Chapter 7 (Asher)
A pair of eyes appraise me up and down and I smile.
Another pair of eyes burn a hole into my back when I turn around and I grin. Tonight's going to be fun.
The grin wipes clean off my face when I glance at the clock on the wall. There's still another five hours left in my shift and I'm the only one here tonight, which means I have to wait to get off until after I get off.
Muttering a curse, I grab a towel to wipe down the bar. My phone vibrates and I don't even have to look at it to know it's a text from my brother Preston, most likely telling me he and his new girlfriend Becca are on their way.
He hasn't been dating her long and she goes to a different university than he does, but from what I can tell; he's completely head over heels about her.
I haven't met her yet, but I hope she's not like the ditzy twats he's usually so fond of.
Not that I'm one to talk, since I've been enjoying them myself this summer; but I want more for my brother than I do for me.
Preston's going places and he doesn't need some gold digger taking advantage of him.
My entire body freezes and my breath stutters in my chest.
Christ, I sound just like him.
I haven't spoken to my father in months, not since Kyle leaked the tape and ruined my future.
Needless to say, my father didn't take watching his son get blown by another dude so well.
Neither did my coaches or my teammates. Of course, Duke’s didn't kick me out for that reason, though. They blamed it on my poor school performance and low grades in the end.
Grades that I'd maintained for three years straight without so much as a warning.
But one leaked video from high school was all it took to make everything I'd spent my life working my ass off for vanish.
I guess karma really does exist after all. I just wish it would have taken Kyle out first.
If it wasn't for my brother Preston, who knows where I'd be right now.
After my father cut off my inheritance and the university kicked me out, I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to live.
Thankfully, Preston gave me some of his inheritance money under the radar and I was able to get a small studio apartment and find a job at some hole in the wall bar a few towns over from his university.
I hate mooching off my younger brother, but I intend to pay him back for every dime—with interest.
As soon as I figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with my life...again.
Football was my everything.
And all because of my stalker, forced roommate, and undercover blackmail lover catching me fucking both my hot tutor and her even hotter boyfriend at the same time, my dreams were stolen.
I'd severely underestimated Kyle's jealousy and his obsession with me.
But most of all? I had enough of being blackmailed by him and being forced into a fucked up relationship I didn't want to be in.
I needed my freedom back.
I had an itch I was dying to scratch since freshman year and I didn't care about the consequences at that moment.
So I fucked her...and him.
I have no regrets. It was a damn good time.
That is until he barged in our dorm and started screaming that I was cheating on him and they both grabbed their clothes and bounced.
Things only got worse when I reminded an irate Kyle that I never actually wanted to be with him in the first place and that as far as I was concerned he was never my boyfriend.
Because there's only one person in the world who still has my heart.
And that will never change.
However, I refuse to let myself think about her. Because the weight that crushes my chest and the remorse that slams into my heart is downright unbearable when I do.
The fucked up thing is that part of me actually hopes she heard about the scandal that went down at Duke’s through the grapevine.
Not that I think I'll ever get Breslin back, but hell; maybe she'll put two and two together and somehow realize that it was blackmail.
But knowing her, she's most likely working her ass off at Falcon University and is enjoying her life like she's supposed to.
Like I want her to.
I've wanted to reach out to her so many times over the years, but I couldn't.
Because there's not a damn thing I could ever say to make up for the way things went down between us.
I've done a lot of growing up the past three years, but that doesn't excuse my past transgressions.
And while I didn't cheat on her because I wanted to, I took something from her for my own selfish reasons.
I hurt her. God only knows how much.
And for that, I'll never forgive myself, no matter how many times Preston says I need to.
I scan the bar, I can still feel the two sets of eyes appraising me from head to toe.
I grin at him first and he bites his bottom lip before my gaze drifts to her and she bats her eyelashes and licks her lips.
With the way their stare is fixated on me, one would never guess they're engaged to be married at the end of the month.
Preston told me not to get involved with them...but I told him to mind his business.
It's not like it was my relationship on the line, and I'm more than happy to provide my services to the both of them. They're a young, attractive, and successful couple. Neither of them have a problem turning any heads.
And it's kind of reassuring how open their relationship is.
