Dirty Baller: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (12 page)

“I’m picking this up for later!” she calls back to me. “What kind of wine do you want?”

I open my mouth to answer but no words come out. I’m unable to speak.

I wake up as we pull into the station. It’s drizzling and cold up here. I reach into my duffel and pull a hoodie on, drawing the strings tight around my face.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Devon texting me.

You better get over here before I drink all the beer.

I hail a taxi cab and pull out an extra twenty quid for the driver to go faster. He heads through the pouring streets to one of my old haunts, a pub so ancient a stiff wind looks like it’ll knock it down into a pile of rubble.

I pull open the door and bells chime. Devon and my former teammates look up and yell in greeting.

“It’s been too long, mate,” Devon says, hugging me and clapping me on the back. “I’ve already got your special going. Two pints of Guinness.”

“Thanks,” I reply. I slam down one of the glasses. It’s thick and hearty. “Been too fucking long since I’ve had Guinness.”

“You’re too damn tied up down there. You’ve got to be
free
, mate. Free from all the bullshit rules. I really wish you’d come back up here to play. I think it’d be good for you.”

The alcohol hits my brain and I hear the rational side of me calling out for moderation. Then I see a flash of Hayley in my mind’s eye and I know that I don’t want to think tonight. I just want to drink.

I sip my next pint. Devon and I find our own booth alone away from the team.

“So, how’s it been going? Bet you’re fucking loads of women. Those London girls sure are something else.”

“Yeah, well. Not too many London girls for me.”

“Oh, is it that bird you were with in the photos? Outside of that posh burger joint?”

I nod. “Yep. But that’s…that’s over now.” The alcohol really has me swimming now. I push the half-full pint away from me.

“Oi, now we don’t want that, do we? Come on! Where’s the Ryan Mackenzie I know and love? He wouldn’t have stopped for nothing. Drink up.” Devon pushes the pint back to me.

“I don’t know, mate,” I say while I hold up my hands. “I think I should take it kind of easy tonight. It’s been awhile and I’m not really up to scratch.”

“You a lightweight now?” Devon asks with a smirk. “Not the guy I remember after all, are you bruv?”

I stare at him and look over at the rest of the team. They’re all chugging pints and goading each other to down the poison faster.

Poison. That’s how I look at alcohol now.

I take a deep breath and inhale the scent of this place. Sweat, smoke, and alcohol. I realize the wallpaper is peeling.

Did this place always look like such a dump on the inside?

Or is it me who’s changed?

“I need to piss,” I say to Devon, who is now looking at me like an alien has snatched my body and taken over my mind.

The team mercifully doesn’t notice me as I walk past them into the small bathroom. It only has two stalls.

I do my business, wash my hands, and as I pass through the doorway one of my former teammates bumps into me.

“Fucking watch it, mate,” he says.

I hold my hands up. “It was an accident, alright? Just calm down.”

Telling him to calm down is my mistake.

This guy is shit faced. Three sheets to the wind. Completely down for the count.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you wanker.” He shoves me into the doorframe and I hit my head.

As I reflexively reach up to cover where I hit my head with my hand, my elbow knocks him in the shoulder.

“I fucking told you to not fucking touch me, you bloody prick,” he says.

And then he punches me in the face.

Hard.

I hear the crunching of bone as his fist connects with my nose. I swing wildly at him, hoping that I’ll connect with some body part and he’ll back off.

I swing and miss, my eyes watering from the pain. “Get the fuck off me!”

I hear the people still chanting and chugging in the bar. If someone could come help me, that would be great.

But the alcohol is slowing everything down for me. There’s a ringing in my ears, and I feel like I’m sinking into a stupor that I’ll never get out of.

The guy takes another swing at me and I duck. His fist hits the doorframe and he curses, kneeing me in the balls.

I want to pummel the life out of him.

But then I think of Hayley again. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t like that.

She’d tell me not to retaliate.

Well.

Hayley’s not here, is she?

