Page 2 of The Playboy’s Playbook

Chapter One

MATT

Present

I fucking love mornings.

Ever since I started working in construction, I’ve come to appreciate the early mornings and dread the late nights. This is the total opposite of younger Matt.

Back then, I would dread waking up in the morning to go to school, but I came alive at night, especially on Fridays when it was gameday. There was something about the crowd cheering on the team as we scored touchdown after touchdown that got me hyped. But those days, the “glory days,” are over.

The real world and adulthood hit me real fast after graduation.

My alarm blares in the trailer, almost shaking the entire thing.

The trailer is usually where the foreman sleeps, but since he’s my best friend, and has two kids to take care of, he lets me crash here from time to time when he heads home.

Normally, I’m sleeping in the comfort of a hotel room or my apartment, but work has been crazy lately.

I hop into the shower and let the lukewarm water run over my body. Once I’m done, I put on my work clothes, which are a pair of rugged denim work pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt.

I throw on my square-toed work boots and my vest before grabbing the trailer keys and my hard hat and make my way to the food center, a.k.a. the makeshift tent the guys and I put up in a secluded corner on the far side of the site.

Just as I walk up to the tent, I can see that the crew has already torn through half of the pile of biscuits and emptied an entire jug of orange juice.

I feel bad for the boys coming in later this morning –with the way this crew eats, it’ll be a miracle if there’s half a biscuit and a drop of juice left.

“Thanks, Dad,” I joke as I walk up behind Luke and pat him on the back before taking a seat at the end of the table.

“Fuck off, Foster,” Luke gripes in response.

“How were the boys this morning? Is Clay ready to tackle the scary world of summer school?” I ask, taking a bite of my biscuit. Luke lets out a heavy sigh as he sits down at the head of the table, rubbing his hands through his dark beard.

“Well, for the first day, the teacher decided to make it career day. I thought it was odd to have career day in the middle of the summer, but apparently it’s for the kids to learn about different professions and then at the end of the program, they’re going to put on some show that explains what they learned and why they want to be in that career,” Luke explains.

“That’s a bit much for a bunch of six-year-olds. I bet he was excited, though,” I reply before taking a sip of water.

“Of course he was. When he told me about it, he said that he wanted to be a construction worker. I ordered him some construction gear and arranged my schedule so I could go and tell his class about construction. So last night when I asked him if he was excited about me speaking to his class, and you know what he said?”

I look at Luke and shrug my shoulders, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night, he told me he wanted to be a seashell,” Luke says, disappointment written all over his face.

It takes everything in me to not laugh because that sounds like Clay. He’s a funny kid, only being six. His little brother, Jensen, is equally hilarious because no one can ever tell what that kid’s gonna say.

“Oh, I’m not done. Jen couldn’t sleep last night, so I told him he could sleep in my room.

He was down for about five minutes before he decided that at eleven o’clock he wanted to play some game called ‘The Floor is Lava.’ I don’t know where he got the idea from.

He’s only four and can barely form a full sentence most days. ”

I chuckle and take a sip of my orange juice, wiping my mouth before answering. “He got the game from me. When I watched them a while back, they were restless, so I told them we could play it. I didn’t think he’d remember it. He has the memory of an ant.”

Luke glares at me, blinking once. “Congratulations, you’re watching the boys tonight.”

I scoff and lean back, placing my arm on the back of my seat. “I love Jen and Clay and they love their uncle Matty.”

“Well, their uncle Matty is about to be their permanent babysitter if he keeps up with these stupid games,” Luke grumbles, biting harshly into his biscuit.

We continue eating and talking about random things before we make our way to the main part of the construction site.

We’ve been working on renovating a university in Meadowbrook, a city in the heart of Alabama, for five months now.

Working through the last part of winter into spring sucked, but working through this Alabama heat in the middle of the summer is about to be a pain in the ass.

Luke went ahead and mapped out what needs to be done and all major deadlines. For as long as I’ve worked with him, he’s always been well prepared and considerate. Becoming a father changed him, but Luke’s always been a good man.

I want to be like him when I grow up.

