“One second,” I whisper and actually mute Tiger the correct way this time.
I don’t hear Rush on the phone any longer, but I don’t think he has hung up either.
“Rush?”
“You’re right, Mia. This shit isn’t going to work. I’ll give you by the end of the week to find another place to live. Maybe you can go stay with that motherfucker.”
Then there’s a click.
And deafening silence.
Thirty-Three
RUSH
We’re preparingfor a preseason game to play one of our division rivals in Washington, D.C. The game is Sunday, so we have a few more days to prep. Physically, I am in the best shape that I think I’ve ever been. I have no injuries and I’ve bulked up twelve percent more muscle mass than last season. The point of training to become bigger and stronger is that it will be harder for a player to bring me down once I have the ball in my hand.
Mentally though, I’m a fucking wreck.
I am spending half of the time just trying to keep all the various plays in my head and the other half avoiding Mia and Samuels. It’s hard, though.
Mia’s leg has been bothering more often lately, which always has me concerned, and sometimes I catch glimpses of her looking at me like I just shot a puppy in the head. Since when is she the victim? She’s living in my house and doing who knows what the fuck with one of my teammates.
And don’t get me started about his ass. He’s strutting around here like the cat who swallowed the canary because they were on the computer together doing God knows what, and now he knows that Mia and I were seeing each other and he also knows that it the shit ain’t good.
Yet with all of that going on, I’ve been the bigger person. I’ve been able to keep my distance and maintain some sort of calm reserve at work. I’m not going to lose my spot on the team and my livelihood because my of what’s going on with them.
I’m smarter than that.
At least I thought I was.
There’s a group of offensive players in the weight room when Samuels walks in. My first instinct is to get up and leave after my last chest fly, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I’ve been kindly leaving the room or the area when he’s come around.
Not anymore.
I didn’t do shit.
“Mia worked me hard today,” he says out loud, and I know the suggestive comment is for my benefit.
“Yeah, she’s pretty tough. She’s got my hamstrings nice and limber now,” Carter agrees, oblivious to Samuel’s real meaning.
He rubs his dick through his shorts.
“Mm, mine too.”
His plan’s worked because my body is now shaking with rage.
He’s lying on the bench press and I swivel my feet around, grab hold of the dumbbell, and press it down to his chest.
“You say one more fucking word and I’ll choke your ass right here and right now.”
“Whoa, Rush!”
My teammates try to pull me off of Samuels, but I plant my feet to the ground and hold my stance, pushing the dumbbell down even harder.
“Say one more fucking world and I’ll rip your throat clean out.”
“You should've told me,” he squeaks out.
