Page 88 of Just Playin'
“I swear to god, if I’m forced to fake an orgasm with Coach Salter one more time this season, I’ll need to invest in acting classes.” Lillian smirks a grin that reveals her cold insides before joining the duo. “Everything is back where it should be, and Coach James is none the wiser.”
Hearing the gripe in her tone as well as me, Delilah says, “You can’t complain, dear. We’re doing this for you. If you want Carlton running back to you with his tail between his legs, this needs to happen.” Delilah steps away from the wall the man pinned her on, the clicking of her heels covering up the gasp I can’t stifle. “Then we can switch our focus to more important matters.”
Lillian blows a hair out of her eyes like she’s about to endure months of heavy lifting. “That’s easy for you to say, Aunt Dee; you’re not the one flashing her kitty to dirty old men every time she needs a favor.”
Eww.I’m never using the word “kitty” ever again.
I slide right back until I’m flush with the doorjamb when Delilah paces to a window on my side of the room. It has a direct view of the sideline. My mouth falls open when she asks, “Our plan is working. Look at them. The buffoons don’t have the faintest clue Coach Salter has been giving you the playbook for each game.”
Lillian’s eyes widen sardonically. “I didn’t suck his dick for no reason.”
They laugh like playing men for fools is a game and they’re master manipulators.
Just as their laughter dulls, for the first time the past three minutes, the gentleman speaks. It doesn’t improve the situation. “Our campaign is paying dividends. Last month, no one expected a final game without the 69ers; now look at the statistics. Our outlay is minutes from tripling.” He reads the difference between the fixed odds they bet on six weeks ago, and what they’re paying now. They’re going to come out of this shitstorm very wealthy.
“Excellent!” Delilah claps her hands together two times before barking out orders like a drill sergeant. “Mason, continue your campaign of driving a wedge between Carlton and that hideous girl. Releasing her video didn’t have the impact I was hoping for, so jazz it up a little. Get her hackles as raised as you did Carlton’s tonight.” She shifts on her feet to face Lillian, who is waiting further instruction. “Position yourself as close to Carlton as you can. When he’s wallowing about his team’s losses, convince him you’ll do everything in your power to see him through this. Even go as far as offering to pay the restitution we added to his contract after he signed it. He’s too stupid to question how you can afford that, but he’ll be so appreciative of your offer, you’ll be back in his good graces in an instant. While you remind him who’s boss, I’ll continue schmoozing the Devils’ coach. We need as many allies on our side as we can get before you suggest Carlton break his contract with the 69ers.”
Lillian’s frantic head bob halts when I say, “And me? What would you like me to do?”
I should be scared walking into a room full of people trying to take me down, but I’m not. I’m pissed and hormonal, so if anyone should be scared, it sure as hell ain’t me.
When Delilah’s attempt to snatch my cell comes up empty, she stands in front of me with her brow arched and her lips in a flat line. “So you’re not just fat and ugly, you’re stupid as well. It’s three against one; how far do you think you’ll get?”
I could answer her with words, but I think my fists will do a better job. After sliding my cell into the back pocket of my skirt, I test out my theory.
“Oh my god, are you an animal?!” Delilah’s hand darts up to cover her gushing nose—the nose I just socked her in. “You can’t hit people.”
“Really? Then what did I just do?”
I take a second swing. This time, I aim for her eye. My hit has enough force, she tumbles down. Her fake ass hitting the floor is music to my ears, her pained wail the icing on the cake.
Pretending my knuckles aren’t throbbing, I shift my focus to her minions. My chest puffs with smugness when Mason steps back with his hands held in the air. His cowardice could be excused because he has a badly battered face, but I’d rather pretend it isn’t.
Lillian’s eyes bounce between her aunt wailing like a child on the ground and me for several long heartbeats. She makes the right decision when she mimics Mason’s movements. She bows out of our fight without words, her spinelessness inexcusable. It’s probably for the best, though. I don’t have time to dispel all my anger. Instead, I issue them a final sneer before pivoting on my heels and exiting the room.
I make it four steps before Lillian’s snicker slows my quick pace. Almost robotically, I turn back around and retrace my steps. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” she denies, her head shaking. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, I must have heard you call me a ‘fat cow’ by mistake. Silly me.”
I try to convince myself to let it go. I remind myself time and time again that reacting to bullies is as bad as instigating bullying, but I just can’t help myself. Lillian needs to be taught a lesson, and who better to do that than me?
“No, please, not my nose. I just had my deviated septum fixed.”
Her plea turns into a garble when I undo the hard work of her plastic surgeon with my fist. When she falls to the ground, holding her nose, I bend over her. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me, but I will hurt you if I ever see you near Elvis again. Do you understand me?”
I wait for her to nod before returning to my campaign to fix the injustices every person in this room committed—myself included. Adrenaline spurs on my steps as I race down the corridor. I make it within three inches of the field before I’m stopped by a security personnel.
“I have a ticket. I’m just trying to get to my seat.” I show him the ticket the attendant couldn’t scan.
He glances at it for barely a second before he gestures to a stairwell on his right. “Climb those and go three rows over. Your seat is just above my head.” He points up.
“Okay. Thank you.”
I kiss his cheek like he told me I’m pretty before darting for the stairs. I’ve climbed two steps when his rumble rolls through my ears, “I like your shirt.”
“Thank you!” I reply, my pace undeterred. “Me too!”
