Scott
Jaelin Carrera was America’s next top supermodel.
Her scantily clad figure was all over SI’s latest spread and her face was splashed all over the country’s billboards.
She had half a million followers on her social media, and all she could talk about was the best angle for selfies.
How the fuck would I know?
My agent, Trayton Kho, arranged for us to meet, hoping that we’d strike a connection.
The top model and the quarterback.
Heard that story once, twice, many times.
“She would be great for your image,” Trayton had said.
I responded with, “We’ll see.”
The first time we met, she was waiting for me outside the locker room. Her dark waves were perfectly curled and she looked flawless. Long legs, great tits, and a nice face. She’d clung to my arm and I went along with it because my agent hadn’t ever steered me wrong. We’d gone out for a drink. She got plastered and I drove her to her hotel and made sure she was safe in her bed before I left the Ritz.
I didn’t really get a good feel for her because she drank a lot, so when she’d texted me three days ago that she was in town after a stint in Europe, I’d agreed to show her around town and thought that ‘hey, I got nothing to lose’. Maybe she was better when she was sober. I’d asked Trayton to see if he could get us in one of the Japanese places that he frequented.
My agent didn’t have to, but he was a good guy, so he gave me his reservation for Okihana’s.
I picked her up from her hotel and she seemed cool. She chatted about her job and how she hobnobbed with editors of whatever magazine.
I didn’t catch the names because they were foreign and fashion didn’t really interest me.
I get that Tom Brady loved Uggs, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in them. Just the look of those boots made me itchy.
In high school, there were people who asked me to model, but honestly, the thought of exposing my junk to the world wasn’t something I got off on.
Now, Trayton was presenting all sorts of underwear deals to me, but I’d rather drink gallons of milk on commercials than strut my ass in front of a camera.
Didn’t people get tired of watching my ass in tights? Why would they even wonder what it looked like without pants?
I mean, it’s an ass.
A collection of gluteal muscles that you use for what? Sitting, standing, kicking, running…taking a shit.
Plus, I reserved the right to the person I was intimate with to be the woman who got to see my ass.
My teammates had no choice because a locker room with football guys is a bunch of sweaty asses, but anyways –
Jaelin loved to talk about pictorials and modeling projects so I let her.
She was sexy. Her off-white figure hugging dress was a wet dream come true, but I just didn’t feel the chemistry with her.
I’d slept with a total of three women in two years.
It was sad really.
Rikko often joked that I could have all the pussy I wanted, but I wasn’t going to have pussy just to have it. Unlike my best friend, I liked to be in a relationship when I had regular sex. I liked the meaningful part of it. Where I knew that after I’d satisfied her, she’d be around to talk, cuddle, or maybe watch TV.
I didn’t ask for much, but I liked sex in the confines of a relationship.
I’d slept with three women after Kara broke up with me. They were in the context of one night stands, and after the third one, I knew that I couldn’t be that guy.
They satisfied me for a minute and that was it.
Jaelin…the more she talked, the more I could see us hanging out maybe as friends.
After tonight, I wouldn’t be calling her again and if she ever called me, I’d answer as a friend.
I knew how hard it was to find good friends when you were in the business of fame and popularity.
So if she ever needed someone to just talk to, I could be that guy, but I knew that I wouldn’t be sleeping with her.
After giving my keys to the valet, we walked to the lobby and the receptionist guided us to the elevator. Okihana’s was on the fourteenth floor.
Jaelin and I got situated in a small corner, and because of the traffic I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
I could see why Trayton liked this place. It held an understated elegance with Japanese figurines mixed in with modern art and the overall effect was pretty swell.
On my way back to our table, a young guy recognized me, “Are you Scott Strauss?”
I tilted my head and he asked for a selfie.
He said that he had a vlog on YouTube and his fans would be ecstatic to see LA’s quarterback on it.
I shrugged my shoulders and shook his hand.
I’d been around people who wanted to shake my hand as early as high school and normally, if I could, I did. I saw no harm in saying hi to them. I wasn’t a superstar or anything, I just happened to play a sport that had millions of viewers but to me, football was football.
Without the glare of media interviews and million-dollar contracts, my love for football would still be the same.
I could hear Jaelin saying something to the server and she sounded kind of bitchy and rude.
If there was one thing that peeved me, it was when people didn’t treat other people right. Who gave her the authority to look down on other people?
If people didn’t watch football or buy my jerseys, I would be a regular Scott.
Strauss wouldn’t even matter.
I could be Joe Blow down the street throwing balls.
And statistics showed that majority of the people who bought my stuff were the regular working class. I had them to thank for the nice condo I lived in and all the cool material things I had.
My stepmom might have her shortcomings, but she always taught me to be nice to women. But right now, I wanted to rip Jaelin out.
Jaelin was still talking about tea when my gaze landed on the petite server dressed in a tight white fitted shirt with some red lines on the side, much like the borders of Okihana’s logo. Her skirt was also tight and fit her perfectly.
Now, I wouldn’t pay a dime for my ass.
But that…ass.
I would. I’d give that ass a contract.
Her hair was tucked into a ponytail, but the side of her face reminded me of the woman who had intruded on my thoughts once in a while.
“Bridgette?” Even I could hear the surprise in my voice.
What was she doing here?
Did Bishop know that she was working as a server?
Her hazel eyes blinked once, twice and her mouth opened, but nothing came out, as if her words were suspended in air.
The last time I saw her, she had spiky bangs that framed her forehead.
The bangs were gone now, but the beauty of her face was definitely still there, the years had done nothing to erase the fact that she was stunning.
But the years have made her facial features softer, gentler.
I sparred with Jaelin about the way she was treating Bridgette, but even I couldn’t focus on my words.
“Her name’s Bridgette.” I heard myself saying, but everything that came out of my mouth was second to the fact that I was touching her arm.
Two years ago, I dropped her off at her apartment because Bishop didn’t want her taking an Uber, and I sure as hell didn’t want her to either.
I’d never felt the need to protect anyone.
Kara was always so self-assured, she hardly needed any protection.
But Bridgette, whenever she was around, I felt the need to protect her.
Maybe it was because of the vulnerability I saw in her gorgeous eyes.
Maybe it was because she was so small compared to me, she looked to be about 5’4”. Which was air to my 6’2”.
Maybe it was because when her lips were set in a straight line, I wanted to coax a smile from her so I could view those gorgeous indentations between her cheeks that she was hiding.
She didn’t say anything, but she did do something; she abruptly turned around and bolted.
And just like two years ago, I was left wondering.
Wondering what the hell I did wrong after spending two hours with her in the car, where we talked about everything under the sun, and I thought that it was going to be the start of something.
Maybe friendship.
Anything.
With her.
But she’d proven me wrong.
Because Bridgette never called or texted just like she said she would.
But now, I wasn’t going to give her an out.
Tonight she had to answer my questions.
Tonight was reckoning.