Deep End: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (28 page)

“Sees trial? What in the world are you talking about? Are you sure you have the right place? And where’s Sara?”

“We both thought it’d be better if I came on behalf of Sara. We can understand that emotions can be quite high in the situations like this. The thing is, we understand that some money has gone missing. And I’m here to tell you that Sara has been taking it slowly month by month, essentially robbing you blind.”

I was floored. Sara had been my best friend since the first day of college…how could she rob me. What’s more, why wouldn’t she admit it to me in person? Why did she send this lawyer to explain it to me, like I was some kind awful person…some kind of defective person who didn’t even deserve a proper explanation like a human…like a friend.

I took a deep breath.

I regained a bit of my composure.

I was able to think a little more logically.

I could handle this. I had been in the business for years. I knew how to handle business situations. I knew how to handle money. I just needed to keep my feelings about Sarah aside fro the moment…those feelings could wait. I needed to get through this first.

“So you’re going to admit in a court of law that Sarah stole the money from me? I assume she’s going to pay it back to me before that?”

“Oh no,” said the lawyer, shaking his head and smiling a little, as if laughing to himself at my innocence. “My client has no intention of paying the money back. That’s why she hired me. We’re developing a case that shows that you have been severely underpaying her for years and she only took what was needed as financial compensation…she needed money to payer her bills, just to live.”

“That’s insane,” I said, nearly shouting. “She gets the exact same cut as me. We’re partners. We split the profits 50 – 50.”

“That’s what you say. But the papers show something different.”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “We never drew up the proper paperwork. We don’t have contracts or anything…because we’ve been best friends for so long. We share everything...”

“Well that was a big mistake,” said the lawyer, shaking his head a little, as if he couldn’t believe my lack of business acumen. “You’re going to have to go to court. You’re going to have to hire a lawyer. And you’re going to lose a lot of money. Now, I could recommend a couple friends I have in the business who might be able to represent you…”

“This is ridiculous,” I said, getting really mad. It was so bad my heart was pounding, and I was sweating. “Get out! Get out now.”

“Now just hear me
out
…” said the lawyer.

“Out!” I shouted, as loud as I could. “Out, or I’m calling the cops!”

He could see how mad I was. He got to his feet and scrambled on out of the office, the door slamming behind him.

I sprinted after him as best I could in my high heels.

I opened the door.

“And give me your fucking key!” I shouted. “You’re not welcome back here.”

“But it’s your business partner’s key,” he shouted, clearly nervous…he seemed to think I might attack him at any minute.

“The lease is in my name,” I shouted. “And she’s suing me…give me the fucking key…now…before…”

That was all I needed to say.

“Okay, okay,” he shouted, throwing the key toward me. It landed at my feet, and he turned around and dashed away, his suit jacket flapping behind him as he ran away.

I couldn’t believe it. How could Sara do this too me? It was simply unbelievable.

I pulled her number up in my phone and pressed dial.

“Hello, thank you for calling Sara,” said a mechanical robot computer voice on the other end of the line. “Please leave your name and number after the beep.”

I knew Sara really well. I knew that she always kept her phone with her at all times, on vibrate and the highest ring tones.

In all the years I had known here, Sara had never missed a single phone call…even in the middle of the night…even when she was in the shower…even when she was masturbating or having sex.

We’d had plenty of conversations where I’d called her when she was masturbating…Sarah was practically always masturbating.

Usually I’d ask her for the name of the video she was watching. Sometimes I’d pull it up on my computer and watch it too. Usually it was some hot cowboy or hot buff black guy. We never talked about it, but I’m pretty sure we were both masturbating together while talking on the phone...I know I certainly was.

I tell you that just to give you a sense of how close I was to Sara.

I was immensely hurt that she didn’t pick up my call…we had a
pact, that
we would always pick up the phone no matter what. Sara was my only friend.
My best friend.
The person I truest most in the world.

