K. Sorry. Will be there.
I’m not thrilled with this because it will cut into my already dwindling pre-game nap and meal but it is what it is. I don’t want to piss off the coach or the communications department any more than I already have.
And then, as Dylan chomps on his teething ring at my feet, I bend to kiss the top of his head and walk toward the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms. Mine, the master, is the entire third floor. My sister and Mallory are talking together at the island. I’m about to shut my phone off when I see the video notification from weeks ago in the chain from Christine.
“I’m going to take my pre-game nap,” I tell them and stupidly hit play. To be fair the majority of videos Christine has sent me over the two years she’s been working for the Quake have been either team footage or funny TikToks. But this isn’t funny. It isn’t a social media video. Or Quake footage.
It’s a video that starts off black and then as the camera pulls back it’s black lace panties, with a red manicured hand in them. The camera flips and there’s Christine. She’s sitting on her bed, legs spread in nothing but those undies and matching bra and she’s masturbating, smiling at me in the mirror, and then she lets out a throaty moan. She’s coming. I know the sound. And of course, my phone volume is so high everyone in the room hears it. Hears her moanmyname.
Chapter19
Tate
Tenley and Mallory stop speaking. I look up, eyes wide with embarrassment, which I know must make me look guilty as hell. “Sorry.”
Mallory looks away and immediately goes back to the contents of the box on the island, turning her back to me. Tenley glares with the heat of a thousand suns. I bolt all the way upstairs until I'm alone in my new bedroom. I close the door, tip my head back, and close my eyes. That was a nightmare.
Fuck, I can't believe that happened in front of my sister, and right after Mallory basically asked me if we're exclusive. And I didn't really answer. Double fuck.
I open my eyes and look around the room. It's all my stuff but it doesn't feel like it. My bed, my dresser, and my night tables all look ridiculously tiny, like doll furniture, because this room is way bigger than my other bedroom. The bed is against a false wall, facing the bifold doors that open onto the balcony that overlooks the canal. Behind the false wall is a closet which you walk through to get to the massive slate and stone bathroom.
I walk over toss my phone on the charging pad on the nightstand and drop onto the bed. At least it feels familiar. The California sun is spilling into the room, illuminating everything. It's great but not when I'm supposed to nap. I roll over to get up but I see the little remote on the other night table, grab it, and hit the button marked close. There's a hum and black-out blinds slowly descend on the windows.
Once the room is submerged in darkness I peel out of everything and slip under the sheets. Sleep evades me for way too long because all I can think about is that blunder. I finally doze off but it doesn't last long because I'm suddenly being shoved awake.
I know that shove all too well. I remember it from childhood. The rough shake on my shoulder on Christmas mornings or school days when I slept through my alarm. And it’s always followed by a small but hard smack to the side of my head.
I lift my arm, blocking the impending slap with my forearm. “Tenley get the fuck out of my room.”
“Nope.”
“Oh my God, why didn’t Mom and Dad stop with one kid?” I groan and sit up. I’m groggy and grumpy. “I have a game to play tonight. Come on. You know better than to be a menace on game night.”
“You were watching sexting videos in front of Mallory and your son!” Tenley announces in a hiss and then she shoves my shoulder again. I don’t expect it and kind of rock, almost tipping over in the bed.
“It was an accident.”
I reach for the remote for the blackout blinds. I need light to defend myself. As the blinds slowly raise her angry face comes into view and she takes in my naked torso with the covers bunched at my waist. “Are you naked?”
“Yes. It’s my bedroom and I sleep naked.”
Tenley steps back from the bed and spins to face the wall. “Gross. Get up. Put on something so I can yell at you.”
“How about you get the fuck out of my room,” I growl. “Game day, Ten. Damnit!”
I grab the pants I dropped to the floor earlier and tug them on without underwear. Tenley, still facing the wall, says, “In all seriousness Tate, I don’t know who you are anymore and I don’t like it.”
“What the hell does that mean? Why don’t you think you know me?” I question. “You can turn around.”
She faces me again, pushing her long blonde hair back over her shoulders before folding her arms over her chest, which is covered in a black t-shirt with simple white lettering that says Not Photoshopped. “You aren’t going to beat Dad’s record, are you?”
I sigh and walk into the closet so I can find a suit that Christine will approve of. I don’t know what my ‘best suit’ is. “I have no idea how it’s going to go, Ten.”
She appears in my closet. “I think you do. I saw the way you averted your eyes when the topic came up and the vague answer. This is all you’ve wanted since you picked up a damn hockey stick as a toddler. To beat Daddy.”
I make a face. “Don’t call him Daddy. That’s so fucking weird.”
“You’re not even going to try to score anymore, are you?” Tenley looks furious. Like this is some kind of personal offense. “Because you’re trying to hide Dylan?”
