The Alpha's Second Chance Page 2

  “You know what you need, don’t you?” My best friend Savannah and I were in the middle of a downward dog pose during our twice weekly yoga dates at the gym.

  “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  Savannah and I met when I first moved to Denver from LA. She’d just passed the bar exam and was starting out in a law firm that specializes in personal injury cases. We met at the library, as I was researching some training for the same company that her firm had a harassment case against, and we became fast friends.

  “I’m Gayle and you’re Oprah,” she would say to me.

  “But what if I want to be Gayle?” I’d tease.

  “What you need is a dog.” We were settling down on our mats for savasana pose, and the yoga instructor was sending frowns our way.

  “A dog?” I whispered. “Are you insane? Did you see what happened to the houseplant you gave me last summer?”

  “Shhh …” said the ancient woman, who was wearing a Woodstock t-shirt that appeared to be an original.

  As I closed my eyes to “get centered with my inner being,” I wondered what made Savannah say that now. I would love to get a dog, but the timing was really bad. I was travelling all the time for work, and even when I was home, I was never home.

  If I’m ready to get a dog, I’d much rather have a boyfriend.

  As we headed back to the locker room after class, I realized I’d been played. Savannah knew me so well that she figured that if she planted the dog idea I’d go to the boyfriend idea. Then, I’d be more receptive to what she had to say next.

  “Well, since you can’t get a dog, maybe you should start dating, at least. You know that guy Jeff Kakaur that we just brought on? He just moved here from New York and is looking to start seeing people. He’s pretty easy on the eyes.”

  I wasn’t paying attention, and just said, “Fine, whatever.”

  When Savannah realized that I was distracted, she looked to see why. I was staring at the television in the gym. Every single channel had the same video clip on, and the members were all watching and talking about it.

  “Hey. Isn’t that …” Savannah asked.

  “Yes. It is.” I was frozen in my tracks.

  My ex-boyfriend, Shawn Ryan, had his face plastered on every television in the gym with the words, “Houston Heroes Quarterback Calls Toni Falcon a Slur on Live Television.”

  I felt the familiar tightening in my belly and I shook my head and walked into the locker room.

  Why am I not surprised?

  3

  Shawn: Damage Control

  When we came back from commercial, Chip tried his best to do damage control but it was too late. The phones started ringing off the hook with angry viewers and the show ended badly.

  Chip just shook his head as he left the set and leaned into my ear (after my mic and earpiece were off) and whispered, “Your career is so fucked right now. Have fun fixing this, my friend.”

  Honestly, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I mean, sure, it’s not cool to say someone is a bitch on live TV, but, let’s face it. She was being a bitch. She started it by calling me sexist simply for having a different opinion than she did.

  Everyone gave me the evil eye as I headed out of the studio, but I just decided to act like I always did when I had haters. Just say to myself, “Fuck ‘em.”

  Kyle pulled up in my car just as I got out of the elevator that was used for the celebrity guests. I was glad to have a private exit, as I was usually mobbed with people trying to get pictures with me, or autographs and stuff.

  It’s funny. When you’re a kid and dreaming of being a pro, you think about how great it’s going to be when you’re rich and famous. And, while the money is as cool as you thought it would be, fame is not.

  I can’t go anywhere anymore without being mobbed. The days of just going to a movie or out to dinner in peace ended as soon as I got the Heisman.

  Kyle got out and opened the door for me, and I noticed that something seemed a little off. He sort of kept his head down, and wasn’t in as good of a mood as he usually was.

  Sliding in the back seat, I grabbed a beer from the fridge as we headed out of the underground parking lot.

  I popped open the top and then opened the window between Kyle and me. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he answered. He usually offered some opinion or comment on how my interview had gone. But today he wasn’t saying anything.

  “So …”

  “Yes, I saw it.”

  “Was it as bad as everyone is acting like it was?”

  “Pretty much.” He just kept his eyes on the road, and wasn’t cutting me any slack.

  Honestly, I was surprised at his reaction. Didn’t he hear what she said that provoked my comment?

  Whatever. I just rolled the window back closed and sat back to enjoy my beer in peace. This would blow over soon enough.

  An hour later, I was trying to watch the day’s sports news, but every single channel was talking about me and what I’d said. They were debating it, with not very many people taking my side, and the conversation became very heated.

  “It doesn’t matter, Bill. Whether she provoked it or not by calling his opinion sexist, what he said was completely inappropriate. To talk about someone’s sex life and call them a gender slur is just wrong.”

  “Believe me, Scotty. I am not defending Shawn Ryan in any way. But should it matter at all that he clearly had no idea he was on live TV?”

  As soon as they started to play the damn clip again, I turned the television off. They were all missing the point. She called me sexist! I am the victim here, not Toni Falcon.

  This is bullshit.

  I needed to burn off this angry energy, so I decided to do some laps in my indoor pool. One advantage of living alone was that I didn’t need to bother with a swimsuit, so I just peeled off my clothes and left them in a pile on the living room floor for Charlie to deal with. They’d need to be cleaned anyway.

