Page 7

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HOMIES RESURRECTED

Jack

W e’re long past wheat fields.

In fact, the farther we travel east, the worse my day gets.

It started out with one picture.

One viral picture of Brett Sullivan who looked nothing like the all-American golden boy I represent.

I saw his potential. The agent he signed with right out of the gate was shit. I’ve already renegotiated his contract and was about to make him a much richer man with the long list of companies who were salivating to get him to sign with them.

And when my clients become richer, so do I.

But that was yesterday.

I’ve spent the last four hours doing everything I can to salvage those deals.

I thought it was miserable working for the firm before I went out on my own.

That was bad, but this is hell.

And I know why Brett says he has no idea what happened, because none of it makes sense.

Drugs—and not the mild shit that’s legal in small doses. The hardcore shit that is very illegal in all fifty states and around most of the world for that matter.

Women—plural. Not illegal, especially not in Vegas if there’s a tab at the end of the night. But they are fucking toxic when it comes to Sullivan’s image.

Finally, guns—lots of them. And not the legal kind. Especially not guns that any American can get a license for.

When it comes down to it, I’m a salesman. I wheel and deal for a living. I’m one hundred percent personality and lip service. Sure, I count on my good looks to get me through the door, but after that I need to convince them— them being the world around me—to do what I want.

What I am not is a gun guy.

But from the viral picture from hell, even I can see some of the guns surrounding Brett are not legal.

Drugs. Women. Weapons.

A triple whammy. Brett doesn’t even have a manager. He’s never needed one. When he’s not playing football, practicing football, farming his family’s land, or putting kids through college…

Well, I’m not sure what else he does, but it’s so fucking wholesome, it doesn’t require a manager to keep his shit straight.

He can do that all on his own.

All he has is me—a pissed off agent who hung his hat and reputation on a star player who was supposed to be my golden ticket to the next level.

Hell, I’m about to sign an up-and-coming pitcher from Texas based on what I’ve done for Sullivan. I just leveled up, and this could implode my reputation and entire business right along with Brett’s.

Not that it’s all about me. I’m not that much of a selfish asshole. I like Brett and give a shit about what happens to him.

Not just one.

Many, many shits.

It is why I left Pike.

I told Emma I have a plan, which I do.

It sucks, but it’s a plan.

My phone vibrates where it’s sitting on the wide armrest. I stopped scrolling social media an hour ago. It was like watching my career slowly spiral down a dirty gas station shitter.

I can’t do anything until I land anyway, so I’m choosing to ignore it. I need a mental break and decide to take it. Besides, Emma curled into herself to fit across her seat and mine.

During the entire flight, she’s slept in so many various positions, I had no idea anyone could fit in a first-class seat in so many different ways. Her head is now resting on my lap so close to my dick, I’ve had to adjust myself twice and had a long conversation with the guy downstairs that he had his moment last night. I need him to cooperate until I fix my professional drama so I can get back to the drama with my best friend’s little sister.

I can’t even think about the drama this will lead to with Levi.

But that one notification turns into a chain of them so demanding, there’s no way I can ignore them.

I sigh when I glance at the screen.

I should’ve guessed.

A text string that isn’t used much anymore, but every once in a while, someone resurrects it, even though I was the one who created it back in the day.

The Homies—a group of friends from high school. Collectively we could not be more different, but teenage drama had a way of bonding us back in the day and it never broke. Levi, Carissa, Cade, and Mason.

Levi married Carissa when they were so young, it was on the verge of creepy. Okay, that’s only a slight exaggeration, but seriously, who gets married before the legal drinking age? She wasn’t even pregnant nor were they in a cult, which are the only acceptable reasons to get married that young. But then again, Levi Hollingsworth was born with the maturity of a middle-aged man as opposed to yours truly, whose maturity level is still questionable every third week of the month.

Cade Collins is Carissa’s twin and might be smarter than Levi. So smart, I’m not sure what he actually does for a living. Every time he tries to explain it to me, I zone out and start to wonder about the weather. All I know is he makes a shit ton of money to make sure corporations are safe from hackers. He lives behind a computer screen in Boston and only comes back to Virginia when Carissa puts her foot down and demands twin time.

