Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys) (6 page)

“Okay, we’ve only a couple of seconds to talk,” Mama said. “I thought we should plan Gillian’s bridal shower.”

“They’re getting hitched in January. We’ve got time,” Cory said, taking a heavy baking dish out of the oven.

Her mom sighed. “She and Stephen are hankering to just get up and get married. So I suspect they might come back one day and say they eloped.”

Carolina caught Cory’s eye with an arched brow, giving her that
don’t say a thing about what I told you
look. She nodded and glanced back at Mama. This would be perfect and draw the strings of her loosely formed idea into a neatly tied bow. She’d wanted to take her mother to a place to rest and relax, but knew she’d never agree to just up and leave the ranch to visit a spa.

“I think we should all go to Dallas. You know, for a girls’ night out,” Cory said.

All at once the whole group of women inside the kitchen stopped talking. Cory set the creamed corn casserole on a trivet on the island and looked upward, not having expected a stunned silence. Carefully, she paced her planned sales pitch. “We all could go to Virginia’s private spa. Her family said it would be fine. We’re all invited. They have a tour package where a privately driven car comes and picks you up. I think it would be fun.”

“For sure, it would be fun. Crazy fun in Dallas.” Lauren laughed right on cue.

“We’ll need something larger than a car,” Mama murmured, looking from face-to-face across the room.

“More like a bus,” Carolina added. “As in largest possible.”

A dense silence ensued. Cory asked, “Mama? They have them. I just have to call and schedule one. Really, Miller said he’d take care of the details. All we have to do is say the word.” Cory waited, holding her breath.

“Sarah,” Miss Louisa began. “It will be good to get away. You know Stephen is itching to tie the knot with Gillian. You wait much longer and that girl will be Mrs. McLemore before you know it. I don’t give that couple two more days, let alone two months. We’d best be going if you want her to have a shower.”

Mama nodded. “No argument there. Cory honey, set it up. If we can go this weekend, we’d better.” Then her mother leaned over to Carolina. “How in the world are you going to explain this to Matt?”

Carolina folded her arms over her round belly and sweetly smiled. “Don’t you worry none. I’ll take care of my husband right after he’s eaten supper. Won’t know what hit him.”

Cory winked at her co-conspirators, Lauren and Miss Louisa. They’d done it! She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Miller.
WE’RE GOOD TO GO. This weekend is a McLemore GIRLS’ NIGHT OUT!!

Gillian reappeared in the kitchen with Stephen wrapped around her. “Look what I found,” she said, laughing.

“Good,” Mama said, getting up from her seat. “We’re going on a trip. This weekend. Stephen, you’ll have to let go of Gillian for a couple of days. You alright with that, son?”

His lips quirked. “No. But I suspect in a room full of women, the smart thing to do is quietly agree.”

“Always said you were quick on your feet,” Cory said, scrutinizing Stephen and the way he pulled Gillian closer to him. “That doesn’t mean you can follow.”

His brows shot up. “Would I do something like that?”

“Gillian?” Cory asked. “You gonna answer that?”

“Stephen wouldn’t do that,” she said, rubbing her hands along her fiancé’s arms while her eyes had gone round as saucers.

“Yeah. Right. You better not.” Cory stated, and stared at him to make sure he understood. “She’ll be fine. Besides, you can hang out with Matt and Daddy to keep them from coming undone in our absence.”

CHAPTER 4

“Sweet Lord,” Bill Rollins yelled. He was the Devils’ head coach and he thundered at the pouring of icy water over his head and shoulders. “Players, you’d better run, ‘cause if I get my hands on you…”

Brett refrained from rubbing his shoulder as everyone on this side of the stadium laughed, high-fived, and snapped jerseys at one another while leaving the field. The Devils rocked Arlington, trouncing the Redskins 27-7 in a sellout Thanksgiving game. Eighty thousand hooting and hollering in the stadium and the cheering still pulsed inside his head in a buzzing echo. Brett gained over a hundred yards and that meant he’d moved up in rank in his ability to catch and carry down the field. Yet there wasn’t a soul whom he could look up to in the stands and wave to during the game. And afterwards, there wasn’t anyone to hurry up and change for…no rush to get out the locker room door and speed away with to a holiday dinner. By now, his mother would be almost asleep and he did his thing with the press before cutting away to shower.

