Teardrop Shot(86)

“Fuck!” I threw my head back, raking my hand through my hair.

I’d showered after the game, knowing Juan wanted us to go to his place for a low-key party. But I was fucking agitated. Roman had been here. Word had gotten to me. I’d tried to have him banned from the stadium, but there was only so much security could do. He’d gotten in and was live-tweeting the game until they’d found him and escorted him out.

“I forgot my phone at the house. Stan was being a dick—”

“Hey!”

I didn’t even look. “You were, asshole. No wonder she ditched. She said she would.”

Juan was laughing, shaking his head.

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey.” He lounged back on a couch and spread his arms on both sides of him. “Your girl, she was a trip at camp, and she’s still being trippy. She’s hilarious.”

Marie sat down, perched on the edge until he wrapped a hand around her shoulder. Juan tugged her back.

“I like her,” she said. “Go find her, and make sure she’s fine.”

That was the plan—but fucking hell. That meant a drive to my place. Post-game traffic sucked getting anywhere.

“Where would she have gone?” Stan asked.

I whipped around to my manager. “Now? Now you want to be helpful? And why are you here? Roman’s been kicked out. My order of protection was served to him. Your job is done.”

He tugged his blazer shut, smoothing it down. “You just had a game. Your new girlfriend is missing, and I feel like I had a hand in it.”

Juan kept laughing, the sound getting louder.

Marie was giggling with him. “It’s not that funny.” She let out another giggle.

I gave her a look. “You sure you didn’t go to the wrong seats?”

She hiccupped, shooting upright. “What are you saying?”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, dude.” Juan groaned.

Marie was on her feet, advancing to me. “Are you kidding? Do you know what I put your girl through? I railed her ass up and down and sideways, and then I flipped her over, and she took it. All of it, until she put me in my place… I forgot why I started with that.” Her fight left her quickly.

Juan tugged her back down next to him.

“I might’ve drunk too much tonight,” she admitted.

“It was a good game, wasn’t it?”

She turned to Juan. “Yeah, baby. You were amazing.”

They began nuzzling each other.

“You guys are all fucking worthless to me.”

I wanted to do violence—to someone, my manager, Roman, anyone at this point. Charlie was alone. She wouldn’t have been allowed to stay in the stadium this long. Security would’ve kicked her out. We were waiting out the traffic in the team’s waiting room, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I needed to get home, get my phone, and then get her ass back. Now. Five hours ago. Yesterday even.

The panic almost choked me.

“You really like her, huh?”

I didn’t respond to Marie.

“I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She doesn’t know where I live. I picked her up from the airport just this morning.”

I was helpless. And I hated feeling helpless. She couldn’t have just asked a stadium employee where to wait for players, because how many people tried that route? It was an unofficial rule. If a player wanted someone to know where they were, they told them how to get there. Too many fans had tried before, and everyone had been on alert anyway because of Roman.

“Relax.”

“You fucking relax, Juan!” I snapped. “She doesn’t know anyone in the city. Put yourself in her shoes.”

He quieted, then shrugged. “I’d just hole up at a bar and wait it out. Eventually you’ll get back to her.”

But shit happened. All the fucking time.

I’d ditched girls before. And if she went on social media and searched, I knew she could pull up a few. But none of them were like her. They were the one-use girls. A screw. No promises given. They’d known what was happening, and while most were fine with it, there were always a few who wanted more, expected more.

This life, knowing how Charlie handled pressure—a part of me couldn’t stop worrying she’d decided to ditch me. If I went to the airport, would I find her there, trying to go through security? Or what if she’d already gotten through security?

What a great fucking start to whatever we were doing.

I growled and punched a plastic ball. It shot across the room. Ignoring everyone’s looks, I started pacing.

“It’s the only thing I could hit.” I couldn’t damage my hands.

Juan was laughing. Again.

“Shut the fuck up, Juan, or I’m going to punch you.”

He laughed harder.

“Okay.” Stan came over. “I’ll talk to security, see if they can find her on the cameras. If she left the way everyone leaves, maybe we can see the car she left in? How about that?”

“You can do that?”

“I’m your manager. Trust me. I can pull a few strings.”

“Then why are you fucking offering now? The game ended an hour ago.”

He shot up his hands, but turned and left.