Page 9 of The Foul Out

A high-pitched beep pierced my skull, and then the darkness under the blankets wasn’t so dark anymore. The asshole had opened my shades. Whatever the fuck time it was, it was tooearly. My alarm was set for nine, and it hadn’t chirped yet. Cam could fuck right off. I was tired. I’d fallen into bed sometime around three. Maybe four. Either way, it was still too damn early for my assistant to be yapping at me.

“You’re lucky it was Hannah and not your mother. I’m surprised she’s not blowing up your phone and lecturing you for acting like a jerk.”

I winced. If not for the fact that she and her best friend were on a cruise I’d sent them on, she would be screeching in my ear. “Lucky me,” I muttered.

The blankets were yanked away, and cool air washed over me. “Have a cup of the nectar of the gods. Then you’ll feel more like hearing me sing.”

I blinked at the brightness, wearing a scowl. I had no interest in being tortured with Cam’s singing, but the coffee he’d brought could never be the worst part of my day.

“You get this one fun cup. After, you’ll have to pretend to love dark roast, no whip, no sugar.” The fucker had a point. Only he knew I wanted all the fun shit. The guys would be relentless if they knew I preferred coffee that tasted more like a milkshake.

“Fine.” I reached for the coffee, my eyes still mostly closed.He better not be lying. The warm cardboard settling against my palm was a momentary relief. “Why are you here?” Propped up on one elbow, I lifted the cup to my mouth. I tried to keep my scowl going while the burst of yummy goodness hit my tongue, but as a plastic bag hit the side of my head, I couldn’t stop it anymore. “Aw, you brought M&M’s.”

“My little man always smiles for the baseball-colored candy.”

I might love it, but Cam was the one who bulk ordered them in the baseball design. He thought himself a comedian.

“I’m not ten,” I grumbled, even as I tore open the pack and dumped a few into my palm. One at a time, I tossed them into the air and caught them in my mouth.

“Says the man-child having whipped cream and chocolate for breakfast.”

He palmed my head, but before he could mess with my hair, I reeled back and batted at his hand.

“Don’t touch the hair.”

“You just woke up. How do you not have bedhead?”

“It’s a gift.” I tossed another candy into the air. “What’s with the candy and whipped cream? Are you here to bribe me?”

He propped himself up against my dresser, his own coffee sitting on its surface next to his hip. “Not me, man. Hannah.”

Eyes closed, I groaned. She hadn’t been thrilled with the statement I gave last night. And in the morning light, there was no way I could deny that I’d been an asshole. No one should be surprised by that, though. Least of all Hannah. I said dumb shit all the time.

“Moan all you want as long as you’re getting your ass out of bed and getting dressed. Car service will be here in”—he glanced at the silver watch on his wrist—“less than twenty.”

“Fucker,” I mumbled. No wonder he was dressed up. Normally, Cam drove me around in my Escalade, but when he wanted to make sure I got my ass in gear, he’d call the Revs car service. The asshole knew that if the car was on the way, I wouldn’t say no.

“It’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Smirking, he lifted his coffee into the air, then strode out of my room.

I tossed the covers off my legs and forced myself up. Fuck, I wanted to curse Cam again, but honestly, I couldn’t do life without the guy. I’d hired him as my assistant a few years ago, but since then, he’d become one of my best friends. Now he was my roommate, and he managed most aspects of my life. As annoying as he was, I couldn’t kick him to the curb. Something I reminded myself the entire way to the stadium as he laughed while showing me clip after clip of people calling me an asshole.

“Bosco.” Hannah snapped the second my ass hit the chair.

Head bowed, I rubbed my temples.

“Are you still drunk?”

“No.” I wasn’t drunk to begin with. I nursed beers and a bad attitude until I finally gave up and bowed out at the second club. “If you want to harp on someone, call Jasper. When I left the VIP area of Dreads, the kid was ten seconds away from pulling his dick out.”

Hannah gritted her teeth. “He’ll get his turn. But shockingly, our first baseman isn’t my biggest issue today.”

I rolled my eyes. Most of the media was bashing my statement. Not in Boston, though. Revs fans had my back. But around the rest of the sports world, as Cam had so cheerfully pointed out in the car on the way over, I was being called a jack wad. I got it. No one wanted some cute little redheaded kid to get smacked in the face. Even I could see that would have been a shit show.

Hannah slammed her hands onto her desk. “Are you even listening?”

I nodded, even though that wasn’t entirely true.

“Look at this.” She pointed a black remote at the screen behind me and another talking head appeared, throwing me and the Revs under the bus for once again showing how much we hated kids.

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