And it's definitely a turn on watching her get all hot and bothered by her man sucking my dick.
And yeah, the money they throw my way isn't bad either.
The way I see it, I'm helping to make their fantasy a reality.
And they're helping me put food in the fridge and pay a few bills. No one gets hurt with our little arrangement, and after it's done they go home, cuddle, and watch reruns of Friends in their million-dollar home located in the suburbs.
I walk over and my smile grows bigger, purposely putting my dimples on display for them.
“What can I get you two?” I throw the towel over my shoulder and Gwen's gaze drops to my belt buckle and stays there.
“You?” Her voice sounds out of breath and my mind conjures up images of what her soon to be husband's hand is doing underneath her skirt.
I laugh and give her a wink. “My shift isn't over for a few hours.”
She pouts and I turn to look at Tom. Believe it or not, he's the shyer of the two; which turns me on even more because I love having all the control when we're together. And call me crazy, but I think that's what really gets him off. He owns a private stockbroker firm and I think the high stress job really wears him down and he enjoys being told what to do and giving up the control to me in the bedroom. Or wherever it is that we end up during our little rendezvous.
“And what can I get for you?”
He loosens his tie and looks around the bar, checking to see if anyone is listening before he says, “I'll have what she's having.”
That only makes Gwen moan and I venture to where—sure as fuck— his hand has disappeared under that short skirt of hers.
I press myself against the bar, attempting to hide the giant hard on I now have. I'm two seconds away from calling my boss up and telling him I came down with a bad case of food poisoning in order to have my way with the both of them, but just then the door opens and in walks Preston and some blonde chick whose tits—nice, albeit fake ones—are spilling out of her blouse with every bouncy step she takes.
I try not to roll my eyes, this is exactly what or rather, who I was afraid Preston would end up with.
Another trophy wife just like our mother. A mother who never cared about the way her husband acted with her first born as long as the neighbors never overheard the arguing and she had access to all the credit cards.
I swallow my anger down, because one look at Preston and I know he's happy with her. After all he's done for me, the least I can do for him is give the woman he loves some respect.
After the scandal broke out at Duke’s and I was at my lowest—I ended up breaking down and telling Preston there was something wrong with my dick because it was attracted to dudes' and that I needed to be fixed because I was obviously gay.
His response was to give me a big hug and tell me that gay or not, there was nothing wrong with me and no matter how our father would react to the video—it would never change the fact that I was his brother.
He also pointed out that my dick wasn't gay or straight...it was what he called...greedy.
He was there for me during the second worst day of my life. Therefore, I could be nice to his future Barbie trophy wife for him.
I open my mouth to greet them but I'm cut off when some shrill voice exclaims, “Oh my God, babyface. You didn't tell me you had a twin.”
I raise a brow and look at my brother. One for the obvious reason—that's a shit nickname. And two—we're not twins.
I mean, we do have a resemblance to one another given we're brothers, but we're certainly not identical. He's 6'3 to my 6'4 and his body is leaner and has less muscle due to hitting the gym and not a sports field. His eyes are also grayish blue instead of clear blue like mine, and his hair is dark brown as opposed to my dark blond.
We do have those deep Holden dimples that make people lose their shit, though.
And unlike me who's clad in jeans and a t-shirt most of the time, he's wearing one of his suits because he most likely just got off from one of his summer internships.
The fact that he even made it all the way down to my job in the middle of a work week means his visit is important.
My brother is ridiculously smart. Smart enough he attends Yale and is at the top of his class. How he met his latest girlfriend is anyone's guess, because she doesn’t seem like she travels in the same circle as he does.
I motion for them to take a seat and I try my hardest not to look at her tits which are now resting on top of the damn bar. I feel bad for her poor excuse for a shirt, it's barely containing those puppies, something everyone around us stops and takes notice of.
This has to be a test of some sort—because who meets someone's family member for the first time when they're a sneeze away from showing some nip?
I see my brother smirk and everything becomes crystal clear.
This is nothing more than a physical thing between them...clearly.
Or at least that would have been my guess until I see the way he looks at her. And unlike the rest of us, he's looking at her eyes.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Do you have any Cristal?”
