Groupie (Juked Book 2) Page 4

  “Chill out. Your wife ain’t here. Besides, I wanna know what happened behind those closed doors with our newest teammate here.”

  “Nothing to tell.” Everyone’s watching me, waiting for more information. “Really. We hung out a while. Talked. She’s a nice woman.”

  Nate Funderling snorts. “Nice. Yeah. That’s what she is.”

  A few snickers are heard around the table before Christian yells at us to focus on the game. I’m grateful, because Shivel is pissing me off. I’m pretty sure every interaction he has with me is for the sole purpose of rattling my cage. Maybe he’s more intimidated by my abilities on the field than I realize.

  Instead of focusing on his verbal jabs, I concentrate on doing what I do best off the field: observe. However subtle they are, every one of the guys here has a tell. Luca takes slow, deep breaths whenever he thinks he has a good hand. Shahiary chews his lips. Christian rubs the back of his neck. Sammy, Luca and Nate suck at poker, so they’re gone long before I can figure them out. And Daniel? He’s so lit there’s no telling what his tell is. You could tell him he folded as soon as the cards were in his hand, and he’d believe you.

  It takes a few hands, but I’m able to take most of Shivel’s winnings from him, which pisses him off and makes everyone else happy.

  “Fucking shit,” he says, throwing his most recent losing hand on the table and stalking off. “I’m going to take a piss.”

  “I’m going to get a beer,” Christian says as he stands and stretches. “What do you want, Rookie?”

  “I’ll come with you. I need to stretch my legs.”

  “Those extra up-downs making you a little sore?” he asks with a smile.

  “I didn’t know it could get worse, man,” I admit. “I haven’t been this sore since rookie camp.”

  “Gotta get you up to speed if you’re gonna step in for a starter. Want another Shock Top?” He digs around in the fridge. “Looks like he’s also got some Bud Light, Shiner—oh, here’s a shandy.”

  “Shiner’s good.”

  He hands me a bottle and opens his own, taking a long swig.

  “Hm. Grapefruit shandy. Not bad,” he says, reading the label.

  “Where the fuck did you get that?” Daniel asks as he walks through the door. Daniel’s been all smiles and laughs all night long, so the anger in his voice stops us cold.

  “Uh, it was in the fridge. Sorry, man,” Christian says. “I didn’t realize it was off-limits.”

  Daniels scrubs his face and takes a deep breath. “No. Sorry. I got it for my brother. He won’t need it. Have at it, man.”

  “Have you still not talked to your family?” Christian asks, setting his bottle on the counter and crossing his arms. Daniel ignores him. Christian waits patiently until Daniel stops rifling through the fridge. “Zavaro.”

  “What?” He tosses a bottle top in the sink.

  “Have you still not talked to your family?”

  I’m missing something. I don’t know a whole lot about Daniel, but what I do know is he’s really tight with his family. To not be talking to them would explain why he’s been shit-faced all night.

  “Leave it alone, Sanchez,” Daniel says with a glare.

  Christian ignores him, looking at me and pointing at Daniel with his thumb. “Our captain here decided to take his girlfriend Quincy and her son to his mama’s house for dinner. Have you ever had her fajitas?”

  I shake my head.

  “They’re to die for. I could go for some right now.” He turns to Daniel. “Make sure to tell her I’m coming over next time we have a Sunday off.” Daniel ignores him.

  I furrow my brow. “What am I missing?”

  Daniel groans. “Can we not talk about this? I need time to sort it all out.”

  Christian keeps talking to me. “Apparently it didn’t go over so well when one of the brothers accused Quincy of dating him for his money. So our captain hasn’t spoken to his family in over a week. Which is why he’s been a whiny little bitch lately. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “Enough,” Daniels cut in. “We’re not talking about this anymore. I don’t need my personal business floating around the locker room.”

  Christian snorts. “It’s not like the rookie makes a habit of spouting off in the locker room.”

