Broken Play Read online

  “What would you even do with the team if you had it?”

  “I’d manage it. I’d fire Keith and I’d take his place as the GM.”

  Daddy doesn’t react right away. He takes a few sips of his beer, watches a few more commercials about laxatives and the new Carl’s Jr. breakfast sandwich, before finally turning to me.

  “There’s never been a female GM,” he reminds me. “There are barely any female owners.”

  “We’ve never had a female President either, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

  He smiles faintly. “You voted for Hillary, didn’t you?”

  “I wrote in ‘Michelle Obama’.”

  “She’s too fiery for the job. She said so herself.”

  “I think the world could use more fire.”

  “Is that what you’d do as GM? You’d bring the heat?”

  “I’d bring Super Bowl rings,” I tell him confidentially, my heart in my throat. It’s racing so hard I think I might throw up, but I swallow past it, pushing my dream forward into the light. “I can do that job as good as any man. I can definitely do it better than the one you have working it right now.”

  “You already did, didn’t you?”

  I pause, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. In fairness, he doesn’t have to. I know what he’s talking about.

  “I only told him the truth,” I explain quietly.

  “And what was the truth?”

  “That we need him and he needs us.”

  He scratches at his chin thoughtfully. “I think maybe you told him more than that.”

  “Probably.”

  I don’t ask if he’s angry. He’s not. He’s not happy, but he’s not pissed, and that’s the best I can hope for after what I did. But I had to do it. We needed Tyus back on the field to take the championship. Even it means I’ll lose the team because of it.

  I turn my body in my seat to face Daddy, leaning on the arm to get closer to him. “Don’t sell,” I plead. “Not this year. Give me time to prove to you that I can manage the team someday.”

  “No.”

  My chest deflates painfully. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re too young. Even in five years, you’d be too young to manage it. And it’s no place for a woman anyway. You’re beautiful and I have no doubt you’ll be harassed, probably assaulted at some point.” He shakes his head, his mouth a stern line of disapproval. “What father would want that for his daughter?”

  “What father would tell his daughter that her life is limited by the ignorance of men?”

  Daddy’s chest rises and falls sharply, a stiff breath escaping through his nose. He’s not a feminist, not by any means. But he is a Mila-ist. He wants every opportunity for me. Every experience, every chance to take over the world. It’s why he’s almost never told me no, even when he probably should have. And maybe he should tell me no today, but he doesn’t because he’s my dad. He’s my champion.

  “Five years,” he says gruffly, not looking at me. “I’ll give you five years to finish school before I’ll even consider setting you up to learn how to manage the team. And in that time, you’ll immerse yourself in the NFL. I want to see if you can handle it.”

  I laugh without meaning to. “Daddy, seriously? You think I can’t handle myself with a bunch of boys? Me?”

  “You think you can handle anything in the world. You always have, and that’s probably more dangerous than anything. You have no fear, but some things in this world have to be feared, Mila. Maybe it’s time you learned that.”

  My smile drops slowly, my spine straightening. “I know that.”

  “You’ll have to prove it to both of us.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You’ll get a job. I won’t help you get it, you’ll have to find one on your own, but school can’t suffer because of it. I want to see A’s. B’s at the very least. You’ll have to give yourself over to this one hundred percent. No partying. No distractions.”

  “Do I get a say in the Draft this year?” I ask hopefully.

  “No. You’ll start at the bottom, not the top. People don’t need another reason to not take you seriously. And I’m cutting you off.”

  I gape, shocked by that more than anything; even the fact that he’s considering my plea. “You’re what?”

  “I’ll keep paying for school and the dorms and your food, but everything else is up to you. Your clothes. Vacations. Car maintenance. The insurance. In fact, you can start paying me back for the car, with interest. You need to learn what it is to budget. What it’s like to live in the real world. And in five years, if I don’t think you’re ready to start learning how to manage the team, I’m selling it. Hell, if you lose focus this year, I’m selling.”