Not only was she ignoring my calls intentionally…I was sure of it…but she had been stealing money from me for years. And now she had sent a lawyer to our office telling me she was suing me…for unfair payment. What bullshit. We had worked out the numbers together…it was an even split right down the middle.

Tears welled in my eyes.

But my sadness and despair quickly turned to rage.

I called a locksmith and asked him to come immediately to change the locks.

“I won’t be here when you get here, so just let yourself in. Install one of those digital locks and make the code 8837. OK?”

“OK,” said the locksmith.

I hung up the phone.

I grabbed my pocket book with all my stuff.

I didn’t even go home to change my clothes.

I drove my car like a maniac.

Where could I go at this hour to blow off some steam?

I had no idea.

I saw a sign for a bar. It was a big cheesy neon sign, showing a cowboy lassoing a naked woman.

What the hell, I thought to myself. I could use a drink.
And a laugh.
I had never taken these rodeo guys seriously…and maybe this was some kind of titty bar where naked women pranced around.

Maybe it would be good to blow off some steam…have a few laughs and a couple drinks…and better yet, no one would recognize me here.

If I went to a regular high-class bar, I was bound to run into a past or future client. The word would get out that the wedding planner was drinking in the middle of the day. That really wouldn’t be good for business. No, it was better to drink in the middle of the day in some cheap place where I’d never run into anyone I knew.

Colton walked into the dingy bar. It was dimly lit. This was where he felt he belonged. He was still doing well in the rodeos. He was still a good rider, if not a better one than he had been. He was a little older now…a little more beat up. He had more injuries. But he also knew more. His brain had adapted over time to the event.

He knew how the bulls moved. He had an instinct...of
course,
he had always had one for bulls. But this was different. Colton was becoming wiser…and he was only in his late twenties.

But while he was still doing well at the rode shows, the media at large wasn’t paying him the least bit of attention. Rodeo was still to be a minor corner of the sports world, one that no one paid much attention to.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t get a new woman every night. But it meant his manager was hounding him all the time. It meant a lot less money. It meant staying in crappy hotels. It meant he wasn’t sleeping with celebrities…just over-enthusiastic rodeo fans.

It meant he had to buy cheaper liquor.

The thing he hated most of all
was having
to do these events…a few years ago he had been on TV programs, he had been on talk shows. Now he was hear in a strip club signing autographs.

A few years ago, it had seemed like he was going to become a real celebrity, a real star. It had seemed like people would soon know him outside the rodeo world. But that had all vanished.

He ducked quickly as a pool ball went flying right at his head.

“Holy shit,” he said.

He looked around.

A fight at the pool table had broken out.

Two huge men were facing each other, about to bump chests. They had their hands in fists at their sides. One of them had apparently thrown a pool ball at the other’s head. It had missed, and that’s when it had gone whizzing by Colton’s head.

“You’re finally here,” said Colton’s manager. He was a short man, who was always rushing around, flapping papers and opening and closing his briefcase. He was the type of man who would have always been on his cell phone, had he had important enough clients. But his cell phone stayed sadly in its holster on his belt, practically unused since Colton’s fame had taken a turn for the worse. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I slept in,” said Colton.

“You slept in? It’s practically the middle of the afternoon. Jesus Christ, we’ve got to figure out what to do with you. You know, I’m doing these shows for you. This is for your career. You think I’m having fun doing this either?”

“Couldn’t you have gotten us a better gig?” said Colton, eyeing the crummy bar with a look of disdain on his face.

“Look, Colton,” said the manager, an even more unpleasant expression growing on his face. “This is where we are now. I can’t get us any better gigs because of you. It’s your whole image. It’s not me. This isn’t my fault. You can only blame yourself for this.”

“What the hell, man?” said Colton. “I’m riding better than ever, aren’t I?”

