Page 14 of West Bound

“Fucking phenomenal,” was what he murmured before kissing my lips and opening the door, walking out into the world with his head held high and his shoulders wide.

I stood there for another few minutes fixing my dress and rubbing out my neck that was aching from the whiplash I had just endured. Physically and metaphorically. I swiped under my eyes in case my tears of disappointment left any streaks, then I walked out, went straight to valet and called my girls to let them know about the worst sex of my life.

“Too busy to meet me at the Westin after this?” he whispers into my ear, bringing me out of my traumatizing flashback.

I shiver and I’m sure he thinks I’m turned on by the idea when in reality, I am utterly repulsed by the mere thought of having sex with him again.

I clear my throat and stare straight ahead. “I wish I could but I have an exclusive with Phoenix West after this.”

“You what?” he gasps. “But I’m the sports writer. How did you get an exclusive before me?”

The way he says ‘you’ has me snapping like a dead branch under a bear's paw. “Okay, listen here Stabby McStaberson.” I turn my body to face him and feel my face turn pink from anger.

“Stabby McStaberson?” he repeats, like a fucking parrot.

“Yeah. You know. Jab jab, stab stab.” I jam two fingers into the hole I make with my other hand, mimicking what he did to my poor vagina.

The fucker actually looks pissed. Surely some woman along the way told him that he was going to town like a serial killer stabbing at his victims. Because that was what we are. Victims of a senseless crime against vaginas. Pussy stabbings, is what they are.

“Just because I’m a woman, “ I continue. “Doesn’t mean I play second fiddle to egotistical, chauvinistic men like you. I worked my damn ass off to get to where I am, and I’ll be damned if you demean my success because I’m a woman. And unlike you, I didn’t sleep my way to the top.”

“Yeah. Right,” he snorts.

I stick a finger in his face and feel eyes start to turn in our direction. “I have a strict no eating where I shit policy, and the men at my station are completely off-limits. I doubt you, on the other hand, can say the same. And I can only imagine that those women only passed you along for fear that you’d want to continue to defile their poor vaginas with your jackhammering. I got an exclusive because I know him from college. Not because I slept with him or any other person to get ahead, no pun intended. I earned it, goddammit.”

I huff out a hot breath and spin in my seat, leaving him with his jaw hanging open. I witness a few men trying to quiet their laughter, and a couple women give me a small, standing ovation. Apparently there were some of Jonathan’s victims amongst the crowd today.

My eyes flash up to the small stage and notice Phoenix staring at me with slightly miffed curiosity. I roll my eyes because the last thing I need is another man thinking a woman has no place in the sports world. Especially from someone like him.

“So what was all that about with you and Jonathan Meyers?” CeCe asked after the room had emptied out and it was just her and I.

“Ugh,” I huffed. “He was trying to take another stab at me, literally, then got pissed when he found out I got the first exclusive with Phoenix instead of him. He had the nerve to think it was because I slept with that asshole.”

“Jackass,” she mumbles.

“Who? Phoenix or Jonathan?”

“Both of them. All of them.” She throws her hands up and waves them around to indicate that no man is free from the assumption.

“Things not going so well with the Italian Stallion?”

“Shut up. Don’t call him that, and no. Things are not going well. He snapped his fingers at me, Viv. Snapped. Like I’m a fucking dog. And the worst part is that it made me tingle from my toes to my titties.”

I laugh then squeeze my lips together when she shoots me daggers with her eyes.

“Cecilia,” a deep, accented voice barks. “I need you to come with me.”

We look up and see Luca standing to the side of the stage that is being disassembled with Phoenix wearing an equally hard edged expression next to him.

“Yes sir,” CeCe replies and I watch as Luca’s pupils dilate and nostrils flare.

These two are totally bumping fuzzies by the end of the week.

I walk softly, trailing behind CeCe, until I stand shoulder to shoulder with her. Well, not shoulder to shoulder. It’s more like shoulder to boobs.

“Mr. Amato. Thank you, again, for the interview. I look forward to speaking to you in the future…once the Wranglers win the World Series.” I flash him my most winning journalistic smile.

“Ah, yes. Let’s hope. Nice meeting you as well, Vivian. I’m sure we will meet again.” He dips his chin then points his gaze at CeCe.

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