Blue 42 (Hail Mary Duet Book 1) Page 5

  He doesn’t plan on staying here or he’s waiting for someone to come live here with him. A girlfriend? A wife? Or maybe his mom and brother. If he’s smart, he’ll keep his family far away from his work, those two never mesh, and family has a way of dragging along drama.

  I get to his glass back door and try to see inside the house. I soon realize I’m staring into his kitchen and the brand new looking stainless-steel appliances. Does he do anything more than sleep here? The place looks spotless, like maybe he has one of those cleaning OCDs, and can’t stand anything out of its place.

  How long does he jog for? Would he have armed the alarm even though he lives in a gated community? Is this door locked?

  I tug a bit on the handle and snicker when it slides open, no alarm alerting anyone to my presence. He really is a dumb little bitch. He said he’s from the streets but has no problem leaving his house unsecured? To this day, I still need my windows and doors secured before I sleep or leave the house. On top of that, a gun sits loaded inside the table by my bed. No one will get the drop on me, I’m always fucking ready.

  My boots squeak on his shiny clean floors as I step through the kitchen, and I run my finger along his immaculately cleaned counters. A complete opposite to what my house looks like, but in all realness, I am not keeping that place for my family, and this is exactly what this looks like, a family home. Does the rookie want his mommy to come here and take care of him?

  I stand in the middle of his family room and look around. There are no pictures, nothing that personalizes the place, and nothing to help with what I’m looking for. It looks like this place is barely lived in and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d feel sorry for the little bitch. The stairs are to my left and I bound up them, taking two at a time. We’re all due at the field in two hours, I don’t know how long I have in here. There are three doors up on the small landing and I open one to find a closet, empty save for two towels. Again, it’s quite sad. The next door is a large bathroom, every surface shines, even the fucking toilet seat, and then I open the third. Inside is the one and only bedroom in the house, confirming he won’t have anyone come here to live with him.

  The bedroom is exceedingly plain and the guy is still living out of his suitcase, it’s been over a month. I kneel beside the suitcase and push aside the clothing, there’s absolutely nothing. No pictures, no books, and nothing telling me this guy has a personality. It’s like everything about him and this place is temporary, what the hell is his plan?

  I pull open his small closet and find a few sweaters hanging, along with a suit. I shut the door and then my gaze lands on his wallet sitting on his side table. Fucking yes. I sit on the perfectly made bed and flip it open, seeing a Baltimore driver’s license. I pull out my phone and take a quick picture before shuffling through a credit card, old school ID’s and a Baltimore bus pass. Weird. Until my eyes zero in on the name, Daniel North.

  Not Dixon.

  I turn the card in my hand and find a picture, the film over the top scuffed with age. It’s looks like a younger, thinner version of Dixon, but this kid looking back at me is tough, and he’s fuckin angry. It almost looks like I’m staring at myself, I can see that look in his eye, and I know it all too well. Before I can think twice about it, I slide the card into my hoodie pocket and set the wallet back on the table. Finally, something useful.

  I slip back out of the house the same way I got in and jog back to my car. Not fifteen minutes later, Rookie comes back into view and jogs up his driveway, giving a quick look over his shoulder.

  You feel my stare, little bitch?

  Chapter eight

  Dixon

  “Come on, North,” Alonso Lopez claps me on the back, his black hair dripping water, “it’s our last day of training camp, we always hit the club up!”

  “We really do.” Zeal wraps his towel around his waist.

  “We all get so fucking drunk and then we have a few days to recover.” Dex chimes in as he walks buck naked to the shower stall. The man is a fucking tank and now I understand why the announcers call him The Carver, the guy could plow a path out on the field.

  They’re all trying to convince me to hit up the local club tonight and celebrate the end of training camp. I don’t drink often and the thought of partying with these guys puts me on edge, will Avando, Jameson, and Ortiz be there? Because them coupled with alcoholic drinks sounds like a recipe for trouble.

