I just don't know how to mollify him. If he’s not happy that Sabrina will drop the charges, I can’t win at this firm. “I see. Thank you for attending the meeting today, Carlton. You were a great help. I'll be leaving now.”
I walk out, wishing I could have the satisfaction of slamming the door, but the way it's built makes certain it shuts almost silently. Better for potential clients to think everyone in a law firm is reasonable and not prone to outbursts. I sure don’t feel in control though. It’s my second dramatic walk out in one week, and that’s two too many.
My face is flaming with anger, yet my eyes are still dry as a bone. I am burning hot like an inferno, and ready to destroy everything in my path.
I pull out my phone to call Sandra, and there's a text from Griff. “Hey babe, you were amazing today. Give me a call when you finish up.”
What am I supposed to say to him? I hem and haw, but in the end I decide to ignore the text, and just drive straight to his house. If there's anything that can make me feel better right now, it's the star quarterback, Gryphon James’ beautiful, ruthless, pounding body.
“Oh my God, Odell, you were incredible,” Gryphon says when I come through the door. He picks me up like I'm a doll and spins me around. “Absolutely amazing. They were coming at you, and you dodged and spun and ran with that ball and then you spiked the touchdown! I'm so proud of you!” He kisses me hard on the lips, and then moves his head back, piercing me with his dark blue eyes. “And you must be the star of the firm now! The superstar!” He kisses me again, and when he moves away, his expression is bright. I don't have the heart to tell him that it's actually the opposite: my head is on the chopping block, and it's all and only because of him.
“Thanks,” I say. “But you know what—maybe we shouldn't talk, maybe we should just kiss.” I reach for his mouth, but he’s already moving away.
“But shouldn't we celebrate with a glass of champagne?” he asks. “You've saved my career, lady!” He's strangely graceful as he spins around to the fridge, taking out a fancy looking bottle out and tossing it in the air before catching it. “My whole career! And not only that, but you’re a kickass attorney! Killing it!” he says, dancing around with the bottle. “Winning!”
“Hey, that's champagne,” I say. “Don't shake it up!”
“Aw, it'll be fine! You know I won't drop it. It’s kind of my job , you know, to catch things. Besides, this is how we do it in the clubhouse.” His smile is getting more radiant by the second, as quickly my mood is dropping. “But in the clubhouse, we pour it all over each other when we win. I won’t do that to you,” he says with a crooked grin on his handsome face, “unless you want me to. But seriously, let’s celebrate first!”
“Thanks, but I really don't want a drink. All I want to do is go to bed. Frankly, I just want to fuck.” I grab his hand and try to lead him toward the bedroom, but he stops short, his heels digging into the ground.
“Is that all you want from me Odell?” he asks, suddenly serious. “We just had the biggest day of our lives, and that’s it?”
“Right now, yeah,” I answer. “Come on, Gryphon, don't make me beg.” My voice takes on a whiny tone, and he grimaces.
“I'm not just some fuck-toy to you, am I?” He is standing stock-still.
“Are you kidding? Of course you are,” I answer, laughing, but Griff doesn't laugh. Doesn't he understand that I don't mean that? “Hey Griff, I’m just joking. Come on, let’s go to bed.”
“I see how it is.” There's hurt all over his face. “I'm not good enough for you, am I? Not smart enough to take seriously. Yeah, I see how it is.” He sets the champagne down on the table. “I suspected as much, and it’s clear as day now. Forget it. I thought you would want to celebrate this victory, and be happy that I won't lose my career, but instead, you just want to fuck. I want to have sex with you too, Odell, more than anything. But not if you don't even care about me enough to see me as a person. I thought we were getting closer, but now I know that you don't give a shit. I hoped you were better than that.”
Fucking hell. I don't know what to say. Every word he says about not losing his own career reminds me that everything I’ve worked for is on the line. Why is he making such a fuss, when I need him? I'm not ready to talk about what happened, nor do I want to blame him for the firm's stupidity and attitudes mired in the 1950’s. It’s just too hard though to feel happy about our victory when all it means for me is that I completely fucked myself over.