“That’s right,” said the manager. “But listen, Colton. I’ve been in the business longer than you. I know how everything works. You may be getting better, but nobody cares. Frankly, the public could give a shit. The fact is, you’re older now, and you’re starting to lose your looks.”

“I’m losing my looks?” said Colton, growing red in the face. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look,” said the manager. “You’re a great looking guy. You always have been. But the fact is the women like those 18 year old guys, the taught bodies, all that. Now I’m not saying you have a bad body. I’m sure you could sleep with any of the women in this bar, including the strippers, if you wanted to, and I’m confident that you’ll do so later with some lucky girl.”

Colton nodded. It was the truth. “I already know the women like me. They don’t mind sleeping with me. I certainly don’t have any problems getting them into bed. So what’s the problem?”

“Well TV and real life are very different. The young guys look better on TV. And TV determines how popular you are.”

“That’s it?” said Colton. “It’s that simple?”

“Basically,” said the manager, nodding. “It sucks. But it’s the truth. Now come over here to the table with me and sign some autographs. We’re going to piece your career back together piece by piece, whether it takes five years or ten.”

“Why don’t you just move onto a newer and younger client?” said Colton, a scowl on his face.

The manager laughed heartily, as if Colton had just told a great joke. He turned and gave Colton his fakest smile. “You’re really my only client, kid. I can’t get any more. Trust me, if I had a younger rodeo star, you’d be here on your own.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” said Colton, sarcastically.

“Well, look at this this way. I’m desperate to make you succeed. That should make me a great manager, shouldn’t it?”

“It should, but it’s not working. I mean
,
you really couldn’t get a better gig than this?” Colton eyed the folding card table that had a stack of his pictures. The pictures showed him riding a bull in a very flattering pose, his jeans tight around his ass as he was being practically bucked off by the bull, holding on with just one hand.

“Let me get you a drink. What would you like?” said the manager, changing the subject.

“A whisky, no ice,” said Colton, sitting down on the folding chair behind the card table, and staring despondently at the stack of his own photos.

“One light beer it is,” said the manager, disappearing before Colton could correct him.

I walked into the bar.

It had those cheesy Western style flapping doors. It was dark inside. But my eyes quickly adjusted.

It was a titty bar all right.

There were naked women dancing up on polls

I had always been straight, purely heterosexual. That didn’t mean I couldn’t hang out in a titty bar…enjoying the scenery.

There were plenty of hot men around…wearing cowboy hats and tight jeans.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, the man you’ve all been waiting for, the famous rodeo champion Colton Smith.”

A few people clapped.

But this rodeo star wasn’t the main attraction. Most people were focused on a Mexican woman with enormous breasts who was dancing very provocatively. No one seemed to be looking at Colton.

I liked the look of this Colton Smith. He stepped to the stage looking just like a weary cowboy. He was wearing tight jeans that really showed off his ass…tall cowboy boots, a cowboy hat…he really looked the part.

I clapped harder than anyone as I ordered a gin and tonic…my all-time favorite drink for when I wanted to get blitzed. Of course that wasn’t too common...the last time I had a drink must have been five years ago.

And, of course, clapping harder than everyone else wasn’t much. Hardly anyone clapped. In fact, it seemed like I was the only one clapping at all. It was a little hard to say, because I was already pretty sufficiently buzzed from the first sip of my drink. I was a real lightweight.

But, as they say, these were extenuating circumstances…
who
knew what was going to happen if my business shattered beneath me…if my partner took off with all the money. I didn’t even want to check the online bank account, which Sarah had access too…probably all the funds were gone. How was I even going to pay the DJs and the other small event planners, like the caterers? If all the money was gone, I was screwed…more than screwed…my reputation would be completely trashed.

It had taken me years and years to get to this level in the business…I had started out bussing tables for another wedding planner. I’d slowly learned the ropes and very slowly gotten my first client. It had taken almost a year to get a second client…the going had been beyond tough. I didn’t know if I had it in me to start again.