Fair Play (31 page)

“Ame? Earth to Amethyst. Come in, Amethyst,” he says, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

Shit, I can feel the flush in my cheeks. Please don’t let him notice, he knows I only blush when I’m thinking about sex.

“What did you say? I was …”

“Daydreaming?”

“Yeah, except it’s night not day.”

“True, but it sounds weird to say
night dreaming
and you’re awake, so it’s daydreaming. At any rate, what were you dreaming about? Your cheeks are pink,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, suggesting it’s him.

“I wasn’t day or night dreaming about anything, I’m hot in this robe and I spaced out for a minute because I’m tired.”

Good save, Amethyst. I’m not the best liar on the fly, but that one worked out pretty well.

“I won’t bite you, take off your robe if you’re hot. Sheesh, Ame, you act like I’m a criminal or something. I understand you need to keep this professional, but it’s still me over here. I’m still Adam Silver from St. Louis who used to pull your pigtails and tickle you until you peed. No means no, I got it.”

He did use to pull my hair relentlessly. He was always trying to get my attention. We grew up together and spent every day together in elementary school. I sat in the stands for every one of his games in high school and college. He taught me how to ride a bike, play football, and to properly spit. He took me to every dance, party, and pep rally. We went on spontaneous weekend getaways, kissed in the rain, made love in the woods, and talked about getting married and having kids someday.

And then he did the unimaginable. I don’t think I’ll ever get past that.

“I know,” I say softly. “I’m going to try and sleep again, okay?”

“I’ll be keeping watch, close your eyes,” he says, tucking his forearm behind his head. My stupid heart skips a beat at the sight of him sprawled out on the pillows, bare chest on display, rippling muscles with his bicep flexed and the tenderest expression on his face.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a man in love.

Chapter Seventeen

Adam

The phone rings too many times when I call Cherry the next day. Avoiding me is as good as admitting she’s guilty. I want to know what the hell she was doing outside my fucking guesthouse last night and what she intended to do if she had gotten in.

Grant couldn’t be sure from the surveillance video if it was her or not, but the person was tall and thin like her, not built like a man at all. And now she’s not answering her phone because she knows I know. Cherry always answers on the first ring when I call unless she’s in trouble, and man is she in trouble.

I slam the phone down on the coffee table in front of me. I’m sure I shattered the screen, or dented the wood, or both.

“What did that phone ever do to you?” Ame asks, entering the living room with two cups of coffee in her hands.

“It’s not the phone, it’s the fucking person not answering on the other end.”

“I’m glad I’m not that person.”

“You’ll never be that person.”

I take the cup of coffee she hands me. God, I’m going to need a gallon of this to stay awake today. Between the sleep deprivation and the pain pills Ame’s been shoving down my throat all morning, I’m bound to have a narcoleptic moment at some point.

I swallow a large gulp of coffee and lurch forward, nearly spitting it out. I thought I’d tasted bad coffee before, but this is atrocious.

“Shit, too hot? Ame says, whacking me on the back while I sputter and cough.

I nod my head yes on the chance that she made this sludge, letting her believe I burned my mouth.

“I made it myself. I used your espresso machine,” she says proudly, but then she frowns.

“I’ll have to check the temperature setting next time.”

Yep, she made it. I’m glad I didn’t say it tastes like shit because it really does.

“That thing is tricky. It took Casey months to figure out, so don’t worry about it.” I set the mug on the table next to my phone and lean back to watch her drink her lousy coffee.

She looks so beautiful today; I love that she can look like a million bucks in a simple sweater and jeans with no makeup. No frills or sparkles, no stilettos or blingy jewelry, just clean, pure Amethyst.

She is literally everything Cherry isn’t. She comes from a good family, she’s motivated and she’s always trying to help others and better herself. I wish she could be a part of Harper’s life.

I’d like my daughter to have a good female role model. She’s at the age where she’s starting to mimic everyone around her, and I don’t want her picking up nasty habits from her mother and her friends. It’s only a matter of time before she fucks up so bad that I get full custody.

Amethyst’s face screws up when she takes a drink, “Oh my gosh, Adam, why didn’t you just say it tastes like crap? Yuck, I can’t drink this.” She sits the mug next to mine and shudders.

“Didn’t want to hurt your feelings in case you made it,” I say, focusing on her full lips as I speak. She has the most erotic mouth of any woman I’ve ever known. Her top lip is a perfect bow and the bottom is full but not overly plump. Even without lipstick or gloss, they’re the perfect shade of kissable, bitable, fuckable pink.

