Dangerous Play (Dangerous Book 1) Read online

  Just some fool who doesn’t know just how unsafe it is to be wandering out at night.

  “What do you want?” I ask to the silent presence lurking behind the southern wall.

  “I’m sorry I had to come this way,” Nate says, holding his hands behind his back. He’s dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, trying to look bad ass. But he’s not fooling anybody. “But you’re not returning my phone calls or texts.”

  "Yeah?" I wait for his answer. Even though I'm not afraid of him, I do still find it annoying that he feels entitled to stalk me, and of all places, at night.

  “I just want to talk to you,” he says, looking like a sad little boy. “I know, believe me, I know. Sex is no big thing. But…I just gotta know, did I do something wrong? I mean, I don’t expect much but a text saying, “Hey sexy” wouldn’t be out of the question.”

  I eye him in warning and sigh. “I don’t appreciate you coming around here. I work here. And I don’t like guys approaching me at night when I feel threatened.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I just…like the nighttime, you know? It’s quiet.”

  "Well, I don't like it. And I just want to be left alone."

  “I got it. But can you answer my question?”

  “What?”

  “What did we feel? I mean, you know it wasn’t just a play. I went after you. I asked you out. I could have had any woman I wanted, but I wanted you.”

  “And didn’t you like it?” I say with a sexy tumble of my hair.

  “Yes,” he says with a smile.

  “Then there you go,” I say straight-faced. “You got what you wanted. Now I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave my father alone. Don’t contact me anymore. If I hear from you again, I’ll file a restraining order against you. Are we clear?”

  Nate laughs in disbelief. “So if you hate me so much why did you sleep with me?”

  “I didn’t sleep with you.”

  “Why’d we fuck in the locker room then? I mean I’m no gentleman, I’m not a smart guy. Okay? I’m not as classy as you. But is there something I’m not getting? Did I force you, did I insult you?”

  “I gave you what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my life, Nate.”

  “So you basically bribed me with pussy and then toss me out like yesterday’s shit.”

  “Yes,” I say quickly, emphasizing the point. This conversation is over. If he doesn’t know how to accept THAT, then the man is really a caveman.

  “My dear God,” Nate says, shaking his head. “You are the hardest and coldest woman I’ve ever met!”

  “Yes,” I say, a little bit softer. “I am. Now please leave.”

  “Fine, you won’t hear another word from me. I’m out.”

  “Good.”

  “Not another word, not a fucking syllable.”

  I sigh in annoyance. Kind of amazed that even though Nate agreed never to say another word to me, he’s still rambling on like a teenager. It’s like he doesn’t even understand how he sounds to other people.

  “I’m gone. I’m out. For real.”

  I shake my head and continue walking towards my car, ignoring Nate who keeps turning around, wondering if I’m going to chase after him.

  The truth is…I’m still thinking about that guitar. I think I know what needs to be done to smooth out the body. Maybe a fret rocker.

  I hear Nate’s voice chattering just a few yards away. But I ignore it, as irrelevant to my life as the crickets chirping in the background. My life is here.

  8

  Nate

  I made a promise to Amanda two days ago to back the fuck off, and Nate Jiggur may be a lot of things – a lot of bad things – but I am a man of my word. Damn, if the woman hated me that much why fuck me in the first place?

  Now she tries to make it sound like I’m some sexist pig or some brute or something. I don’t have to be told twice. I don’t beg for titties – they’re thrown at me.

  I admit there is something about Amanda that keeps drawing me back. I don’t know what it is but I seem to want more of it. I promised her I would back off and I have to keep that promise. I won’t say another word to her.

  But that sure as fuck doesn’t mean I have to GIVE UP.

  So here I am, at Randy’s, my favorite strip club, waiting for my Very Special Guest. A man who may be able to help me. A man I actually trust as an impartial third party to all the craziness going on—myself included. Hell no, I’ve never denied that I’m batshit crazy!

  I wave at Stephen, flagging him down and inviting him to my table.

  "Nate," Stephen says, already uncomfortable with the surroundings.