“Brett, what are you up to?” Rich Hayworth asked as he came into the locker room. Rich was a stocky defensive end recently traded from the Devils to the Cougars, and one of the few players who knew his history—both pre- and post-Daniella.

“I’m going back home and probably chill. I’m beat.” Brett tossed his helmet into his locker.

“Nah. You come on back with me. Marcie is expecting you and she said it’ll just be informal. Buffet and nothing fancy. We can kick back and talk shop. Looks like we’ll be doing a face off soon.”

It was true. The Devils and Cougars might actually be in the playoffs this year but that still wasn’t enough of a reason to end up at a family dinner, especially with someone else’s family. “Don’t shit me. Your wife knows two speeds. Elaborate and extra elaborate. Besides, the Devils will trounce the Cougars.”

“Doubtful. We may be a new team, but we’re all fire.” Rich laughed as he nodded to a few of the players. He swung his attention back to Brett. “Dude, I promise. It’s not that way. With a game, she didn’t know about time and it’s only family and friends stopping in, visiting. Hell, she’s got three single sisters.”

“And I think I’d have my ass kicked if I tried anything with them. I’ve seen your wife’s brothers.” A definite no-go on his roster of possible dates. No women with brothers who’d want a piece of him. He’d done that once. Had to get a restraining order for both the family and the woman who kept calling him. “Thanks, but no.”

Rich elbowed him. “Not an ugly one, and yeah, my brothers-in-law are a gang of ballbusters. There’s my wife’s friends don’t forget. They’re hot and don’t have any chaperones.”

“I think I’m good.” Brett grinned. Single family of NFL wives were a death trap. They’d get a chokehold on any walking player and it would be hell to get loose.

“A few have asked after you, after that barbeque last September. Come on. You know they’re a few worth the journey.”

“Yeah. I remember.” He’d met a couple of them and they were the type that wanted to settle down. To them, he was nothing a single pro baller and a doorway to the NFL lifestyle. On the outside, that might be true. Not many knew him well enough to know that wasn’t his goal for the future. “Seriously, my shoulder is burning. I just want to ice it.”

Rich nodded. “Shit. I hear you. We get so beat up on the field. My knee is swollen like a mother.”

“It’s called ice,” Brett grunted. “You should try it. I know I sure as hell need a bag or two.”

“Preaching to choir.” Rich snorted. “Hey, since you’re staying in tonight, you going to the party tomorrow?”

Brett glanced over his shoulder and down the aisle, making sure the press had vacated the locker room. “Mike’s birthday bash? You still hooked up with him?”

“Hell yes. Even traded, I don’t want to lose out on that wild man’s ability to throw an out of control shindig.” Rich nodded, jerking his chin across the locker room to a group of guys deemed the party animals of the team and the NFL’s rocking unofficial players’ club.

Every team had a few and this team was no different with half a dozen players who managed to operate under the radar with hot-as-hell parties most weekends. A crazy ass time was only a phone call away.

By being in the NFL, all sorts of doorways were open. Didn’t matter what a man’s status was. Come the weekend, parties were a place to unwind with no questions asked—or so they said as long as the press didn’t get wind of it, or the management. In cities across the nation, and tomorrow Brett had heard right here in Dallas, Mike had planned an insane birthday bash that would make the other parties appear tame.

Brett inhaled. Shit, he needed to unwind himself. “It’ll be something. Sure. I might stop in.”

“Mike, hey man,” Rich yelled across the locker room.

The wide receiver turned in his direction. “What’s up?”

“How old are you going to be?” Rich asked and laughed. “Brett wants to know.”

“Fuck Brett, you never ask a lady his age,” one of the guardsmen shouted out and broke into a chuckle.

Mike shot the other player the bird. “Thirty-one. And you’d better show your face. If not, I’ll have one of these motherfuckers come pick your sorry ass up. You feelin’ me, Brett? And by the way, Rich, kiss my ass.”

“I might if you show it. Sure as hell’s better looking than your face,” Rich snorted.

“You planned on showing up to a Friday night bash?” Brett asked. “As in stag?”

“If you say you’re going, I’ll do my best to get over there,” Rich said. “If Marcie thinks I’m out with you, she won’t give me rash of shit. She thinks you’re one of the good guys.”