Mason Schrock might be the glue that holds our weird group together. He moved back to his family farm when his parents decided to retire where they could plant their asses in the sand and toes in the water year-round. Mason married a Virginia Tech cheerleader he met in college. He sat front and center at every football game of the student section for Enter Sandman, and not because he loved football.

He just loved her.

It took until his junior year to make an impression, but now he’s married to his redhead bombshell, Jessica. She even agreed to live the farm life with Mason when his parents gave him the farm. They have one kid with another on the way.

But the kicker is, they’re famous—and not because the strait-laced, slightly-nerdy-nice guy landed the flexible hottie.

No, they are riding the coattails of their famous chickens.

So famous, Mason and Jessica Schrock retired from their D.C. corporate jobs for a slower life in the country, but thanks to the viral chickens, they’re documenting their lives for millions of nosy fuckers all around the world. Mason has put his computer science brain to work on the algorithms. He’s made “nice guy” cool again and brought back flannel shirts and cargos. They’re making bank on product partnerships and even started their own line of candles, each scent named after a different chicken.

They don’t even need someone like me to help them get endorsements. Companies are knocking on their door, waiting in line to shovel money in their bank accounts to get in on the action.

My friends are thriving, as opposed to me who’s sitting in first class at thirty thousand feet hoping I make it to next week. I have a huge mortgage and an assisted living facility to fund.

Yeah, the Homie thread is hopping.

This is not what I need right now.

Mason – I can’t believe it’s taken this long, so if you jerks are talking on the side and not including me in the drama, then we’re going to have words at the birthday party. I know you’re all busy. Heck, we’re in the middle of a chicken condominium reno and need to get the heat on before the next snow, but I’ll be the first to bite. Jack, what happened to your client? Did Brett Sullivan lose his mind last night?

Carissa – Thank you for breaking the ice, Mason! We all want to know. You’d better spill, Jack.

Levi – I’m in the clinic today, and everyone is buzzing about it. It’s bigger news than the last-minute win. But can we talk about that dive into the endzone? Maybe Sullivan took a hit last night and no one knows. If you need me to examine him, I’ll fit him into my schedule.

Cade – I’m in over my head with a deadline that was due last week. I have no idea what anyone is talking about.

Mason – At least Cade hasn’t left me out of the loop. I can always count on him. Thanks, man.

Carissa – Cade never watches the news and is allergic to social media. He wouldn’t even know about your chickens if it weren’t for me. I should’ve filled you in when the story broke, bro. Sorry.

Cade – What story?

Levi – I told the staff that I have an in. I need to come through for them, Jackie.

Mason – Spill, Hale. We know you’re never an arm’s length from your phone. You’re worse than me.

Levi – I’ll ask Emma. She’ll answer. Brett seemed to be into my sister in a big way after the game. Maybe she has an in…

Fuck that.

Brett has nothing to do with Emma and never will.

Carissa – Oh my gosh, can you imagine? Everyone is talking about the interview and wants to know everything there is to know about the new-girl sports reporter. I’ve seen tons of chatter about her and Brett.

Damn. I’m usually the one demanding information. It’s not fun to be on the hotseat with The Homies.

They brought their A-game today.

Carissa – Jack, we know you’re here. You’re always here. We want answers.

If I don’t answer, they’ll never stop. I refuse to be the reason the chickens freeze to death. They’ll kick me out of the club.

I type with one thumb since my other hand is securely planted on Emma’s ass. I do not plan to move it until we touch down in the Commonwealth.

Me – You fuckers are demanding. I’ll tell you what I can so you can get back to babies, chickens, hackers, and saving lives. Sullivan’s brain is just fine. Something went down that isn’t what it looks like. I’m working on damage control. But if there’s one thing I know, Brett and Emma are not a thing. There. You can get back to your lives now.

Mason – Whoa. That’s it?

Carissa – That can’t be it.

Cade – He said what he said. I don’t have time for this.

Levi – Defensive much?

Carissa – You’re treating us like the media.

Mason – Exactly. We’re not TMZ. We’re The Homies—Homies for life. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who made us swear to it back in the day, and you’re going to hold out on us?

Me – I’m not holding out on anyone. Brett is in Florida with a mouse who’s only slightly more popular than Mason’s chickens these days. I know what you know, but I do know it’s not what it looks like.