An awkward silence falls over the room as I search her face for any sign of the love she used to have for me.

“What?” she whispers.  I shake my head back and forth.

“Nothing, sorry,” I say, but it’s the opposite of nothing and it’s all I can do to keep Vinnie, Cherry, and Harper a secret. Amethyst and I never kept secrets from one another; she made me want to be honest by being so open. We handled everything like a team, a team of two playing the game of life, the game we naively assumed would be fair but wasn’t.

Lady bursts into the room, ending the moment, and jumps onto the couch next to Ame. Her tongue lolls out of her mouth and her feet are wet.

“Lady, down,” I say in a stern voice. She hops off the couch and sits so close to Ame’s legs she’s practically leaning on her.

“She’s getting attached.”

“Like I said, girls stick together, don’t we, Lady wady sweet girl.” I roll my eyes as she baby-talks my enormous, supposedly intimidating guard dog. She’s got Lady’s head in her hands, scratching behind both ears. My dog is officially smitten. She’s in heaven when she’s with Amethyst, and I know exactly how she feels.

When she catches my disgusted look, she waves her hand at me.

“You’re jealous.”

“Oh yeah, I’m dying to have you talk baby-talk to me, totally jealous.”

Thing is I wouldn’t mind if she did. If her attention is focused on me, she can scratch my ears and call me baby waby all she wants.

“So what are we going to do today?” I ask.

She leans back against the couch and Lady plops her head in her lap. Ame absently continues to pet her with one hand.

“That’s up to you. We can’t start physical therapy for at least a week. Although you did manage to get yourself out of bed in a hurry last night, I still can’t imagine how you did that.”

“I can do anything, and I’ll give you a couple days before we start PT, not a week or weeks. I told you I’m going to be at our training camp in July, no if ands or buts.”

“Adam, rushing your recovery will only set you back further. You have to give your body time to …”

“I’ll be fine. You know me, when I want something I go for it, no holds barred.”

She stops stroking Lady’s head and I’m positive she read between the lines. I do want to be playing in a few short months, but more than that, I want her.

“Okay, I suppose a positive attitude is a good thing. I don’t want you to be disappointed if things don’t go the way you want though.”

The double entendres continue, she’s telling me not to get my hopes up and I’m telling her I’m not quitting until she’s mine again.

With a deep sigh, I adjust my leg on the stool in front of me.

“Are you in pain? Can I do anything for you?”

Oh, what a loaded question. Yes, damn it, you can come over here and kiss me, you can wheel me upstairs and let me undress you. You can help me into bed and slide your wet pussy down over my throbbing cock and ride me until next week.

Shit, I have to stop doing that. I’m torturing myself with these little mini movie fantasies I keep having every time she says something that can be interpreted as dirty or sexy. Now I have a raging boner under this blanket that I’m thankful she threw over me when she helped me onto the couch.

“Uh no, I’m good, just adjusting. How about we find something on Netflix to watch and I’ll have Casey make us some real coffee.” Her lip juts out in a pout and my cock twitches.

“I made real coffee.”

“Real bad coffee, babe.”

“Hush, where’s the remote?”

“There, on the shelf to the right of the TV”

I watch her unfold her leg from underneath her and walk to the TV. Watching her round ass in those tight jeans walk away from me does nothing for my cause. I’d kill for a quick shower right now. If I weren’t an invalid, I’d excuse myself and go upstairs to handle business real quick. As it is, I need to think of something unappealing to bring down the pole.

My mom always told us boys to think about the pictures of STDs we saw in health class to keep from being aroused. She’s actually pretty smart. If those pictures of inflamed, blistery genitals don’t make you limp, something’s wrong with you.

It works, well partially anyway, enough that I can concentrate on finding a movie and texting Casey to make us some coffee.

Then the Netflix logo flashes on the screen, and I want nothing more than to Netflix and chill with Amethyst the way it was intended to be done.

Naked,

In bed,

While fucking.

“You okay over there?” she asks.

“Yep, perfect. What do you want to binge watch?”

“Have you seen all the seasons of Breaking Bad?” she asks.

“Nope, only had time for season one.”

Her eyes light up and she bounces up and down clapping her hands. I’d watch a thousand episodes of Mary Poppins if she wanted. As long as she’s happy, I’m good.

“Oh, I’m so excited, I don’t know anybody who hasn’t seen every episode of every season. This is great.”

She points the remote at the screen and I decide I want her closer.

“Can you do me a favor before we start?”

“Of course, oh wait, I should ask what it is first, huh?”

