This town is insane.
This whole “image” thing rests on me showing the American public that they don’t have to lock up their daughters whenever my face shows up on the television. It rests on me looking like I’ve turned the corner from wild, womanizing, party boy to the sagely, family-friendly, Disney-fied married man. It’s about showing the world that I’ve put all my wickedness behind me, all for the love of a woman.
Which is of course all complete bullshit, but that sweet, sweet endorsement money is pretty damn motivating.
“I mean, she’s a great girl,” Kyle says, taking a pull from his beer. He grins my way. “You know, I’m proud of you man. I think you’ve really turned a corner with this one.”
I shoot him a look. He knows the truth, and while an outsider might look at it as him “protecting” the secret, I know the little shit well enough to know he’s messing with me.
He grins back, chuckling to himself.
Asshole.
“Yeah, well, hope you enjoyed all the pussy you got up until this very moment, kid.” Eli chuckles, shaking his head. “Because that ship has sailed. Great girl or not, good fucking luck getting laid now.”
I clear my throat, ready to play the part. “Hey, I mean, I went into this knowing it meant one girl from here on-”
Eli and Daryl laugh, and I furrow my brow. “What?”
“One girl?” Daryl snorts.
“Yeah, bro, I didn’t mean your days of chasing college girls and cheerleaders were over, I meant your days of using your dick at all are over. Period.” Eli grins as he clinks his bottle of beer against mine. “Welcome to married life, kid.”
I frown. “You’re married?”
“Fuck no!” He laughs, almost spitting beer out of his nose. “Cause I’ve done it twice. Daryl’s in the middle of dropping his third right now.”
Daryl shrugs. “This life doesn’t mesh with the normal life, kid. You’re rich, you’re young, you’re traveling all the time, and every single girl you meet wants a piece of you. There ain’t no room for ‘one and onlys’ and ‘happy ever afters’ with that kind of pressure.”
“Oh, but happy endings you get whenever you want though, buddy.” Eli grins. His eyes light up. “Ooo, we should set you up with Lori, from the cheer squad.” He pantomimes crossing himself. “A mouth like a fucking artist, let me tell you.”
I frown into my beer as Eli and Daryl crack up again and the music pounds loud around us.
Like I said, I hate clubs, but now and again, you just gotta get lost outside yourself somewhere.
Accosting me at my fucking house is a new one, but being rich, young, and famous drags all kinds of leeches like Tina out of the woodwork. Tina, who’s still trying to threaten me with with this media bullshit about me knocking her up, which would be a pretty fucking amazing feat considering I’ve never laid a hand on her, much less ejaculated inside her.
Except Derek’s right. If she puts up enough of a stink about this, it’s going to get ugly.
“QB! Let’s go!” Daryl nods his chin at me with a small army of club girls giggling around him. “We’ve got the limo outside, gonna head to that new club.”
I turn back to Kyle who grimaces as we both knock back shots and slam the glasses back on the bar top.
“You ready?”
He makes a face. “Nah, I’m out, man.”
I frown. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s late,” he says with a shrug.
“Kyle, you’re a newly minted millionaire, you’re twenty-three, and you’re at a club in LA with three professional football players.”
He laughs. “And now I’m going home.”
I shake my head at him. “Do you even comprehend how many different ways you could be getting laid right now?”
He grins and claps me on the back. “I got stuff to do, man. And hell, don’t you have practices starting in like two days?”
“Yeah, but we’ve got four guys worth a collective hundred million dollars, a limo, a city to conquer, and that-” I stick a finger back in the direction of the club-girl army.
Kyle shakes his head. “Dude,” he leans in. “You know I fucking hate clubs.”
“Well, me too pal, but I happen to really like the girls who come to them.”
He grins and shakes his head. “How about the one waiting at home?” He clicks his tongue in the way he does that makes it sound like he’s scolding you. “You know, your wife?”
I give him a look. “Really?”
“Fake, real…whatever man. I’m just saying.”
“Saying what.”