Page 65 of West Bound

If I am the queen of wet willies and name calling, then CeCe is the queen of coming up with stories that make the gullible fall at her feet.

“You got us, boys. You have seen us before. We do porn.”

The smart guy wearing the beanie inside of a bar in August stands frozen for a moment before a wide, excited smile grows. His buddy that stands behind him has his mouth hanging open and I see him cover his crotch with his hand.

Gross.

Beanie guy begins to sputter like an old car trying to chug its way up a hill when a large body pushes him aside. Make that three large bodies.

Phoenix slides into the booth next to me and throws his arm over my shoulder, whispering, “hi, Peaches,” before kissing me stupid.

Damn this stupid jerk and his gorgeous face and talented tongue.

“Holy shit! You’re Phoenix West. A-and Tuck Williams. Philomento Rodriguez. You guys were freaking awesome tonight. Congrats on the win.” Mr. Beanie baby–sounds good to me–starts fangirling all over Phoenix and Tuck, totally forgetting about me and my porn co-star.

“Thanks,” Phoenix says, shaking the overly enthused guy's hand.

The guy gives Phoenix’s hand two more hard shakes, then just stands there holding his hand like a high school girl and with hearts in his eyes. Tuck scoots next to CeCe, mirroring Phoenix, and Philo, the left fielder, grabs a chair from a nearby table and pulls it up to the end of ours and sits. And still, beanie man holds Phoenix’s hand.

Struggling a bit, he finally frees himself from the kidnapper grip the guy has on him. “We’re just here to celebrate with our girls, so…”

“Oh, yeah. Right. For sure. Um, so freaking cool to meet you. And you too, ladies. I’ll be on the lookout for your latest movie,” he says with a wink then walks away with his crotch grabbing friend in tow.

“Your latest movie?” Tuck asks with a furrowed brow.

“The creeper said we looked familiar, so I told him it was because we do porn,” CeCe states very matter of factly.

Philo chokes, Tuck barks out a loud laugh, and Phoenix's hand that rests on the table curls into a fist.

“Fucking brilliant,” Philo snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.”

“Good one, CeCe. I’m getting a drink. Anyone else?” Tuck asks and scoots out of the booth.

Philo stands and follows right behind him. “I’ll come with you. Nix, want anything?”

“Just water,” he grunts out like a caveman.

The men walk away and CeCe stares at me, then Phoenix, then me, then says, “I’m going to the restroom.”

“I’ll come wi-” I try to say, but a large hand keeps me planted right where I’m at.

“No. You stay. I’ll be right back.” CeCe walks away before I can climb over this mountain sitting next to me, and I’m left all alone with what appears to be an irate Phoenix.

My fingers tap on the table and I chew my lip, waiting for Sir Grumps-a-lot to speak. It doesn’t take long for him to cool down enough to open his mouth without fire blasting out of it.

“I’m ready to get outta here. Are we going back to your place?”

“Um, well…I kinda thought we’d just hang out here for a bit and then I’d go home and you'd…go..to yours.”

He tips his head to one side like he doesn’t understand what I said and is processing it. “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. We’ll go to your place since we don’t have to worry about paps outside.”

“Phoenix, I–”

“Hey, sexy. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you.” God must be sitting back with a bucket of popcorn and waiting for the train crash, because an old hookup comes walking up to the table like this giant baseball star isn’t sitting right next to me.

“Garrett…hey,” I say with a shaky voice. “How’s it going?”

“Good, now that I spotted you. You, uh, got any plans after this? Wanna come back to my place?”

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