Four

Max

I go to the fridge to get myself another bottle of water, pausing the television on Game of Thrones. I don’t even have time to open the bottle before I hear my phone ping.

Making my way to the couch where my laptop is out with my schedule, I see it’s from Allison.

To: Biggest Pain in my ASS

From: Just Allison

Subject: Thank You

Thank you for sending me your royal commitment. I will work around them. Please let me know if you change it at any time.

Signed,

Allison Grant

AKA Royal Ball Buster

I smile and groan at the same time. Fucking chick is getting under my skin. The last time I saw Allison Grant she was just turning seventeen, with her tight jeans and sassy mouth. Now here she is, older and better. I shake my head, trying my fucking hardest not to have her in my thoughts. No way in fuck does she belong here. Her skin is soft like an angel’s, her blue eyes, untainted, pure. That is the only word that comes to my mind when I think of her.

I don’t bother answering her email. Just leave it alone, I tell myself. Instead, I grab my own computer, going over the things I have planned for this month. A couple of photo shoots with my sponsors. A couple trips to the hospital to volunteer with Denise. I’m about to send my agent an email when I get another one from Allison.

To: New York Stingers

From: Allison Grant

Subject: Public Relations Opportunities.

Hi All,

I will be sharing with you the schedule I have planned for the season. As many of you know, this schedule will or can change according to the team’s needs. I will also be scheduling more meet and greet opportunities as the year progresses. If there are any other opportunities that you think we should be doing, please feel free to let me know and I’ll do my best.

Our first away game will be September 17. As it is just an exhibition game, I know many of you will be not there, so I have arranged for some of the loyal hockey fans to come in and meet the team.

Have a great night.

Allison

I close my computer before I’m tempted to answer her, getting up and shutting off the television. I walk to my bedroom, turning everything else off, and diving in. Setting my alarm for six, I plan to work out before the masses come in. It seems everyone is in now.

By the time I walk into the gym at six-fifteen the next morning, I’ve already been up for an hour. Fucking cat sat on my face. I have to admit it’s the most action I got in the last six months. I’m over the girls, the puck bunnies, the meaningless sex. I shake my head and punch in my code to the door. I head to the locker room, my earphones already on. Tossing my backpack into my cube, I make my way around the logo in the middle of the room. Stepping on it will get you fined five grand. It also curses you. Not one to tempt fate, I walk around it. I’m wearing my shorts with my black socks up to my knees. My gray T-shirt clings to me. My baseball cap on backward, with my earphones blasting Kendrick Lamar, when I turn the corner to the gym, I see the lights already on. Wondering who the hell is in already, I stop in my tracks when I see exactly who is there. Allison.

What the fuck? She’s there in her fucking outfit that molds her fucking body, leaving little to the imagination. Her tight yoga pants stretch across her ass as she does jump squats. Her matching yoga top shows off her abs, which are defined. Her B cups bounce just a touch as she kicks up. Her hair is high on top of her head in a ponytail. The back of her outfit is green with crisscrosses.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I rip my earphones off as soon as she lets out a screech. Then she holds her chest when she sees it’s me.

“Jesus Christ, Max, you scared the shit out of me.” She bends down to grab her water bottle.

“Doesn’t answer my question, Allison. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Her eyes go from open to leering. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory as to what I’m doing here considering this is a gym.” Her hands go out and she does a circle.

“I know where we are, Allison. My question was what are you”—I point at her—“doing in here?”

Her hands go on her hips, and if she could kill me with a glare, it would be right now. “I work here, Max. I have my badge in my bag if you need clarification, so I can be here.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be in here with the guys, especially not dressed like that.” I point up and down at her outfit.

“Like what, Max, in workout stuff?” She folds her arms, pushing up her perfect tits—wait, not perfect tits, I think one is lopsided.

“You’re practically naked and the only ones who use this gym are the boys, so you can’t go prancing around naked.” I point out to her on my way to my treadmill. My hand flexes into fists and she curses at me.