  “You won’t have to. I can do it.”

  “We’ll see,” he mutters, not entirely convinced.

  He turns up the TV, telling me the discussion is over. I sit back in my seat but I’m not paying attention to the announcers dissecting the game. I’m thinking about tomorrow and finding a job. I’m thinking about next year and the year after that. And the year after that. I’m thinking of all the things I need to do to prove myself, and I’m thinking it can’t be that hard. It can’t be that different from what I’ve been doing for the last year trying to prove to everyone that I’ve changed. That I can be counted on.

  But if that’s true, why is my body flooded with fear?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TYUS

  Club 171

  Los Angeles, CA

  It feels strange knowing I’m going on the field in a couple weeks. Like I got used to being benched. I won’t believe that it’s actually happening until I get the signal from Coach sending me in. I wonder if he’ll look me in the eyes when he does it. He hasn’t since the meeting with Big Bill. Neither of us has said a word to the other since I tore off my jersey and threw it at his feet. That bothers me. It makes the anger rise up again, hot in the back of my throat like a sickness. Like a fever roaring through my blood.

  Mila was right, though. It’s a conversation for another time, and we’ll have it. Just not yet.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t put ‘cat’ down,” I complain, tossing my Costume Bingo card onto the low, black table at the center of our group. It bounces off Sloane’s sweating drink, skidding to a halt in front of her and Trey.

  “It’s like you’re trying to lose,” she laughs.

  “I’m definitely not going to win.”

  “Can I put the cat we saw in my ‘pussy’ box?” Lowery asks with a straight face.

  I snicker into my drink, shaking my head.

  “What?” he asks innocently. “I’m honestly asking. Does a cat costume count for a pussy?”

  “Say ‘vagina’,” Lilly laughs.

  “I didn’t write down ‘vagina’. I wrote ‘pussy’.”

  “If we let you use it, will you stop saying that word?”

  “What word? Pussy?”

  “That’s it,” Colt tells him definitively. “You don’t get to count it.”

  “Fuck you, man!”

  “Where? In the pussy?”

  “Why would you even write that down?” Sloane demands of Lowery. “A vagina costume is not a thing.”

  He shrugs his massive shoulders. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

  “Hold up,” Trey cautions. He’s looking down over the edge of the VIP balcony to the floor below. “We’ve got something here.”

  Lowery sits up excitedly. “A p—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ say it!” Lilly snaps at him.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s three girls in body paint and that’s it.” Trey counters. He leans back in the chair he and Sloane are sharing, gazing down into the throng pulsing to the beat of the Jay-Z’s latest. “One is a storm trooper, Colt.”

  The big ass Star Wars nerd sits up straight in his seat. “Seriously?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you about that shit, man. This is real.”

  Colt hesitates
, his beer held tightly in his hand, his body tense with excitement.

  Lilly smiles tolerantly at him. “I don’t care if you look.”

  He grins, kissing her on the cheek with a loud smack. “Love you, babe.”

  “Love you too. But you don’t have to check in with me on every—and he’s gone,” she trails off, watching Colt leap over the table to get to the railing.

  It’s messed up watching Willy Wonka trying to catch an eyeful of ass. Colt’s costume is dead on, from the ugly orange top hat to the loud purple coat. Dude even brought a cane with him, one he’s used repeatedly to lift the back of Lilly’s red Veruca Salt dress every time she stands up. She’d slap him if she didn’t love him so much. He’s a lucky guy.

  “Did anybody have ‘meathead’ on their card?” Sloane asks, still leaning over the railing.

  “I have ‘asshole’,” Lilly answers, “but that’s in anticipation of some guy being a total asshole, regardless of how he’s dressed. I was kind of banking on Lowery getting me that square.”

  Lowery sits back in his seat, smiling at her around his Popeye pipe. “I’ll hook you up later, Lil. Two more drinks and I’ll be there.”

  “You’re a true friend.”

