I eventually completed the paperwork Storm had given me on Monday. I took my sweet time, of course, dropping by her office later that week only to find that she wasn’t there. The scary-looking Receptionist explained that the Doc was working at the high school that day.
After our session, I hadn’t reached out to Storm too soon, knowing that I needed to get my head in the game. Any plans involving both of us had to be put on hold for a while. I was still pissed that I had given her my number, yet she hadn’t contacted me. Even when I dropped the fucking essay by her office, there was nothing. Storm didn't even send an acknowledgement to say she had received it. The provocative little bitch.
As usual, Storm was playing a dangerous game. The girl broke me once, but never again. She’d handled me well as a boy, but she had no fucking clue what she would be getting into with me now.
I met my brothers a couple more times after I managed to pry them away from their girls. Phoenix was determined to matchmake, dropping Storm’s name in the conversation constantly. I knew the dude had my back, but it had started to get on my nerves: annoyance surrounding me like a dark cloud.
The day of the golf game loomed, and I was fired up, thinking about meeting my girl’s douche of a fiancé for the first time. There it was again,my girl. How could Storm be that when she was getting hitched to the aforementioned fucker in a few weeks?
I knew that if I wanted anything from her, I would have to work fast. My head and my heart were still in two completely different places. And I still had the Palmer thing breathing down my neck. Whenever I turned on the TV, their faces were there, pissing me off and reminding me of those I had let down.
Finally, the weekend appeared. My entire body was stiff and battered from my new coach drilling the fuck out of my ass, but by that Friday, the banter with my new teammates started to vibe. I even bounced well off Aaron ‘Ace’ Baxter, the guy who had been the team's starting quarterback, before I was signed. Everyone knew thatI would soon replace him, and he’d be relegated to pussy second. He took my arrival well, as I knew how it felt to be the backup.
During the beginning of my career within the NFL, I was the reserve QB, and no matter how you slice it, that shit sucked dick big time. From Aaron’s behavior, I’d say he’d accepted it. He had to, as no one took you seriously in the NFL if you were a whiny little bitch when you didn’t get your way.
I swung by Ma’s house to pick Phoenix up, as he’d dropped Harper there and was desperate to ride shotgun with me. Nix was like an overly excited girl as he climbed into the car. He fired me with questions about how she performed in bad weather and high speeds, and I answered what I could. When he started getting handsy with just about every dial on the dashboard, I had to tell him to curb his enthusiasm or get out and fucking walk. He then sat there sulking like a ten-year-old. Yep, the big guy hadn’t changed at all over the last four years.
The venue for the golf game was an elite, members-only country club, and we arrived five minutes early. The very one that Storm had left me for that day at the beach. The place she would have been when I’d sent her my message, giving her another chance to meet me. The fact that she never showed still burned my insides.
Unlike the parking lot at The Touchdown Tavern, the club one seemed worthy of my wheels with a variety of expensive motors. The bright red Ferrari I parked my baby next to spoke to me in ways only a car could.
As we made our way across the tarmac towards the entrance, the building was brick-built and modern with glass-fronted windows. There were squash courts and tennis courts out back, a restaurant, and a bar, but the main feature of the place was the lush golf course, which rolled off into the distance. A driving range also sat to one side.
When we got into the grand lobby, I recognized Dominic Summers straight away. He was dressed in branded golfing gear and already had his glove on. He was standing with the guy I knew was my enemy. Storm’s fucking fiancé. We’d never met, but I still hated his guts.
Jasper was tall with a slim build and tanned skin. His hair was sandy brown and curled over his skull, making him look like the preppy dick he was. From his build, you could see he kept himself in shape, but he was nowhere near as stacked as I was. And, not a single tattoo adorned his creamy-looking skin. I’d bet my left nut that his hands were soft like a bitch, too. He was also dressed in golfing gear but wore shorts instead of slacks.
What a cunt.
I wasn’t a golfer by any stretch, but I didn’t lift out. The place was full of Pringle-wearing assholes full of their own self-worth. That was fine, I could work with that.
Yes, I’d been seen as foster scum in my teenage years, but I was now so much more than that. I could look any guy there in the eye and feel proud of my achievements. I didn’t feel out of place. I’d shaved and showered that morning and had pulled on a navy Ralph Lauren polo and cream slacks. I’d left my baseball cap at the hotel and had my aviators hooked on my collar. My Omega Speedmaster was strapped to my wrist, and it gave me a sense of pride. I had bought it with my first million-dollar paycheck.
I wondered if Summers would still look down on me like he used to. Nix had said his father had mellowed over the years.
As Phoenix and I stepped into the lobby, it was all eyes on us. Or should I say, me. Several people spoke behind their hands as they recognized me, but they didn’t rush over, country club etiquette and all that pompous shit.
“You ready for this?” Nix said.
I cut Phoenix a look. “As much as I’ll ever be.”
I smiled as one of the girls at the counter ogled my brother. My gaze dipped to his wrist.
“Nice Casio by the way,” I snarked. “Why aren’t you wearing the Rolex I bought you for Christmas?”
“Pawned it to pay rent for Harper’s studio at the gym for the next year.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. The Sawyer brothers still saw everything as charity and were too proud to accept help. But selling the watch I bought him seemed fine.
We both broke away slightly as Summers spotted his son and waved us over. Phoenix said that his gold club set was stored at the club and that we would share it. His father had a locker there and owned a golf buggy. Jasper had his own clubs, as did Nix’s dad, so I’d only brought a small bag which contained a water bottle, the golf glove Nix had lent me, deodorant, and another polo top. We were having lunch after the match, and so I could change if I felt sweaty. Not that I thought I would break a sweat playing golf. The stamina required for golf, as opposed to football, should be a cakewalk.
As we approached the two men, it was introductions all round, and they didn’t go as I had imagined they would.
I was used to that look of recognition when I met people. I was a public figure, my face on TV, the internet, billboards, and magazines. Especially those in Rhode Island since signing with the Patriots. But this was something else. Dominic Summers was fine, very welcoming, and he did the whole, ‘I remember you when you went to high school: Storm’s friend’ routine. Yeah, not quite.
It was his son-in-law-to-be's reaction that was unexpected.
It was like Jasper knew me, or thought he did. He wore one of those practiced smiles that was all teeth and no substance. I had sensed the instant dislike from all the way across the foyer. He had the type of smarmy good looks that were just shy of absurd and was clearly no stranger to the tanning salon. Fucking orange, poofy-haired motherfucker.
