The door opens a bit but slams shut. Then I hear two female voices arguing on the other side.
We all look at one another.
“Be on your best behavior, jackasses.” I slide my chair out and get up to go save Leighton from Ruby.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Leighton
* * *
After getting off the train, I stop and huddle closer to the building, so I don’t get trampled by the foot traffic. It’s warmer than I expected, so I strip off my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. Being more economical sucks, but having three kids to support means the L train and buses rather than cabs or even Ubers.
I glance at the GPS on my phone, walking up the few blocks to where Hayes lives. I’m supposed to meet him in the back room of a bar named Peeper’s Alley. I’ve heard of it, of course. It’s the bar you go to if you want to sleep with one of the three Colts players who live in the building. The back room is like some makeshift speakeasy you can only get into if one of the guys invites you in.
Sometimes when I see the posts from the diamond girls talking about spotting Hayes and his friends, or when they say they slept with one of them, it’s hard to believe that it’s Hayes they’re talking about. Even if I wasn’t a new guardian to three kids, I don’t think I’d want that life, or a boyfriend with a lifestyle that left me in constant competition with a bunch of other women.
Then again, the way Hayes looked at me in the alley the other day… his body pressed against mine, his arm above my head. Everything in me begged to just let him kiss me. Have fun with him and see what happens. Then I heard the logical voice in my head—that isn’t your life anymore. You can’t have the pleasure of sleeping with a guy and seeing where it goes. Those days are long gone.
I heave for breath after the uphill jaunt to their condo building that’s nestled in the Colts’ little area of the city. Bars litter the streets, and all the stores have to do with baseball or Chicago sports teams. Three-flat apartment and condo buildings with rooftops to watch a Colts game line the street. Hayes lives one happy life.
I stand in front of their building, and it feels like a tourist destination when I see a cardboard sign with The Corral written in a girly script. There are a few white pieces of paper on it, more promises of a good time. I can’t imagine coming home and finding a slew of messages from guys with invitations to massage my feet and spoon-feed me ice cream. The life of a professional baseball player.
I sigh, ignoring my annoyance with the notes and mental images of Hayes entertaining one of the girls’ promises. Peeper’s Alley has a nice wooden sign with black lettering. There are a few neon beer brand lights in the window, but it’s definitely an older vibe than the other bars around here.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the bar. There aren’t a lot of people in here except for at the stools along the bar, all filled with men who look as though they have designated seats and if they show up and someone’s in them, they’re told to get the hell out.
I scan the room, seeing a door in the back that says Keep Out. That’s where Hayes told me to go, so I heft my bags on my shoulder and weave through the tables, my eye on the door.
I’m not sure what Hayes’s agent wants to talk to me about, but Hayes has done enough for me that I can do this for him. Even if it meant asking my dad to pick up Lake from her after school activity and driving her home before her friend’s mom picks her up for a sleepover. With my mom watching Monroe and Lincoln, their paths will collide, and I’m sure it won’t be pretty, but hopefully they’ll keep it in check since the kids will be around.
I start to open the door, but a hand covers mine and slams it shut.
I blink and draw back, turning to see an older woman with red hair glaring at me.
“You’re early but let me give you some advice—around here, the early bird doesn’t get the worm.” The short woman moves to stand as a sentinel in front of the door and crosses her arms.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Hayes. Hayes Carlisle.”
Her drawn-on eyebrows raise. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”
“He’s expecting me.” Surely, she’ll let me in once she finds out who I am.
“Come up with something original.”
I glance over my shoulder to see if there are television crews around. Am I on one of those prank shows? But all I see are all the older men with beer bellies hanging over their pants, staring at me.
I circle back around and smack on a smile. “I think there’s some confusion here.”
The doorknob twists in her palm, but she tightens her hand and her teeth clench from the strength it’s taking to not allow whoever is on the other side of the door to open it.
She points at a table in the corner with her other hand. “You can wait for him to come out if you’re that desperate. But I’m telling you, you don’t have a shot with him.”
My head rears back. “Maybe I don’t want a shot with him.” I should throw it in her face that just the other day he wanted to stick his tongue down my throat. Have that, crazy lady.
She finally releases the doorknob and wrings out her arm.