I break his nose and blood flies everywhere. I’m seeing red figuratively and literally. I don’t know where I am anymore. All I know is pure anger, and the bartender’s hands on my shirt as he pulls me away.

“I’ve called the police,” he says. He looks at my face. “Not you again! I thought I banned you from this place!”

I scratch my head and reach out for paper napkins to stem the blood flowing from my nose. “Yeah, well. I forgot about that.”

Twenty minutes later I’m in the back of a police car on the way to the station.

It’ll be the drunk tank for me tonight.

I get to sit in a concrete cell and think about what I’ve done.

But all I can think about is Hayley.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HAYLEY

“This place is a damn mess,” Alison says, picking up a pair of dirty underwear using only her fingernails and dropping it into my hamper. “Are you sick or something?”

“No,” I reply dully from the other end of the couch.

“Your door was unlocked.
And
this place is a mess. I’ve literally
never
seen you live in filth and squalor like this. There are pizza boxes everywhere.” She reaches over to lift one of the grease-spot-stained boxes. “And there’s a cup of noodles under here. Are you serious right now? You hate this shit. You didn’t even eat it when you were broke and in college.”

“Whatever,” I say. I flip the channel back to what I was watching. I’d changed it reflexively when I heard Alison at the door. I didn’t want her judging me for my viewing habits, but what’s a little more judgment piled on at this point?

Alison looks at the television and groans. “Not the Kardashians.” She slaps my sweatpants-covered leg. “Are you drunk? Hungover? Replaced by some sort of alien from a planet where they don’t have their own trash television to watch so they have to watch ours?”

I turn the volume up and ignore her.

“Did you even meet your deadline?”

“You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?” I ask rhetorically. My voice is laced thick with bitterness.

Alison sniffs the air and leans closer to me, sniffing again. She turns up her nose and coughs. “When was the last time you bathed? Seriously, sis, you’re freaking me out.” She reaches over and snatches the remote from my hands. The television clicks off a moment later.

“Hey!” I protest. “Now I’ll never know if Kris got to take her day at the spa with Khloe and Kourtney.”

Alison stands up and holds out her hands. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re showering. Now. While I clean this mess up. It’s ridiculous how you’re acting right now. You’re scaring me, Hays. Please.”

The look on her face is what gets me off of the sofa and into the bathroom. I stand in the shower until the water turns cold. I towel off and realize I have no clean clothes. I grab my bathrobe and tie the fluffy purple tie around my waist, my hair wrapped up in a towel atop my head.

I walk into the living room to see that Alison has taken out all my garbage.

She dusts her hands off on her jeans. “Well, it smells better in here anyway. I’ll need another good hour of scrubbing to get it actually clean.” She looks at my outfit. “I went downstairs to put in a load of laundry. It seems like you’ve worn all your clothes and have absolutely nothing to wear. Is that right?”

I nod and plop back onto the sofa.

Alison perches next to me and takes my hand. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

I take a deep breath, my lip quivering already. “Ryan and I broke up. He saw the story I’m writing about him.” I pause. “And I’m pregnant.”

Alison shrieks in shock. “Oh. My. God.
What?
”

“Which part are you asking about? The breakup, the story, or the baby?”

It’s Alison’s turn to take a deep breath, which she does unsteadily. “Let’s start with the baby and work backwards.”

“When I got to London, I missed a day of birth control. And the condoms we used must have been bad or something. Just really, really bad timing all around.” I bite my lip. “So yeah. I’m pregnant. About a month and a half along at this point, I guess.”

Alison nods slowly. “And Ryan knows?”

I shake my head and brace for the impact.

“Hayley! Are you serious? Ryan doesn’t know? How can he not know? How can you not have told him?”

I shake my head again. “You don’t understand. He saw the story and he flipped out. Sandra made me do it. I didn’t…I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to write it. It’s awful. Everything is just – awful. It’s just awful and I’m pregnant and I think I’m going to lose my job to Brenda and I’ll be homeless and pregnant and I’ll have absolutely nowhere to go!”

