Page 8 of Beautiful Broken Love

DEKE

I was a man born and bred in sunny Orlando, Florida, so you’d think I could call it home. The truth is, there was no better place for me to be than in Atlanta.

I’d signed on as a rookie to play for New York, but that only lasted me a year before I got traded to Memphis. It was hard for me to get along with the coaches at Memphis, so my agent found a home for me in Atlanta.

It’d been two years since signing with Atlanta, and after all the bouncing around prior, I felt I had to prove myself. Atlanta needed a shooting guard, and I was that guy. I took my training much more seriously and focused heavily on the fundamentals, while adding my own razzle-dazzle to it.

As soon as I signed, I knew Atlanta was the place to be. The team welcomed me with open arms, and I was cool with the majority of my teammates.

To put it simply, this city was my home. I had friends, a place to call mine, and passionate fans who loved me. Apart from my mama and my sisters, I’d never truly felt love in Orlando.

I dropped my keys off with the valet before heading toward my condo building. Justin, the doorman, put on a big grin when he spotted me. He was in his fifties, dark skin, salt-and-pepper beard. A man forever young in spirit.

“Deke Bishop is in the house!” he yelled, throwing both hands in the air.

I laughed as we clapped hands and bumped shoulders. “What’s going on, Justin? Your grandbaby still keeping you awake, man?”

“Every night. Swear my wife is about to strangle me because she can’t sleep. She’s the one who let our daughter move back in! She signed up for that, not me.” Justin laughed.

“You know what works? Flowers, man. Women love getting them for no reason.” According to Camille, anyway.

“I’ll have to bring some home for her. Oh, and just a heads-up. You’ve got company.” Justin gave me a look that said Sorry, man , and I sighed, throwing my head back and closing my eyes for a second.

When I lowered my chin, I released a slow sigh, thanked Justin, and made my way into the building.

I took the elevator up to my penthouse, but I didn’t have to unlock the door. It was already unlocked, which annoyed the hell out of me because she always left it unlocked.

The first thing I smelled when I walked inside was an overly sweet candy-scented perfume. I was growing to despise it. I dropped my bag by the door as Giselle walked around the corner in spiky heels and a ruby-red dress that hugged her body.

Giselle Grace, the woman everyone assumed was my girlfriend. That was a stretch by this point. Her red lips split apart as she smiled and placed a hand on her cocked hip. Zeke, my two-year-old Doberman pinscher, rushed around her, his paws tapping on the floors as he charged toward me.

“What’s up, man?” I bent over, scratching behind his ears, and as usual, Zeke flipped onto his back to show me his belly. “Damn, Zeke,” I laughed, giving him a rub. “Justin might be feeding you too much. Look at that belly.”

“Um, hello?” Giselle called.

I cut a glance at her before returning my attention to Zeke. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” she scoffed, her Caribbean accent thick. “Is that it?”

“Wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Well, I’m here, and I’m glad you made it back. I booked reservations for us at this new restaurant. Everyone says it’s really nice and it’s so aesthetic. You’ll love it.”

I stopped rubbing Zeke’s belly to stand up straight. “Giselle, I’m not in the mood to go anywhere. I just got back and wanna chill, to be honest with you. Plus, I’m working out with Javier tomorrow.”

“Well, it’s been a full week since I last saw you, Deke. Plus I ran out of pictures of us.” She put on a faux smile, and I blew a breath, peering out the wall of windows across the room.

I admit, when I first met Giselle, I found her sexy as hell. Every man in the world wanted her, and when she showed up at one of my games dressed in leather pants and a crop top to show off her tits, batting her long eyelashes at me, I could tell she wanted me. I wanted her, too ... but that was before I realized there was a catch with her.

This woman only wanted me for the attention it would bring her. Think of it as a gold digger, but for the media’s sake. She was so desperate for the public’s attention, always insisting that I kiss her during our outings or hug her a certain way when cameras were around.

She started showing up at some of my games wearing the most ridiculous outfits, to sponsor whatever designer was paying her. Suffice to say, I was over it real fucking quick.

She wasn’t an entirely bad person, which was why I had given her a key to my apartment early on. She would swing by between my home games so we could fool around, and then she’d leave.

Despite how superficial she was, it was nice spending time with someone rather than being alone and drowning in my thoughts. There was only so long I could be around her, though, and she could sense I was pulling away. I could see it in her eyes. Sadly, I didn’t care.

“Fine,” I mumbled. “Let me take a shower first.”

“’Kay. Hurry up, though. The reservation is in an hour.”

After showering, getting dressed, and posing in front of this snazzy new restaurant Giselle was so eager to go to, we were seated in a booth.

Pictures were taken by the other diners, and Giselle was aware. She had her back straight and was trying her hardest to be sexy for the “random” shots that’d float around on the internet.

In between her poses, Giselle talked about her schedule and how she had to fly to Paris for a fashion show. She was going to be there for two weeks. Good. I already needed the break, and we weren’t even an hour into dinner yet.

As she talked my head off about some makeup collection she wanted to launch, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, surprised to see a notification from Davina on Instagram.

I hurried to open the app.

Sorry for missing out on bar waters. Maybe another time?

Btw, I got a few pics of yours back from the shoot and they look really good.

Below her message were three photos of me posing with her products in my hand or on a stand next to me. There was one I particularly liked, where it looked like I was tossing a container of face cream in the air like it was a mini basketball aiming for a goal.

For the sake of skin care, they’d asked for a few shirtless shots, and this was one of them. The photo shoot was creative as hell and would make a splash. Gotta say, I never knew I could make skin care look so damn good.

“What are you smiling about?” Giselle’s high-pitched voice caused my smile to slip away.

I lifted my gaze and watched as she stabbed a fork into her seared chicken, her eyes on me.

“Nothing.” I shut the phone screen off, and as I dug into my chicken, too, I made a mental note to message Davina back as soon as this dinner was over.