The Games We Play Vol. 2 (Riley Grayson) (4 page)

No problem.

Hilary had been on Ali’s case about redecorating the apartment. Now was as good a time as any. It was a brand new year after all. It was time to start fresh, make changes, improve. Ali nodded and dumped her now cold coffee down the sink. Yes. They would spend the week redecorating. It was a perfect idea.

Riley had been in his studio for almost four hours, painting, getting lost in the music blaring around him. It wasn’t unusual for him to lose track of time but he’d never gone this long without stopping for a break. He rubbed the back of his arm across his forehead and stepped back to admire his work. A frown tugged at his lips.

He’d painted Ali. It was the vision he’d had of her at the party when he first saw her. She’d been standing at the table with her friend and Jackson. But Riley had only included Ali in the image, not the other two. It drove him insane how she was invading his mind, his thoughts, his subconscious, and he was going to have to admit, it was a bit creepy of him to paint her. He barely even knew who she was. Normally, after a night of sex like that he’d go on his way, happy with himself for pleasing yet another woman—in this case, two women—and not think too much about it. But Ali was under his skin in the most beautiful and pure way possible.

Turning off the music, he grabbed his leather jacket and headed out. His growling stomach reminded him again that he hadn’t eaten anything. On his way home, he swung by his favorite deli and bought a chicken salad sub with extra vegetables. He didn’t often eat sandwiches of any sort, but this place had the best he’d ever tasted.

When he arrived home, his father’s car was in the driveway. Riley parked his Ducati and went inside. “Dad!”

His father meandered out of the master bedroom dressed in only a pair of boxer shorts. “Hey, kiddo. How was your New Year’s Eve?”

“Awesome. Yours?” Riley sat on the couch, pulled the coffee table closer to him and unwrapped his sub. The smell of the chicken made his mouth water. He took a large bite, letting his eyes close as he savored the food.

His dad laughed at Riley’s display. “Good. Won a couple thousand at the black jack tables.”

Riley raised a brow and then took another bite. A few years back his father had gotten into a bad habit of gambling all weekend every weekend. He’d blown through a shitload of money. Riley hoped history wasn’t about to repeat itself. His dad had a whole lot more to lose these days.

“Oh, now, don’t look at me like that. This was a onetime thing. Besides, I met someone.”

“Yeah.” Dad always met someone. In fact, he was worse than Riley when it came to cycling women through the house and his bed.

“Yeah.” He sat on the couch next to Riley, absently rubbing his stomach. “She’s the one, Riley. She’s going to make an honest man out of me.”

Riley coughed, then choked, then coughed some more. He went into the kitchen, got a soda from the fridge and drank half of it in one gulp, easing the burning in his throat. Dad? An honest man? Yeah. Right. He hadn’t been honest since before Mom left oh so many years ago. Riley had no reason to believe that would suddenly change now.

“When’s the big day?” Riley asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

His father stood and grinned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, shall we.”

“I knew it.” Riley shook his head and smiled. “Why stand when you can sit?”

“And why sit when you can lie down.” They both laughed at their favorite household motto. “But son, what if I was to tell you that I did get married?”

The food he’d eaten only moments ago soured his stomach and Riley wanted to throw up. His father had done a lot of bullshit crazy things, but marriage, really? Riley shook his head. “I’m going out for a while.”
My old man has lost his fucking mind.

“Ah, whatever. I’m just playing with you. But, I’m not getting any younger you know.”

“Ain’t that the truth. But you look great, Dad,” Riley mumbled as he left the house. His father—married. That would be just fucking perfect.

Riley imagined what that would be like. There would be a constant woman in the house, trying to bond with him, playing mom, telling him what to do. No way. It just wasn’t going to happen. He’d had a mom once. She decided Riley wasn’t worth sticking around for. He had zero belief any other woman his dad may someday decide to marry would feel any differently.

Revving the Ducati, he peeled out of the driveway and raced down the street. It was definitely time to move out of his father’s house. He needed to get an apartment of his own. Or maybe even take up Jackson’s offer to get a place together. Or better yet, he could live in his studio. It was big enough for him to put a bed in there. A table with a chair or two. He already had a mini-fridge and a microwave. It would be the perfect bachelor pad except for one thing, he would lose his one place of refuge.

He’d have to bring girls there if he wanted to have sex. He’d have to share that most private part of himself with his nightly conquests. He couldn’t lose that. It meant too much to him. It was something he wasn’t quite ready for. The art he made for the public and for Amped was much different than the art he did for himself, the things he painted that were personal, cathartic. No one saw those. Not even Jackson.

After a while, Riley found himself at the beach. He desperately wanted to catch some waves, to let the sounds and feel of the ocean drown his problems, help him ignore his life for a little while. But every time he got close to the water or held a surfboard, he would panic. Images of his surfing accident would cloud his mind, paralyzing him with fear. The doctor had said Riley was lucky to be able to walk. If his knee withstood any more damage, that might not be the case. And that wasn’t a chance Riley was willing to take, at least not yet.

Turning around, he headed back to his studio. He’d crash on the floor tonight if it meant not having to go back home and deal with his dad who may or may not be thinking about getting married again. What was he thinking? Like Riley, he had plenty of opportunity to have any woman in the world. Why be tied down? Any other night he’d go to a bar, spend the evening impressing a woman, and then take her home, stumbling in long after his father was asleep. But it was a holiday and a lot of places were closed.

“Holidays fucking suck!” he yelled, throwing a paint brush across the room.

Besides, the only woman he really wanted to see right now was Ali but it was too soon to call her. It would make him look pathetic and desperate. Two things he wasn’t. But he had come to a decision somewhere along the way today—he was going to see Ali again. He had to. He’d give it a few days and then call her. He’d spare no expense, and once she was wrapped tightly around his finger, he’d be back in control. Then everything would be right again.

