“Say my name,” he demands. “Who’s doing this for you, Banner?”
“It’s you.” Helpless tears slip over my cheeks, tears of passion and regret and shame and joy. “God, Jared, I know it’s you.”
17
Jared
Banner is avoiding me again. Sending my calls to voice mail, ignoring my emails, not replying to text messages. Saturday night should have been a step forward, but we backslid like a wayward believer, and I don’t know how to move us in the right direction.
Right direction may not be accurate. There is nothing right about systematically plotting to take another man’s woman. I won’t call it the right direction. It’s my direction, and I know it’s ultimately where Banner belongs. And after what happened at the drive-in, I have no doubt it’s where she wants to be.
Here’s the thing about falling for a good girl: they have all these rules. And qualms. And the worst? Guilt. She has all this integrity that gets in the way of what she wants, which is me. But I won’t allow it to get in the way of what I want, which is her. So we’re at an impasse where she avoids me, slinks back into her comfort zone with Alonzo.
Fuck that shit. If she thinks I’m letting this go, letting her go again, she’s delusional. I know. I’m the one who sounds crazy, but that is not the case. What’s crazy is denying yourself something this special. I’m living proof that ruthless people who don’t give a fuck want special things, too. And I’m taking mine.
As soon as I get her to talk to me.
I’ve been camped out here at the Seven Grand for an hour, nursing this same Jameson and Coke. I don’t do this. I don’t sit around thinking about women. I don’t let them disrupt my rhythm. They are generally the solution to a problem, which is that I like to fuck. And when I don’t fuck, I get agitated and lose focus, which ultimately costs me money. This is a problem since the only girl I want to sleep with won’t return my calls. Won’t leave her damn boyfriend. Won’t yield. And I’ve determined that sleeping with Banner isn’t enough. Leaving Zo isn’t enough. I want her to yield. I want her as preoccupied with me as I am with her. As fixated on me as I am on her. Anything less than her feeling as obsessed as I do just doesn’t seem fair.
I check my phone one more time in case she deigned to actually respond. Nothing from her, but a text message from Tanya asking me to call. She runs a strip club I take prospects to all the time. I ran into her at Titanium. I had no idea she taught Quinn’s pole dancing classes at the gym. She keeps her eyes peeled for ballers and gives me tips on where they are, what they like, shit they do that might come in handy. When her recon pans out, I grease her palm.
“What’s up, Tan?” I ask, using my handsfree and knocking back the last of my drink, giving the table a good slam with the glass.
“I wondered if you got my message,” Tanya says. “Took you long enough to call.”
“What’s up?” I repeat. No time for bullshit. Get to the point. My patience is ice-thin tonight.
“I got something.”
It’s the first time in days my heart rate has increased.
“Whatta you got?” I signal for the bar tender to bring my tab.
“That guy who’s leaving Dallas. What’s his name, Lim or Lyn or—”
“Link,” I cut in, dropping some cash and standing. “Link Pullen. He recently became an unrestricted free agent. Biggest name available in free agency season.”
Also on the outs with his current agent. Opportunity, meet need. Supply, say hello to demand.
“He’s here,” she whispers. “Everybody’s here tonight. Biggest party of the summer.”
“Where is here?”
“I’ll text the address.”
“Will I have trouble getting in?” I know so many players, that’s rarely an issue, but some parties are more exclusive than others.
“You’ll be fine,” Tanya replies. “Some of your guys are here, too.”
Not surprising.
“Headed over now.”
I’m nearly at the door when someone calls my name. I turn, irritated to find Cal Bagley wearing his permanent cocksure grin and a pathetic suit. He should know better. I mean, the guy’s making millions. You can’t buy one decent suit? And what’s he even doing on my coast? He’s supposed to be in New York.
“Cal, good to see you.” Lie. “How are you?” Don’t care.
“I’m good,” he replies, shooting me a speculative glance. “I’ll be even better if you keep your hands to yourself.”
“Excuse me? No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Banner Morales,” he says, his lips tightening.
Visions of Banner’s bare breasts in the moonlight and me finger-fucking her in the front seat run through my mind.
