DIRTY PLAYER

LEVI –––––––– Jackson Billows holds up his hands, laughing as his dark braids hang around his shoulders, almost covering his ice. Ice, as in diamonds. He has at least three chains draping from his neck and is sparkling like Marilyn f*****g Monroe. One could call him an actor, the way he dances around the field during an NFL game. He’s a show pony for sure, but Philadelphia loves him—hell, America loves the fifty-million-dollar-a-year Hawkes player. Philadelphia Hawkes, that is. The team I hope to play for one day. Next year, if I’m being exact. I don’t care about the money. I’m already a billionaire in my own right because of my family. I’m the son of Ward Montgomery—of Montgomery Enterprises and the luxury fashion label Verity & Co.—but it’s the game I love. I’m currently a star quarterback at Penn State and in the spotlight for this year’s draft. “Okay, okay.” Jackson laughs, trying to quiet the room with the waving of his hands, while I lean my hip against the sofa, beer in my hand and my other arm around my girl. Kaylee Rose. “Thank you all for coming. Don’t go thinking because I’m twenty-nine now, this is my last year.” He laughs. The room is filled with players and guests who chuckle along with him. “Getting old there, J?” someone yells out. I smirk, sipping my beer. I’m probably the only college football player here, but that’s not because I’m hope fully going to be drafted. I met Jackson at some famous movie star’s party over a year ago. I think one of my brothers, Knox or Atlas, was initially invited, but you know what society is like. It’s a surname or reputation that opens doors, so it’s assumed we were all invited. There I met him and a bunch of other players, and we see each other at events held by artists, musicians, and all kinds of interesting—and rich—people. Now I’m proud to call a bunch of NFL players my friends. Which is pretty damn cool. I’ve followed the game since I was old enough to hold a football. Growing up, my bedroom was filled with posters, flags, signed jerseys, and anything else I could get my hands on. Especially signed stuff. My brothers followed Dad into the business while I tossed the ball around outside. “One day, this will be you.” Kaylee twists and kisses my cheek, then drops back down on her feet. We met in college. The moment I met her, I think I fell in love. It felt fated. She’s studying to be a physiotherapist and has an interest in sports. Her dad is a big fan of the Hawkes and when he found out I was a quarterback, well, let’s just say, I think that was a bonus. Not so much a Montgomery. They’re a middle-class family and I get a sense he’s one of those people that hate anyone with too much money. He never said anything, nor has Kaylee, but I sense it. Anyway, she’s at Penn State on a scholarship and I’m f*****g proud of her. “Hopefully.” I wink at her, and someone bumps my arm, spilling some of my beer down my Armani shirt. “s**t, sorry Levi.” The guy says as Kaylee wipes her hand over my chest. Can’t say I am. If it gets my girl's hands on me, then hell, I’ll pour my drink down the front of me. “Keep doing that.” I purr, and she smiles up at me with what looks like innocent eyes. She’s not. It’s a sexy little act. One I love. Let’s just say I’m pretty dominant and her submissive side gets me hard in seconds. Outside the bedroom, she’s a smart and beautiful woman. This is our last year at Penn State, and if I get drafted, I’m going pro. I don’t have a plan B—which my father has brought up from time to time—but I’m confident. You have to be. Playing at this level, you have to kick doubt to the curb and have a strong mindset. Reminding yourself that you’re f*****g amazing is a daily chore. Even if it does sound narcissistic. But that’s how I’ll become one of these men. A quarterback for the Philadelphia Hawkes. Jackson says a few more things, and the room erupts into “Happy Birthday.” Then he points to the back of the room where I’m standing. “Hey everyone, give it up for my boy, Levi. He’s gonna join the team this year.” Damn. I lift my beer humbly and shake my head. “Don’t f*****g curse me, Jackson.” The six-foot-seven Black man roars with laughter. “Keep your nose clean and keep winning those games, Montgomery, then you’ll be wearing the green jersey next.” I hope so. I’m not going to starve obviously, but I don’t want to fail. Montgomery’s don’t fail. Like my brothers and half-sister Bella, I have a trust fund and inheritance from our mother, who passed a few years ago. When you don’t have to count your pennies, what you do in life is more about purpose. That’s what my father told me, and he’s right. I need to do something that is meaningful to me, and then one day, something that can contribute to the world. I don’t know what that is. First, I want to prove I’m good enough to be in the NFL. Jackson jumps down, and the party kicks back into action. The music goes up and Kaylee turns to talk to one of the girls. I