***

Two days. That was how long it had been since Riley spent that night with Ali. He rarely ever called a girl after sex, unless it was for a late night booty call, but he’d decided Ali was different. He wanted to take her out. And have sex with her again, of course. But treat her like he actually gave two shits. He hadn’t been with anyone since her, either. He could have if he wanted to, but he hadn’t.

Okay. That wasn’t totally true. He needed to get laid, to release some stress, but Veronica was keeping him busy finishing the conference room mural at Amped. She had a big meeting coming up for a new distribution partner and she needed the room finished. He’d been working almost round the clock. It kept him away from home, so that was a bonus.

“Will this be done by tomorrow, Riley?” Veronica’s voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“Relax, Veronica. I told you it would be done and I always keep my word,” he said, not bothering to look at her.

“Hmm.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Riley shook his head. She was still upset he’d ditched her on New Year’s Eve. He’d considered trying to make it up to her—right here on the conference room table—but had thought better of it. Her constant presence was kind of annoying. If she was pissed because he’d blown her off, then she’d be twice as pissed when he fucked her and never went back for seconds. He needed this job too much to mess it up by messing around with his boss. She’d just have to get over it.

But then again, he would do anything to make her less annoying than he already thought she was.

Dropping his paint brush, he sat in one of the plush chairs and took a deep breath. A headache was pushing in behind his eyes. He rubbed his hands over his face and yawned. He’d had enough torturing himself over the past couple of days with thoughts of Ali. There was no reason for it. He stood and dug his cell phone from his back pocket. Scrolling through until he found Ali’s number, he pressed it.

His heart raced and he paced the room as he waited for her to answer or for her voicemail to pick up. But neither of those things happened. Instead, he was directed to an automated recording stating the number was invalid. “What the fuck?” He yanked the phone from his ear and stared at the screen.

It must be a mistake. He tried again. Same message. He then memorized the numbers and entered them manually. Same thing. Riley scowled. She’d given him the wrong number! It was a trick he’d used on so many girls but this was the first time it had ever happened to him. And he was pissed! Why would she do that? He knew she’d enjoyed herself. She said so right before she left. So why on earth would she give him a wrong number? She should have at least done what he’s done several times before, given a real number, a number of one of his friends.

Well, that would teach him. It was probably for the best anyway. Ali wasn’t his type. Too goody two shoes. She was the kind of girl who would expect him to change, to become someone she wanted him to be, like a committed boyfriend trapped in a monogamous relationship. And he wasn’t going to change for her, or for anyone else for that matter. He sent a quick text to Jackson.
Trolling tonight. You coming?

There was an instant response:
You bet.
Jackson never missed a beat.

Riley smiled, tucked his phone away, and set back to finish painting the room. If he finished this today, he’d get paid and he could really use the money, especially knowing he planned to go out tonight.

As soon as Hilary left the room, Ali checked her cell phone again, hoping that Riley had called or texted. Each time she didn’t have something from him, her heart sank a little more. He had said he’d call. Why hadn’t he? She could hear Hilary saying, “All men say that bullshit and never follow through.”

And why did she have to wait another three full days to call him? It wasn’t fair. Ali seriously thought Hilary was crazy. Five days. All these dating rules were stupid.
Have I really been out of the game that long?

Of course, Ali and Riley weren’t dating. They’d had sex. That was it. All of this was new territory for Ali. She knew nothing of what was appropriate. Hilary did, though, so Ali had no choice but to heed her friend’s advice. Still. It sucked. Why did she set herself up and make herself so vulnerable to only be let down and once again feel like she had done something wrong?

“I’m really glad we did this,” Hilary said, returning to the living room and forcing Ali back to the present.

Ali smiled and looked around again. “Yeah, me too.” She tucked away her true feelings.

They’d spent every spare moment for the past two and a half days re-painting the walls, buying new decorations and furniture, and even new curtains. Before, they’d only had blinds on the windows. But Ali really liked the look of the curtains. It made the apartment look more girly. And it let the sun in. That was always a good thing. No matter how Ali felt, the sun always brightened up her day.

“I say we deserve a celebratory night out. Dinner and drinks?” Hilary wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m dying to try our fake IDs again. They worked so well for the party.”

Ali nodded. “They did. But I’m not sure we should try them at a restaurant. What if we get caught?”

Hilary huffed. “Lighten up. Wasn’t New Year’s incredible? The worst that will happen is they’ll take our IDs and make us leave. Big deal.”

Ali wasn’t so sure about that. She’d had a blast at the beach party but couldn’t they get arrested? Wouldn’t someone call their parents if they were caught? That thought made her shudder. She did not want her parents to find out what she’d been up to. Lying had never worked well for Ali. Somehow the truth always managed to fly off her tongue. They’d go nuts and would undoubtedly insist she move back home. No way.

Ali thought about it some more. She had already lost the security of having a solid boyfriend, no way was she going to lose her best friend too, all because she was scared of getting caught. Finally she relented. “Sure, why not, I guess.” Ali laughed. “I’m going to shower and change first, though.” She turned to go to the bathroom, checking her phone on the way.

“Don’t even think about calling him, Ali!”

“I’m not!” she called over her shoulder. Still no call from Riley. Ali sighed.

***

Hilary raised her strawberry daiquiri and grinned. “To brilliant ideas.” She laughed.

Ali clinked her glass to Hilary’s and took a long drink. It tasted really good, if not a little strong. “Mmm.” She licked her lips. “Yes, to good ideas and bad choices.” She winked, still in disbelief over the fact their fake IDs had actually worked. Not that she was complaining or anything, now that they had their drinks and there was clearly nothing to worry about.