Me – And what the fuck? I thought you were my friends. You should be more worried about my career than my client’s. Thanks for having my back. Homies for life, my firm, rock-hard ass. Bounce a quarter off it—I dare you.

Cade – Deflecting with his own ass … Jack is always upping his game. Never saw that coming.

Mason – He hasn’t let himself go. Maybe I need to install a home gym this year. My workout is working on the farm, but I’m not sure Jessica could bounce a quarter off my butt. Now I have new goals.

Carissa – Can we stop talking about everyone’s asses?

Cade – Remember Jasmine? Now that was an ass.

Mason – Rest in peace, Jasmine. She lived a long life with the goats.

Me – Everyone loved Jasmine. She could’ve been as famous as your chickens. Daddy Asa and Keelie really missed the boat on that one.

Carissa – Would you please stop referring to my father-in-law as “Daddy?” It gives me the ick so hard.

Me – He’s the ultimate Daddy. But I guess Levi’s your Daddy now.

Carissa – Stop. Just stop.

Cade – I just threw up.

Mason – And Jack is the ultimate deflector. We still don’t know what happened to Brett. But we do care about your career. Sorry you’re going through this. Levi, text Emma.

I have more important things to attend to at the moment. I need to be done with this.

Me – I shit you not—you know what I know, and I’m not happy about it. Once I get home, I’ll get to the bottom of this. When I find out, you and your fluffy friends will be halfway down my list to tell. I do not have the energy to stroke egos today.

Cade – With the words ass, Daddy, and stroking tossed into the convo, I’m out. If anyone can manage drama, it’s Jack. Good luck. But if you need someone to break into a system for old time’s sake…

Carissa – Shut your mouth, Cade. We’re not doing that again.

Mason – Wow. It just got real.

Me – I might need to call you off the bench, Cade. Your mad skills could come in handy. Appreciate you.

Carissa – Nope. Not happening.

Cade – Good times.

Carissa – Scary times.

Cade – I’m out—putting you on do not disturb.

Mason – I’m not sure I want to know if Jack puts Cade in the game…

Me – If it comes to that, you’ll all know. Until then, keep my career in your thoughts. I have a grandmother who likes her butter cookies and buying shoes.

Levi – Emma isn’t answering, guys.

Me - I’m pulling a Cade and putting you on do not disturb. Peace out, Homies.

I’ve had enough. I drop my cell into the cup holder and return my attention to the woman on my lap who I grew up with. After last night, friend is the last category I want to be lumped into when it comes to Emma.

I need to fix the drama with my biggest client not only to save my career, but so I can focus on her.

I put the Homies out of my mind and return my energy to getting my client and my business back on the straight and narrow.

I’ve come up with something so brilliant, I even surprised myself.

“Hey.” I bop the tip of Emma’s nose with my index finger. “Wake up, you little narcoleptic beauty.”

She doesn’t open her eyes but bats my hand away like I’m a pesky fly.

I’ve never seen anyone sleep in such contorted positions.

“Emma,” I call louder over the hum of the jet engines. “Open your eyes. We need to talk.”

She stretches and lets out a little moan that reminds me of all the ways I made her moan last night.

I need to build more of that into my plan.

Her dark lashes flutter open and sleepy brown eyes gaze up at me. She unbuckled somewhere over Kentucky and twisted so her head rests on my lap.

She yawns. “Did you call me a narcoleptic?”

I brush the dark hair from her face. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em. Normal people don’t sleep like this on planes.”

She rubs her eyes. “Maybe not where the commoners fly. This is first class. What else am I supposed to do with all this space?”

I trace her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “I can think of more titillating activities than sleeping.”

She pulls my hand away from her face and holds it between her tits over her heart. “Just when I think I know you, you say things like titillating.”

I force my hand open and drag my fingers over her nipple. “I like titillating you.”

“There’s the Jack I know.” She pulls my hand back to her heart. “Are we over Kansas already?”

“I let you sleep all the way home. We have about forty minutes until we land.”

Her eyes widen, and she pushes to her ass. “You let me sleep the entire time? Thank you.”

“I might go cross-eyed I have to go to the bathroom so bad, but anything for you.”