I smile, because if I don't I'm going to say something that will end with her leaving in tears and my brother disowning me.
I gesture around the bar. “Sorry, sweetheart, we're all out. Snoop Dogg and his buddy Jay-Z ran through here just a moment ago and ordered everything we had in stock.”
“Oh my god, really?” She mopes and Preston puts an arm around her, giving me the stink eye.
I decide to ignore Barbie for now, because he's the person I want to interact with.
I reach in my back pocket and whip out my wallet. I haven't saved much over the summer, but it's something.
He holds up a hand. “I'm not here for that.”
Barbie puckers her lips and a crease forms between her eyebrows when he refuses the money I'm offering him for a second time.
I glare at her and she straightens her spine.
“So what brings you down here?”
Barbie tries to interject but he shakes his head, points to the Jukebox, and hands her a few bills. “Look, babe, they have music. Go dance.”
I look around at the 60-year-old drunk regulars who's eyes suddenly light up like Christmas trees and I stifle a laugh.
“You sure that's a good idea?”
He gives me a look. A look I haven't seen since we were kids and he accidentally broke one of our father's prized trophies and my stomach sinks.
Preston's in deep shit.
I force myself to breathe, because just like back then, whatever he managed to get himself into now, I know I'll take the rap for.
Barbie twirls her hair. “Um, I don't know how to work that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose because she's reaching the end of my short fuse. “It's like a D.J without arms. You just press a few buttons. It's not all that hard to figure out unless you have zero brain cells instead of five.”
She stares at me wide-eyed before she hops off the bar stool and skedaddles.
“You didn't have to be so mean to her,” Preston snaps. “You actually have a lot more in common than you think.”
I watch her fumble with the Jukebox and I snort. It isn't until a few men walk over to her and one of them press a button that music starts playing.
“Yeah? Like what?”
“She's into sports. Believe it or not, she attends Woodside University and is majoring in Sports Medicine.”
I cross my arms, because there's no way in hell that's true. Then again Woodside is a shit University, they'll let just about anyone in.
“What's her favorite sport?” I ask, because I'm truly curious now. “And is she planning on opening her own practice after she graduates or traveling with a team?”
He averts his gaze, looking sheepish. “Yoga. Her dream is to open her own Yoga studio.”
Yeah, I should have seen that coming.
I start howling with laughter and have to brace myself against the bar.
“Jesus, you're such an asshole,” he mutters. “I almost forgot what a judgmental prick you can be sometimes.”
He narrows his eyes and I know the words on the tip of his tongue.
The words he won't say.
I'm just like him.
My laughter comes to a halt. “Sorry, brother. You obviously came here to talk about something important. What's up?”
Maybe yoga Barbie wasn't too far off with her assessment of us being twins after all, because when he gives me another look—I know exactly what kind of trouble he's in.
He made a bet with the wrong bookie and they're going to collect soon.
“Fuck, Preston, I thought you were done with that shit for good?”
He had an issue with gambling a few years ago, one that almost ended up with him in the hospital, but luckily, I was able to work out a deal and things were fine.
I get that Preston likes to roll the dice and take his chances in life. And I know his brain is like a computer when it comes to numbers and odds and he's going to make a killing when he opens his slew of businesses after he graduates because he's hands down one of the smartest motherfuckers around—but playing with fire like this is going to get him burned, or worse, killed one day if he's not careful.
“How long?” My voice comes out low and deadly, because not only am I disappointed, I'm pissed.
“A few months.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It's not the same people as before. In fact, one of them, the head guy; is an assistant college football coach.”
His gaze drifts back to yoga Barbie who's currently dancing those tits out of her shirt across the room. “And Becca's uncle.”
I may not be the smartest guy in most rooms, but even I can connect the dots of this fucked up situation now. “So you're not actually dating her because you want to, she's basically keeping tabs on you because she's his goddamn lackey.”
“I wouldn't go that far, I mean she has her good points.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I seriously fight the urge to punch him because this shit is not amusing at all. “She's a sweet girl, Asher. It's not exactly a hardship dating her.”
“It will be when this messed up coach and his undercover gambling team take out your kneecaps before they put a bullet in your chest.”
