Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (36 page)

“Yeah, Al. Cut him some slack. We're just honoring our plans. It's called 'common courtesy'.”

“Whatever. You guys are fools, and I'm wiping my hands clean of you. I'll have you know there are people out there who actually appreciate my study guides and actually
want
my excellent tutoring skills.” Allison shoved her study guide aside and sat up to stretch. “I'll just study on my own later – I'm too hungry to concentrate.”

My bedroom door swung open. Mrs. Bautista, our Chief Housekeeper for over 15 years, appeared at the doorway. She carried a large tray of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, caramel fudge brownies, and two large jugs of blue
Gatorade.
Allison took the tray from her and set it down on my bed.

“Thanks, Mrs. B.”

“Oh my goodness. Thank you so much – this looks so good. You're a godsend, Mrs. Bautista,” said Allison gratefully, stuffing a brownie in her mouth.

“Always a pleasure,” said Mrs. Bautista in her usual bubbly voice. The woman never failed to brighten up a room with just her laugh. “I know you kids get hungry after school from studying so hard all day.”

I could feel Allison's damning look on the back of my neck.

“Of course, Mrs. Bautista. We study
so
hard. Miles, especially.”

“Now, if I'm not mistaken – someone's got a birthday coming up next month. I'll be sure to make you my six-cheese spaghetti and meatballs that you love so much. And I'll whip up a red velvet cake for you to take home to your family.”

“Aw, that sounds amazing, Mrs. Bautista! Thank you so much for remembering, but you really don't have to go through all that trouble for me –”

“Nonsense. I insist.”

“Well, alright. Thanks, Mrs. Bautista. You're the best!” Allison wrapped an arm around the woman's large waist. “So, how are Michelle and Dante?”

“Oh, they're doing just wonderful!” I could hear Mrs. Bautista flushing with pride at the mention of her kids. “Michelle is starting elementary school soon, and Dante's on his first year at college – he's a Hotel Restaurant Management major. I'm very proud of them – my only wish is that their father could be around to see how good they're doing now, but they're with my sister, so they're in excellent hands.”

“That's so good to hear,” said Allison earnestly as she twisted off the cap of her
Gatorade
. “I can't imagine what it's like to have to spend so much time away from my family. Michelle and Dante are lucky to have a mom that works as hard as you do. And to put up with all that crap from von Weber Senior.”

“That's sweet, Allison. I knew there was a reason I've always liked you. You know, you and Miles have always been –”

“Not that again, Mrs. B. It's never gonna happen.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm going to have to agree with Miles.” Allison winked at Mrs. Bautista, nudging her on the side. “Besides, Miles has his eye on a completely new girl now.”

“Is that so?” Mrs. Bautista returned her wink. “And who is this special lady?”

“Daisy Clarke. She's a real nice girl, too. Plus, she's really pretty, super smart, and an all-around respectable girl.”

“Really? Why, that's great news!”

“Isn't it?”

“You guys make it sound like I've only been dating King Kong's slutty daughters up to this point.”

“Well...” said both of them in unison behind my back before breaking out in a fit of giggles.

“Alright, you kids have fun,” said Mrs. Bautista, heading for the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do, Mrs. Bautista.”

“Thanks again, Mrs. B.”

“So, you wanna get in on this, or what?” Allison called out from behind me. “None of this food's staying on the plate for long – fair warning.”

“Alright,” I spoke into my microphone. “Yo, Big Rob, I'm gonna take a break.”

“
Cool, cool. My mom's been yelling my name for the last five minutes, anyway. Peace.”

I saved my game progress and joined Allison on the foot of my bed. As Allison started working on her second baked potato, I grabbed myself a hot toasted sandwich. I scarfed down the cheesy sandwich in four bites, mulling the thoughts circling in my head.

“So you think Daisy's a good girl?”

“I do.” Allison beamed at me, wiggling her eyebrows in turns. “Why? You've never cared about what I thought about the other girls you've dated.”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I don't really know if we have anything in common. What if shit gets awkward tomorrow night?”

“Oh my goodness. Can it be true? Is Miles von Weber actually getting nervous before a date?”

“You're a tool,” I snapped, flinging a pillow at her. Allison caught it in midair without flinching. The stupid grin on her face only grew wider. “I'm serious. Maybe you're right. Daisy's a nice girl – I don't want to say something to offend her, or do anything to screw up the night.”

“And you're a nice guy,” said Allison. She dropped the smile on her face, her voice turning serious. “Don't sweat it. Daisy's a big girl – she can make her own decisions. There's a reason she agreed in the first place – and, she hasn't even called to cancel yet, so I think you're in the clear.”

“True. I still can't believe I've never noticed her before. Good thing she put that skinny-ass thug in his place. That waste of space deserved every little bit of that humiliation.”

“You mean Malcolm Radley?”

“Malcolm Radley?” I repeated as I reached for a brownie. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“You're kidding me right? We went to school with that kid before
Stonewall
. He tried to get everyone to call him M.R., but everyone just called him Malcolm Ugly? I mean, that's super lame, but then again, we were 9.”

“Holy shit. That's Malcolm Ugly?”

Malcolm was this runt of a kid that got bullied all the time back in elementary school. He was always smaller than the other kids, with his growth spurt delayed until some time in high school. He was a little prick, too – always trying to start fights with bigger kids, overcompensating for his size.