“I appreciate it.” She digs in her backpack until she produces a box of mints. She pops one in her mouth before offering another to me.

“Speaking of bathrooms, we still have time for me to rock your world at thirty thousand feet.”

She rolls her eyes and settles back into her seat. “As good as you think you are, there’s no number of orgasms that would make me forget about the germs.”

I shift in my seat to face her. “Then door number two, it is. When we land, we’re going straight to my place.”

She hikes a brow. “That’s awfully presumptuous. Sorry, no can do. My dad is picking me up from the airport. I’m sure he’s already on his way. I might not be in high school anymore, but I’m still not anxious to tell my dad to turn around and go home so I can shack up with Levi’s friend again. That will make dinnertime straight up weird.”

“Look at who’s being presumptuous now. If you want to hit it real quick, you’re going to have to take me up on it before we land. That’s not why you’ll drop all your immediate plans and tell Daddy Asa to turn around and go back to the boonies.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because we need each other. And when I say need each other , I mean in every way … professionally and carnally.”

She frowns but doesn’t question the carnally part.

I lean in and take up half the space of her pricey seat. “Our lives are on the brink. Your career might’ve been jump-started by the flu, but you said yourself you’ll be demoted back to high school sports. I was about to become a quick multi-millionaire the moment Brett Sullivan signed the deals I’ve been working night and day on since he got his chance to shoot his shot. Not only that, but I have potential clients I’m about to sign that might walk on me if I don’t get this shit sorted.”

She swipes her thick, dark hair on top of her head and wraps it in a high messy do. It’s sexy as fuck. I can’t wait to wrap it around my fist again while I’m balls deep inside her. “It sucks for both of us. But there’s nothing you can do to protect me from the mean ladies at the station, and there’s really nothing I can do to save your millions. If I could do that, I’d be cashing in myself and not spending my evenings in high school gyms that smell like dirty jock straps.”

“That’s a shame,” I say. “Even back in the day, I perfected the art of a good manscape and knew the need for deodorant.”

A smile touches her lips.

“As you know since you couldn’t keep your hands off my cleanly shaved balls last night.”

“And what does your perfected art of manscaping have to do with my career and your millions that are on the line?”

I reach up to tag her around the neck and pull her the rest of the way to me. I lower my voice to barely a whisper when my lips brush the lobe of her ear that I very much liked the taste of last night and tell her my plan. It’s my best bet at the moment, and one I know that will have her salivating the way she did when she saw me naked last night for the first time. “I can land you the interview everyone in the country wants at the moment. You won’t have to do a thing besides show up.”

Emma jerks back far enough so I see nothing but her sharp dark eyes. “What are you saying?”

I tell her exactly what’s going to happen, because it’s the only path to fixing what Brett Sullivan somehow managed to fuck up last night. “I’m saying I can get you the exclusive interview that will make all the bitches at your studio green with envy. Your producers will drop to your feet with gratitude. Your ratings will soar. And it will all be because of you.”

Her eyes flare. “And what do you want in return?”

“I see I have your attention. The only thing I want in return is for Brett to be able to tell his side of the story, and for you to spend the night.”

Her frown returns in an instant. “No way. I’m not going to just let him say what he wants and not ask any questions. I might be a reporter, but I’m also not an idiot and that’s how I’ll look if I give him an avenue to spew his side of things without pressing him for answers that the world wants.”

“Then press him. He’ll only tell you what he knows, which is what I need to happen. But I need it to happen in an environment where the press isn’t chasing him down the street screaming demands at him. I need him calm, cool, and controlled when he tells his side of the story. I do not need agitated and panicked news clips going viral around the world.”

She lifts a finger to poke me in the chest. “I will not allow you to use my position or manage me.”

I knew this was going to happen. Emma might be a beautiful face and a reporter, but she’s certainly not stupid and she’s not a pushover. She got over that back in high school. “Look, I need you, Em. And if you want to capitalize on your big break yesterday, you need me. The last thing I want is the world coming at my client for some pushover PR stunt. I don’t need this interview to look legit—I need it to be legit. Do your job, ask your questions, but be fair.”