  Daniel stops and thinks through his drunken haze, probably coming to the realization I don’t do much talking around the team. I’m not shy. I just don’t have to hear myself talk all the time. “Okay, right. But still. Shut the fuck up. I’ll sort it out.”

  “Fine,” Christian says, picking up his beer off the counter. “New topic. How the fuck did that ass-wipe Shivel end up here? I thought he wasn’t invited.”

  “He wasn’t,” Daniel says and leans against the fridge, probably so he doesn’t fall over. He’s gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. “Funderling brought him. I wasn’t happy about it but it’s not like I could kick him out.”

  Christian grunts in disapproval. “At least the rookie here is taking all his money.”

  I smirk. “Makes up for all the times he tries to rile me up.”

  “So you noticed that, huh?” Christian says.

  “Kind of hard to miss when he makes it a daily habit.”

  “He’s just intimidated,” Daniel says. “He knows his days are numbered, so he’s doing whatever he can to take you down with him.”

  “Daniel.” Christian gives him a look I’m pretty sure means “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Um,” Daniel falters. “I… uh….”

  I smile. “You can relax, Captain. My old man already shared the gossip with me.”

  Daniel relaxes against the fridge. “Oh yeah. I guess he would know before I did.”

  Christian looks back and forth at us. “Am I missing something? Why would your dad know anything about this?”

  “Dude,” Daniel says before I can stop him. “His dad is Ryan Flanigan.”

  Christian goes through this mental inventory of names before finally realizing why it sounds familiar. His face lights up, and I know I’m turning red. Damn Irish roots.

  “No shit, Rookie?” he asks excitedly. “I knew you looked familiar, but I’ve played against so many people, you all look alike after a while.” Daniel snorts a laugh at the unintentional racist comment.

  I tug my beanie down over my ears. Nervous habit. “I don’t want the team knowing. Don’t want them to assume I’m here for any reason other than my abilities.”

  Christian nods in understanding. “Totally get that, man. You don’t have to worry about me. Just keep Shivel from finding out. He’d have a field day with that.”

  “He has a field day with everything else,” I grumble before I can stop myself.

  “Yeah, speaking of cleat chasers.” I bristle when Daniel uses the term. “He was really getting onto you about Tiffany. What’s going on there?”

  This time, I know my face is bright red. I don’t like talking about this kind of thing with virtual strangers. It’s one thing to have a frank conversation with my dad, but I don’t know these guys very well yet. I tug on my beanie and drink my beer. It’s no use. These two have the patience of Job when they want information. I finally give in.

  “Nothing’s going on there. He shoved me into a bedroom at the last party, I guess for some sort of weird initiation thing. Tiffany was there. But like I said, we just hung out for a while.”

  Daniel eyes me skeptically. “You like her.”

  I scoff. “I… I don’t know her.”

  Daniel raises his hands. “Hey, no judgment here. She’s been good to this team.”

  My hackles raise at his statement, but I’m not sure why. Why do I feel so protective of this woman’s virtue? It’s starting to irritate me that her name can’t come up in conversation without it affecting me.

  “Speaking of,” Christian interrupts. “Did you text her about tomorrow’s clinic?”

  “Oh fuck,” Daniel says. “Totally forgot. Do you think it’s too late?” He pulls his cellphon
e out of his pocket.

  “Even if it is, she’ll get the text first thing in the morning,” he says. The earlier she gets it, the more time she has to get a camera crew out there.”

  I look at them, confused. “Wait, what?”

  “She’s a sports producer for a local TV station,” Christian clarifies while Daniel texts, probably spelling half the words wrong in his stupor. “When Daniel says she’s been good to this team, he’s not kidding. She’s gotten us more coverage than most local soccer teams get anywhere else.”

  “Hey, Rowen! Get your ass back in here so we can win our money back,” someone shouts from the other room. Christian slaps me on the shoulder and heads toward the sounds of an anxious poker crowd.

  “She’s a nice girl, Rookie,” he says as he walks by me. “If you’re interested, ask her out. Fuck what Shivel says about her. He’s a dick about everyone.”

  “Yeah, um, thanks.” A sports producer. I was not expecting that.