  “What club?” I can feel myself caving and make myself promise not to drink.

  “Sky Lounge.” Zeal gives me a wide grin, “North’s in boys.”

  “Yes!” Dex yells from inside the shower, “let’s get him fucking wasted.”

  “No,” I shake my head, “only a few drinks.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Zeal chuckles.

  The neon blue, fluorescent lights cast a glow around the room and the small, dimmed lights hanging over the bar do nothing for clarity. It’s your typical club, dark, and thumping with bass. It’s packed body to body and hard for us to squeeze through the crowd, it’s even more comical to watch Dex push people out of the way.

  Zeal says they always have the VIP room waiting for the Bills and when I questioned him about how often they come here, he just laughed. This lifestyle can’t be good for the team and it would explain why losing is what they’ve become good at. I want to change that for them but I can’t do it alone.

  We reach a bouncer and a velvet rope that’s sectioned off an area with a private bar. There are about five tables in there and I can see a few people standing around. My heart begins to pound and I wonder what Avando would be like in this setting. He’s this formidable force on the field and a fucking asshole in the locker room, but what is he like when he’s having fun?

  The rope is opened for us and we’re ushered inside. In here the music is still loud but you don’t feel the bass in your chest the same way. It’s more intimate and doesn’t feel like part of the crowded, loud, atmosphere outside. Each table has a few bottles of liquor and a bucket of ice; also a server standing in front of it. Obviously girls because clubs like this need sexuality to be the focal point and they must’ve assumed with footballers that we would want females. Whatever.

  Four girls are standing next to the tables and smile at us demurely as we walk in, all except one. She’s currently sitting in the lap of Avando who happens to be occupying the last table with none other than Jameson and Ortiz. So much for hoping they wouldn’t show. I scan over their table and see that they look relaxed and laughing, settling the nervous tension I have whenever I see them.

  I follow Zeal to a table and sit down, Dex and Alonso following us. A shot glass is pushed in front of me and I see Dex beaming as he fills it with Grey Goose. He does the same with Zeal and Alonso, finally holding up his in the air.

  “To an amazing year.” He salutes and we all tip our shots back.

  It’s been years since I’ve drank, never being one that enjoyed it, and the burn down my throat causes me to choke. The guys laugh and our server brings us a round of beers on Zeal’s request.

  “Tell us North,” Dex mumbles around a mouthful of beer, “who did you leave behind in Baltimore?”

  “My mother and little brother are still there.”

  “No girlfriend?” Zeal asks, “or girlfriends?”

  They all laugh again and I join in, “nah, where I’m from, girls would latch on for a chance to get out, nothing would be real. I had to be careful.”

  “So, no girls ever?” Alonso looks shocked.

  “You crazy?” I snort, “Of course there were girls, just never anything serious. I had bigger and more important priorities first.”

  “True.” Dex acknowledges.

  Another shot is poured and I groan as the guys chant my name to drink the clear liquid. I can already feel the weight of my decision as it coats my throat and stomach in warmth. But whatever, I’m having fun and it’s not everyday I get to let loose and enjoy myself. I push myself constantly to be better and I know I deserve a break
for one night.

  I chance a glance over my shoulder and see Avando clearly making out with the girl on his lap while Jameson and Ortiz chat up a few others. I look around the room and see it’s filling up fast with players and females they’re bringing in from the main room.

  I’m still watching Sebastian when his eyes open and land on me, his mouth still devouring the girl’s on his lap. With his eyes still trained on mine, he runs his hand up her thigh, and then nudges her legs open, giving me a peak of red lace. I know I should look away, what he’s doing is wrong, and I know he’s taunting me; but my eyes feel glued to his fingers as he toys with that strap of lace. I quickly scan back up to their faces and see Sebastian has once again closed his eyes, but still plundering her mouth with his tongue.