She pulls in a deep breath and thinks about it for a moment. “You could offer this to anyone in the world. Why me?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes, Jack. It makes no sense why you’d offer this to me right now instead of the top sports reporter in the country.” She leans in closer and glances between the seats at the old bitty behind us before adding, “Unless you’re just trying to get in my pants again.”

I can’t help it. It’s been since before we fell asleep last night since I’ve tasted her. I take advantage of the space she just erased between us and drag my tongue up the column of her neck before sucking the skin behind her ear. “Baby, I got in your pants last night on pure charm and wit. I plan on doing it again very soon and don’t need to resort to blackmail to see your clothes on the floor.”

She puts a hand on my chest and gives me a push so we’re nose to nose. “That’s a definite no-go since I’m staying with Dad and Keelie. Saylor is still in high school. Despite the fact they still can’t keep their hands off each other, they do keep a PG home.”

“Oh, it’ll be my floor, Emma. And I can’t wait.”

“Let’s get back to Brett Sullivan. If you’re not trying to get into my pants, then why would you hand over an opportunity like this to me?”

I cock my head to the side and wonder if she has amnesia. “For someone who works in the news, you sure don’t keep up on things. The video of you racing onto the field to get to Brett has only slightly fewer views than theone of my clientwith a shit ton of drugs, guns, and prostitutes. The very one where he picked you up and swung you around like you were the stars of some sappy Hallmark moment reenacted in real life. You are the obvious choice.”

She bites her lip like she’s actually considering my Hail Mary plan to save my ass, my client, and to throw her a bone in the process.

“Say yes,” I demand. “You have nothing to lose—unlike me, who stands to lose everything.”

Her expression falls. “Will you really lose everything? Stop being all Jack Hale for a second and tell me the truth.”

“Fuck, yes. And it’s going to happen in a nanosecond if I don’t do something about it. Not only me, but Brett Sullivan is not an asshole. He doesn’t dabble in drugs, and the only gun he owns is the one he went hunting with as a kid. I know this because we’ve talked about it. He blew up overnight and has little to no security to speak of. He still lives in a rented condo he signed for on the fly when he moved to town.”

The pilot breaks through our negotiations to announce our descent. She sits back in her seat again to stare out the window.

“Em.” Everything about her is familiar yet so fucking new, my blood rushes south at the thought of her and me. “Please. This is a no-lose situation for you. Tell everyone at the station you reached out to Brett and got the interview on your own. Beyond that, it’s all you. This is the right thing to do. He’s a good guy. Someone set him up, and he needs to clear his name. I trust you to be fair.”

“Of course, I’ll be fair,” she spouts quickly before closing her eyes on an exhale. She rubs her eyes before muttering, “How did I go from chasing tornadoes to star quarterbacks?”

I pull her hand away from her face and wrap it in mine. “You’re a fucking rockstar.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never been a rockstar, and you know it.”

I do what I’ve wanted to do since she boarded the plane and sat her fine ass next to mine. I lean in and press my lips to hers. When she doesn’t pull away, I slip my tongue between her lips to deepen the kiss. When I let her up for a breath, I tell her the truth. “Yeah, you’re a fucking rockstar, and I’m going to make sure the rest of the world knows it.”

I feel a jab from behind, and the old lady spouts over the noise of the landing gear, “Can you not wait until we’re off the plane?”

We both ignore her.

I stare into Emma’s eyes. “What do you say? Are you going to capitalize on my spiraling career as a sports agent?”

She doesn’t move from my hold. “Do you mean am I going to save you and your client’s ass?”

“I always knew you loved my ass.”

She pulls that lip I’m becoming obsessed with between her teeth again before relenting to me and my every desire. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

I lean in and press my lips to hers again to seal the deal.

Well, maybe not my every desire. She hasn’t agreed to spend the night with me yet.

Ask me twenty-four hours ago what my desires were, and the answer would’ve been my bottom line.

Now that’s a tie with Emma Hollingsworth.

And Emma might be pulling ahead in the race.

I need to get Brett’s shit figured out so I can figure out how to make this thing with her more than a one-night hook-up in Sin City.

I have a feeling a normal old plan isn’t going to cut it.

I’m going to need a whole fucking playbook to make sure this doesn’t blow up in my face.

One thing I know for certain, Emma is coming home with me so I can get this shit going.