“Uh, maybe you could be more specific, Cal.”
“I know you’re working together on the charity golf tournament. I had some friends at Kip’s party Saturday. Said the two of you looked like a team. You can’t have her. She’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Funny. She’s the best I’ve ever had, too.
Ohhh. He means in business.
Cal is Pride, like Kip and Bent, for that matter. Some well-meaning “brother” probably gave him a full report when they saw me with Banner.
“Your prize mare is safe for now,” I tell him, forcing a grin. “But it’s true we’d take better care of her at Elevation.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Cal says harshly, all signs of the phony smile disappearing. “If there’s one thing Banner is, it’s loyal. We gave her a job straight out of college.”
“First of all, Banner is many things, not one, and don’t make it sound like you did her any favors. I heard Alonzo only signed because of Banner, and you know damn well half your clients would leave if she did.”
“So you admit it? You are trying to entice her to leave?”
I’m trying to fuck her. To have her. To keep her, but none of that is any of his concern. He’s playing checkers at a chess match. Clueless about what the game actually is.
“Go have a drink, Cal.” I pat his shoulder. “It’ll do wonders.”
I relish the undisguised look of frustration on his face the entire drive to the party.
Could I take Banner from not just Zo but from Cal, too? What a coup that would be. August and Iris would be ecstatic. No question all her clients would jump Cal’s ship and follow her to Elevation. What I want is Banner, in my bed and wherever that leads us, but stealing Banner from that asshole would be an amazing bonus.
When I pull up to the ultra-modern Hollywood Hills home, cars spill from the drive and overflow the curbs. Loud music blares through the walls and permeates the air. Once I’m inside, topless girls walk around unselfconsciously. An open-door ménage à trois is going on up in one of the bedrooms. Last season’s defensive player of the year has his dick in some girl’s mouth. She has some guy’s dick in her ass. I can’t tell what’s going on with door number three, but their sexual game of twister is so commonplace at parties like this, no one even gapes and they don’t bother to close the door. If Link is in a situation like that, it would be rude to interrupt, and I wouldn’t want to join in. I’d show myself out and corner him some other time. It’s testament to how focused I am on Banner that I’m not even tempted by the abundance of naked flesh being flashed around the large house.
When I reach the landing for the next floor, a man, probably a baller based on his height, drunkenly yells at a woman I can’t see because his large frame blocks her, has her trapped against the wall.
“Clothes,” he slurs. “What’s a stripper doing with clothes on? I wanna see them tits. And that fat ass. Take ’em off.”
“I told you I’m not a damn stripper,” a strident female voice fires back. “Now get your hands off me or I’ll kick and sue your drunk ass.”
That voice . . . it couldn’t be. It better not be. Not here in this den of iniquity.
The woman steps away from the wall, buttoning her blouse and muttering under her breath in something other than English.
The hell.
“Banner?”
18
Banner
“Jared?”
I utter his name, shocked to come face to face with the handsome devil I’ve been avoiding all week.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, stalling and hoping to distract him from the fact that I’m here.
Needless to say, it doesn’t work.
“You’re asking why I’m here?” he demands, confusion and disapproval settling onto his face. “I belong here. I’m in places like this, parties like this all the time doing business.”
“Well so am I,” I say, willing my hands to stop shaking after the confrontation with the drunken giant. “I have business here, too.”
I step around him, hoping to get away, but no such luck. He grabs my arm and drags me into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door behind us. I can’t believe it’s empty. Seems like every corner of this house is occupied by rutting athletes and willing strippers, but he finds the first available in seconds.
“Who’s here with you?” he asks.
“No one. Why would someone be with me?”
“Why are you here, Banner?” He looks back at the door and then back to me, storm clouds darkening the vibrant blue of his eyes. “Was he bothering you? Did that guy touch you?”
Groped is more like it, but I’m not telling Jared with his face looking like that. I wouldn’t put it past him to go after him, and I know Jared used to ball and can handle himself, but let’s not risk it with a guy nearly seven feet tall.
“I’m fine.” I push past him. “I need to go.”
“Yeah, home.” He catches my elbow again.
I glance down to his hand on my arm.