“It’s medically related. I think you’re safe.”

She’s on her feet in a flash.

“Do you need to move?” she asks.

“Yes, my leg is getting stiff.” That’s not the only thing getting stiff.

She bends over and rearranges the pillows under my leg, and I get a beautiful view of her cleavage. Another fantasy starts to form in my head but I squash it right away, this time with the memory of a nasty photo of herpes that Mrs. Brunt from the sixth grade burned into my memory until the end of time. Ah, sweet relief.

When she’s got my leg at a specific angle, she stands to examine her work. She brushes her hands together as if she’s congratulating herself on a job well done.

“Good?”

“Yep, one more thing though.”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Sit on this couch with me, will ya?”

She pauses to consider and when she turns around, Lady, bless her soul, has stolen her place and stretched out on the entire length of the couch she was sitting on.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to now.”

She sinks into the couch on the opposite end, purposely as far away as possible. I wonder what she thinks will happen if she gets too close? Is she afraid she won’t be able to control herself and she’ll jump my bones? Or is she still so pissed she doesn’t want to be close to me?

I think she wants to jump my bones, or at least that’s what I want to think, so I will.

Chapter Eighteen

Amethyst

I love Breaking Bad, I don’t know if it’s the simplicity in which the whole story started or the fact that they kept it going for five seasons.

We have watched four episodes of season two when my alarm goes off.

“Time for your meds.” I smile a gotta-do-what-cha-gotta-do smile and go to the kitchen to throw a couple pills in a medicine cup. I wish he wouldn’t be so stubborn about taking the pain meds. I don’t think he knows how much he needs them.

I stand in front of him and hand him the cup with a bottle of water. He takes them in his hands but makes no move to actually swallow them.

“Go ahead, toss ‘em back like a shot,” I say, encouraging him.

“I will. Come on, sit down. Let’s keep watching.”

He loves the show as much as I did the first time through, but he’s not getting away with not taking his meds.

When I sit, I do so closer to him to monitor his pill progress. So far he’s taken none of them.

He presses Play on the remote and pops the two antibiotic pills into his mouth. After a swig of water, I continue to watch him out of the corner of my eye. Halfway through the episode, I grab the remote at a pivotal moment and pause the show.

“Hey, what are you doing? Walt is walking around that grocery store naked. Turn it back on!”

“Not until you take those pain pills,” I say, using my sternest nurse voice.

“I don’t need them.”

Oh my gosh, this man is killing me. Wait, what’s that smell? I sniff the air around me, and Adam looks at me like I’ve finally lost it.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asks, pausing after each word to emphasize how crazy I look to him. Lady jumps off the couch and heads to the kitchen.

“Don’t you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

My hyper alert smeller is picking out several things in the room: lemon Pledge, Febreze, Adam’s woodsy cologne, but another sticks out.

“Smoke. Do you think Casey could have forgotten something in the oven?”

“No, she only makes coffee and cleans, Marta would be the only one cooking, and she’s not here today. Are you sure you smell smoke? I can’t smell a thing.”

“Take your pills.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I definitely know it’s smoke. I’ll go check the kitchen.”

“I want to go with you, hold on.”

“Take your pills.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not helping you into your chair.”

“That’s got to be some sort of neglect or withholding life-sustaining equipment rule you’re breaking.”

“Don’t care, take ‘em.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll go check it out alone.” He curses under his breath and begins to unwrap the blanket on his lap. He’s probably going to crawl to the damn kitchen with me.

The smell becomes stronger the closer to the back of the house I get. The sound of wood popping and crackling hits me seconds after the smell, and then I’m standing in the kitchen with my mouth hanging open watching the guesthouse burn. It’s completely engulfed in flames.

“Oh my God! Adam, call the fire department, hurry! Call 911 or whatever, the guesthouse is on fire.”

I run through the house, dodging furniture, and start yelling for Lady. She wasn’t in the kitchen where I thought she’d be.

“Lady! Come on, girl,” I say, following it with some kissing noises to entice her.

I fly around the corner back into the living room and find Adam sitting on the edge of the couch with his bad leg down on the floor talking on the phone.

“Yes, the guesthouse, around back. Yes, it’s got flames and smoke. It’s fucking burning. Send a fire truck, or two or three!”

“Adam, where’s Lady?”

“I’ll stay on the line, but I’m putting the phone in my pocket, lady. I have to get into my wheelchair. Did you get that? I’m in a wheelchair, so tell them to hurry!”