  Just when I’m about to turn away, I catch his fingers as he slides that red lace to the side and reveals the girl’s pink, wet pussy. His fingers spread her lips apart and his forefinger flicks against her clit, then he sinks it deep inside her. He pumps in and out a few times, then fully pulling out, his finger glistening with her arousal. I watch as that finger moves upward slowly and then he sucks it into his mouth, his eyes once again on mine. I startle when I realize I’m still staring and he fucking caught it, turning quickly in my seat. But the damage is done, I can hear his raucous laughter behind me, and I berate myself for my lack of decency. I need to slow down on the drinking.

  “It’s always the same with those three.” Zeal says to me. “Whether it be girls or fighting, I try to keep them in check but at the end of the day, they are their own men.”

  “Does Coach expect you to keep us all in check?”

  “Not anymore,” Zeal shakes his head, “he’s a lot more lenient on them for some reason and I realized the more I went to him about the problems they caused, the more Coach ignored me. So, I stopped.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “I know they’ve fixated on you and I know they can be a lot to handle.” Zeal looks over his shoulder at their table, “don’t give up on us as a team because of a few rotten apples. They grew up rough.”

  “I grew up rough,” I clasp my hand to his shoulder, “the hood doesn’t make criminals or gangbangers, the system does. I was lucky enough to see that at a young age.”

  “One day, when I haven’t been drinking like a fish, you’ll have to explain that to me.” He smiles and I nod.

  “You got it.” I’m always willing to educate others if they’re open to it.

  “Let’s hit the dancefloor and grind on some bitches.” I hear Ortiz shout behind me and turn in my seat.

  Jameson and Ortiz are heading out of the VIP area and onto the dancefloor, but Sebastian is nowhere in sight. I quickly scan the room and find the girl he was with standing behind the bar taking orders from the growing crowd in here. Where did he go?

  Why the hell do I care? I turn back to face the others and listen in on their enthusiastic conversation about our chances this upcoming season. They’re excited and I can’t help but let their excitement settle inside me too. I want to win and I will do everything in my power to ensure we do. I know what that means, I need to somehow mend my fucked-up relationship with the man who raped me and his little minions. Do I have to like him? Fuck no, but we need to work as a team.

  My bladder screams at me and I lean into Zeal, “bathroom?”

  He points to the corner of the room and grins at me, “we get our own over here, no pissed-on toilet seats.”

  I grin back and get up out of my seat, the room spins a bit on its side and I blink rapidly to right it. Yeah, no more drinks. It takes a while to get through the crowd and I stop constantly to say hey to my teammates. By the time I hit the restroom, my bladder is threatening to release in my pants. I storm through the door and sigh in relief when I see the two urinals and two stalls, one of which has someone inside.

  “Who’s there?”

  I halt at his voice and almost groan in frustration, of fucking course he would be in here. The stall opens and Sebastian steps out, a little bit of white powder dusts his right nostril. I stand there and stare at the spot until he sniffs and runs his sleeve under his nose.

  “What the fuck you looking at, Rookie?” His voice is rough and his pin sized pupils narrow on me.

  “I just need to take a piss.” I start for a urinal, “am I safe to drop my pants in here?” I look over my shoulder at him.

  “I’m not a fucking faggot.” He snarls.

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “I was putting you back in your place, like a good little bitch.” He utters, his voice low with warning.

  I open my jeans and pull myself out, finally letting my bladder go and almost moan in relief. I can still feel him watching me and I would be uncomfortable if I weren’t so drunk and if my bladder weren’t on the brink of exploding before. Of course, this time my piss continues for what feels like hours and the longer I’m standing here in silence with him watching me, the longer I feel exposed. Finally, I finish and tuck myself away, flushing the urinal. I get to the sink and wash my hands, looking at him watching me through the mirror’s reflection. I dry my hands and break the eye contact, heading to the door.

  “I bet you enjoyed it though.” He says as I pass him.