As the morning comes and goes, more of the crew make their way to their machines.

I’m just about done transporting a pile of steel when Luke signals me over.

I nod and finish my task before shutting off the forklift, unplugging the key, and exiting.

I jog over to where Luke is and pull off my sunglasses.

“What’s up?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of cold water from the nearby cooler.

“You got plans this weekend?” Luke answers, sending a message on his phone before turning his attention to me.

“Some of my classmates are home, so I was gonna meet them at Brody’s. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you could watch the boys. My dad just called and asked if I could come to his place and fix a few things around his house. Knowing him, a few things could mean I end up renovating an entire room and then some. But don’t worry, I can ask my brother if he can watch them,” Luke says, taking a sip of his water.

I lean against the tree behind us. “Dude, no. I’ll watch them. I can go out another time.”

“Matty, I’m serious. You don’t have to –”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’ll pick them up on Friday so you can go straight to your dad’s place. Problem solved,” I cut him off.

“I owe you. Now go on, head to lunch.” He nods his head in the direction of my truck.

I pat him on the shoulder and turn on my heels to the parking lot. I climb into my blue truck and think about where I want to grab lunch. It doesn’t take me long to decide on the sandwich shop down the road.

Emeline’s Sandwiches is the best shop in all of Meadowbrook. They’re owned by the sweetest Italian couple, Eme and Carlo. They grow their own produce and make their bread from scratch.

They were one of Luke’s first clients when he opened the construction business. As a thank-you, they always offer us free sandwiches, but we pay them anyway. We always get yelled at in Italian, but it’s worth it.

After I order my sandwich and an extra one for Luke, I decide to take the rest of my lunch break to eat in my car.

The old Matt would be eating at the tent with the rest of the crew, chatting with the guys and throwing swear words around like confetti, but this version of me finds comfort in sitting alone and enjoying my meal in peace.

It’s like the new me is an old soul who has spent years locked inside of the outgoing, partying playboy.

Playboy .

That label follows me to this day, which only contributes to the long list of reasons why I prefer to not be seen in public too much.

Oakridge is full of memories – the good, the bad, and the fucking ugly.

I don’t feel like being reminded every time I leave my apartment of the fuck-ups and bad mistakes.

I didn’t care too much about being called a playboy when I was younger. I thought it was cool and took it as me being a ladies’ man, but in reality, that one word ruined a lot of relationships and friendships in my life.

My mom got tired of my shit, and there wasn’t a single day where she didn’t grill my ass on the highway to hell. After my last incident five years ago earned me time in the county jail, my mom put me out of her house and Luke gave me an ultimatum to get my shit together.

I either had to straighten up and fly right or spend more days and nights behind bars without anyone coming to bail me out.

I chose the former because there was no way in hell that I was going back to jail – six months was enough.

When I got out, Luke kept me on the straight and narrow, but fuck was it hard.

One night after my release, I was having a particularly rough evening. Luke grabbed one of his old notebooks and drew a makeshift football field, detailed with X ’s and O ’s. He wanted me to write down things that I wanted –positive things that I could aim for.

Luke took our love for football and turned it into something useful for my everyday life. That first play hasn’t been changed in five years, but I’m constantly adding more.

Luke built his house not too long after Jen was born.

I helped him and it was probably the worst thing he’s ever talked me into doing.

But he saved my life and I owed him a million.

Seeing Luke build his house from the ground up made me want to do that one day and share it with the people I love most.

After the night I got arrested and was sitting in the cell waiting to be picked up, I promised I wouldn’t take another sip of alcohol because a few too many drinks ended up being the reason why I spent six months of my life in jail.

Trying to be sober is hard and some days are better than most. Luke helps, but he can’t be with me all day every day.

He has his sons to worry about – I try my best to take it one day at a time so he doesn’t have to worry about me either.

My phone rings, dragging me from my thoughts. I pull it from the cupholder and see that it’s my sister…again. I haven’t seen or spoken to my mom or sister since my hearing. There’s so much hurt and pain there and I don’t know how to deal with it.

I do what I’ve done to my sister’s calls for the last few years – press the red ignore button and go about my day.