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Looking back down the line behind me, I saw Cruz looking like he wished he was still asleep, and Rhys nodded at me as if to say good morning but also that he was thinking about me. He knew I had some decisions to make when it came to Hunter. Even though he didn’t know everything, he didn’t have to understand how much I needed to be the one who handled him. But if Hunter helped me out and didn’t show up, that would make confronting him off the field and away from my career that much easier.
My turn came, and I went into the office. They had to watch us take our piss, but I had done it so many times that it didn’t even phase me anymore. It wasn’t like I had to show them my dick, but they had to make sure I wasn’t changing my piss out for someone else’s. Then it crossed my mind that Hunter may think he could pull that shit too, so before I left, I told the trainer in charge to keep an eye out if he showed up.
Not that I expected him to.
Which made it a huge surprise when I left the office and saw him standing at the end of the line. His eyes narrowed at me, and he snarled a little before turning around and ignoring me. When I looked back, Rhys was still watching me and was waiting to see what I did, but I shook my head at him. Not here, not now.
Rhys nodded back, then turned around to talk to Luca. It would have been easy to grab Hunter by his hair and force him to the parking lot, but I refrained and stuck with my plan to see if he failed his piss test first.
* * *
After the morning surprise drug testing, almost everyone waited for practice to begin in the locker room. The invitees were in the visitor’s locker room but still had access to ours, so again, I sat and waited to see Hunter walk in like the smug-ass bastard he was.
But he never came, and I smiled, thinking he was caught swapping his piss out for someone else’s. The results usually took hours, so it was unlikely he had already been popped, but I told Cruz and Rhys my thoughts on his mood swings, and they both agreed it was likely what would happen.
“Then that’s it?” Rhys asked.
“Is that where it would end for you?” Cruz added.
“No.”
Cruz mumbled something in Spanish and leaned back against the side of his locker, crossing his legs and arms. At the same time, he watched everyone moving about the locker room. He didn’t have to speak English for us to know what he meant.
“And here I thought he was just misunderstood,” Rhys huffed.
“I mean, I did too. This all started because I gave him a chance. It got worse when he asked me for a favor. And now it's an all-out war. It's like he’s going through the lineup and seeing who he could fuck over to get in with the team.”
“I think it stops with you, though.” Rhys stood up and stretched, then started walking toward the center of the locker room, where breakfast foods were spread out for us. “It's not us he wants, it's you.”
Rhys was too far away to hear my response, but I turned to Cruz, who was still watching and listening. “He wants to be me, and that shit stops today.”
“Tread carefully,” he sighed. “But know we got your back.”
“Holy shit!” Luca was breaking through the group of guys standing near the food tables and marching toward me, holding a piece of paper.
Sitting up straight, I tilted my head until he got closer, then grabbed the paper he was holding out for me to take. When I flipped it over, Cruz was over my shoulder looking as well, and I could feel his breath on my neck as he huffed out his disbelief.
There on the paper was another printed picture of me. In the corner of the club, my head was tilted, and I was holding onto someone’s hair. Someone that looked like they were bobbing on my cock. It wasn’t the same picture as before, but it was the same person, which made me feel a little bit better for some reason. At least if everyone was going to see me being promiscuous, it was with the same fucking person.
Rhys grabbed the paper from my hand and then looked down at me in shock. “The midfielder is searching for a scandal,” he read the printed headline over the picture out loud. “What the fuck?”
“Dammit,” I stood up, everyone turning their attention my way. My first instinct was to defend myself and tell them I could do whatever I wanted, but I knew they deserved the truth—that I didn’t remember that shit at all and that Hunter took the damn pic.
“At least we know why he was late to the piss test,” Cruz grunted. “Making sure while we were distracted he could get it pinned to the board.”
“Fuck him!” I yelled, pushing through my team toward the hallway leading to the other locker room.
No one stopped me, and no one followed me. It was time to settle the score and confront him once and for all. But before I could barrel in there and tear Hunter apart with my fists, Coach called my name.
He was coming from the direction of the training offices, and the head trainer was walking with him. If the picture was pinned to the board in the locker room, I had hoped he hadn’t seen it yet, but from the look on his face, I knew he had.
“Maddux,” he grumbled when he got closer. “Head home. You’re suspended from the team.”
“Coach! I was set up, I can explain. I had no idea that—”
“Your piss says otherwise. Positive for GHB is automatic suspension. Head home. We will contact you about protocol from here.”
“What?” That couldn’t be right because I never took a drug in my life. Not even when I was a kid.