  “You would be too if you’d give me Rona’s number.”

  “Never.”

  “Come on!” he whines. “She’s hot. She’s fun.”

  “She’s dating my brother.”

  “I’m better looking than him and I make way more money.”

  Lilly frowns sympathetically. “Maybe, but she hasn’t been in love with you since the sixth grade, so…”

  “Damn,” he grumbles, slouching into the sofa.

  Our waitress, Marlena, sees his unhappy attitude and immediately appears at his side with a sly smile and her tits nearly spilling out of her red corset.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asks intimately. “A drink? Something to eat?”

  “How about a girlfriend? Just for tonight.”

  “Not quite the ‘something to eat’ I was thinking of.”

  He smiles broadly. “Chicken wings?”

  “That I can do.” She squeezes his shoulder warmly as she stands. “Another beer as well?”

  “Always.”

  “I’ll be right back with that.” Marlena stands, surveying the group. “Would anyone else like a refill?”

  I hold up my glass full of melting ice and the bitter scent of cognac. “I’ll take one.”

  “Another Camus?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Of course.”

  Marlena disappears into the dark corners of the balcony. I watch her ass as she goes. It’s poured into her leather pants that hug her like a second skin. No lines. No underwear. It’s hot, but I won’t mess with her. In his single days, Colt would have had her pressed up against a wall back in the shadows, his name hiccupping rapturously in the back of her throat. He could get just about any chick he wanted, and he wanted a lot of them, but that’s never been my style. I won’t get down with a girl being paid to make me happy, even if her job description doesn’t extend beyond bringing me drinks. I’ll still tip her at the end of the night and I don’t want any confusion on whether or not she earned that money with a drink order or a BJ.

  “Well,” Sloane grunts, standing from her place on Trey’s lap, “I love you guys and all, but I came out here to dance, not sit around staring at your ugly faces. Lilly? You with me?”

  “Right behind you.”

  “Me too!” Lowery shouts.

  Trey is quick to follow, heading downstairs with the girls to the crowd waiting to swallow them whole. Colt is a few steps behind. He stops to look down at me expectantly.

  “You in, man?”

  I shake my head, settling in deeper into the couch. “I’m gonna chill here. Lowery and I have drinks coming. Someone should watch ‘em.”

  Colt nods in solemn agreement. Even up here behind the ropes, we’re still vulnerable. It might not seem like a bunch of big ass football players would have to worry about being drugged, but we do. There are a lot of crazy fans out there, both men and women, and some girls are just looking for the payday of getting pregnant by one of us. All it takes is one careless encounter, one slip of the dick without a condom, and we’re done for. She owns us; lock, stock.

  “Stay up, brother,” he tells me, offering me his knuckles. “We’re closing this mother down tonight. You heard?”

  “I hear ya,” I agree, bumping his fist with mine.

  “You want me to send a honey your way? Or two? Three?”

  “No, I’m solo tonight. Thanks.”

  “You could use a jump off.”

  “You could use a vaccination.”

  “Dude,” he hisses in annoyance, “don’t joke about that shit in front of Lilly. She won’t think it’s funny.”

  “Then don’t tell me how often I should get my dick wet. It’s none of your damn business.”

  “Fair enough.” He leans down suddenly, burying me in a hug that’s all cologne, crushed velvet, and his breath against my cheek. “You look so pretty tonight,” he whispers impishly.

  I laugh, shoving him off me. “Fuck you, man.”

  He comes in quick, kissing me on the forehead before darting down the stairs. He’s lucky he’s fast, and, like Lilly, he’s lucky I love him. Any other guy in the world did that shit to me, I’d kick his ass.

  A crystal glass full of dark liquid and glittering ice crosses over my shoulder. Wrapped around it is a perfectly manicured hand, her slight wrist wrapped in a surprisingly expensive diamond bracelet.

  I reach up to take the glass, my fingers brushing against hers. “Thanks, Marlena.”