  The water felt cool as I swam the lengths of the Olympic sized lanes. Back and forth, back and forth; underwater was one place where I was blessedly alone. No fans. No paparazzi. No reporters. And today, no televisions with my face plastered all over it. Just cool, liquid silence.

  My phones were ringing from in the house, largely because I’d forgotten to turn off my ringer. Fuck it, I thought. I’m staying in here until I’m tired.

  It had taken me a solid hour of laps to finally wear myself out. Dreading what I would find when I picked up my phone, I saw that it was as bad as I’d envisioned. 37 missed calls, mostly from Sam, my agent. There were also calls from my mother, my sister, and my best friend Terrance White. Terrance was a wide receiver for the Heroes, and he and I had been drafted the same year.

  There was one other call, though, that was concerning. Pete Ackmore was the owner of the Houston Heroes. He wasn’t likely to be calling to congratulate me on my performance. I knew I’d better call him right away.

  “Ryan,” he answered the phone on the first ring. “Where the fuck have you been? The shit’s been hitting the fan nonstop since that fiasco this morning.”

  I didn’t think he actually wanted to know where I was, so I didn’t answer. Instead, I tried to explain.

  “Pete, listen. I’m sorry. I had no idea my mic was live.”

  “And that makes it okay?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that she …”

  “Ryan, I don’t want to hear it. You put our entire franchise in jeopardy today. We’re going to need to take swift action to stop the bleeding.”

  I honestly couldn’t believe how overblown this whole thing was getting.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I need our publicist to put out a statement immediately.”

  “Okay. So we need me to make a public apology?” I didn’t think I needed to, and I sure as hell wasn’t sorry. But, I was gonna have to do it to appease the boss.

  He actually started laughing. “Are you being seriou
s right now? You think an apology is gonna cut it, Ryan?”

  “What, then? A fine?”

  “You wish. Money isn’t going to fix this, Shawn. You need to actually do something to show that you’ve learned from this.”

  What on earth did he have in mind? “I’m not sure I’m tracking, Pete.”

  “I’m gonna have Rachel put out a statement that the team is sending you to sensitivity training immediately.”

  “What the hell? Pete! This is ridiculous. I’m the actual victim here. She called me sexist on national television!”

  “And you called her a bitch and said she needed to get laid, Shawn.”

  “When I thought I was off-air!”

  “Which makes it worse!” He was shouting at me. Then, there was silence and he exhaled loudly. “Look, Shawn. This isn’t open for discussion. We’ll be in touch with the specifics of the training. Just do us all a favor and lay low. You don’t want to make it worse with all this ‘I’m the victim’ bullshit. Got it?”

  Yeah. I got it, all right.

  4

  Lauren: Breakfast Flake

  “I still can’t believe you roped me into this, Savannah.” I was on my way to a Starbucks near my office to meet that guy she set me up with. “You knew I wasn’t listening when I agreed to meet this guy.”

  “Hey, listen. Someday you’ll be thanking me for introducing you to the father of your children.” She was laughing, and we were both talking on our car phones.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I said, “Is it too late to get a dog?”

  I turned the car off and sat in silence for a minute before going inside. I was crabby this morning because I hadn’t slept well. In fact, I hadn’t slept much at all in the two days since Shawn had caused that media firestorm by just being his usual dicky self.

  That’s why you broke up with him, I kept telling myself. Because he turned into a sexist asshole.

  But my dreams and thoughts weren’t about the guy he was now. My dreams were memories of the sweet, shy high school kid who was so nervous to ask me out that I had to wait until the Sadie Hawkins dance to ask him out myself our sophomore year.

  I dreamt of sweet fumbling kisses and heavy makeout sessions in the back of his mom’s Subaru. I remembered how romantic he was setting up our “first time,” the night of our senior prom.

  We were the couple everyone envied. The high school quarterback with the letterman jacket and the girl who was on the debate team and the Dean’s List. When we both got accepted to UCLA, we were voted Couple Most Likely To Be Together At the Reunion.

  Our first year in college was fine. Sure, there were a few too many nights when Shawn went to parties after games and I stayed in the dorm studying. But he was still really sweet, texting me from the parties and sneaking past Mrs. Denton into my room late at night.

  It wasn’t until our sophomore year that things began to change. He was starting to get a lot of attention from the media for his athletic talent, and as soon as they started throwing words around like “Heisman” and “First round NFL pick,” he became totally full of himself. His ego blew up and he started partying more and more and we started arguing. A lot.. Finally, when I saw photos online of him kissing some cheerleader at a party, I’d had enough and I broke up with him right before the holidays. It was a dark time in my life, and I actually considered transferring to another school. In the end, though, it wasn’t all that hard to go our separate ways. LA is a big place.

  My phone dinged, bringing me back to reality. It was the guy I was meeting, Jeff Kakaur.

  Are u almost here? I have to be in court at 10.

  It was literally 9:01. I was one minute late. Not bothering to take the time to reply, I got out of the car and went inside.