I never really knew the kid, but I distinctly remember walking in on him in the bathroom one time while he was in the middle of getting his balls duct-taped up his ass. The kids at
Marigold Heights
were fucking brutal. I ran out and grabbed the nearest teacher as soon as I could, but the damage was done. The poor kid had to undergo hours of surgery to graft the skin that came off with the tape. That was pretty much the last I ever heard of him again. I didn't even realize he was going to
Stonewall.
The dude looked different, but time obviously hadn't made him any less of a dick.

“Yup, that's him.”

“Jesus. He was an annoying little cunt – once a cunt, always a cunt, I guess.”

“I wouldn't say that. What he did to Derek was unforgivable, but I'd say he's more misunderstood, than anything.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Allison shrugged behind her
Gatorade
bottle. “My mom told me he's had it rough. Malcolm's mom left him with his alcoholic dad the minute he was born. His dad blamed him for his mother leaving, and would throw him around relentlessly. Hookers and random women were in and out his house every other day. The nurse at school started getting suspicious about all his bruises and broken bones. His neighbors would also find him running around naked, hungry, and crying while his dad left him alone for days on end. CPS was called, but my understanding was that nothing was done until his dad beat him so bad, he was sent to the hospital and had to be on life support. After he recovered, he moved in with his grandmother, and he was home-schooled until high school.”

“Wow.” My throat turned scratchy and dry just listening to that horrific story. “That's fucking terrible. Poor dude.”

“Yeah, well. Life is better to some of us than most – you of all people should know that.”

Knowing she was right, I kept my mouth wired shut. I hated it when Allison put me in my place. But at the same time, I was grateful, and loved her for it. She was definitely one of the good ones – she knew just how to see past the bad, and always managed to find the good in everyone. Apparently, even assholes like Malcolm Radley.

Allison picked up her bag from the floor. She took out a red velvet pouch, where she stored her tarot cards. I stroked my chin as I watched her take out her deck and tuck her legs under her.

“Whoa. Is Madame Alizon back in business already?”

“Shut up. I haven't done my readings this month. I've only got time for a quickie.”

I resisted the urge to snort at her – for a smart girl, she was way too into these hippie-fortune-teller-new-age bullshit.

“My bad. By all means – you do your thing.”

As Allison shuffled her cards, she mouthed a question silently to herself. She took three cards from the deck and laid them face-up on my bed. The first tarot card was “The Sun.” Her second card was “The Ace of Swords.” But the moment she revealed the last card, the color drained from her face.

“'Ten of Swords',” I read aloud as I cranked my neck to the side.

“It's – it's upright.”

“And that means...?”

Allison kicked out her legs and leaped off my bed abruptly. She brought her fist to her mouth and attempted to bite her nails. In her daze, she seemed to forget the glittery plastic claws she glued onto her fingers. She withdrew her hand at once and started shoveling her tarot cards back into her pouch. Throwing it back into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and started towards the door.

“Sorry, Miles – I have to go.”

“What? Is this seriously because of that stupid card? You're joking –”

“No. Sorry. I'll see you at school tomorrow.”

Before I could argue with Allison any further, she left my room in a rush, slamming the door behind her.

Shaking my head, I reached for another brownie. It was weird seeing Allison so freaked out about some dumb cards, but I was sure whatever it was, she'd get over it in no time. It wasn't like Allison to dwell on things. Best to just leave shit alone.

Chapter Six: Daisy

The rainbow string lights and the dancing bulbs on the fair attractions made the
Winfield Boardwalk
glow. Whimsical, old-timey carnival music filled the streets, teeming with bustling crowds and fascinating street performers. Gleeful screams and whooshing wind from thrilling rides heightened the lively atmosphere around me.

As my eyes roamed free, they settled on the gorgeous merry-go-round coming up on my left. The double-decker carousel roof was built and intricately painted like the top of a conch shell. In place of horses, seahorses and different kinds of colorful fish and shell-studded chariots were fastened in place with striped poles. The scenery panels were painted with portraits of underwater scenery, complete with bubbles and sea fairies.

There was something magical about being a five-year-old. Imagine that – mounting one of those horses for roughly three minutes of pure bliss. For almost three minutes, you just hung onto one of those poles, pretending to be this magnificent horseman – or in this case, an underwater warrior – with not a care in the world. I couldn't even remember the last time I truly let myself enjoy something wholeheartedly.

The last time I had a “spa day” with Mom, I spent the entire duration of our mud mask and seaweed body wraps wondering if our bi-monthly “Girls' Day” was hurting our budget. Mom then reminded me that I was her plus-one, and that I wasn't even paying to get in there. So naturally, I spent the rest of the time stressing about when Mom and Dad were finally going to start looking for a house of their own, so they could start paying mortgage. Which, of course, spiraled to me wondering when the heck they were ever going to pay off their future mortgage in full. Hopefully, with my scholarship on the way, they'd be able to start worrying about themselves. With Ethan unable to keep a job for more than two months at a time, it wasn't making things any easier for them. As much as I loved Ethan, he needed to get his shit together and grow up.

“Remind me why we're waiting again?”

Honey's surly voice ripped me back to reality. She cast a withering look my way, brushing the leg of a hanging plush giraffe with the back of her hand. I pulled my eyes away from the mesmerizing merry-go-round.

“I know. It's silly,” I admitted, scratching the back of my head. “Miles texted me five minutes ago – he says he's already here. I just didn't want to seem like an Eager Beaver who showed up half an hour early. Let's just hang back for a few minutes, if you don't mind?”

“I guess. Why are you trying so hard to impress this guy, anyway?” Honey pressed me, raising one of her angled purple brows. “You're not wearing your glasses, you've got your hair done, and you've actually got more than just your lip gloss on. I mean, you look great, but what gives? Don't tell me you actually like the dude.”