  “Hey man,” I say with a grin. “What’s wrong? You allergic to good looking girls? I could have treated you to a night at Hooters if I knew you were Pussy Intolerant.”

  Stephen laughs quietly. “I’ve seen it all before. When I was like eighteen. I used to think this club was the best thing since Disney Land. But you know, you grow out of it eventually. Or at least some of us do.”

  “Cool. So Stephen, you probably know why I brought you here.”

  Stephen nods. “My guess is, Nate, you think I’m going to help you with Amanda. I know you like her. But just so you know, I meant what I said. It’s a no-go. You’re wasting your time.”

  I nod and wave over a waitress. “What are you drinking, pal?”

  “It’s okay…”

  “Do I have to beg? Just have a drink with me, player.”

  Stephen sighs. “Fine. Just a beer.”

  “What kind?”

  “Surprise me.”

  I tip the waitress and then stare down Stephen, who I can tell, still doesn’t trust me.

  “Look dude. I know you don’t like me. I know it.”

  “I think you’re great,” Stephen says, matter of factly. Best quarterback I’ve seen play the game. But like I said, I don’t think you’re a good match for Amanda. And if she asks me I’ll tell her the same thing. And if you invite me to see a bunch of naked girls…I’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “But you enjoy the show, right?” I say with a grin.

  “Sure. Hell, if you’re paying,” Stephen laughs.

  "Well, I don't mean to be a dog and give out details. That's not what a man does. I do consider myself honorable."

  Stephen folds his arms, still listening.

  “But what I WILL say, Stephen, is that I wouldn’t be harassing you or your family so bad if not for two things. One, that Amanda is not just some girl I’m crushing on like some Michael Myers shit. She and I were together. Do you feel me?”

  "Yeah, I figured..." Stephen says, still about as comfortable as a priest in a whorehouse.

  “So you got to understand, I am genuinely confused. Does she always do this? Or is this a game she expects me to figure out and then win? Come on. You have to understand where I’m coming from.”

  The waitress brings back Stephen’s drink and he takes a sip. And catches a glimpse of the big ass Latina girl dancing on stage. Good, at least I know he’s still human and in good health.

  “I get where you’re coming from. All I can really tell you is that Amanda is not available. Emotionally. You get what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah but that’s what they all say…”

  "No, that's not true," Stephen says forcefully. "You think Amanda is cold-hearted? I'm not going to argue you. She's been hurt before, Nate."

  The thought hits me like a shoulder crunch. My whole body shakes internally. The very thought seems to wake me up. There’s nothing I can even say to that.

  “That’s what being hurt does to people, you know? It makes them cold. It makes them unwilling to trust. God knows why she decided to sleep with you, but it’s done. It’s over. The reason she’s not playing games with you is because she is unavailable. And you need to understand that.”

  I finally muster up the courage to say something…anything rather than looking like a fool. “Well yeah I guess but don’t we all have some demons in our past?”
/>
  “It’s not just him, it’s also YOU,” Stephen says. “My guess is that you remind her of her last boyfriend.”

  “Say what?” I laugh at the very thought. “How’s that even possible? I mean who did she date before…”

  "I dunno. A Rich football player for one."

  “No way!”

  “Yeah. Amanda’s a smart, brilliant woman. She’s no groupie girl. You might even say great and famous people seem to chase after her.”

  “Who was it? Wait…no, don’t tell me. I’d hate to beat his ass if by some chance he’s still playing.”

  “Nah, he’s retired.” Played for the Dolphins a few years back. But he was very much in love with Amanda years ago. And she was in love with him.”

  “Really?” I look down and shrug at the idea. The idea that Amanda gave another football player a chance—but not me! “Hard to imagine Amanda loving anybody, at least from the woman I met.”

  “Well, she’s changed, man. And hey?” Stephen stares me down. “You want to know what Amanda learned from all her years of heartbreak? Don’t date players.”

  I crack up. “What, you mean from the NFL or the college ranks too?”

  “I don’t mean players, like football players. I mean men who are players.”

