“Your brother made me a cup of tea since my throat was sore from all the screaming,” I announce, and Phoenix pauses with his mug against the rim of his bottom lip.
Then he smiles just as wickedly as his brother before taking a sip. “If her throat’s not sore the next morning, a man hasn’t done his job, am I right, bro?”
“Fucking right.” The two men clink their cups together in a kind of dirty toast, and I shake my head and laugh.
Phoenix and I spend the rest of the day together. I wear a plain white hat to try and disguise myself, and we drive up north of Houston to the small town where his cousin, Dutton Hale, owns a ranch. He orders us a picnic lunch from a cute diner, and we eat on a blanket in the grass beneath an oak tree on Dutton’s property.
We kiss. We hold hands. We fall even deeper in love.
It was the perfect day.
The next day? Not so much.
I pull the brim of my cap down when I enter the restaurant, and I’m surprised to find the booth near the window empty. That’s weird. My mother always prefers that table.
Looking up, I spot her at a table in the back corner, so I make my way over. And great… Willie’s here.
“Hi, Mom, Willie,” I greet, sitting across from them. I haven’t seen my mother in a while, but her face looks smoother and her lips appear much puffier than last time we were together. And are her breasts larger? She must have had some work done. Not to mention she’s wearing a designer dress. Good, if she can afford all that, she can pay back the twenty grand she still owes me.
“Hi, baby. I saw you won your game,” Mom begins.
“Yep. It was very exciting,” I say flatly, still miffed that she didn’t make time to come to a single home game this season.
The waitress takes our order, and I get straight to it. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
My mother shifts in her seat, eyes darting toward her fiancé before coming back to me. “Well, you see, I need a small loan, Jordie. I?—”
I cut her off, my anger rising. “You already oweme twenty thousand for your wedding. You said you’d pay me back months ago, but every time I ask you about it, you brush me off. Plus, you should have some savings since I pay your rent every month.”
Her smile is tight. “Yes, well. I’ve had some car problems and a few other things.”
Looking her up and down, I reply, “Yeah, thoseother thingsare quite obvious.”
Her overdone lips thin as much as they’re able when she clenches her jaw. “A woman has to maintain herself. You’d do well to remember that if you want to keep a man like Phoenix Hale.”
I freeze. How the fuck does she know about Phoenix? I’ve never told her about us.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I reply vaguely.
Willie slides a manilla envelope across the table to me. “Maybe this will refresh your memory.”
With shaking fingers, I open it. There’s a piece of paper on top, but I shift it away to see what’s underneath. Photos. Dozens and dozens of photos. Me and Phoenix at the fusion restaurant. Me at his front door, standing in his embrace. A kiss shared in his SUV. All of them are of us together.
The pictures are mostly older since we’ve been careful not to be seen in public together for a while, though there is one from the night of the Super Bowl when we left the bar together, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist. I lift my eyes to find them watching me. My mother—no, Delphine—is wearing an expression laced with smugness and not a hint of regret.
“Where did you get these?”
“Private investigator,” Willie says, and I stare at that stupid chipped tooth of his. He’s obviously the one in charge now. “Our bank account number is on the paper in there. You have until midnight on New Year’s Eve to wire two hundred and fifty thousand to that account, or these photos will be leaked to the press.”
Delphine tilts her head in what I assume is supposed to be a sympathetic gesture, but I see it for what it is. Manipulation.
“Honey, I don’t think you want these pictures going viral, do you? Being with an older man is quite scandalous. That might tarnish yourperfect girl-next-door image.” The edges of her lips pull up, and I want to punch her in her overdone mouth. She continues digging in the knife. “Plus, so many people are pulling for you and Miles Soren. What would they say if they see you’ve been fooling around behind his back?” She makes a tutting noise with her tongue, and I see red. “Just shameful.”
“I don’t have that much money because I’ve been paying for all your shit,” I snap back, and her eyebrows lift.
“Oh come on. Do you think we don’t know you’re getting a huge bonus for winning the Super Bowl? We’ve done our research. Plus, everyone is saying you’ll be getting a lot of new endorsement deals rolling in now that you’re a superstar football player.” She says that last bit with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
Kam had emailed me yesterday with eight new offers, but I’m not giving a nickel of it to this woman. This fucking woman who pretended to get to know her daughter, only to extort money from her.