The words tumble out of me and the tears start pouring out of my eyes. They run down my cheeks and pool up into perfect droplets atop the fiber of my bathrobe. They shimmer in the summer light coming through the window like dewdrops on a leaf.

Alison pulls me closer to her. “One thing at a time, Hayley. One thing at a time.” She lets go of me and pulls out her cell phone. She dials a number. “Hi, I’d like to place an order for delivery. I’d like two pork bulgogi dishes. Three spring rolls. And extra ponzu sauce.” She says my address and hangs up.

I look at her questioningly.

“I always need Korean and Japanese food when I’m feeling like shit. And I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty terrible right now. It’s like dad says. Never make any decisions on an empty stomach.”

I start crying again. “Thank you for being here, Ali. Thank you so much.”

She hugs me and holds me and watches me cry.

This is what sisters are truly for.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RYAN

“Mackenzie! Someone’s here for you.”

I roll over on my cot and open my eyes. My whole body is stiff and sore from laying on this terrible fucking excuse for a mattress all night. And my nose is swollen. Hell, my whole face must be swollen from the feel of it. My skin is tight and I can barely open my eyes all the way.

But I can see just well enough to know that it’s Ivan standing there, his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, still a bit groggy.

“I could ask you the same question, Mackenzie,” he replies gruffly. “Let’s get you out of this cell, alright?”

I sign the papers at the front desk and take back my wallet and duffel bag. The police confiscated them the night before. It’s a mercifully cloudy day again as we step onto the street. Ivan crosses the road, dodging cars full of early morning commuters. A few of them honk at us.

I skip behind him and follow him into a diner.

“Just tea and toast, thanks,” Ivan says to the server once we’re seated at a window-side table. Ivan folds his hands together. “What in the bloody hell happened?”

“How did you get here? And why?” I ask him, totally at a loss for how he’s here and not in Hounslow.

“Your friend called. David? Is that his name?”

I groan. “Devon, actually.”

“Yeah, Devon called. He didn’t have the money to bail you out. So here I am, chasing after my star player who left town for the weekend without telling anyone where he was going.” His words are stern but his tone is kind.

I go to rub my eyes when I remember my nose is broken. They had an emergency services worker set it right before they booked me into a cell for the night. “A guy sucker punched me in the bathroom. I was a little drunk so I hit him back. But it was in self-defense. You have to believe me.”

Ivan nods. “I do believe you. I’m not happy about it, but I do believe you. You did what anyone would have done.” He looks out the window as a mom walks by, pushing her fat baby in a pram. “Mackenzie, I’m worried about you.”

I feel my body stiffen. “I don’t need worrying over.”

Ivan clears his throat. “I used to be like you, you know. Just a big fuck-you attitude to the world. Never let anyone in, was always pissed off and looking for a fight. I had my share of drinks, too.”

I have a question for him. The Ryan of yesterday wouldn’t have asked it. But the Ryan of today feels like I have to. I have to ask. “What changed?”

“I met my wife,” Ivan says with a smile. “And she changed me for the better.” He pauses again and lowers his voice. “There’s a facility that I think would be great for you, Ryan.”

Him using my first name is what does it. His words cut through me. They cut through the hardened shell of bullshit I’ve used to protect myself from feeling anything too deeply. He says the words and I know he’s right.

I feel tears stinging at my eyes. I don’t remember the last time I’ve cried. But I’ve never had anyone care quite like this. I speak the three words I know will lead me down a different path than the one I’ve been traveling down for too long. I know once I say them, I can’t take them back.

“I need help.”

Ivan pats the table with his thick hand. “That’s why I’m here, Mackenzie. That’s why I’m here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

HAYLEY

The next few weeks are a blur. Sandra puts me on several other stories while I polish up the final draft of the article about Ryan. Every day it gets harder and harder to get me in the chair to write. This story is like toxic waste. Everything it touches gets swallowed alive by acid bitterness.

But I press onward.

I need this job now more than ever before.

At lunchtime I save all of my documents and shut down my computer. I head downstairs to Alison waiting for me in her car. “Get in!” she calls out, honking. She’s blocking the right lane.