  “Text is sent,” Daniel says looking up, a confused look on his face. “Where did Christian go?”

  I gesture over my shoulder. “Back in there.”

  “Better start shuffling so they can steal more money from me,” he mutters to himself, grabbing his beer and stumbling toward the door.

  “Oh, hey, Daniel,” I say, stopping him. He looks at me, eyes glazed. “Sort this out with your family. You’ve been a dick to be around lately.”

  He grunts in acknowledgement and keeps walking while I reach into the fridge for another beer.

  A sports producer. I smile at the thought. Tiffany has just gone from interesting to intriguing.

  There’s nothing like the smells in the stadium: hot dogs and chalupas and nachos. Vinyl on a brand-new jersey. The fresh cut grass. It’s where I feel most comfortable. It reminds me of my childhood, my high school years, my college years. It gives me a feeling of nostalgia and joy.

  I wave off the person handing out noisemakers when she tries to give me one. I love the concept, but I never use them. When I watch a soccer game, my eyes never leave the field. I become almost mesmerized. There’s no reason to waste the plastic.

  I trot down the stadium steps to my usual section. The Mutiny players are allowed to give out two tickets per game, sometimes more if they have special permission. Except for family, which sits in the team box, the tickets are right here in section one hundred. Center of the stadium, right on the field. Best seats in the house.

  Considering how many of the players I party with, I’m usually able to get my hands on a ticket. I’ve been coming for a few years, and I’ve seen many girls come and go in these seats. I’ve also sat next to a few celebrities. Hollywood actors, a couple musicians, a chef who had his own reality show. You just never know who you are going to sit next to.

  “Hey, Sasha,” I say to one of my friends as I squeeze between her and the seat in front of her. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” She doesn’t take her eyes off her phone. “Did you get Mack’s text about the party tonight?”

  I reach into my clutch and grab my phone, pressing a button to light it up. “Um… yeah. Looks like it. I was avoiding my phone so I missed it.”

  “Your boss threatening to call you in on your off-day again?”

  I nod. Steve is always threatening to call me in. I tell him if I don’t see his call, it doesn’t count. He never actually follows through on his threat, but I’d feel guilty ignoring him, so I silence it and check it every once in a while.

  After reading Mack’s text, I put my phone away. “I doubt he’d actually follow through. There’s not a lot of sports news he didn’t already plan for.”

  “Goodie! That means you can go to the party.” She claps her hands in exaggerated excitement. For the most part, Sasha is fun to be with. We don’t hang out anywhere except here and at the parties with the guys. But she’s harmless, even if she can be ditzy at times. “Alejandro says it’s gonna be bigger than normal. One of Mack’s good friends plays on the Seagulls, and since they’re in town….” She points at the team, warming up on the field. “They’re going to party together.”

  I shift forward as people sit behind us. “Which means we are going to party together.”

  “I know,” she says. “I’ve already been scoping out the other team to see who I’m calling dibs on tonight.”

  I find myself looking for Rowen, which is ridiculous since the Mutiny isn’t even on the field for warmups yet. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get him out of my mind. I wonder if he’ll be at the party tonight and if he’ll make a move on me. I’d totally let him.

  I’m not one of those girls who thinks sex is a huge deal that requires months of commitment and a special production when you “do it” for the first time. If Rowen was interested in sex with me, I’d go for it. He fascinates me.

  I pull my lip gloss out of my purse and reapply. I’m addicted to the stuff. Per my usual, I also listen to the conversations around me. You never know what kind of juicy tidbits you’ll overhear, which can turn into great stories for the newscast. I can’t report the information, because it’s almost always gossip and hearsay, but it always gives me great questions to ask during interviews.

  “We’re right here.”

  Quincy and Geni are making their way to the seats next to mine. Geni gets an ugly look on her face when she sees me, but I ignore her. I’m not sure where her animosity comes from since I’ve never done anything to her, but I let it go.

  Quincy, however, seems nice. If it weren’t for the fact that Geni always comes with her, she and I might actually talk more. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Once the game starts, I’ll end up focused on the field.

