Risky Play (Red Card #1)(37)

Matt wrapped an arm around each of us. “Walk with me, boys.”

“You’re using the voice,” I pointed out. “The one where you deliver the bad news but try to convince me that it’s good news by your wide smile and high-pitched voice.”

Jagger coughed on a laugh.

Matt just ignored me and released us, then turned, pressed his steepled hands to his mouth like he was praying, and took a deep breath. “Mackenzie’s going to work on Alton not pressing charges. He says he’s not going to, but he still could, and we don’t want that hanging over us.”

If that bastard touches her or tries to get her back . . . I gave my head a shake. No. I wouldn’t let that happen. He was the asshole of all assholes, and I was well aware of my own behavior the past week.

“You both are going to do community service!”

Jagger kicked the curb while I just groaned and looked away from him.

“What?” Matt actually sounded surprised by our disdain.

“Community service,” Jagger repeated, “usually entails work after all the work we’re already putting in with practice, PR, the press, nonprofits—”

“First, you’re lucky both your asses aren’t in jail.” Matt changed his tone. “And second, you’re going to teach a soccer camp for one of the elementary schools. One full week of working as a team.” He pointed between me and Jagger with a giant grin. “And the best part? The arresting officer was willing to do anything to get volunteers—the fact that it’s you guys? Well, let’s just say he’s going to win Dad of the Year, and since no charges are being pressed—yet—you’re free to go!”

“Fantastic,” I said in a dry tone. “We’ll get to teach elementary kids which direction to run in. Sounds like a blast.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jagger snorted. “You still don’t know what direction to run in. Besides, do you really think you’re the best role model?”

I turned and stepped forward until we were chest to chest. “This coming from the guy who did a burger commercial holding a ball in front of his dick with one hand while rubbing fries over a girl’s stomach with the other?”

He flinched. “It was . . . art.”

I burst out laughing while Matt pressed his lips together and let out a snort. “You ran ketchup down her thigh—and they had to pull it because people complained about the controversy.”

“Sold a hell of a lot of burgers, though,” Jagger said smugly.

I turned to Matt and sighed. “Didn’t this prick sleep with the model too?”

“Careful,” Jagger growled.

“Want to know what I think?” Matt asked.

“No!” we said in unison.

Of course he just took that as an invitation to keep talking. “You’re both shit role models, and you both need to get your heads out of your own asses before you ruin what should be the best year of your careers, on the same fucking team together.” He shrugged. “Make it work. You report Monday morning to Kamiakin Elementary. Oh, and bring some signed shit, because even though I know how worthless you two can be when you’re in the same orbit, the kids don’t, and they deserve better than your sad side-by-side-my-dick-is-better-than-yours game. Honestly? It’s getting old.”

And then Matt.

Our manager.

Friend.

Abandoned us in the middle of the street.

“That was . . . out of character,” I finally said after a few minutes of silence.

“You think his blood sugar’s low?” Jagger asked as he pulled out his phone.

“Maybe he’s on a diet. He’s like an angry soccer mom when he’s on a diet. Remember when he tried that Whole 30 thing a year ago and almost burned down his house trying to find a Snickers?”

Jagger grinned wide and then looked up from his screen. “I have a confession to make.”

“What?”

“I ate the Snickers the day before.”

I laughed. “Does he know?”

“Hell no!” Jagger joined in the laughter. “He’d have my ass! He searched for three hours and flipped over his couch into that massive fireplace with nothing but hunger and brute strength. No. I told him it was probably in the living room.”

“Ah, so the cause of the fire, all . . .” I pointed at him.

“Take it to your grave, Slade.”

I chuckled. “Let’s at least try not to let the kids see blood, alright?”

“Or us comparing dicks, because not only is that shit weird but people go to prison for it.”

“Yeah, smart-ass, I’ll . . . attempt to not kill you. You’re lucky my anger is more directed at Alton right now. Fucking Alton. I hate him.”

“I think he knows,” Jagger said. “And if he forgets, he can just look in the mirror and remember who gave him the bruise.”

“You helped.”

“Because of Mackenzie.”

Not because of you. I knew where the rest of that was going.

“He never deserved her in the first place. I could never quite figure out why they were together, and when things went . . . badly, it made sense.”

“So you and Mack . . .” I cleared my throat.

“It’s getting late.” He shrugged. “We have practice.” He turned around and started walking down the street toward his car.