Gunslinger: A Sports Romance (41 page)

"You were seeing Ethan then. What was he supposed to do? Ethan was his teammate. He's making up for it now. In fact, I think the text he sent today should tell you just how interested he is."

"It was a group text."

"He didn't want to assume anything, so he included me in on the text. That's all."

"That's up for interpretation."

"The guy texted us that he'd hopefully see you specifically tomorrow at Java. That is man speak for I want to see you tomorrow at Java and you better be there woman! So I'll ask again. Do you want to see Jagger again or not?"

"Well ... yes but–"

"What are you worried about? Not that cousin of yours I hope."

"I'm not worried about him. It's just that he's got a temper, and he's taking this older cousin thing way too seriously. I don't know what the heck my mom told Juliette and Joseph, but I feel like Roman is on babysitting duty."

"You think your mom told them about what happened at the apartment?"

"Well, I kind of tripped up and told him myself."

"You told him about Ethan!"

"I felt like I had to explain why I didn't think Owen was going to give me the security deposit."

"How about my landlord is a dick. The end."

"Ha. Ha. I guess that would have been another way to go, but you know I'm not a good liar. He could tell that I was hiding something."

"Really? Because you've just met the guy and already he can read you?"

"Like I said and as you well know, I'm not a good liar."

"You're also not a kid Bitsy. You're a grown ass woman. Take your butt down to Java tomorrow morning and don't let any of them know where you're going. Just because you live with them doesn't mean that they need to know your every move. Worse case scenario is Jagger doesn't show up and you get some work done while you have a latte. Best case scenario is he throws you in the back seat of his car in the parking lot and has his way with you for an hour."

"You're crazy!"

We both start cracking up as I gobble down a little more popcorn.

"I wish this was a Long Island iced tea instead of a sweet tea," I say breezily. "Okay. You're right. Of course you're right. I'll meet him."

"Good!" I can hear her clap her hands together. "In fact, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. That'll make it easier. Juliette will think you're out with me."

"Okay cool. I'll be ready by ten. Hold on it's my other line."

A call is coming in on my phone from an area code I don't recognize.

"Hello?"

After a long pause a woman finally speaks. "Is this Elizabeth?"

"Yessss?"

Then nothing.

She hangs up.

I click back over to Sloan. "Sorry about that. Just a crank caller."

"That was kind of long for a crank call."

"She asked for me by name, then she hung up."

Sloan was silent for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. It was probably one of Ethan's many hussies unaware that he's in rehab and that we are completely finished with each other."

"I'm sure it was, knowing him. That's why we're on to project Jagger starting tomorrow!"

"So excited."

"You know I love it when I make a good match."

"I don't know how. You've never been good at it."

"Shut it. You talk too much girly."

And we laugh and giggle with each other like old times for another hour on the phone, although in the back of my mind I can't help but wonder what or who Roman might be doing right now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ELIZABETH

AS USUAL SLOAN IS RUNNING late and I didn't get a good night's sleep, so I'm cranky. Someone called my cell at 3:30am and hung up on me. The same crank caller who's been calling me randomly for the last few days, although now I'm starting to wonder if it was the woman who called yesterday. Hell I thought crank calling ended in the 90s. Anyway, since I had the inability to go back to sleep after being so rudely woken up, I jumped on the computer and got some work done. Next thing I knew it was 5am. Now I have dark circles under my eyes that I'm desperately trying to cover with concealer, and I'm totally exhausted.

Unfortunately Sloan's tardiness has left Aunt Juliette just enough time to seek me out and knock on my door. Which sucks because I really had hoped to sneak out of the house without seeing her (she usually sleeps in on Saturday mornings). I really like my aunt, but I'm just not in the mood to hear how I'm working myself to an early grave and how I need to eat a hearty breakfast before I start my day. My aunt's idea of a hearty breakfast is a plate of so much food that it could choke a horse. Now I completely understand why she exercises like a maniac half the time. She has to or she'd weigh five hundred pounds.