  “You’re very welcome, Mr. Anthony,” she purrs in my ear.

  But it’s not Marlena.

  I snap my head around. I’m immediately met with the warmth of chocolate eyes and tanned skin. Brilliant red lips curved in a sexy, seductive grin.

  “Mila,” I breathe, stunned.

  I’ve thought about her a million times since yesterday. During the meeting. On the flight home. As I was falling asleep in the dark and the quiet, my mind rummaging through my day to pick out the highlights. She was there on the list, just below catching that ball and coming down inside the end zone. Her lips, her legs, her eyes that are older than her age; they all came together in perfect clarity against my eyelids. The first thing I remembered clearly all day.

  She looks different than she did in the elevator. She was casual then. Comfortable. Tonight she’s something else completely – she’s a mermaid. A gorgeous, glittering, sex soaked mermaid poured into a green jewel encrusted dress, her chest pushed up high into a dangling mess of pearls around her neck.

  She’s curvier than I thought she was. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light. A trick of the dress and all the shit she has on underneath to make her body look exactly the shape she wants it to be, but whatever it is that’s going on, I’m into it. I’m sweating just looking at her. She’s showing half as much skin as most of the girls here but she’s hotter than all of them by far. Her dress shimmers under the pulse of the lights flashing through the club. Her skin glows with warmth, her hair glistening cold.

  She comes around the couch to sit down next to me. Close to me. So close I can see every sequin on her dress. Every freckle on her nose. “Happy Halloween,” she says with a smile.

  I feel myself smiling back at her; big and genuine. It’s a shock and a relief to see her, the mixture of emotions bubbling in my chest until I feel almost like laughing.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m celebrating.”

  “What? You’re thirteenth birthday?”

  “Funny.”

  I glance down the stairs to the bouncer blocking the entrance. “How’d you get behind the rope?”

  “I have ways.”

  “You know someone?”

  “I know you.”

  I smirk at her skeptically. “They wouldn’t let you up just because you said
you know me.”

  “True. Luckily, they know my good friend Franklin.”

  She’s not carrying a purse and there’s no way a dress hugging her hips that tight has pockets. I have to stop myself from thinking about where she’s storing her money.

  “Franklin could get somebody fired.”

  “Only if you’re a snitch,” she reminds me.

  “What if I am?”

  Mila shrugs, leaning in closer. “Maybe you are and maybe you aren’t, but you’re too happy to see me to do anything about it.”

  Fuck her, she’s right. I am happy to see her. I shouldn’t be. I should tell her to get out of here. I should tell the bouncer how young she is and get her kicked out, make a scene, make a show of pushing Big Bill Greene’s daughter away from me, but I don’t. Instead, I find myself turning in my seat to face her. To study her in all her shimmering, green glory.

  “You’re already here,” I reply indifferently. Artificially.

  She smiles like she knows the truth, and she probably does because she’s smart. But she’s been thinking about me too, otherwise why would she be here?

  “You come here to see me tonight?” I ask point-blank.

  “Pure coincidence,” she lies easily, ready for me. “I came here with my girlfriends to celebrate a very exciting job offer I just secured.”

  “You’re leaving your ‘internship’?” I ask pointedly.

  “Finally, yeah.” She takes a deep breath. The bodice of her dress rises sharply with her breath, dragging my eyes to it. She’s flushed, her skin pink from her heart to her hair, and the excited glint in her eyes makes me wonder if she’s on something. She’s definitely flying high, but off of what, I don’t know. “I spotted you up here all alone. I thought I should come keep you company.”

  “Sweet of you.”

  “I’m a very sweet person.”

  “You want a drink?” I ask, nodding to the bar behind her. “I bet they can find you a ginger ale. I could ask ‘em to go get you a sippy cup.”

  “No, thanks,” she laughs. “I’m not drinking tonight. Alcohol or other.”

  I smirk. “You’re straight edge, huh?”

  “Not always, but tonight for sure.”