I want him to tell me I'm over exaggerating and that it's not that serious. I want him to tell me that he settled for a fee and that he has a plan to weasel it out of our father. I want him to tell me there's a way I can fight this asshole and win like I did the last time he got into this mess and whatever debt he owes will go away.
“How powerful are they?” It's the question I should have started out with.
He pales. “They have ties to the mob.”
“How much do you owe?”
“More than I can pay.”
“How much,” I repeat, my tone sharper than before.
“Six.”
“Thousand?”
“Figures.”
“How the fuck does that even happen?”
He runs a hand down his face. “I lost the last two bets, which has never happened before, and instead of paying what I owed, I got cocky and tripled each bet.”
“You know they were playing you, right? Giving you the wrong info or some shit so you would make the wrong bet. There's no way you'd lose twice.”
“Yeah, I realize that now, big brother. Thanks.” He takes a sip of his water. “The cuts were nice at first, I kept winning for months, thought they were reputable.”
“Bookies are never reputable, dumbass.”
He stands up and tosses money on the bar. “It was great seeing you, brother. Take care of yourself.”
“Preston,” I grind out as he walks to the door. “Don't leave. You came here because you needed me. Whatever it is you know I'm going to do it. Just tell me what's up.”
His shoulders tense and then relax before he spins back around. “It will only be for a year. Everything including room and board—Hell, even tutoring—will be taken care of for you as long as you take them to the playoffs and then the championship this year.”
My head starts spinning. “What—”
I'm cut off when yoga Barbie bounces her and her tits back over and smiles from ear to ear. “So, did you tell him the big news?”
“I was working up to it,” Preston mutters before she claps her hands and says, “My uncle is so excited that you're going to be the new starting quarterback at Woodside University!”
“You have the best arm out there,” Preston says, looking at me earnestly. “Blackmail video or not, you deserve to be out on that field.”
“I can't guarantee a championship for a team that hasn't seen one since the 70s, Preston,” I shout, recalling their horrendous statistics in my head. “A football team is more than just a good quarterback.”
“They'll kill me, Asher.”
“Oh yeah,” Yoga Barbie chimes in. “They totes will if you don't take the offer.”
“When—”
“You're going to need to move within the next two days. Classes won't start for another three weeks, but the Dean had a look at your academic record and won't grant you a scholarship until you agree to tutoring for English. You have to maintain a C+ or better in all your classes, in addition to the side table agreement from the assistant coach.”
I choke on my saliva. There's no way I'll be able to do that. On my absolute best day I'm lucky to get a D in English.
He rubs his forehead. “I'd tutor you but—”
“You can't because you're gearing up for your second year at Yale.”
He nods. “I'm sorry, Asher. But I heard the tutor is good. And if worse comes to worse you can probably pay him off and work out a deal with him.”
He stands up. “But if you can't, you're smart, Asher, I know you'll be fine.” He smiles. “Think of this opportunity as your second chance. You love football and if anyone can bring a crappy team back from the brink of death it's you.”
I ignore the way my chest flutters at the thought of being out on the field again. “Preston.”
Yoga Barbie looks at her watch. “Can we go? I told you I need to go shopping before I leave for Europe.”
When I give Preston a questioning look he says, “She's going to Europe with some friends for the next three weeks.” He hands her his keys. “Go wait in the car, I'll be there soon.”
She stands up on her tip toes and pulls him into a kiss. One that's far too inappropriate for a trashy, run down bar—and that's saying something—before she bolts out the door.
I walk over to him. “Preston—”
He cuts me off with a hug. “Thank you. No one looks out for me the way you do. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you.”
“I could fail at this and get us both killed.”
“You won't,” he says. “Put it this way—if I had to make a sure bet on anything in my life. It would be on you.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets. “I guess I really don't have much of a choice in the matter.”
“Thank you.”
I nod my head in the direction of the door. “Does this mean you and yoga are done now?”
“No.” He grins. “Believe it or not I’m into her. She's really open and free spirited, it's kind of hot.”
I roll my eyes as I watch him walk out the door.
I feel those two sets of eyes burning a hole into my back again, and it's my turn to grin; because I've never needed to get off more than I do right now.