"Oh you're dressed. Great. How about we go out for an early lunch today? My treat." See what I mean. "You look pretty by the way. I love how you wear so much yellow Elizabeth. It's so common to see girls your age wear nothing but black when wearing bright colors does so much to improve one's disposition."

"Oh thanks Auntie, but I kind of have plans with Sloan today. She's actually on her way. Can I have a rain check?"

"No worries. Where are you two going this time of morning? You're usually working on that computer of yours. Not that I'm complaining. It's good for you to get out more sweetie."

"Umm ... we're going to Java."
 

"What's that?"

"It's a coffee house that Sloan and I used to go to all the time near school."

"I have perfectly good coffee downstairs in the kitchen that you can drink for free. Why would you go pay five dollars for coffee? I've never even seen you drink a cup of coffee."

"Well you know, it's the ambiance of the shop, plus I'm just trying to be better about getting out of the house and hanging with friends."

My aunt curves her lips in amusement. She knows bullshit when she hears it.

"If it works out," she says. "I'd love to meet him someday."

***

I FEEL A PECULIAR SORT OF energy as soon as we enter Java and I can't shake it. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. I don't know. But whatever it is–is making me feel on edge and jumpy, and I'm making Sloan bear the brunt of it.
 

"This coffee is gross." I scrunch my face in an exaggerated manner from the bitter taste. "Why do we insist on spending good money on this crap?" I realize that I sound like Juliette right now.

Sloan smiles at me while waiting for the barista to finish making some sort of caramel espresso drink with tons of whipped cream on top. It's totally unfair how she can drink all that sugar and never gain a pound.

"Are you that freaking nervous hooker? It's just Jagger." She pinches my cheek. "Awww, you're so cute."
 

I smack her hand away.
 

"Honestly. What grown business owner names their coffee shop Java The Hut?" I ask annoyed.

"Calm the hell down Bitsy. Everybody loves Star Wars, and I think the name works. So do a million other college students in this city."
 

"They're not even old enough to know who Jabba The Hut from Star Wars was."

"And neither are we, but we know! Everyone's seen Star Wars." Sloan points towards the other side of the room. "Make sure to grab the club chairs over there by the window. I'll get up when Jagger arrives."

One of the things that drives me a little nuts about Sloan is that she is constantly injecting herself or her strong opinions into every area of my life. She makes it her mission to fix me as if I'm a perpetually broken gadget. I'm pretty sure this whole "Jagger likes Elizabeth" kick she's on is her way of getting me over Ethan quickly. I don't know what she's so worried about. The moment I realized that he was alive and well and purposely not contacting me was the moment I got over him. I may not be the smartest cookie in the cookie jar when it comes to men, but I'm not that pathetic.

I expected Sloan to drop me off at Java and go about her business, but what was I thinking? She's probably going to spy on me the entire time I'm talking to Jagger. Making this whole meet up a lot more awkward than it already is. Of course Jagger did send a group text. Maybe he is expecting to see both of us and have coffee in a group. Maybe it's better that she is here. I don't want to assume anything.
 

As per Sloan's instructions, I attempt to swiftly walk across the room (without spilling any coffee) and grab the three leather club chairs in the corner, as good seating in Java is hard to come by. For whatever reason beyond my understanding, the coffee is horrible, but Java is popular. Juliette was right. She probably does make better coffee at home. One redeeming quality about the place though is that it is quaint. It's a small neighborhood coffee house with beautiful bay windows and cozy seating (when you can find one). There are colorful oil and acrylic paintings by students from a neighborhood art school that cover much of the exposed brick walls. I love how the vibrant yellow, blue, and green colors from the paintings pop against the brick red backdrop. And then of course Java also bakes fresh daily. So it always smells like banana and zucchini bread–which I love.

As we sit and kill time talking about one of Sloan's ex-boyfriends and just how much of a Grade A jerk he is, the uneasy feeling is lingering like a weight on the back of my neck. I keep turning over questions in my head in an effort to identify the source. Is there something important I'm forgetting? My keys? My wallet?

