Ripped - Cassia Leo Page 0,34
the final bill for the room, I glance over my shoulder and catch Carlos staring at Lena’s ass. That’s when I realize the back of her shirt is riding up, exposing her G-string. I reach over and pull the back of her shirt down.
She chuckles as she lightly smacks my arm. “What are you doing? Are you trying to touch my butt?”
“Your shirt’s riding up,” I reply, my voice taut with tension.
She reaches over, her hand hovering over my ass. “Ooh, look at me. I’m gonna touch the butt.”
I shake my head, my tension melting into a reluctant grin at her Finding Nemo reference. “I’m the one who’s supposed to make stupid kids’ movies references, not you.” The moment the words come out of my mouth I realize how insensitive I sound, considering she recently confided her desire to start a family. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
She flashes me a tight smile as she puts her arms back up on the counter, once again revealing her G-string to Carlos. “It’s fine,” she replies. “I didn’t really want to touch your butt anyway.”
I chuckle at this as the girl behind the desk hands me the hotel bill. As we turn around, I catch Carlos staring at her ass again. I grab Lena’s arm to move her to my other side, and he smiles.
“That’s a nice butt,” he says when we’re a few feet away. “Not as fine as Lindsay’s, though.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m charging at him. My shoulder collides with his chest with the force of a ten-ton wave crashing down on him. He gets the first punch in, his fist slamming into the side of my head and dazing me for about two seconds. I throw the next punch, which lands with a resounding thwack on his temple. After that, it’s all a blur of blows and a tangle of arms pulling us apart.
Three security guards drag me outside and basically throw me into a cab with Lena. This is a blessing, because two hours later, news of the scuffle is already hitting the surf blogosphere. My phone is blowing up with emails and texts asking for my side of the story. I give them the honest truth: Carlos insulted my wife and my trainer, so I rushed him. But it’s the text message I get from Lindsay as I’m boarding the plane that makes me sick to my stomach.
Lena and I take our seats on the plane. When the flight attendant asks if we’d like anything to drink before takeoff, I order a bourbon. “Make it a double,” I say as she walks away.
Lena cocks an eyebrow. “A double? I know my butt may not be as fine as Lindsay’s, but it can’t be that bad.”
I laugh, silently thanking her for lightening the mood. “Your butt is fine. It’s better than fine.”
She secures her seat belt and tilts her head as she looks at me. “Then what’s the problem? It looks like everyone believes your side of the story.”
I sigh as I think of the text message from Lindsay, then I look her in the eye. “Lindsay just got a call from Wembley’s assistant. They’re thinking of kicking me off the tour.”
Twelve
As our plane touches down at Wilmington International Airport, my phone regains a signal and lights up with a text message from Brad Wilson, the reigning WSL world champ.
Brad: You did what the rest of us have wanted to do for ages. If they kick you off for that shit, I’ll back you up, mate.
In my head, I read the words in his Aussie accent, then I shoot off a text to thank him before turning off my phone. Even the words of encouragement are too much. I need to focus on one thing only right now, and that’s getting home so I can come clean to Lindsay. She needs to know that even if I do get suspended for the rest of the tour, I’m coming back next year even stronger. It’s time to tell her the truth, that I have no intention of retiring.
It’s about one a.m. when the cab drops Lena off first. I help carry her suitcase up the porch steps, then I stand there for a moment, waiting for her to go inside.
She glances at the cab, then back to me. “I won’t pretend to know how you feel, but I know that you can still fight this and you can still come out on top. Hey, don’t make