Taking my eyes off her for a second as she sat on the opposite side of the table, I drew my head back to what her father was saying. He’d demanded I call him Dominic, and I was only too happy to oblige, seeing how that pissed her fiancé off even more.
“I must say, you’re a natural, Reed.” he then turned to his wife, who was looking at me like I was her next meal. “He’s never played a full round before. It was a sight to see. We soon drew the crowds.”
Storm’s mom had a similar appearance to her daughter, but much more buttoned-up and snooty. I’d always thought so. She was the type of woman who would probably eat a banana with a knife and fork.
Rachel Summer’s mouth curved in a sultry way as she said, “I can imagine you draw the crowds wherever you go, Mr. Prescott.” Would it be weird asking her to call me Reed, bearing in mind—I’d been inside every one of her daughter’s holes? I decided against it. I’d almost blown my cover from the get-go when Phoenix had pissed meoff by asking if I knew which fork to use. I’d been fidgeting with the cutlery out of nerves, and the event was hardly silver fucking service.
“It’s only brunch dickhead,” I’d grunted under my breath. To which he’d replied.
“Just saying, at the table, you were never very good with your hands.”
My snappy comeback hadn’t been appreciated. “Why don’t we ask your sister how good I was with my hands?” This had caused Nix to start choking on his eggs and Storm to shoot me one of her death glares. The type she only ever polished for me. Thankfully, Jasper hadn’t heard: his head was probably too far up his own ass to take anything else in.
He’d tried to give me a few tips during our game, bearing in mind that we were still in the lead at that point. The smarmy bastard. I’d rather set myself on fire than ever take pointers from a guy who was a total dickwad. And to think I’d had every intention of playing nice: the kind of bullshit I usually despised.
I tuned back into what Dominic was saying, hiding my smile. Storm’s expression said that she wanted my head on a stick.
“You should come to the Gala next weekend. It’s a charity function to raise money; your presence would increase the number of guests, I’m sure. What do you think?” Summers said with a keen expression.
“I can’t imagine a charity function is the scene of a football star, surely not?” Jasper said. Big words, answering for me, considering I’d just handed him his ass on the green.
Shrugging, I questioned. “What makes you say that?”
“Won’t you be out partying at the weekend?”
I smiled, keeping a polite expression on my face and turning to Summers. “Sorry, Sir. I’ve been ordered to keep a low profile in the press. Just until everything is finalized with the trade.”
The man wasn’t having it. “But surely, your presence at a fundraiser would only make the Patriots look good.”
“It isn’t about that at the minute. We don’t get to pick and choose what we attend. The team’s PR would need to speak with my PR. There’s a whole lot of backwards and forwards before I can officially attend any event that may have media coverage.”
Jasper decided to pipe up at that moment. “So, you’re a bit like a puppet then. You must do what the club tells you?” The stupid, ignorant asshole. I may have been a star, but playing football was still a job, and all jobs had bosses. What the hell was his problem?
My eyes drilled into his. “Of course, to a certain extent. We’re all accountable to someone, aren’t we?”
He grunted with a sour look and tucked back into the shit he was eating.
Mr. Summers, who must have picked up on the animosity, cleared his throat and added. “Well, you should come anyway. Incognito? There are some great prizes to bid for.” I almost agreed, knowing that Storm would be there, but I also knew she’d be there with that cocksucker. The one I wished would choke on that green fucking mush he was spooning into his mouth.
I was torn, as my being there would piss Jasper off, but I knew it was a bad idea.
“Sorry, Sir. I need to train. Coach wants to go through some film studies on tactics.”
“Tactics,” the guy I wanted to put in a choke hold started up again. “It’s football. Surely you just run as fast as you and slam into each other?”
“Jasper. Stop busting the guy's balls just because he thrashed us on the fairway.”
I ignored Dominic’s lame attempt to save me as Rachel Summer cleared her throat, displeased by her husband's crude language.
“My apologies, ladies. Anyway, Reed, if you change your mind, let us know.”
“It’s not going to happen. Sorry, sir.” At that moment, the desire to go to his silly fucking Gala powered through me.
Jasper had the balls to smile and comment. “I am sure it wouldn’t be your scene anyway.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Phoenix elbowed me in the fucking ribs.
During the rest of the meal, which was a mix of brunch from the main menu, the banter flowed. Most of it was directed at the league and me. Eventually, the conversation switched to golf handicaps, which I had zero interest in. Thankfully, the service was like light speed.