Sloan snaps her fingers twice in front of me. "Bitsy are you listening to me?"

I jump to full attention. "Absolutely. Dillon is going to regret losing you." Blah. Blah. Blah.

"I stopped talking about him a few minutes ago," she says with a slight attitude and turned up lips. "I'm talking about the new territory I'm up for at my job."

"Oh really?"

"What's wrong with you for real?"

I look at my watch.

"He's not even late yet Bitsy. We're early."

"I'm just in a weird mood I guess, or maybe I'm more nervous about Jagger than I thought I'd be."

"Its just coffee. You're stressing for no reason. He already likes you."

As we move on chatting about how Sloan is going to ignore Dillon's calls, the recent police shootings on the news, and the latest celebrity gossip– I feel a pair of very familiar eyes staring at me with a fierce intensity. Sloan notices soon after.

"Oh boy." She says after bowing her eyes down.

It's Roman.

As soon as I notice him, he walks over towards us with long, confident strides and a face that I can't read. He looks like he either wants to fight me or fuck me. I take a long gulp of my lukewarm coffee, while I try to figure out what he wants with me and how to stop my stomach from swishing around like a front load washer.

"Ladies."

That's the most he's said to me in an entire week.

"Hey Roman." Sloan replies unenthusiastically.

I just stare at the lid of my coffee cup.

"How are you Elizabeth? Missed you this morning."
 

Sloan gives me a slight kick in the shins, because it is taking me entirely too long to respond to his question.
 

"I'm good Masterson."

The corners of his beautiful mouth turn up into the sexiest grin ever.

Sloan clears her throat. "I didn't get to ask you the other night Roman, but I wanted to ask you something about that first night at The Lotus."

"May I sit? I mean were you expecting anyone else?" He asks in an accusatory tone.

"Well–" I start to say.

"Have a seat." Sloan gestures her hand towards the empty chair.

Roman plops down and leans into the chair with his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him and his arms crossed across his chest. There is something so sexy about how he leans back in the chair that heat starts to swarm all through my insides and down to my core. I am annoyed with him for being such a baby all week, but I am also still very much attracted to him. No matter how annoying he is, I still desperately want his hands all over me.

"So about the club," she continues. "Do you know what happened that night we met you? Since you're running it now, I thought you'd have the inside scoop."

Roman's mouth tightens for a moment, but then he answers.
 

"There were a couple girls arguing and it got heated. Someone pulled out some pepper spray and the ceiling fans basically circulated the shit all around the club."

"People got hurt right?"

"Yes."

"Interesting," Sloan says. "None of it was on the news. I swore there was going to be a whole big story on the evening news or at least the next day but there wasn't."

"Philly is a big town. Perhaps there was a bigger story that night."

"How hurt were the people?"

"A woman died. Another two were in critical condition for about two weeks." Roman says somberly.

I shudder. That's horrible and we had no clue. How hadn't we heard about this? Why hadn't he told me?

"Oh my God, how wasn't that reported? I wonder if I knew any of them?" Sloan continues jabbering on and on. I kind of want her to be quiet now. She tends to eventually say something inappropriate if you let her rattle on too long. "Were you there partying Roman? Doesn't seem like your kind of scene."

Yep, now I really want her to shut up.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He asks sitting there with his muscular arms folded in front of him and staring her dead in the eyes.

"I mean..." Sloan hesitates. She's searching for the correct thing to say and stumbling over her words. I don't blame her. Roman looks both equally menacing and amused.

"I just mean that–"

He gives Sloan a quick dismissive once over. "Look I get what you're trying to say, but you don't know me. You don't know anything about my scene. Don't speak to me as if you do."

"Sorry." She says quietly.

"It's cool." He turns his attention back to me in a very obvious way. It was purposely dismissive to Sloan, but I have to admit that she sort of deserves it, and frankly I'm just happy that the cold war between us is finally thawing.

"So Elizabeth, who are you meeting here?"