  “Ohhhh I see. You think I’m a player. She thinks I’m a player?”

  Stephen rolls his head, like he thinks I’m full of shit. “Come on, Nate. Be real for a second. Do you REALLY believe that the character you play on TV and the real you are that far apart? How many women do you fuck in a month? Where are we right now? A strip club? You think Amanda, you think MY FAMILY, goes for this kind of stuff?”

  "What…so you eat graham crackers all day? Go to the church choir and shit?"

  Stephen sighs figuring it’s all pointless…and maybe it is. “I’m not judging you, man. I guess if I had your life, you know…whatever. But you’re not who Amanda wants or needs. She needs someone who’s going to fall in love with HER. Not be in love with himself. And I think she’s made that clear by now. Don’t you?”

  I think of ten different things to say, but this time, I feel like it’s just sour grapes. Just a sore loser. Like Stephen said, it’s what the woman chooses. And I have to accept that, even if it stings.

  “Okay,” I say reluctantly. But…What if…Still…

  NO. I have to let it go. I have to let HER go.

  "Hey though," Stephen says, patting me on the shoulder, just like I might do to a teammate who I know is going to get cut next week. "You are a great football player. You got a great life, right?"

  “Yeah…right.”

  * * *

  Accepting Amanda's rejection may well be a first for me. I guess I've never actually had a woman tell me no before…or at least, say no and then mean it. I always figure it's just a girl playing games. Setting me up so she can smack me down and into bed. But with Amanda, I feel as if I've hit too close. Too close to the heart…not just for me but for her.

  She knows what I am, or at least, what she thinks I am. She thinks I’m a monster. A player. An egotistical rat bastard. And she fucked me to get rid of me.

  God…am I really that repulsive? A fuck-deterrent? Fuck this Godzilla lover so he’ll leave the little village of people alone? Why do I feel like shit now?

  I never really thought of sleeping with all those different girls as anything wrong. They offered themselves to me. They were like fans, like friends…they wanted me! They only asked for one thing and I gave them what they wanted.

  I’ve never had to beg for anything. I’ve never had to intimidate, coerce or bully any woman ever! That’s not who I am. And damn the papers and press if that’s who they’re trying to make me out to be.

  But…as I look at myself in the mirror, muscles ripped, chiseled physique, my chest rising and falling…I start to smile. I like myself. I admire what I am, what I’ve pushed myself to become. From some scrawny dreaming kid to a full physical reality. I defied the odds and I made something of myself, dammit, when everyone else just wanted to wait and see what happened. I wanted to be BIG. I wanted to be famous.

  So why does Amanda’s criticism of me hurt so bad? Maybe because she sees through me. She knows that nothing’s under here. Nothing’s under this body…but just a fool. A fool who doesn’t know the first thing about how to keep a woman after they fuck and run.

  Maybe that’s my tough lesson to learn in life, maybe like mom always told me, we all have a lesson to learn. And mine is simple.

  A woman just leaves. She gets what she wants out of you and then she leaves.

  It never bothered me before today.

  I can’t seem to get her out of my mind…and I have to wonder is it just because she’s saying no to me? Am I really that shallow? Or is this whole relationship something deeper than either of us want to admit?

  Sometimes I check the Craigslist ads…just to see if anyone in town might be looking for a certain somebody. Just to check if maybe she’s thinking about me and is sending me secret messages. But as I scroll down and see nothing but other people’s love, I’m reminded of what’s real and what’s dreaming.

  “Alan, I'm not sure why you were sitting in the parking lot at the time I left for work. But I've done nothing but wonder why? I hadn't seen you since you drove by revving your motor up as you passed me, several months ago and within minutes of me texting you. Now, my question is if you're not going to step up, ever, then stop it. You know I truly love you and have changed a hella lot and would do anything for you in and have. My heart is yours to love, not to toy with.”

  This ad is definitely not for me. But maybe all women speak the same language to men, at least on a subconscious level. Maybe we play around too much. We lose trust. Maybe our “alpha instincts” are to blame. Maybe it’s all our own damn fault. We don’t know what we want. We want women but we’re too afraid to commit and create the family that our instincts are pushing us towards.