“You’re such an asshole. I think the boys can contain themselves. It’s not my fault you can’t control your dick.”

“Don’t you worry about where I put my dick, sweetheart.”

“Your dick is the last thing on my mind, right after anal bleaching and genital herpes,” she huffs out and storms out of the locker room, slamming the door.

I put my music back on and pound the treadmill faster than I think I ever ran before. My temper radiates. I run for about an hour, getting off once my legs start to wobble. My shirt is drenched by the time I finish. Matthew comes in right when I am peeling my shirt off.

“What did you do to my sister?” he asks, his voice irritated.

“Me?” I point to me. “I did what you should have done. She was in here prancing around half naked.” He’s about to say something, but I continue, “The rookies train here. You think I need the bullshit of them following their dicks and not their heads? You need to talk to her and let her know the way it goes.” I shake my head. “You’re lucky it was me and not those guys.” I point to the group of rookies that just walked in, all nineteen, all ready to bang their way through the night. “Take care of your shit, Grant.” I leave before he says anything else.

I do whatever I have to do the rest of the day to avoid Matthew and his sister. I shake my head and think about how it is my fault. I’m getting ready to head home when my sister calls me.

“Hey,” I say, answering it right away.

“Hey,” she says softly, “you busy?” She sniffles.

“What happened?” I ask, stopping mid-step on my way to my car.

“I lost Cade today.” She softly cries. Cade was her seven-year-old patient. Diagnosed with brain cancer at four, he fought a tough battle, but in the end, his little body couldn’t take it.

“Denise, I’m so sorry. Where are you?” I ask, getting in the car.

“I’m at The Dive. I feel the need to drink my sorrows away,” she says and I hear ruffling in the background.

“I’ll meet you there. I can be there in twenty.” I start my car and make my way to the Bronx and the little bar called just that ‘The Dive Bar.’

It takes me about twenty-five minutes to get there and I park the car in their almost vacant parking lot. I take my cap out of my bag and put it on with the lid coming down low. It’s enough I don’t have a sweater and my ink is on display. Walking into the bar, I nod at Charlotte, the bartender, who owns this place.

“She’s in the back. She’s already knocked back a few.” She eyes me as I walk to the back and see a wobbly Denise. Which is okay. What isn’t okay is the sleezeball who has his arms around her while she holds her pool cue.

“Hey,” I say, getting close enough to her.

Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Maxie,” she says a name she calls me only when she’s blitzed.

“Sup.” I nod to the guy as I’m about to lean in and grab a hold of Denise.

“Not so fast there.” He grabs her around her waist when she tries to come to me, and it’s then I see that he’s high as fuck. His eyeballs don’t even have a different color, just pure black.

“It’s okay. He’s my brother,” Denise says, now standing straight and sobering up.

“Not so fast there, sweet cheeks, you promised me a good time,” he says as I take my cap off and then put it back on.

It’s then that Denise tries to get away from him, but he stops her, grabbing onto her wrist, and twisting it so that she yelps out in pain. I pounce on him, punching him straight in the nose, sending his head backward. His hand lets go of Denise, who falls to the floor while he holds his nose that is now spewing blood.

“You broke my fucking nose,” he says and spits blood from his mouth.

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Charlotte says with her brother standing behind her. Her brother the cop. Fuck.

“He broke my nose,” the creep says, pointing to me, and I lean forward to pick Denise up off the floor, who holds her wrist in her hand.

“He wouldn’t let me go.” Denise tries to intercept, but it’s too late, the damage is done. The phones are out as people start taping what is going on.

I hear someone say, “Holy shit, it’s Max Horton.”

I try to bring my head down and turn my back, but Charlotte’s brother puts his hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, pal, I gotta take you in. He wants to press charges.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I say and follow him out with my head down, and he holds my arm and leads me out.