drop my hand from her hip when one of the players from another team, Jimmy Gage, walks over and asks, “So how’s the year going?” “Good. Only lost one game. A strong season,” I reply as my eyes dip to Kaylee’s cute ass. She’s wearing denim shorts which she somehow dressed up with a pair of red Nikes, a red tube top, and white cropped jacket. Sexy as f**k. And I’m not the only one noticing. We started dating two months ago, and I’m already possessive of her. I never intended to go steady with anyone, and god knows I’ve had a lot of really short relationships. Is four hours a relationship? What about forty-eight? One did last a week. Hence my nickname Player. You know, because I was a football player and... yeah, you get it. That was before I met Kaylee. Now, I wake up every day and the first things I think about are her pretty brown eyes and sweet p***y. Shoot me. I love f*****g this woman. I’ve never been obsessed with anything else. It’s been football, football, and football since I could walk and talk. Now it’s football and Kaylee. I chat with Gage some more about the NFL year and how his team is doing. He’s at least five years older than me and gives me some great advice while we watch the girls doing shots. Then the twerking starts. “s**t’s getting messy.” He laughs. “Hey bro, come check out my new pool.” Jackson says, looping his arm around my shoulder. “Jesus, how much more do you weigh with all that ice around your neck?” Shit, Kaylee is using Jackson’s Player of The Year trophy as a microphone. He doesn’t seem to care. “Less than your bank account, Montgomery,” he replies and while I doubt it, I snort and let him take me outside. A few of the other Hawkes players follow us, talking s**t among themselves, but there’s a vibe I pick up. It feels like I’m about to step into an intervention or something. The door closes and everyone goes quiet. The hell? “We want you on the team next year, Levi,” Jackson says. “You need some help, let us know.” Wow. I was not expecting that. I mean, I know they’ve accepted me socially and we all click. But that’s different from on the field. Have they been to one of my games? I’m sure they’re all way too busy for that. “Appreciate it.” I nod and the little boy in me, the one who dreamed of moments like these, gets emotional. Damn. “I’ve been watching your game. You’re good. You know that. Coach and management know that. I meant what I said...work hard and you’ll draft.” Act cool. “f**k, I hope so.” I rub my jaw and smile coyly. I mean, I don’t want to be overconfident and look like a d**k. Nor do I want to throw my arms around him and tell him he just made my week. Hell, my year. “Yeah, and don’t eat s**t food like Wallace.” Kemal, one of the wide receivers, says and gets shoved by the guy for it. I laugh. “Hey.” Jackson slaps me on the shoulder. “I know the stress, but the only helpful thing I can say is that this is the easy bit.” I choke on my beer and cough as I bang my chest. “Gee thanks.” They all chuckle at my reaction. “No joke, man,” Jackson says. “Once you go pro, s**t gets real. The media is on you every single minute. The fan pressure is insane.” Yeah, and for the money they’re all making, so it should be. I understand hard work. My father drummed that into all of us from an early age. “Do you have a manager?” he then asks. “Working on it. Dad has some meetings set up. He’s been my manager until now.” “Makes sense. Dude knows what he’s doing.” He smirks. “Yeah,” I reply because Ward Montgomery’s story of becoming a self-made billionaire many times over is well-known. “But if I go pro, we both decided I needed to have my own manager to separate work from family, you know.” “Smart.” Jackson nods. None of us pay any attention to his new pool, so I was right. This was an intervention of sorts. A show of support and I’m blown away. I can’t wait to tell Kaylee. She’ll get it. That’s the thing with her. She believes in my dream, and I feel like I can tell her everything. So much so, it f*****g scares me. Falling in love so quickly and so young...man. It’s overwhelming. I’m not sure if she feels the same yet, so I’m trying to hold back. To play it cool. Which I think I suck at. Unlike my oldest brother Knox, who’s broody as hell, or Atlas, who’s kind of charming but super dominant, I’m the more emotional one. Cheeky, I’ve been told. But I’m no poker player. One of the guys lights a cigar and I shake my empty bottle and head back inside, eager to get my girl and head home. As I walk through the door, something makes me turn my head and watch the couple making out in the hallway. Blue denim shorts. Red Nikes. The f**k? The blood in my veins turns to ice as I watch Colby f*****g Wade, a retired quarterback, thread his fingers through her mid-length wavy chestnut hair. I blink, thinking I must be seeing things. There’s no way that’s her... “f**k,” Colby says, taking a step away and my jaw clenches as Kaylee blinks, wipes her mouth with