I grab my bag.
“Yeah, ok, thanks anyway.” I walk out and he shuts the door behind me. The silence in the corridor is deafening, and suddenly the hot tears I’d held back are coming, strong and insistent.
16
Gryphon
“Coach,” I say. “You wanted to see me?”
“I’m on the phone, right now,” he mouths, receiver in his hand. He holds up a finger. “Yes, Mr. Corbett. I understand the issue. Well, we really appreciate your financial support on this, but I don’t know if he wants to sell.”
I wait. Must be one of those billionaires wanting to buy the team. I saw one of those Corbett boys on a magazine, Forbes I think it was.
“Nicholas? Sure, I’ll call you Nicholas. We’ll be in touch, Nicholas.”
He hangs up. “Thanks for waiting there, Griff, I had one of these rich guys on the phone. Seems nice enough, but you have to play their game to win their money.” He clears his throat. “Gryphon,” he says, voice still hearty. “I was very happy to hear that this nasty business seems to be finally over between you and your uh … ex. Plays a lot better with investors, not having my star quarterback up on charges.”
“That's right sir,” I say slowly, trying to figure out his angle. “She’s dropping them and we’re considering a countersuit. Is that why you called me in?”
“The reason I want to see you, Gryphon, is because I want to know that you'll be giving your absolute all to the game from now on. I’ve tried to be understanding about this mess you’ve gotten into, and I think we all want it to be over. I don't want to deal with a half-assed effort on the field any more from anyone, least of all you, my very expensive star player, and I want your word that you're going to be in peak performance from here on out. You know we need to make the championship and your role is crucial. I want your mind on the game.” He plays with the whistle around his neck. “And nothing but the game. At all times. One hundred and ten percent, you got that James?”
“For sure coach, I will. I always give my best.” My jaw is tightening. Motherfucker. This now? After things finally let up? And if only it were because of Sabrina. My performance was suffering because I was afraid of losing Odell, and now I may have. And good riddance, I tell myself. At least I try to believe it. I’m going to kill it on the field.
“If that's so, James, your best hasn't been very good these days. And if you don't get it together immediately, your place on the team is in jeopardy. And in the league. The NFL doesn’t tolerate half-assed QB’s who flirt with breaking the law, and then don’t play well. If you’re going to do one, you stay away from the other. Stay clean, and play well. You know that, Griff,” he says, his tone changing. “I will not tolerate the team losing because of you. You better know that.”
“I understand, coach,” I say through gritted teeth.
“That’s right. Get out of my sight, James,” he says. “Off with you.”
I walk out the door, determined to give the performance of my life at the game tonight. I’m going to show him.
“Gryphon,” He calls after me. “Hang on.”
I look back through the door frame. “Yeah, coach?”
His brows are knitting together. “I gotta know. What do you do with the team the other day?”
“What do you mean?”
“During practice. They’re a lot more nimble. Agility drills are through the roof.”
I have to smile. It’s not what I did, it’s what Odell did. “That’s a trade secret, sir,” I grin.
“I’ll trade your ass if you don’t tell me what it is,” he smiles back. “Good work, James.”
“Thanks a million, coach.”
“Keep it up. I mean it!”
“You know it.”
17
Odell
Sandra is not impressed. “What the fuck did you do, Odell?” She hisses as she pulls me closer to her to her side and we find a table.
“Look I don’t need this right now,” I protest. “I don’t feel too well. It’s probably the stress.”
“Do you think? Or is it something else?” She stares at me. “You’re glowing, you know.” We sit down, and I slump a little in the booth before giving her a sharp look. I don’t need her shit right now, especially not when I feel like crap in every single possible way.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
“Oh, nothing. If it’s anything, you’ll find out soon enough.” She stirs her coffee.