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Rakell thought she sounded almost too nonchalant, wondering how it felt to untangle yourself from a relationship you’d been in for years. Melissa had met Tom when she was twenty and had been married to him since she was twenty-five…so over a decade. They had a house, two children, and a friend group. How do you cleave all of that apart without losing yourself? Or had she already lost herself, fitting into Tom’s ecosystem? Is that what happened to my mom? Had she lost herself fitting into my dad’s dream of a good life? Then, there had been the statements from a few of the NFL wives and girlfriends at the team's yearly preseason cook-out: “Oh yeah, I was an aspiring model, too, but honestly, that became too complicated, so I gave that up.” “There’s no way to have a demanding career and make this kind of relationship work.” “Not sure how long you can keep pursuing acting and be with Jake, but good for you.” “Once I had my daughter, the only thing that mattered to me was creating a home for her and Chad, making sure he felt taken care of to achieve his dreams.”
“I better…” Rakell muttered, her eyes casting to her wicker bag.
“Wait,” Melissa uttered, sitting up straight. “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”
“Um, well, Pilates, then I need to review a document for Matt, but nowhere early, and I know I’ll be nursing a hangover.”
“Okay, I’m taking care of Jake,” Melissa said emphatically, grabbing her purse, searching for her phone, and bringing it to her ear. “Jake the snake…Jakeee,” she mocked, the liquor slowing her speech.
The tinge of Texas in Melissa’s voice exaggerated, sounding closer to Jake’s casual drawl, Rakell thought, chuckling internally.
Melissa flapped her hand, gesturing to the screen before flipping it in Rakell’s direction.
Rakell flinched, hearing Jake’s lecturing voice booming from the small device, knowing he would be perturbed at best. The tequila whisked through her veins as a thought ruminated in her head—she was nervous because Jake Skyler would be irritated. No way, no! She had her own life, and how dare he be annoyed because she was not answering her phone or letting him define her days? No fucking way!
Bringing the phone back to her ear, Melissa continued chiding him. “Thanks for taking care of our fun girls’ day, Jakee. I appreciate it, and so does Rakell, because we are staying the night here on your dime…” Melissa rolled her eyes, nodding. “Well, brother, you were generous enough to offer your credit card to ensure we eat and drink well today. We will do just that…swim, eat, drink more, then crash here. Rakell doesn’t have anything to do tomorrow. Her demanding boyfriend is supposed to be practicing so he can win another Super Bowl and not be nosing into her day with his very, very responsible older sister…you know, perfect Melissa!” she added, snapping out the last line.
Rakell heard her dad’s favorite song filling the cabana. Knowing it wasn’t Jake, she grabbed it. Ignoring the ten or so ‘Jake texts’ popping up on the screen, she answered, “Hello, Ana.”
“Rakell, sounds like you’re already celebrating. So, you know?”
“Know what? Did I? Tell me, Ana,” she insisted, her mouth opening, then shouting, “Did I really?”
She jumped up as she heard Ana say, “Yes, you did, and the terms are fantastic for a new actress!”
Melissa stopped talking to Jake and sat up abruptly, her expression entreating Rakell. “You got it?”
Rakell nodded, a smile beaming from her face.
“Jake,” she shouted into the phone. “Add a couple of bottles of this place's most expensive Champagne to your tab. Your girlfriend is well on her way to Hollywood stardom.”
A grin plastered across Rakell’s face as she thanked Ana profusely. “Yes, send the contract, and we’ll talk details tomorrow. Did you call Leather and Lace? They expected me back in Paris next month…” Rakell battled the party sparking in her brain from the good news, but she heard that Ana had worked it out for her to do the photoshoot in Paris earlier. Sucking in air, she slowly said, “Okay, okay, in two weeks…okay, yes, just tell me where to go and when.” Throwing her head back, “Thank you!” she screamed into the phone before tossing it onto her chair. Then she reached out to hug Melissa but slipped and fell onto her, making Melissa lose herself in laughter.
