Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) (12 page)

Art’s eyes are steely. “My wife and daughter speak highly of you, Blake, so please take this as no disrespect, but I know your father, and there’s no way in hell that Sofia is going anywhere with him. I’ll take care of it. You keep your money. You have my word that Sofia isn’t going on the date.”

Part of me wants to argue that the money doesn’t matter to me, but I don’t bother. “Thank you.” I lean over, kiss Sofia’s cheek, and say, “I’ll call you later.”

On the way home, Jack goes on and on about Sofia. She’s hot, a perfect piece of ass, how he can’t wait to take her out and fuck her good. When we walk into the house, I’ve had enough. It’s bad enough that he’s saying this shit about her, but he’s openly talking about his plans to cheat in front of Mom.

“Shut up already,” I growl. “You’re talking as if she would be doing this voluntarily. And for all your talk about how I should respect Mom, you’re doing a fine job of it yourself. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re just pissed off because she is going to suck my dick and not yours.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have to pay her to do anything. She is young enough to be your daughter!” I yell, trying to throw anything out there that could make him change his mind. “You’re a stupid son-of-a-bitch. You couldn’t even act like a ‘real’ man in public. What’s that going to do for your legacy, Jack?”

He laughs. “She’s the daughter of a billionaire. She’s going to enjoy my company a lot and that will only help my legacy because I sure as hell can’t count on my
son
,” he sneers.

“Jack, you spent a hundred grand,” Mom tries. “We don’t have that kind of money to be throwing out the window. She’s not going to sleep with you. You’ll have to hit up on some of your other contacts for that.” She doesn’t even sound bothered by this, but I guess after all this time, she’s used to it.

“Why are you opening your fucking mouth? Is there any remote reason why I want your dumb ass to speak to me?” He takes a step toward Mom, and I push him back away from her.

“Don’t talk to her like that.”

“She’s mine! I can and and do whatever the hell I want to her!” He tries to walk to her to prove his point, but I intercept again. His arm swings back and he punches me in the face.

Without a second thought, I grab him by the collar, punching him twice, ducking when he swings back to throw a jab at my stomach instead. A hand touches my back and it’s like I can hear again.

“Blake! Stop! Stop it!” Mom screams.

I shove Jack away, smiling on the inside when he stumbles backward.

“Go home,” Mom orders. “Be sure to take care of your lip, it’s busted.”

I hold my hands up; I’m not going to argue and turn to leave. That motherfucker can still hit just as hard as I remember. Age is not slowing him down at all.

The anger is still coursing through me when I get home. I grab a bottle of whiskey and don’t bother pouring a shot, instead drink straight from the bottle. Alcohol will ease the pain, both physical and emotional. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that he was talking about Sofia like he was or how I lowered myself to his level and fought back.

If I ever needed a sign that I’m like him, there it is. I let my anger get the best of me and lost control. God, I hate him. The thought of how pissed he is now, how he’s probably going to go after Mom since I’m not there ties my stomach into knots, and makes me drink faster.

Before long, I’m good and drunk.

And poor Sofia. She and her family had to suffer through his presence tonight. I must have the worst luck ever. My phone buzzes with a text and I fumble to pull it from my pocket, still dressed in my tux.

Sofia: Everything okay?

My thumbs are too big, and I’m too drunk to hit the right buttons, so I call her.

“Blake?”

“Come over,” I wince at my slur, but spit out my address. “Please, Sofia? Just come over. I want to see you.”

“Are you drunk?” she asks.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Are you coming?” I say my address again, just in case.

“I’ll come, Blakey,” she says softly.

I PARK BEHIND Blake’s truck and rush into his house. I’m thankful that I don’t have to break the door.

“Blake!” I call his name out, but I don’t hear anything. “Blake!” I shut and lock his door and I hear mumbling. “Blake!” I call out again.

I turn to my left and see him on the couch, still in his tux, with a bottle of whiskey on the floor. I rush over to him and try shaking him awake. I say his name over and over again.

Finally, he opens his eyes and incoherently says what I think is my name.

“Sit up, Blake.” I tug on him and, with all my strength, get him up in a seated position.

“Beautiful. You're so beautiful,” he slurs.

“Great.” I throw my hands up. “Now, you want to be open and honest. Let’s get you in a shower, buddy.”

It takes all I have to practically drag him to the bathroom.Thankfully, there’s a full tub and shower. When I flip on the light, I gasp. Blake’s lip is split and his knuckles are bleeding and bruised.

“Oh, Blakey, what did you do? Stay,” I order him. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying back and forth. I undo his bow tie, fight with the jacket and shirt. He already has his shoes off. Now, for the pants.

“Blakey, this sucks a lot.”

“Hhhmm, suck me.” He sways again.

“Ha. Not happening tonight,” I scoff at him. I flip on the water to freezing cold and close off the drain. I check his pockets, making sure there’s nothing in there that will be ruined.

“I’m leaving you in your pants because the first time I see you, I want you to be somewhat conscious.” He nods, but he doesn’t have a clue what I’m saying. “Walk over here.” I guide him to the edge of the tub. “Just remember I care about you,” I mumble as I push him into the cold water.

The tub is large, so I don’t crack his head on the side. I submerge him and he comes up sputtering, coughing, and cussing. I turn the water off and open the drain.

