Don't Promise (Don't 3)

She sat next to me. “Don’t let Jake get to you.”

“No, it’s not him. Well, only partially him.” My eyes drifted toward her. “Do you ever feel like we’re in fishbowl? Like everyone is watching us?”

She put an arm around my shoulder. “I see you in that fishbowl, honey. But that’s nothing new. What’s going on?”

I shook her off. “Nothing.” I took another look in the mirror and pressed my lips together. “I’m thinking too much about the concert tonight.” There were things I couldn’t even talk to Helena about.

How could she understand the guilt I felt surrounded

by the life of privilege I had built? Was there any way to make it sound as if I appreciated it, but yet was completely burdened by my fame and wealth?

I walked into the living room and pulled my guitar from the stand. I sat by the window, staring out over the city. I closed my eyes, strummed a few chords and let the music I wanted to sing pour out of me. The words I wanted to shout. The sound I wanted people to hear flew through my fingers and my chest as if I needed to get it out before I lost the ability to breathe.

5

Luke

The tie was too tight against my neck, and the jacket stretched against my biceps. I dropped the snarl from my face, tugging at my collar as the back of the limo opened and I stood on the red carpet with a barrage of flashes going off in my face. I plastered a smile so wide from cheek to cheek that even a GQ cover model would be envious.

By the time I made it to the door of the new hospital wing I had posed for fifty pictures and I needed a fucking drink. I headed straight for the bar but stopped when I saw the bartender. She was a hot brunette I had met before. She smiled at me, throwing me a soft wave with her fingers. I remembered those plump lips and what they could do. The only thing was I didn’t remember her name or where we met.

I immediately turned around and looked for something to distract me. Anything to keep me away from her and the bottle of top shelf bourbon she was offering. Fuck.

I didn’t want to be here. Hell, I almost hadn’t come. But Coach had ordered a car to pick me up, and I knew that meeting today was more than a warning. It was practically a death sentence in the league. If the Warriors released me for code of conduct violations, I’d be blackballed from every team. The money would dry up. My legacy would be extinct. I’d never throw another football again.

So I put on the fucking monkey suit. I got in the car. I let the driver deposit me on the red carpet. But this wasn’t over. I wasn’t Applewhite’s bitch. He put me in a corner in front of McCade, but we weren’t done. He wouldn’t always have the old man next to him. Tonight would be the last time he’d tell me where I had to spend my time.

I resisted the urge to walk over to the bar and get the brunette’s number.

“Luke? Luke Canton. Hell, son, good to see you here.” I got a slap on the back from a man wearing an oversized Stetson and a bolero with his tuxedo.

“Yes, sir.” I shook his hand, giving him a solid impact.

“Looking forward to the game Sunday. You give those Sharks hell for us.”

“Oh, I will, sir. I will.” I nodded.

The man’s wife came walking over in one of those floor-length ball gowns. Nothing on her was natural. I guessed there was a thirty-year age difference between the two.

She smiled at me, raking me over with lust in her eyes. “Bob, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

She held her hand toward me, and I saw the rocks lining her fingers. The man must have bought her half the diamonds in Texas. Now I understood the attraction.

Bob chuckled, looking at me. “This is my wife, Vienna. She’s a big Warriors fan.”

I felt the softness of her palm as she slid her hand into mine. “Nice to meet you.”

Her skin was flawless and there wasn’t a curve on her body that wasn’t planned. Her neck was long and slender. She turned her head sideways like a cat as she eyed my chest.

I grinned. Now this was the perfect kind of woman. She already had a man to feed her money habit. She wasn’t looking for fame. She only wanted to fuck. I let my fingers drag across her wrist before I let go.

“Can I get you a drink, Mrs. –”

“Crawford.” She winked. “Yes, a white wine would be nice.”

I looked at Bob. “You’re a lucky man, sir. I’ll be right back.”

I took long strides to a bar on the other side of the room. I didn’t care about the brunette at the moment.