Melissa dropped the phone, still crackling with Jake’s voice…”Rae-kale? Issa?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was our first game back in San Antonio since the “Jumbotron” incident. We were riding into town sporting a five-and-one record. The early season was going as we’d expected, the reigning Super Bowl champions dominating most opponents at almost every turn. The lone loss came during a game when we’d fumbled the ball, uncharacteristically, four times. Los Angeles had been able to convert three of those fumbles into points, so it was most appropriate to say that we had lost that game more than Los Angeles won. It didn’t matter, though, an L is an L. It was one of the two games Rakell had been at, and we had blown it. At least I’d been able to spend the night with her at her place in L.A., which she was sharing with Vee, her little vulture roommate. It felt like that girl was circling, just waiting for Rakell and me to blow up. I wanted to tell her that wasn’t going to happen—we were the real deal for life—and by the way, I’m not into the bottom-feeder types. I knew that was an asshole thing to think, but something about her didn’t sit right with me.
Rakell had told me a couple of days ago that her filming schedule was too intense to fly to San Antonio for the game. I tried to cloak the disappointment, burgeoning on ire when I responded. “I understand,” I’d said, adding, “but I need to see you soon.”
The media were like hawks at the games, searching for her because I refused to confirm or deny her presence during interviews. The sportscasters knew; they replayed the video showing me grinning like a six-year-old when I saw her in the stands in L.A., the cameras picking up the exact direction of my eyes, panning to her waving. The cacophony of chatter and questions about her missing so many games started dominating our post-game press conferences. The comments by the media pissed me off. “Probably better for Skyler if she stays away.” “He’s so easily distracted.” “This will run its course, and he’ll move on.”
Plus, I could hear some of the low rumblings from the guys. Coach Easton said I needed to make it clear that she had a career and couldn’t be expected to be in the stands for every game. The Condor fans, especially the women, had a thing or two to say about that on social media. I didn’t say shit, but I kind of agreed with them. We’d shouted out to the world that we were a couple, so the public was keen on what was going on in our relationship. I mean, her career was just in the beginning of taking off. I was already a Super Bowl champion, so it seemed like a no-brainer that my girl would be there, cheering me on. The irony is that the other women in my life, my sisters, Delilah and my mom, were all standing up for Rakell, and I just had to sit there and nod. Like, of course, her career was equally as important as mine. But was it? I had the capability of taking care of her and our future family in a way she might never attain in Hollywood, certainly not without giving up a lot, herself in some ways. That scared the hell out of me.
She’d already warned me that this movie she would be starring in was highly sexual. She’d given me a bit more detail about some of the scenes while riding my cock. It all played out in my head as a fantasy. I was definitely aroused by her saucy descriptions wrapped up in that honeyed Georgia accent. That made my cock leak precum after only a couple sentences had oozed from her lips, as she fluttered her lashes, hoisting herself on top of me. She’d ask if I would rehearse with her, if I would be her stand-in, just as she’d arch her ass back and slide her pussy down on my begging dick. Nothing mattered at that point. I had thought the role was a perfect fit until the desolate weeks lingered on and we were only connected by fragments of conversations, Rakell dozing off between greetings and rundowns of our days. My mind would reel back to some of her descriptions without the cushion of her body on mine, and my mental space darkened. Her engaging in sexual scenes on the big screen seemed to be on a continuous loop in my head. I needed to shove those thoughts into the back of my brain so I could do my job.
We won the toss and chose to receive it. As if to send a message, the first play from scrimmage had been designed for Dwayne. Lining up just inside the sideline, he ran ten yards, then quickly dashed midfield. I pump-faked the ball so the cornerback thought he had an easy read on the play, jumping ahead of Dwayne. As soon as the cornerback took a step forward, Dwayne reversed back toward the sidelines, blasting past the guy. It all happened in the blink of an eye. The cornerback reversed course, but it was too late. Dwayne was two full steps beyond him with momentum. I anticipated this as soon as the cornerback’s body belied him, tipping me off that he had bought the fake. Waiting just long enough for Dwayne to put a small distance between himself and the defender, I lofted a pass far enough that only Dwayne could get to. He caught it in stride, racing down the field for forty yards. Damn, that would have been a touchdown, except for the heads-up play of the safety, who cut Dwayne off, preventing our score.
