Page 7 of Free Agent

It just didn’t make me feel any less like fucking stabbing my fiancé.

But I had to press on.

TWO

AURORA

I decided against my available option of being driven to the game by a chauffeur. I didn’t feel like being treated like some precious cargo, surrounded by security and assistants and whoever else. All that shit only made me more conspicuous, which I hated, and besides that… it was incongruous with messy ass headlines.

I didn’t feel like pretending today.

I did take a nice ass vehicle though. I pulled up to the security gate at Stellar Stadium’s private lot in a matte black luxury Jeep, flashing an ID and a smile that made the guard do a double take.

Shit.

My heart sank as I realized he not only recognized me as more than just a name on the VIP list, but he was about to make it a thing.

I didn’t need a thing.

“Ay, you think you could get Monty to sign something for me?” he asked, finger poised over the button to open the gate, but not pressing it, because why would he care that I didn’t need a thing right now?

It wasn’t his fault.

Wasn’t his problem.

As such, I kept my smile plastered on. “Well, he is a man of the people, so I don’t see why not. I’ll tell him he should come to a game to see you, okay?” I said, doing my best to let that smile come through in my tone.

“Thank you, thank you.” He grinned, peeking over his partition like he was trying to get a better look at me. “You wanna know something? You a fine motherfucker, girl. Them niggas online was saying you probably not that bad in person, and that’s why Monty be running around with Yams.”

I frowned, for so many reasons, but mostly… “Yams?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Yams. Cause that’s his side piece, and she got that wago?—”

“You know what,” I interrupted, shaking my head.

Fuck being pleasant.

“I really should get in here, the game will be starting soon…”

“Oh yeah fa sho,” he said, then hit the button to engage the gate. “They really don’t make ’em like you no more, do they?”

If I ram the gate while it’s opening, would it mean a little less damage to the car?

“Monty knew he had a good one who would stick beside him, you know. It really takes?—”

Okay fuck the car.

“You have a good night!” I called over whatever nonsense was still spilling from his mouth, just barely clearing the gate with either side of my car. Luckily, the valet wasn’t nearly as talkative, nor was the security guard who put the wristband on that gave me clearance to access my courtside seats.

My phone buzzed in the tiny purse I’d had to hand over to be searched at the security booth before I was paired with a different guard to walk me through the tunnels to the court access area.

It was Sierra.

Please tell me you’re not bailing on me – S. Ward

Nooo! Literally walking in right now. I texted back, sticking the phone back into my purse as we cleared the tunnel, onto the brightly lit court.

It was already loud, but got immediately louder as soon as I was in the open expanse, nothing blocking the cacophony of excitement from the fans of the Blackwood Brawlers.

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