the back of her arm, turns to look at me. She turns pale. She’s been caught. A thousand words threaten to escape as I stare at the two of them. Honestly, I’m not surprised by his actions. He’s slept with every jersey chaser in the area. But for Kaylee to do this...to me. To us. I thought...fuck; I guess I have my answer to how she feels about me. “Levi—” I turn and walk away. Striding through the party, I push past a dozen people muttering sorry and finally step outside. In a haze, I find my car where I parked it on the large sweeping driveway. As I climb in, I hear her call my name, but in the next second, the roar of my Maserati’s engine drones her out. I don’t even look at her as she runs up alongside it, as I put my foot to the floor and burn rubber, driving past the entrance to Jackson’s mansion. I’ll sort that out with him another day. When I get home, I head straight to my gym, rip off my jeans and shirt, and pull on my boxing gloves. Then imagine both their faces as I smash the ever-loving s**t out of the bag. How f*****g dare she? How dare she make me look like a goddamn i***t in front of all my friends and idols? How dare she break my f*****g heart? I’ve never seen her as a jersey chaser. We met by accident—literally. She was sliding on the wet pavement and I saved her. But it looks exactly like that to me. Colby is a heartthrob. I mean, he has ten million follows on his i********: and most of them are women. Enough said. Emotions aside, I hate that my brother was right. “Careful bro, you know she’s on a scholarship, right?” Knox said to me. “So?” “Don’t rush into anything. You don’t know enough about her. There are gold diggers in the world who will marry you and take half of everything.” I hated him at that moment. After yelling at him to f**k off, Atlas told me about a friend of his who’d had that exact thing happen. I began to listen. Reluctantly. I suppose that was the moment I realized telling her I loved her wasn’t smart. That I needed to wait for her to show me she felt the same. Dad joined the conversation that day, saying, “Knox is right. He’s just as tactless as a comedian telling knock-knock jokes at a funeral.” Atlas snorted. I hadn’t. I wanted to defend her. “Kaylee isn’t like that. She loves the sport as much as me. Hell, she wants to work as a sports physio.” I thought I’d proven my point, but they both just stared at me. “Just be careful, Levi,” Dad replied. “You know a lot of women are interested in the players. You aren’t stupid.” After cooling off and thinking about things, I knew they just needed time to get to know her. We’d only dated for two months. I figured in another six or twelve months, we’d show them how committed we were. How in love. What a fool I was. Now, she’s proven them right. Thirty minutes later, the mix of alcohol and sweating like a pig dehydrates me. My head throbs and I don’t know if I want to scream or let myself cry. Goddamn you, Kaylee. I toss my gloves across the room and stalk back out to the living room. Not learning a thing, I pour myself a few fingers of whisky and press dial. I don’t know who the f**k I’m ringing. Whoever the last person was. It’s a fifty-fifty gamble between Atlas and Knox. “What?” Knox answers. My f*****g luck, I got the grumpy brother. “Wrong number,” I grumble. “Good try. What’s up?” he insists, and I guess it's due to the late hour that he knows something is wrong. “Yo! Was the party s**t, or are we just more interesting?” Atlas says in the background. “Oh good. A two-for-one deal.” I rub my head. “Gonna hang up if you keep being a d**k,” Knox warns. I’m silent for a moment, knowing he wouldn’t hang up. Actually, he would, but they know me. Plus, I’d just ring back. “You were right,” I finally say. “Clarify,” Knox, the arrogant of a b***h, says as I roll my eyes and flop back on the sofa, wishing the cushions would swallow me up. “She’s a f*****g jersey chaser.” My voice sounds bitter and angry, and I hate it. I hate that I have to say those words about her. Silence. “What happened?” Atlas asks, all humour gone. ________________ 7 “Found her sharing saliva with Colby Wade.” “That dick.” Knox grumbles. “Not everyone is a d**k, Knox. He was an incredible player,” Atlas says firmly, and I can’t help it. I let out a sort of insane laugh. Colby is one of the greats, but my big brother—the big i***t—would have my back no matter what. “We’re coming over,” Knox says, and I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s just past midnight but I have practice the next day. “Nah, I have to be up in six hours. I’ll be okay. Just wanted to talk s**t about her.” It’s a lie, but I say it anyway. “Gold digger,” Atlas chirps in. “Punt bunny,” Knox adds. My anger fades, and a strange pain in my chest has me dropping my head. I guess this is my first true heartache. Two days later, when Kaylee Rose and Colby Wade are all over social media as the hottest new couple, I realize the player just got played.