The Lone Stars got smart in the next play and started double-teaming Dwayne. I read their strategy and answered with one they were not expecting. We’ve got more than one trick up our sleeves, boys! The following play was designed for Jaxton, who’d lined up just inside Dwayne and was running a crossing route. I hit him with a pass over the middle downfield for a gain of fifteen yards. Message sent. You can’t contain us. A few running plays later, we were facing a third and two. Everyone knew it was going to either Dwayne or Jaxton, so I found our tight end wide open in the end zone for a touchdown.
San Antonio wasn’t able to generate any offense on their first possession and was forced to punt after three plays. We traded punts with the Lone Stars for each of the next few possessions. Ten minutes into the quarter, with Dwayne locked down in double coverage, Jaxton repeated the same route he’d run on the game's second play. I faked the ball in what looked like the same play, so the defense would think they were prepared for what was coming, collapsing on the point where the ball had gone last time. As I lifted my arm in a pump fake, Jaxton took off faster, sprinting past his defender then landing himself in the open flat, where I could drop the ball on a dime—right into his hands. Jaxton scampered toward the sidelines in a footrace with the same safety who’d cut Dwayne off on the first play of the game. The safety chased Jaxton out of bounds for a thirty-yard gain. As Jaxton got to the sideline, obviously headed out of bounds, the safety gave him a barely legal shove. Jaxton turned to react, but our guys were there to congratulate him, defusing the situation before it could get out of hand. We were within field goal range, and after three running plays yielding only six yards, we settled for a field goal. The scoreboard read: Condors 10, Lone Stars 0.
The second quarter turned into a defensive grind, the Condors and the Lone Stars trading mostly three and outs. Both teams occasionally got a first down, but neither team was able to muster more than a single first down in any series of plays. The only offense that made any headway was generated when a Lone Stars’ defensive lineman forced a fumble from one of our running backs deep in our territory. The Lone Stars couldn’t eke out a first down but came away with a field goal. Going into halftime, we were leading 10-3.
The beginning of the third quarter started with San Antonio receiving the ball. We were able to shut them down, which resulted in another three and out for the Lone Stars. We were coming out of the half swinging. Dwayne lined up along the left sidelines with Jaxton ready, about six feet to his right. On the snap, both took off like a shot. At ten yards, Dwayne stutter-stepped, then took off again. Fuck, I could tell the Lone Stars’ cornerback was itching, determined not to be fooled again. He stayed on Dwayne, along with the safety. When Dwayne hitched, Jaxton stopped on a dime, pivoting around as he shuffled back two yards. Damn, the kid has good instincts. It was as if all his senses were on overdrive when he was on the field. It was like watching a lion in the wild, shifting at the slightest sound, sight, or movement…he was always on high alert.
The ball was in the air, right where Jaxton expected it to be. He secured it, turning on his heel up-field. Driven by momentum, the cornerback lunged, wrapping his arms around Jaxton’s waist. Reflexively, Jaxton swatted the Lone Stars cornerback's arms away, shrugged him to the ground, and took off. He gained fifteen more yards before being gang-tackled with some “extra” punching to knock away the ball lodged in Jaxton’s arms. A couple of those blows caught Jaxton square in the chest; he aggressively pushed the San Antonio guy off him. Even downfield, I could see Jaxton posturing when he sprung up. He was readying for a fight. By the time Jaxton got to his feet, shaking his head as he sought his prey, our teammates had huddled around him instinctively, ensuring there were no ‘extracurriculars’ while giving him a few “atta boy” pats on the helmet. Toxic energy thrummed from the Lone Stars, sensing they were getting under Jaxton’s skin. Not good kept popping in my head. Not good. I didn’t want them to exploit the vulnerability they had just witnessed. Not good.