The poor 911 operator must get his or her ass chewed a lot. What a thankless job.

He looks up at me and I mouth the word Lady.

“My dog’s missing too. She’s a hundred-pound black and white Great Dane, answers to Lady.”

I push his chair up to the couch and he stands on his good leg with minimal help from me, pivots, and sits back down. I’m trying to unlock the wheels at the same time he is and we keep bumping hands. I remove mine and round the chair to push him, but he’s already taking off the other direction.

“Lady!” he yells, and then it occurs to me there are several other people who are in the house working, including Casey and Grant. I think some butler dude lives here, too.

“Adam, what about your staff? Who is here besides Casey and Grant?”

“Nobody, only them.” His chair lurches to a stop and he sucks in a deep smoky breath. “Holy fucking shit, that bitch burned down my goddamn house!” he yells.

Grant comes in from outside through the French doors, letting a big cloud of smoke in with him.

“We need to get it under control before it spreads to the main house. It went up like dry tinder in a matter of minutes. This was intentional.” Grant says.

“No shit. It was Cherry. I want her found, now!” Adam yells, making me jump.

He thinks Cherry set fire to his house? Wow, that’s one jealous bitch.

“Have you seen Lady or Casey?” Adam asks Grant.

“No, I’ll check her room,” Grant says.

Lady comes running down a short hall off the kitchen that I assumed led to storage. She barks, and I run to make sure she’s okay. She opens her mouth and I’m sure she’s going to bite me, but instead she gently takes my hand in her mouth and leads me down the hall.

Outside a door, she whines and I open it. She pushes past me into the bedroom. This must be where Casey lives. Her room is smokier than the kitchen or the hall, and I realize it’s closest to the guesthouse.

It’s so smoky in here the only thing visible is the light from a window on the other side of the room. I follow Lady to the bed where Casey is lying in her uniform on her back with a dusting cloth in her hand.

She must have passed out from the smoke. I’ve got my sweater pulled up over my mouth as a filter, but it wouldn’t work for long in here. I try to wake her by slapping her cheeks, first gently and when she doesn’t respond, a little harder. Nothing.

All right, she weighs virtually nothing. She’s a petite little woman. I’m sure I can try to throw her over my shoulder and carry her down the hall.

Squatting down between her legs, I pull her to the edge and take ahold of her hands to sit her limp body up. Lady is on the bed nudging her back trying to help. She’s a good rescue dog.

When I’ve settled her over my shoulder, I stand on shaky legs. It’s been a few days without a workout and I’m not used to carrying people like a sack of potatoes.

The sirens sound close, and they should be here soon. I enter the kitchen and glance out the windows at the guesthouse that is now fully engulfed in flames. You could feel the heat in the kitchen.

“We should get out of this room in case there’s an explosion,” I say to Adam, huffing and puffing as I pass him, lugging his housekeeper over my shoulder.

“I cannot believe that bitch did this. I’m going to kill her. No, I don’t even want to see her fucking face again, I’ll hire somebody to kill her.”

I leave him to his murder plans and struggle to the living room. I flop Casey on one of the couches and check her over with Breaking Bad still playing on Netflix.

I feel for a pulse. Yep, she’s got one. Great. I turn my head to the side and listen for breath sounds. Her breathing is shallow, but breathing is breathing. The doorbell rings, and Grant leads a police officer and a paramedic into the living room.

“She’s breathing, but barely. She needs O2,” I say as they converge on her. She’s in good hands now, and I need to find Adam again. Lady has claimed a spot next to Casey and the paramedics don’t even seem to notice her.

“We need to evacuate the house, ma’am. Do you know if there are any other people here?” a firefighter dressed in full gear asks.

“Yes, the owner of the house Adam Silver, he’s wheelchair bound.”

“Where did you see him last?”

“In the kitchen. He was watching the fire. Is somebody putting it out? It’s going to spread to the main house soon, they need to do something fast …”

“Ma’am, they’re working on it right now. Which way is the kitchen so we can get Adam out?”

I point a trembling finger in the direction of the kitchen and wrap my arms around me tight. What the hell is happening? Did his ex Cherry seriously burn down his guesthouse? Shit, was it her last night outside my window? Was she trying to start a fire with me in the house?

My stomach flops, and I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting and to protect my lungs from the smoke filling the room.

The firefighter who was looking for Adam returns, pushing his chair.

“Grab our coats, we have to leave,” Adam says with a steely-cold tone that I’ve never known him use.

I have a feeling we aren’t simply evacuating the house, we’re going to find someone.

Cherry.