Read Online Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Christina Clark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christina Clark
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my fault your head's so damn big,” Louie shot back, smirking.
“Alright, Odell, you're up.”
“Naw, man, I think I'm gonna head home for the night,” said Odell, rising up from the sofa. “The game's at 1 tomorrow, and I'm trying to get at least 9 hours in. ”
“Same here.” Louie got up from the sofa and started putting his coat back on.
“Yeah, alright guys.” I stirred, the floor spinning as I heaved myself to my feet. I walked them to the front door. “Night.”
“Take it easy on the beer, brother.” Odell gripped the side of the door, looking me square in the eye. “Don't be late – I don't mean to rag on you, but you're one small fuck-up away from suspension. Remember that.”
“We're just looking out for you,” Louie chimed in.
“I hear ya. Peace.”
I shut the front door and headed back to the couch. They were probably right. My pounding head felt like it was being drilled into, and all I could smell was the liquor on my breath. Regardless of the reasonable advice, I staggered back to the kitchen for another beer. As I poured myself another glass from the tap, there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Forget something?” I lumbered back to the foyer and unlocked the door for a second time. “You –”
Carrie was standing in the doorway, gripping the strap of her purse stiffly.
“Carrie? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Carrie asked, her voice slightly wavering.
“Sure.”
I stepped aside and let her through, closing the door behind her. Carrie gazed around her gingerly as I led her into the living room. I set my beer down and cleared away the empty pizza boxes and popcorn bowl on the coffee table.
“Make yourself at home.”
When I hobbled back to the living room, I snagged my toe under the Chillida rug. Carrie threw out her hands and caught me by the shoulders, steadying me to my feet. I gave her a thumbs up and fell back on the sofa.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just a little,” I answered vaguely, hiccuping.
Carrie took a seat on the far end of the sofa. She was doing everything she could to make herself uncomfortable. Her rigid spine was 3 inches away from the back of the sofa, and half her ass was off the chair. She smoothed her hair and placed her hands over her knees.
“So, Jamie called today, and she told me what you did.”
“What – what'd I do?”
“Thank you. I appreciate what you did, but you really didn't have to do that.” Carrie ran her tongue over her lips. “I don't mean to sound blunt, here, but we don't need your charity. I'm good for it, all $6,219, plus interest, if you just give me a few months –”
“Forget it. It's done with –”
“Forget it?” Carrie repeated, shaking her head. “That's more than I paid for my car. I can't just –”
“I'm not doing it for you,” I cut her off. “I did it for Jackson. And I'm gonna keep paying off Jackson's bills whether you like it or not. If you want to pay me back, start saving for college now.”
“I don't –” Carrie paused mid-sentence, scowling at me as I reached for my beer. “Are you seriously going to drink that? Don't you have a game tomorrow? What about hangovers –”
“As much as you sound like her, you're not my mother, so...” I finished my thought by taking a huge gulp of my beer.
“Typical.” Carrie swung around in her seat to face me, tucking her legs under her. “This is unbelievable – it just boggles my mind how people who everything take what they have for granted so easily. Are you trying to get yourself suspended?”
With my head now throbbing at full throttle, something in me snapped.
“First of all, you're in my house, so don't tell me what to do.” My drowsy eyelids sagged shut, and I kept it that way. Before I could reel it back, it all came spilling out of my mouth like a loose sphincter.
“I'm so –”
“You remember the semifinals against Kansas City in 2012?”
“I remember hearing about it, I think. Didn't
“Alright, Odell, you're up.”
“Naw, man, I think I'm gonna head home for the night,” said Odell, rising up from the sofa. “The game's at 1 tomorrow, and I'm trying to get at least 9 hours in. ”
“Same here.” Louie got up from the sofa and started putting his coat back on.
“Yeah, alright guys.” I stirred, the floor spinning as I heaved myself to my feet. I walked them to the front door. “Night.”
“Take it easy on the beer, brother.” Odell gripped the side of the door, looking me square in the eye. “Don't be late – I don't mean to rag on you, but you're one small fuck-up away from suspension. Remember that.”
“We're just looking out for you,” Louie chimed in.
“I hear ya. Peace.”
I shut the front door and headed back to the couch. They were probably right. My pounding head felt like it was being drilled into, and all I could smell was the liquor on my breath. Regardless of the reasonable advice, I staggered back to the kitchen for another beer. As I poured myself another glass from the tap, there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Forget something?” I lumbered back to the foyer and unlocked the door for a second time. “You –”
Carrie was standing in the doorway, gripping the strap of her purse stiffly.
“Carrie? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Carrie asked, her voice slightly wavering.
“Sure.”
I stepped aside and let her through, closing the door behind her. Carrie gazed around her gingerly as I led her into the living room. I set my beer down and cleared away the empty pizza boxes and popcorn bowl on the coffee table.
“Make yourself at home.”
When I hobbled back to the living room, I snagged my toe under the Chillida rug. Carrie threw out her hands and caught me by the shoulders, steadying me to my feet. I gave her a thumbs up and fell back on the sofa.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just a little,” I answered vaguely, hiccuping.
Carrie took a seat on the far end of the sofa. She was doing everything she could to make herself uncomfortable. Her rigid spine was 3 inches away from the back of the sofa, and half her ass was off the chair. She smoothed her hair and placed her hands over her knees.
“So, Jamie called today, and she told me what you did.”
“What – what'd I do?”
“Thank you. I appreciate what you did, but you really didn't have to do that.” Carrie ran her tongue over her lips. “I don't mean to sound blunt, here, but we don't need your charity. I'm good for it, all $6,219, plus interest, if you just give me a few months –”
“Forget it. It's done with –”
“Forget it?” Carrie repeated, shaking her head. “That's more than I paid for my car. I can't just –”
“I'm not doing it for you,” I cut her off. “I did it for Jackson. And I'm gonna keep paying off Jackson's bills whether you like it or not. If you want to pay me back, start saving for college now.”
“I don't –” Carrie paused mid-sentence, scowling at me as I reached for my beer. “Are you seriously going to drink that? Don't you have a game tomorrow? What about hangovers –”
“As much as you sound like her, you're not my mother, so...” I finished my thought by taking a huge gulp of my beer.
“Typical.” Carrie swung around in her seat to face me, tucking her legs under her. “This is unbelievable – it just boggles my mind how people who everything take what they have for granted so easily. Are you trying to get yourself suspended?”
With my head now throbbing at full throttle, something in me snapped.
“First of all, you're in my house, so don't tell me what to do.” My drowsy eyelids sagged shut, and I kept it that way. Before I could reel it back, it all came spilling out of my mouth like a loose sphincter.
“I'm so –”
“You remember the semifinals against Kansas City in 2012?”
“I remember hearing about it, I think. Didn't
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