  The rush of anger that consumes me is fast and powerful. Before I can stop myself, my fist is slamming into his mouth and I watch as he hits the wall. He raped me and thinks he can make light of it? I don’t fucking think so. I grab the front of his shirt and throw his back against the wall again, he grunts with the impact.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” I snarl into his face and the piece of shit starts to laugh.

  “That’s the second time you’ve punched me now.” His tongue swipes up the drop of blood on his lip. “I’m starting to think you got a thing for me, North.”

  Not Rookie, not little bitch, he called me North and I can’t explain why that pleases me. We’re face to face, my fists still gripped into the fabric of his shirt, and his eyes roaming over my face.

  “I see you watching me all the time,” he continues, his voice taunting. “Did you enjoy the pussy I showed you out there? Or is that not your thing?”

  Those last few words send my rage to a boiling point and I rear my head back, then spit all over his fucking face. The surprise and shock registering in his features are almost comical but there’s nothing I can laugh at right now. I slam my fist one more time into his cheek and then let him fall to the ground.

  He looks up at me with rage boiling in his eyes, but it’s the other emotion I see in their depths that makes me back up, and grab the handle, pulling open the door.

  As I head back to my table, I scrub my hand down my face, and wince at the pain radiating in my knuckles.

  What game is Sebastian playing? And why did it look like he enjoyed being hit by me?

  Chapter nine

  Sebastian

  Last night was a write off and I’m happy we have today off. I know I had way too much to drink and that getting behind the wheel to get home was stupid, but I’m home in one piece. Or somewhat one piece.

  I feel a hand skim across my chest and turn my head to look into a pair of bright green eyes. The girl from the club. Her leg is wrapped across my waist and I can feel her wet pussy begin to rub along my thigh. I might’ve been into fucking her last night but I sure as fuck don’t remember it, and I’m not even feeling it this morning. I want her out of my house and right now preferably.

  “I’m gonna need you to call someone to come get you or I can call an Uber,” my voice sounds like grating sandpaper, “but I need you gone like ten minutes ago.”

  She gasps at the harshness of my words but I really don’t give a shit about her feelings, she’s nobody to me. She pulls away from me and hops out of the bed, her tits bouncing with the motion. Again, nothing, my dick is soft and that’s saying something since it’s morning and all.

  “You couldn’t fucking get it up last night anyways,” she huffs as she pulls up her r
ed lace panties and tucks herself into her black dress, “this was a waste of my time.”

  “You and me both, sweetheart.” I say as I sit up and search the floor for my boxers, “but I’m happy my dick won’t fall off at least.”

  She flips me the finger and storms out of my bedroom, her heels clicking against the wooden stairs. I hear the front door open and slam shut, cursing my drunk self for the stupidity. I shouldn’t be bringing anyone back here with me and I wonder where the fuck Ortiz and Jameson were. They know what’s the deal and how I get when I drink, I want pussy and I don’t think beyond that. They’re supposed to be the ones that stop me from bringing these hoes back to my crib.

  My body reeks of cheap perfume and alcohol, making me think I might’ve dropped a drink or had a drink dropped on me. Either is a possibility. When I’m drinking liquor, I lose all common sense, and act purely instinctual. Those instincts though aren’t always appropriate and in certain circumstances, they’re fine, but out here, I need to watch myself. It was the anger I felt after Rookie spat in my face and it wasn’t solely focused on him, no, I was fucking pissed off at myself, too. That part inside of me that I bury so deep, the dark little spec that fucks with my head, that part actually enjoyed it and I get why I hate him so much. He toys with that part of me and I find myself forgetting to hold it down. After that, I remember hitting the bar and the liquor hard.

  My bathroom is another mess and I groan when I see the shattered Grey Goose bottle on the floor; dropped while someone was taking a piss, which they didn’t flush. Looks like probably me since the seat is up but who knows? Those two fucks let me leave the club with a whole ass bottle of vodka and let me drive home with it. Fucking idiots.