I dial a phone number I’ve never used before. One I’ve sat on since Pro Day when the Buccaneers’ offensive coordinator slipped it into my hand with a warm smile and a wink that said loud and clear I was to use it for more than recruiting questions. I never did because I didn’t need to. Not until now.
“Now?” Allen laughs when he answers the phone. “You wait months and you’re calling me now when your boy just rubbed our faces in the field all afternoon?”
I smile, putting my flirt on. “I thought you might be feeling down. Maybe need a little pick me up.”
“Are we talking about a drink? Because I could use one.”
“Among other things.”
He pauses, put off guard by my total lack of pretense. “Tell me where to pick you up.”
“I’ll meet you. There’s a dark little bar off Wilshire that’s perfect for licking your wounds in private. I’ll text you the address.”
“I have some things to take care of here.”
“How long do you need?”
“How long do I have?”
“All night, Allen,” I tell him quietly. “You can have me all night.”
August 15th
Club 171
Los Angeles, CA
I can feel the music in my bones. It vibrates through the floor underneath us up to the balcony where we sit behind the velvet rope; just Tyus Anthony, Colt Avery, and me. We tried to get some of the other guys to come out but the single guys on the defensive line wanted to hit a country bar to learn how to line dance just for the fuck of it, most of the guys on the O line are married, Matthews doesn’t hang out with anyone ever, and our kicker, Andres Castillo said, and I quote, ‘I can’t get into any shit. I’m divorcing a ball devouring bitch and my nose has to be cleaner than Christ until it’s done.’
Tyus ordered bottle service when we got to the club. I had no idea what that meant, but I went along with it, following them up the stairs to the balcony where a table was set up with his name on it, a private waitress has been taking care of us all night, and we drop three hundred bucks per bottle of fifty dollar booze. My eyes must have bulged when they told me the cost because both Tyus and Colt laughed at me.
“It’s the experience, baby,” Tyus chides. “It’s VIP.”
“She’ll mix you anything you want with the bottle,” Colt tells me, nodding to the brunette in a corset and black stiletto boots.
She smiles down at me, patient and inviting. “What will you have, sir?”
“What’s the bottle?”
“Sazerac Rye. It’s a whiskey.”
I scowl at Tyus. “You ordered whiskey?”
He glares back, the diamonds in his ears glinting under the strobe. “What’s wrong with whiskey?”
“I have no idea what to mix whiskey with.”
“That’s what she’s here for. She knows. Ask her instead of yelling at me.”
The waitress leans over the back of the plush black couch I’m sitting on, putting her mouth near my ear where I can hear her better. Her hair falls in soft curls over my arm, tickling my skin. “Can I suggest a Sazerac cocktail? It’s whiskey, bitters, lemon peel, sugar, and absinthe.”
“Am I going to trip balls on the absinthe?”
She chuckles, her warm breath drifting across my neck and settling inside my collar. “It’s not that kind of absinthe, but if that’s something you’re interested in I can ask about it.”
“No, the cocktail will be good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And if you need anything else, anything at all, I’ll never be far away. Call for Cossette.”
There’s no way in the world that’s her real name.
When she stands to walk around the couch to get drink orders from Tyus and Colt, I feel floored. Flooded with the noise and lights of the club. The world felt smaller when she was whispering husky in my ear. It almost feels abrasive now.
Tyus is quick with his order, not interested in having her get too close for too long, but Colt is another story. If I thought the ladies loved me, I was wrong. I hadn’t seen what love was, not until I saw Colt walk through a club. They turn to watch him go. They laugh when he smiles at them. They follow him through buildings, trying to get back in his eye line. Trying to earn another of his smiles. He’s six foot two with shaggy brown hair, blue eyes, and a fucking cleft in his chin like a caricature for handsome. He’s broader than most running backs, built to take a hit better than most, and it’s his size that makes the women fall apart around him.