the couch squeaking under my weight. “I still can't imagine you getting all dressed up in a suit and tie for work, but it must be nice to finally be off the road, huh?”

  Dad grabbed a bag of bread, along with some salami, cheese, tomatoes, and mustard from the fridge, laying them out on the kitchen counter. The man was doing everything he could not to acknowledge my presence. He started to fix himself a sandwich, his chest and shoulders heaving.

  “I gotta say, you're pretty good at freezing people out. I don't think you've said a word since we left the station. Not even to that pretty flight attendant – pretty sure she was macking on you, too –”

  “Goddamn it, Ace!” Dad's voice shook the house like a clap of thunder. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  “Dad, I didn't – listen, just chill out. If this is about the plane tickets, I was gonna wire you the money first thing Monday. It's not like I'm not good for it –”

  “This isn't about the damn money! I don't know if I can do this anymore, Ace.” Dad threw up his hands, the butter knife flying out of his grip. It soared over his head, clinking loudly against the sink behind him. He paced around the kitchen counter, kneading his forehead. “What they're saying you did on the news – I don't –”

  “Well, if you'd just calm down and listen to me for a second –”

  “You were doing so well. So well,” Dad muttered, shaking his head. It was more like he was talking to himself than he was to me. “Then it was one party after another. All those drinking binges. You nearly got yourself killed when you got alcohol poisoning and made a fool of yourself in that Browns game – on national TV. And that's still not enough to put a stop to any of this.”

  “Shit, Dad, I might as well be talking to my shoe, 'cause you're not hearing a –”

  “You get a taste of something, and you get yourself sucked it into it just like you always do.” The bitter resentment in his shaking voice was palpable. “It's like when you were in high school –”

  “Don't start–”

  “You're just like your mother – reckless, ungrateful, selfish. And now, this... It's like I don't even know you –”

  “Yeah, I'm gonna take off.” I pushed myself off the sofa and snatched up my suitcase. “My lawyer's advised me not to say a word about the case without him present. But thanks for coming to pick me up. Oh, and you can check your account in 3 to 5 business days.”

  I walked out the door, slamming the door behind me.

  Chapter Five: Ace

  1994

  “Bye, Ace! I hope you had a nice birthday lunch with all your friends today. I'll see you tomorrow!”

  When I walked out of the school doors, Ms. Campbell rubbed the top of my head. I liked Ms. Campbell a lot. She was a fat, happy woman, and she likes to wear colorful dresses with flowers on them.

  “Bye, Ms. Campbell! See you tomorrow!”

  I waved at her and went down the stairs. The other kids held their parents hands and walked to their cars. I saw my friend, Jason, and his sister, Miley, with their parents. They were walking to their big red van.

  “Ace! Over here!”

  I finally found Dad in the parking lot. He was standing next to our small white car. One of the windows in the back couldn't close, and one of the lights in the front of the car was broken. Some of my classmates made fun of me because of Dad's old car, so I didn't like it when he drove the car to school, but Dad doesn't know that.

  I ran to our car as fast as I could before any of those classmates could see me. Dad opened the door for me, but I didn't want to say hi to him. I was angry at him. I got in the car, put on my seatbelt, and closed the door.

  Everyone remembered my birthday today except Dad. I think he's been really busy at work, so maybe he forgot. He always gets really tired because he has to drive so far all the time. But I was still angry. He never said “Happy Birthday” to me today, and he was mean to me this morning when I was getting ready for school. He even used his extra loud voice!

  “Ace. Come back out here.”

  I gave him my biggest frown and opened the door again. Dad had a cross look on his face. But I didn't care. I looked at him with an angry face, too.

  “Why are you giving me an attitude, young man?”

  “What attitude?” I pretended not to know what he was talking about. “I'm not giving you an attitude.”

  “There it is again.” Dad shook his head, and he made his eyes smaller. “I will not tolerate this attitude –”

  “I'm not giving you attitude!”

  “That's it – I'm dealing with you when I get home –”

  “But I didn't –”

  “But first, go get my tools from the trunk of the car.” Dad pointed to the back of the car. “Now.”

  I let out a big, angry sigh, but I did what Dad told me to. I walked to the back of the car with an even bigger frown on my face and thinking all kinds of bad thoughts about Dad in my head. But when I opened the trunk, I couldn't see any tools.

  The only thing in the trunk was a big cardboard box with a blue bow on it. I tore the box open, jumping up and down excitedly. There was a Boomer Esiason Jets jersey, a football, and a green-and-white helmet inside the box.

  “Dad! Dad! This is so awesome! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Alright, alright, that's enough.” Dad wasn't angry anymore. He touched me on the shoulder. “You didn't think I'd forget, did you? Happy birthday, kiddo. Come on, get in the car.”

  I ran into the car and got into my seat, swinging my legs.

  “I know, it's not much,” Dad said as he closed the door. “I had to get it secondhand, but it's all I could –”

  I jumped onto Dad and gave him a big hug, squeezing him as tig
ht as I could. He didn't say anything, but I just held him tighter. He only hugged me with one arm, and his shoulders and body felt hard, but that's okay. He didn't have to say anything. I knew Dad loved me.

  Chapter Six: Brooklyn

  2016

  You think you know someone. Of course, we've been out of touch for more than a decade, and most people aren't the same people they were back in high school. Take Eddie Brown, for one. That guy was one of the most religious, conservative, and socially awkward kids in school. He used to pester kids at lunch time with uncomfortably invasive questions about their religious beliefs and told anyone that would listen that the Rapture was near. Fast forward to 3 years ago, the same guy was pulled over for swerving in traffic, found high beyond his wits, and busted with 20 pounds of meth.

  Or Vivian Silverman, who used to pick on this one girl relentlessly in high school for being a “dyke.” Vivian, one of the girliest girly girls there is, has since then come out of the closet, chopped off her hair, had a complete change of wardrobe, and is now happily married to a woman. She is also involved in all sorts of LGBT activist groups, and as her Facebook shows, has now made up with the girl she bullied and meets up with her for drinks regularly.

  But becoming a calculated, cold-blooded murderer? I just couldn't wrap my head around it. How could someone so thoughtful, so caring, so selfless ever do something like this? Then again, like I said, that was 11 years ago. I haven't heard a peep from him since then. Could he have disappeared as a twisted, but noble act to see me “succeed in life,” or was it because he was hiding something? A part of himself he never intended for me to see?

  “Brooklyn? Brooklyn!”

  “Hmm?”

  I blinked, glancing up from my desktop screen. Su Ling had her elbow on the glass partition of my cubicle, her face resting on her fist. My static hands were still in position, one hand on my mouse and the others on 4 keys and a spacebar.