  “Hey, Tiffany,” Quincy says, sitting down. I look at her, surprised she remembered my name, and kind of impressed she finally got herself a team jersey. She must plan on being around a while.

  “You’re back,” I say, not sure what else to say. She’s never willingly spoken to me.

  “So are you,” Geni deadpans, staring at the players warming up on the field instead of making eye contact.

  I’m sick of her attitude toward me when I’ve done nothing to her, so I lean over Quincy to speak directly to her. “Yes, but I’m friends with the team.”

  Geni glares at me. “If by friends with the team, you mean groupie whore, why yes, yes you are.”

  “Geni!” Quincy exclaims. I can feel my face turning bright red. I’ve been called worse, but it never changes the initial impact of the insult. “Stop it!” Quincy reprimands.

  “What?” Geni whispers back. “If she doesn’t want to be called out, she needs to not be a bitch.”

  I turn back to the field, trying to ignore their conversation. I’m not a bitch, but for as long as I remember, people have assumed I was. I have a pretty severe case of Resting Bitch Face, so unless I’m laughing or smiling like a kid in a candy store, people assume I’m angry or rude.

  It’s not like me to feel ashamed of my sex life. It’s nobody’s business. But Geni’s sucker punch hits me the wrong way. Before long, though, I’m eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Apparently dinner with Daniel’s family didn’t go well. I sort of feel bad for Quincy. At first, I really wanted to watch out for her. Daniel isn’t known for dating, just one-night stands. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to manipulate him. He doesn’t deserve it. But Quincy has never come off as having ill intentions.

  “I totally get why they are worried about some gold-digging whore coming along,” Geni says. It’s obvious she’s trying to get a rise out of me, since she’s gesturing in my direction. “And tricking him into marriage or something. But honestly, Quin, I’m more worried about you getting hurt than him.”

  “Me? Why me?” Quincy says. “We’re dating. We’re not betrothed or anything.”

  “Honey, I love you.” Geni puts her arm around Quincy’s shoulders. “But look around this section of the stadium. You see all these beautiful women?”

  Out of the corner
of my eye, I see Quincy glancing around like she’s never noticed what this entire section was for before this moment. Her face falls once she realizes the truth of the situation. It’s like she never realized how many women willingly throw themselves at these guys. I can practically see the insecurities set in.

  I want to protect my boys, in my gut, I feel like Quincy deserves the same treatment. She’s never given me any reason to doubt her true feelings for Daniel.

  I sigh before turning to them. “As much as I can’t believe I’m saying this, she’s right. I know these guys pretty well, and I can count on one hand how many of them are faithful to their women.”

  Geni raises an eyebrow and makes a hmph sound. “I’m curious how you know that. Is it because you are the one they cheat with?”

  I narrow my eyes at Geni. I’m really sick of the way she talks to me, and I’ve finally had enough of her constant belittling. “Why are you so worried about my sex life, huh? Are you so hard up, you have to think about mine all the time?”

  “I know all about you, Tiffany,” she says with a sneer. “I’ve seen the pictures. And it’s interesting how many times you’re in the background of candid pictures of the team, coming out of a hotel room. And yet you’re never, ever with the same player.”

  She doesn’t understand. Part of this is my job. The other part likes hanging out with my friends. I’m not attached to any of them.

  “The thing is,” she continues, “the dynamic of a groupie fascinates me. So I’ve done a lot of reading about them. And it’s so funny, the things you can find on the internet. Tell me…, which is your favorite activity…, blow job races, sex trains, or circle jerks?”

  My face is flaming red now. I am not ashamed of any of those things in context, but out here in the open, in front of people who don’t know me from the next guy, it makes me feel small.

  “Are those real things?” Quincy asks her.

  “I don’t know,” Geni says, never taking her eyes off of me. “Why don’t you ask our friend here?”

  Quincy turns to me, but before she can say anything, Sasha grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. “Come on, Tiffany. You don’t need this.”