Page 30 of Roughing the Player
“But not the same bed.” Gotta make things crystal clear before he gets the wrong idea. “It’s a two-bedroom condo, Brock. I’ll be in one, you’ll be in the other. Privacy shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound like he wants privacy.
Tough. I’m willing to share the condo, but I’m not jumping into his bed. “I’ll be here Monday through Friday. Go home on weekends. Days, you’ll be at the Outlaws’ compound. I’ll be at work. We’ll only run into each other at night. Saturday and Sunday, you’d have the place to yourself.”
“Sounds like you’ve worked everything out.”
“I try.”
“Only one problem with your plan. I’m bound to run into people. In the elevator. The parking lot. What if somebody recognizes me?”
“Not if you adopt a disguise.”
“A disguise?” He scoffs.
“Yes. I got you a wig. Dark, shaggy hair. You’ll have to wear sunglasses and a hoodie.”
“It’s eighty degrees out there. They’ll think I’m out to rob them, for fuck’s sake. And why would I wear sunglasses at night?”
“Because that’s what cool people do?” I venture.
“Ellie. Be serious,” he says in a not unkind tone.
“I am. Look, you’ll be leaving at the crack of dawn, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Nobody will be out that early in the morning. Even if they are, they’ll be half asleep. Chances are they won’t notice you.”
“You do know I’m six four and weigh 210? And my face has been plastered all over the news? How the hell do you think nobody will recognize me?”
“You wear your wig and sunglasses and keep your hoodie over your head, and they’ll ignore you. If someone’s stupid enough to comment, mumble ‘hangover.’ They’ll leave you alone after that.”
“And in the evening?”
“Keep your head down. If anybody gets in the elevator with you, get off a couple of floors up and walk down.”
“Not sure that’s going to work, sweetheart.”
I ignore the sweetheart bit, seeing how I’m trying to convince him to go along with my plan. “Do you have any other suggestions?”
He thinks about it for a little bit. “Maybe I could find another place, fully furnished.”
“You could. But there aren’t any closer to the Outlaws’ facility. Believe me, I looked.”
“Somewhere farther away then.”
“You’d spend an hour or more in traffic. Each way. Chicago traffic is a bear. Do you really want to spend all that time on the road, especially after a long day of training?”
He tangles a hand through his sandy blond mane. “No.”
I know that gesture. It means he’s considering my argument, or at least listening to it. So I press on. “I know this is not the best situation, but it will only be for a little while. If you’re worried about me cramping your style, don’t worry. I won’t.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t mind sharing the condo with you.”
I thought that would be his number one objection. After all, he can’t bring his honeys or chicks to his pad if I’m here. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I want to come and go as I please, not play incognito like some cheap character in a bad spy movie. Is that so hard to understand?”