  Maybe the reason I'm so obsessed with Amanda isn't because she told me no…maybe it's because I just want to settle down. Maybe the most shocking truth is that I'm tired of having sex with sluts in locker rooms and in hotels. With her, maybe I had a glimpse of a life, a new life that could be mine.

  I snap a selfie of myself—buff, proud but with a frown. I put my phone away and crash on the bed. Maybe it’s time I grow up. Maybe Old Nate really needs to die, to go away and let New Nate live for once. And I know exactly what Old Nate would do if a woman told him to get lost. That old rascal would chase her, and charm her, and pick on her until she laughs…and then changes her mind. Because sex with someone who doesn’t like you is explosive, for sure…

  But that’s the old me. I promised Amanda I wouldn’t chase her if that’s what she really wanted. And who knows, maybe I like her that much. That much that her happiness is more important than my raging ego. So long, baby. I hope you never date a player again, if we’ve done that much harm to your soul.

  * * *

  Jesus Christ…I fell asleep in my own filth. How long have I been out? I must have fallen asleep after my fifth…or tenth…beer. What time is it? Shit, is it Tuesday or Wednesday? I wonder if…

  Ah, no wonder I woke up…the phone is ringing incessantly. Must have been dialing for a while to actually wake me up from a hangover. This better be good. And it better not be my coach again. I already told that fool about next weekend…

  “Yeah what?”

  “Nate? Is this Nate Jiggur?”

  “That’s what they call me. In the field and in the bedroom, baby.”

  “What?” the voice sounds horrified.

  “Donnie is that you?” I say with a grin. “Stop clowning. What’s up?”

  “NO, this is not Donnie. This is Blake, Amanda’s father?”

  “Jesus…” I mutter to myself. Why in the world is Amanda’s dad calling me this early…I mean…this late in the afternoon. Three PM? Damn, I really was out wasn’t I?

  “You remember me, don’t you, son?”


  “Yeah. Mister Shannon. Blake. Of course. Umm…I’m sorry, I seem to forget why you’re calling me. Kind of just waking up.”

  “Waking up now? In the afternoon?”

  “Yeah…I’m kind of a late sleeper. Why, is something wrong?”

  “Yeah…you might say that. Look uh…can we meet somewhere, Nate? We REALLY need to talk.”

  Oh fuck, that doesn’t sound good! That doesn’t sound good at all. What did I do last night anyway? Did I drink and dial? Did I make a fool of myself? I said I’d leave Amanda alone and I meant it. So what the hell is going on?

  “Ummm…okay. Can I ask what this is about, Mister Shannon?”

  "Oh, I think you know what it's about."

  Shit, that sounds even worse! What could have happened? Oh God, what if Amanda’s preggers? Oh my God! Talk about instant commitment. Am I ready for that? Or does she even want me? Child support and alimony payments? Mother fuuuuu…

  “Ummm…I don’t, really.”

  “Let’s just meet, okay? I don’t want to meet at the store, however. How about we meet in my neck of the woods? At the Lutheran Church on Alsbury Road, it’s just two blocks away from my store. You can Google Maps the place.”

  “You want me to meet you in church?” I ask in disbelief.

  “No, not inside. There’s a park right next to it, managed by the church. But I know the minister who owns it. Come meet me in about an hour, I’ll be by the benches waiting.”

  “Is it…uh…good news or bad news?” I ask sheepishly, expecting the worse. I really don’t know if this is good news or a country ass whooping.

  “Well…” Blake says with enthusiasm. “I guess that depends on YOU.”

  * * *

  I walk around the small forest next to the church in caution—like I'm talking to an FBI informant! For some reason, it seems strange that I'm here…talking to Blake of all people. I wait patiently on the bench, looking around the small park and to the right and left, halfway wondering if this is a setup. I'm dressed in extra dark garb—long slacks and a long coat ideal for the cool autumn weather.