“Even with the newspaper report about the bar fight?” Brett peeled off his jersey and started to unlace his pads. He refused help from one of the locker assistants, preferring to deal with undressing and cutting away the yards of tape binding his pads and body, especially when his hammered shoulder throbbed painfully. He didn’t need his name included on any injury reports that might get him benched.

“It was in a regular bar, not some strip joint, so yeah.” Rich waved to a few other players.

“Where’s the place?” Brett clenched his jaw at the rolling in his gut that told him this plan had ‘bad idea’ written all over it.

“Starting out at Venzie’s, then closing down Firefly’s. Mike likes the rooms upstairs.”

“Did he book a floor this time?” Brett asked, wondering how Rich knew so much about these bashes considering he was married and seemed to be happy. He wasn’t about to ask, though.

“Yeah, more, I think. I heard he tried to get the complete hotel but they’re booked for years in advance,” Rich supplied. “I’d better run. Just stopped by to shoot the shit with my old team. Later. If you reconsider, just stop by.”

“Thanks. Don’t think so.” Brett preferred staying alone during the holidays. Being with other people intensified the hollow feeling he couldn’t shake. He got lost easy enough in a crowd of people he knew. At times, he felt more at home with strangers at a bar.

His father, an enlisted soldier, had died when he was barely five, and his mother refused to remarry. A vibrant woman who had been an actress for years. Alberta Gold. She’d returned to the stage and traveled with him in tow as a child. He’d seen most large continental cities in the United States several times over by middle school and toured Europe, South America, and Asia until his mom began experiencing tremors and weakness in her legs. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and he’d moved her into around-the-clock care right before he’d gotten engaged to Daniella.

Brett finished showering and returned to the deserted locker room. Brett sat down in front of his locker.

“You and I are probably the only players without a tether.” Farb, the punter, broke the silence from a couple of lockers away.

“I’d rather have it this way. Sometimes, at least.” He stepped into his trousers and stood up to slip on his shirt.

“You crashing back at your place, or you up for some fun?” Farb slammed his locker shut.

“What are you thinking?” Brett asked. Alone without the hype of the press and other players, it was easier to think straight.

“I know a couple of places. Get ready. I’ve got a driver for the night. So no worries about getting pulled over.”

“A man with a plan,” Brett muttered. “Let’s have at it.”

Farb pulled on a pair of sunglasses. “Buckle up. This ride is guaranteed to get rough.”

~~~

Fuck, the ceiling expanded and contracted as Brett struggled to open his eyes. He was still drunk from last night. A soft groan came from his mouth as he sat up in the bed where he’d landed. A generic hotel room and he was alone. Then a ton of messed up memories sliced into his awareness. He and Farb had ended up at a strip club. The remnants of the night included a half empty bottle of Scotch by the bedside and a headache the size of Mars burning inside his brain. At least he didn’t have to wake a woman and make excuses. If at all possible, his hookups were never more than one-night stands. The look of hope in a woman’s eyes wasn’t something he enjoyed crushing. Best to fuck then leave, and not have to deal with the morning after crap.

His phone rang and he snatched it up, fumbling it to his ear. “Brett?”

“Yes?” he said, his voice hoarse and gravelly from drinking a trough of liquor “Darn, you sound…hold on for your mom.”

He recognized a pair of familiar voices arguing.“ Estella? How—,” he was interrupted by his mother’s greeting.

“Hi, Brett,” his mom said in raspy voice, strained from being on a ventilator. “Happy holidays. Are you still coming?”

“Yes, ma’am. Two o’clock and I’ve a date with my favorite fan.”

She laughed. The sound was good. One he didn’t hear on a regular basis. After his mom had been diagnosed and unable to continue acting, they’d settled outside of Arlington with his grandparents when he was a teenager. Come back to his mom’s hometown where he’d enrolled in high school. The first real school he’d ever attended and it had been a chore. His mother, for all she’d tried to home school him, didn’t have the ability to deal with his learning disability. That fact seemed to trouble her even today. Even after he’d found out he was dyslexic after getting testing as an adult and the mystery of why school had been so frigging difficult was finally solved.

“Oh, I’m thrilled! We watched your game yesterday and then replayed the recording. Estella likes to fast forward to all the parts where you’re featured. You’re looking strong out there, son.”