I run my hand through my hair. “This is supposed to be a weekend off, Tim. Just the coaches and players having fun after the season.”
“There is no off-season for the MVP,” he says in my ear. “We need to capitalize. What happened with getting a date? Remember, if you want to land that commercial and get the big donation to your charity in return, you need a woman on your arm this weekend. Bryce is one of those old-timers: he’s traditional, believes in having one lady on your arm. You know the type. With all the tabloids and gossip shows picturing you every other day, he’s concerned you’re a womanizer, and if you spend the event alone, he’s worried you’re just waiting to pick up any random girl at a party. So settle his poor nerves, and bring some nice girl to Tucson with you.”
“Tim.” I try to keep my voice level. “There is no woman. I told you that already. You know all those paparazzi stalk me just to get a photo of some girl throwing herself at me so they can sell magazines without getting sued.”
Tim groans. “Dylan. You could have any woman you want. What’s the big deal? Ask somebody, or let me set you up with someone, and that’s it. You wine and dine her for the weekend, let the media and the paparazzi photograph you for a few days straight, and boom—at the end of it, you get to star in a national commercial, and your charity gets a huge donation. What could be better?”
I close my eyes. Itshouldbe an easy decision. And a couple of years ago, it would have been. But right now, all it makes me feel is used. I’ve had enough bad dates for a lifetime, and I’ve gotten tired of seeing the women who line up after games hoping to suck my dick or show me their breasts just because I can throw a football.
“I got you that deodorant commercial remember?” Tim says into my phone. “Big bucks. The ad’s running everywhere. These opportunities will dry up in a year if you have a bad season or get injured, God forbid. So now is the time to make it happen. You’ve got the looks, the personality, and the hardware—don’t waste it.”
I roll my eyes. My dad hired Tim for me before I was drafted. He’s an old family friend, and I’ve stuck with him because I trust him. But I don’t like him. He’s an insufferable ass.
“Tim, I’ll see what I can do. I have to get going.”
I hang up and go zip the suitcase I packed last night. I glance at the condoms on my nightstand. Not going to bring them. Not going to sleep with someone again that I don’t give a shit about. I did that too much my rookie year, and then I gave it up for real dating. But that hasn’t worked, either. I haven’t been on a true date in months. My teammates are fucking with me that my dick’s going to shrivel up and disappear if I don’t stop being so damn selective.
Without warning, my mind takes me back to the party after the Super Bowl when I did legitimately ask a woman out. For the first time in ages, I was genuinely interested in somebody. And the craziest thing happened…she turned me down.
She was breathtakingly beautiful with gray eyes that turned to ice when I flirted with her. I thought she was going to knee me in the nuts. But her telling me no just fired me up more until I found that asshole Green assaulting her. He won’t be back with the team next year—between his love affair with the media and showing up drunk to meetings, he already was on the owner’s last nerve, and what he did at the Super Bowl party sealed his fate. Good riddance to him. But then the woman disappeared into thin air. Figures. I finally found someone I wanted to take to Tucson with me, and I lost her.
I head for the shower. This weekend isn’t going to be the time to end my dry spell. It will be all about relaxing and having fun with the boys. No women and no mistakes.
Chapter Three
Tucson, Arizona
Jasalie
“I’ve never even had a celebrity crush, let alone slept with one!” I laugh with Lilla as I look at her through the hotel bathroom mirror while I fiddle with my hair. “And I’m not about to start now. So the answer to your request is yes. You’re more than welcome to spend the night chatting up the players, and I’ll deal with the staff.”
“You are the bestest!” Lilla grabs me in a big hug. “You always sacrifice your own happiness for others, Jase.”
“I’m telling you it’s not a sacrifice. But I’m glad I can help you out. You’ll be much better with the players than me anyway.” I flip on the hair dryer and attempt to bring some order to my normally-straight blond hair, which seems to have developed a mind of her own in the desert.
“Jasalie! Let’s go. The whole team’s probably downstairs already, and Bill’s going to kill us if we’re late.” Lilla grabs the still-running hair dryer out of my hand and turns it off.
I pull my hair back into a bun and secure it tightly with pins. Then I walk into the bedroom, make a fist and smash my just-completed clay sculpture of absolutely nothing important back to a formless blob.
“Why’d you ruin it?” Lilla asks me. “I liked it!”
“Because it sucks.” I used to enjoy sculpting, but lately, it feels more like trying to sing with no tune.
“Jasalie, I really think you need to work on your career issues.”
“You sound like my therapist.”
Mindy, my most recent therapist, recommended I try journaling letters to my abandoning mother. I promised her I’d try once I got to Arizona, but now that I’m here, I’ve been avoiding it. Instead, I’ve been spending all my free time wondering how to help my mother out of her financial jam.
Lilla’s rambling drags me out of my head. “I’m just saying, you think your sculpture sucks because you’ve made sculpting into work.”
I stare at her. “What do you mean?”
“Ever since you’ve started trying to sell your stuff, all you’ve done is complain about your sculptures,” she says.
I can’t believe it, but Lilla’s spot-on. Not that I want to admit that. I wash my hands to get the clay off and pick up my purse. “Okay, I’m all set. You ready?”
Lilla grabs my free hand with both of hers. “We’re going to see Mr. Dylan Wild again! I never got to introduce myself last week. I know meeting Dylan is old news for you, but…” She collapses into giggles.