  Well, here goes nothing.

  “Morning, Lauren. You want the usual?”

  Was it sad that I came here so much that they knew my order by heart? I looked around the room to see if I could find anyone like the guy Savannah described. She’d shown me a picture, but said it was a “really bad one since I had to take it on the down low.”

  She’d said he looked like a young Bill Clinton, and so I was looking for someone at least a little handsome. Was it that guy with his head down and his back to me?

  Walking over to see, he looked up at me and smiled. He had fake, overly white veneers and a smile that was limited to his mouth. His eyes looked small and beady. Please don’t let it be Jeff.

  “Lauren?” He stood up, and was literally my height. Not that I have a problem with short men, but I’m only five foot three.

  “Jeff.” I extended my hand to shake his. “Nice to meet you.” How on earth did Savannah say that he looked like Bill Clinton? Maybe if Bill Clinton’s parents were Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman.

  “I’m glad you made it. I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.”

  The clock on the wall said 9:04. Anyone who’s that hyper focused on time is most definitely not a match to me.

  “Lauren?” The girl behind the counter called my name as she slid over my salted caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream.

  I grabbed it and came back to where Jeff was sitting.

  “Wow. Do you know how much sugar one of those things has? If you’re not careful, you’re going to get fat. I dated a girl once who gained twenty pounds just from those coffees.” I noticed he was drinking a tall black coffee.

  Maybe she was trying to stuff her feelings from being in a relationship with you? I thought.

  “So. Savannah tells me you work in her law firm?” I figured I’d sit here and make chit chat until 9:30, and then he’d leave to go to court and I could actually relax a little before work.

  “Oh, yes. Just moved here from New York. Got tired of the fast pace, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong. The cases up there were amazing. New Yorkers love nothing more than a good lawsuit. That’s how I got so good at my job. But, there comes a time when you want to slow down, am I right? I’d rather be dealing with mundane cases like somebody falling off a bike than the high profile cases I was winning in New York.” He took a sip of his coffee and said, “The women are definitely prettier here, too.”

  As he said that, he wasn’t even looking at me! He was checking out the ass of some woman in yoga pants who was bending over to give a juice box to her kid in a stroller.

  I just sat there, sucking on my frappuccino and waiting for enough time to pass before he would finally leave. “Where did you end up moving?”

  “Right now I’m in an apartment downtown, but I am looking at places in Highland Ranch.”

  That was one of the more expensive areas of Denver, but very suburban for a guy with no wife and kids. “Oh wow. Build it and they will come, right?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” He looked at me with a blank stare. “I’m not building a house, I’m buying one that’s already been built.”

  “No, I meant that if you buy a house big enough for a family … Oh, nevermind.” I was dying to check my phone, but I didn’t want to be rude.

  He must have picked up on my thoughts, because he pulled his own phone out. “Sorry. I have to check this. Need to see if my law clerk was able to find a deposition we’ve been looking for.” His features contorted into an angry frown and he instantly pressed a button on his phone, leaving me to just listen and watch.

  “Nina. Where the hell’s my depo? I am going to court in half an hour. No, I will not come in and look for it. I told you where it was. On my desktop computer. Yes it is. Then, look again.” His face was getting redder by the minute and the angrier he got, he looked more like Bill Maher than Bill Clinton.

  I stole a look at my phone. It was only 9:07? Good lord, this date was never going to end.

  By the time I finally got out of there, it was 9:45. Mr. “You’re one minute late” decided to only leave himself ten minutes to get all the way across town to the courthouse.

  “Attorneys have a special security line,” he said, acting like the person who in
troduced us wasn’t my best friend, the attorney.

  I didn’t even have enough time to relax alone without him. I needed to get to work by ten.

  Checking my phone once I got in the car, I had a missed call and a voicemail from a 713 number. I pressed play on the message.

  “Hi, this is Susan Dyson, head of Human Resources for the Houston Heroes. We’d like to speak with you about enrolling one of our players in one of your upcoming Uncovering Ism training programs. We’re looking to get this training completed as soon as possible, so if you could call me back quickly, I would really appreciate it.”

  My next one of those programs was scheduled for Breckenridge next weekend, but I wasn’t sure if we still had any openings. My programs usually sold out pretty quickly. I’d have to check the schedule at work before calling her back.

  Frankly, I was glad for the time to think. I had a pretty good idea who they wanted to send for training, and I needed to decide whether or not to do it.

  It’s not every day a girl gets to conduct sensitivity training on her ex. It could definitely be interesting …

  5

  Shawn: Real Friends

  Great. The hits just kept on coming from this fiasco. Not only did I have to go to some damn sensitivity training now, but I had just gotten off the phone with Sam telling me that Nike, Gatorade, and Powerbar all called him threatening to pull my sponsorships.

  I honestly couldn’t believe this was happening. They were treating me like I was goddamn Michael Vick. Okay. Maybe not that bad, but even still. My name was being dragged through the mud for no reason.