Intercepted (Page 44)

“I wish it was only the fans I had to worry about.” I open the fridge and pull out the bottle of wine I put in there a couple of weeks ago. “But they aren’t my biggest problem anymore.”

“Oh shit. You wanna tell Donny about it?”

I don’t answer right away. I focus on uncorking and pouring my liquid courage. I climb onto the stool next to Donny and sip my wine in silence while I figure out if I should tell him or not. I’ve already created problems with one person in Gavin’s life, I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. But Donny will do what’s best for Gavin, and I could use him in my corner.

I open my mouth and spill. “Madison hates me.”

“Fuck Madison,” he says, like I’m crazy for caring what she thinks. “She’s fuckin’ miserable and hates everybody.”

I knew I liked him.

“But Gavin cares about her, and she made it very clear that his family does too.” I fold my hands in my lap and keep my head down. “We had it out at my job tonight. It got really ugly, and I’m willing to bet there will be video online before I go to bed. It’s why I came over. I don’t want Gavin to be blindsided by it.”

“She did this at your job? I can’t stand her. Always fuckin’ drama with that one.”

Damn. Look at Donny spittin’ truths.

“Yup. I got sent home early.” I finish my wine and take my glass to the sink. “Hopefully I’ll still be employed tomorrow.”

“If it happened the way I’m sure it did—because I’ve seen the way Madison summons the drama her way—your boss will forgive you. But listen.” He stands and walks toward me. “Let’s keep this to ourselves. I went to the facility with him today and had it out with a few of the higher-ups. He was cleared to play this weekend, but he’s having a rough fuckin’ go. Keep it under wraps until the after this game for me?”

I know I shouldn’t agree. I should be honest and tell Gavin right away.

But I don’t.

How could this ever go wrong?

* * *

• • •

“WHY THE FUCK do you like this icebox, Mars?” Donny mutters from beneath his down jacket, two scarves, and a hat he’s pulled so low, it might as well be a face mask.

“Donny. You live in New York. Geography wasn’t my strongest subject, but I’m pretty sure they don’t have the warmest of winters.”

“It’s different. The cold isn’t so cold.”

“You’re right. It’s worse because Manhattan is on the water, so it’s straight-to-your-bones cold. Colorado is a dry cold.”

“Oh my god.” Naomi cuts in between us. “Will you two stop it already? Cold is cold is cold.”

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Donny is nothing if not a man of beautiful, poignant words.

Since our secret powwow in Gavin’s kitchen, Donny has been at Gavin’s house every single day, despite the fact that he has a suite at the Four Seasons. We’ve spent a lot of time together.

He’s killing me.

Only about five feet six inches tall, what he lacks in height, he makes up for in volume. He’s loud and crass and obnoxious and a whole host of other issues.

But, and I will deny this if he ever finds out, I’m kind of obsessed with him.

I was right when I thought I saw a man who deeply cares for Gavin. In a business all about show me the money, it’s not an easy trait to find, but Donny has it in spades. Even if he does tell everyone I got Gavin with my “black girl magic or whatever they’re calling it these days.”

See? #YoureKillinMeSmalls

“Can’t you call one of your friends with a fucking box and have them come get us?”

“I don’t know if the cold has placed a temporary freeze on your brain or if you just never listen to me. I didn’t have many friends before Gavin and since him, I have exactly one. And you’re sitting next to her.”

“Oh for fucking fuck’s sake. Why the fuck didn’t Gavin get a goddamn box?”

Donny also curses so much he’s caused my cheeks to heat a few times. And I love a good f-bomb, so that’s saying something.

“Because he got here as the season was starting, and he only has a one-year contract. You’re his freaking agent, you’re supposed to know this stuff better than me.” The second quarter is about to start and there’s no way I can listen to his bitching for the rest of the game. “If you’re cold, go downstairs and watch the game on TV.”

“Why the hell would I fly all the fuckin’ way out here to watch this shit on TV?”

“It’s your only option to warm up. Either shut up and sit down or go to the family room.”

“Thank you,” Naomi says at the same time Donny says, “Harsh.”

Eh. Can’t win ’em all.

* * *

• • •

BUT GAVIN CAN win.

His game is flawless.

It’s hard to believe he was out last week with a twisted ankle. You’d never guess there was anything wrong with him the way he’s playing. There’s no hesitation on his part, nothing is slowed down. If anything, he looks sharper and quicker out there.

In the third quarter, a lineman breaks free and my entire body tightens, preparing to watch Gavin take a hard hit. But he never does. He spins out of the Hulk’s grip and throws the ball almost fifty yards to Marcus, the rookie Chris took under his wing who has now surpassed him on the depth chart. Marcus jumps into the air like Superman, his body parallel to the grass beneath him, and comes down with the ball in the end zone.

And Donny finally forgets about the weather for a second.

“That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ about, Pope!” He pulls off one his scarves and swings it over his head, hitting the guys behind and in front of us.

“Watch what you’re doing, little man,” the guy behind us says to Donny.

“Little man.” He looks at me and laughs. “What this goofy fucker doesn’t understand is if I stood on my wallet, I’d be six feet taller than his broke fuckin’ ass.”

“Asshole,” the guy behind us mutters.

Donny might be aggressive, but at least he keeps all eyes off me.

Well . . . until we go to the family room after the game is over, that is.

We walk into the room a little later than most. After Wednesday, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at all nervous about facing some of the women again. And while I don’t necessarily regret the things I said, I should’ve walked away.

As soon as we enter the room, all eyes come to us. Some with looks of sympathy, some with indifference, but the majority with disdain. But I was prepared for this. Because of Dre’s concussion, he’s out of the locker room so fast, Naomi doesn’t even go downstairs after the game. But I have Donny and a new book downloaded on my Kindle app in case he gets pulled away. I’m covered.

But what I’m not prepared for, and I should’ve been, is the way Donny can’t sit quietly through it all.

“What the fuck?” His voice, which is always loud, seems much louder in the small, quiet space. “Why’s it so quiet in here? We won—or was everyone else watching the Colts play today?”

I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question and everyone else seems to think so as well. Until, of course, Madison makes her way from the rear of the room.