“Sofia.” He’s still slurring, but his eyes are open. “Fuck.” He tries to jump from the tub, but he’s still drunk and unbalanced. He slides and lands back on his ass. “Fuck.”

“Stop moving, you asshat!” I yell at him. “I’ll help you out.”

“Why did you do this?”

I help him stand and step out. He puts a lot of his weight on me, but it’s not as bad. “To wake you up.”

“Oh no.” Before I figure out what he’s talking about, he rushes to the toilet and vomits his dinner.

I grab a washcloth while he’s puking, wet it, and put it on the back of his neck. I also grab several towels. The bathroom is saturated, but I will help clean it up later.

“Go away, Sofia.” His head is still over the toilet.

“You called me to come over here. I’m not leaving.” I dry his back and he heaves again. I rub his back some more. “I need to get you some dry clothes. Where are they?”

Blake points over his shoulder. “The laundry room.”

I go to the next room in the direction he pointed and find a basket of flannel pajama pants and a clean t-shirt. I even grab a pair of boxers briefs. When I come back the bathroom, Blake is crawling to the sink. I try not to laugh because it shouldn’t be funny, but seeing this large man on his hands and knees does make me smile.

“Come on, Blakey.” I sit the clothes on the counter and force him to his feet.

“Teeth.” He tries to reach for his toothbrush.

“Here.” I’m able to hand it to him and get him steady enough to put toothpaste on it and he brushes his teeth. While he does that, I throw towels on the tiles to hopefully soak up all the water.

“I’m freezing,” he complains. When I turn to him, he’s lip is bleeding worse.

“Damn,” I mumble. I’m going to have to help him change. Why didn’t I think this through better. “Alright.” I woman-up and walk over to him. “We have to get you out of these pants.”

Blake’s eyes are closed again and I know he isn’t going to last long. I tug on his belt and drop his pants.

“Step,” I order and he lifts one leg. “Step.” He lifts the other one. I toss the pants to the side. “Can you get out of your underwear?”

He nods, but only sways back and forth.

“Damn,” I hiss. I’m going to have to do it. This is not how I pictured this happening. I take a deep breath and jerk them down. I try to look everywhere, but
there
. However, it’s almost impossible not to glance at
it
. I only peek before I keep my eyes closed and dry his legs and only his legs. I grab the boxer briefs and get them on him, along with the pajama pants.

“Hey, we did it,” I say excitedly. I’m proud of me. “Now, it’s time for bed. Where is it?”

Blake, with his eyes still closed, points in front of me. I roll my eyes.

“Don’t move.” I go out and notice a guest room across the hall. “You’re sleeping in here tonight.” I turn the covers back.

I throw his arms over my shoulders. He leans against me and I maneuver him to the bed. He falls to his side and instantly passes out. I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve ever moved anything so heavy.

I brush his hair back and see that his lip is bleeding still. I rummage through the bathroom and find a small first aid kit. I clean his wounds the best I can and then work on the bathroom. I even pick up the bottle of whiskey in the living room.

I can’t leave him, so I send a quick text to Harmony, letting her know I’m at his place. I should sleep on the couch, but I’m actually concerned about him. I grab a t-shirt from his clean pile and change out of my wet clothes. I slide into the bed next to him and study his face for a moment. Even asleep, he has a scowl. I lightly kiss his forehead and snuggle into the covers, falling asleep.

I WAKE UP early and Blake is still asleep. He has about three hours before he has to be at practice. I’m not sure if he’ll make it. Very carefully, I untangle my legs from his.

“Don’t shake the bed.” Blake’s voice is gruff as he slowly wakes up.

“Sorry, I was going to let you sleep.”

“Don’t talk loudly.” He opens his eyes and the hazel shade is bright.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “What can I get you?”

“I’d kill for coffee, but I’ll get up in a minute or two.”

“I’ll get it.” My feet hit the floor and I head to the kitchen.

In the bright sunlight, I notice that Blake has a nice place. It’s a small townhouse, but nicely decorated, especially for a guy. I find the k-cups, coffee mugs, and turn on the Keurig. I find eggs and cheese and whip up a quick omelet.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast.” Blake walks into the kitchen, freshly showered, wearing only low hung jeans.

“Figured you were hungry.” I hand him his coffee mug. “I don’t know how you take it.”

“Black.” He sits at the breakfast bar and I place the plate in front of him.

“Gross.” I turn up my nose as he sips the coffee. He shrugs. I make my plate and coffee and sit it next to him. “Are you feeling okay?”

He shrugs again and takes a large bite of the eggs. He inhales the food and the coffee. He gets up and loudly throws everything into the sink. “Just lock the bottom lock when you leave.” Blake doesn’t look at me as he heads towards the laundry room.

“You’re leaving?” I holler down the hall.

“I have practice!” he shouts from the room. “I have to go.”

I jump off the stool and go toward him. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

He comes into the room and looks down at me. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Blakey.” I reach out to grab his hand because I want to know what is going on with him.

“Stop!” he yells so loudly I jump back. “I don’t want to fucking talk.”

I gasp because he screams at me, and I step back even more. Blake’s eyes go wide with shock, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek.

“I...I have to go.” Blake rushes away from me.