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“I tried, but he also has a dead bolt on his door.” Nick. He should’ve known better.
“What’s the holdup?” Now Roman was in the mix.
“He won’t wake up, and the door’s dead-bolted,” Nick said.
“Goddammit, Axel. Get your ass out of bed, now!” Roman pounded on the door. “We have twenty minutes to be at the golf course.” Golf course? Shit. I forgot we were invited to play at a charity event today. Coach would be there, along with other celebrity athletes and golfers. “If you don’t open this door,” he warned, and I rolled out of bed, fighting off nausea. Stumbling through my room, I mimicked his voice because I knew his next words: “I’ll kick your ass.”
I opened the door and scratched my stomach. “’Sup?”
Roman looked like he was about to pop a vessel in his temple. Nick shook his head, probably thinking I looked like shit, while Dmitri peered down his nose, expressionless. “Get ready,” Roman snapped. “You have five minutes.” He glanced at Nick. “You take him because I don’t want this fucker to puke in my car.”
“Come on, Roman. I thought you cared,” I called out, seriously fighting off the urge to vomit. “It’s not my fault,Dad, that you stocked the house with unlimited tequila.”
“Grow up, Axel,” Roman said before he stalked off.
Nick bent over, and his shoulders shook. Even Dmitri’s lips twitched. Normally, I would’ve joined in, but I closed my door on them, searching for much-needed aspirin and a quick shower before Ididyak all over the hallway. Normally, I didn’t take it to the limit on alcohol. Yeah, I’d occasionally smoked a little weed in the past and drank socially. But, for some reason, I was in a bad way last night, and I went balls out on partying, and now my body hated me.
Fifteen minutes later, I was riding shotgun in Nick’s truck. “Dmitri, you didn’t want to ride with Roman? You know his pussy ass is so needy now.” I donned my Oakleys and wore my ball cap to block out the obnoxious sun. I’d already downed three bottles of water with Liquid IV.
“Hard pass. I’d rather take my chances seeing you puke than hear Roman bitch. Actually, it would make my day to see you puke.”
“Am I here to amuse you?”
“No. You’re here to piss me off, but you in a weakened state makes me strangely content.”
“Bro, that’s harsh and mildly weird the way you phrased it, but whatever.” I glanced at Nick, about to ask about Sorina, knowing it would get under D’s skin, but Nick frowned and shook his head.Not the time, his look said. I let it go and sank back into the seat. I wasn’t even in the mood to talk shit today. Instead, I closed my eyes and reveled in the scent of vanilla that still lingered in my nostrils. Her scent. My favorite flavor.
“Not my problem you can’t handle your liquor, pussy,” Dmitri said. Ah, there it was, but again, I wasn’t feeling inclined to have a diss battle. Talking shit to D was easy pickings.
“L. O. L,” I said flatly, so over this.
“We’re here.” Nick stated the obvious, trying to shut us both up, I’m sure. Didn’t blame him. This convo was fruitless and annoying as fuck. Roman was standing on the sidewalk with his golf clubs, waiting with a personal dark thundercloud over his head.
“You gonna be okay, Axe?” Nick eyed me with concern after Dmitri exited the truck. I knew he always had my back, and I appreciated it. He could dish out anything like the rest of us, but he also turned into a school counselor on an afternoon school special at the drop of the hat. Deep down, Nicky had a heart of gold.
“I’m good.” I twisted the bill of my hat around to the back of my head, getting into show mode because I was Axel fucking Thomas, and the world was mine—hungover or not. We all grabbed our clubs out of the back of Nick’s truck and made our way to grumpy-ass Roman.
“About time you got here.”
“Calm your tits.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “We were giving you time to put together our itinerary. Did you schedule bathroom breaks, too?”
Roman’s jaw ticked, ignoring me, and he walked over to the entrance of the country club where we were supposed to sign in. Coach was there, waiting. “About damn time you showed up, boys.” He thrust out a list that had all the pairings. There were sixty people playing in this event today. I was paired with Dmitri. Oh, joy. And we were playing against Roman and Dallas Lobos’s quarterback, Marco Cruz.
Everyone had set times when they would tee off. Before I followed my friends outside, Coach pulled me aside. “You okay, Axel? You look a little green beneath the gills.”
“I’m great, Coach. I think I had a touch of food poisoning last night, but I’m fine now.” Then it hit me that I could get some info from him. “I do have a small issue.”
“What is it, son?” Coach’s thick brows drew together as he threw a hand on my shoulder.
“I need the phone number of one of our trainers since Dave went on paternity leave. I meant to ask but never got around to it. Would you be able to get it for me?”
“Of course, whatever you need.”
And just like that, I had her number. Did I feel somewhat shitty about the means I used to get it? No, not really. The perks of being a star athlete. Shrug. Whistling, I strolled outside to the back end of the club to see clusters of golfers practicing their swings.
“You better have your shit together today. I’m not trying to make a fool of myself out here.” Dmitri teed off on a ball at the range as we waited for our scheduled tee time.
“I’m good, man.” How many more fucking times did I have to tell everyone I came in contact with today that I was fine? Dmitri didn’t give a shit about my well-being. Okay, maybe he did a little bit, but he was more concerned about making an impression when playing against NFL QB, Marco Cruz. Dmitri was gunning to make an impression today. That wasn’t hard to see. Didn’t blame him. However, we weren’t being judged on our golf game to make it to the pros. But it always helped to network.
