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Typical. So fucking typical. Of course this was where she chose. My ex-wife was still trying to capitalize on my former glory as an NFL running back, even though my career was long since over and I’d left all that shit behind.
Shooting a forceful blast of air out of my mouth, I suppressed the urge to turn around and go back home. Wanting this shit over with, I headed insideI quickly spotted the witch I'd come to see sitting in the VIP section in one of those large, wraparound banquette booths with a bucket of something expensive on the table. Every part of me screamed that this was a bad idea, but one thing kept me going and that was Amie. When my ex-wife called me an hour ago insisting that I meet her here, I’d briefly hoped that Tami had changed her mind about custody and was ready to step up as a mom, or at the very least, walk away. Judging by the raging party and the mass of gyrating bodies around us, my guess stepping up wasn’t on the menu.
Moving through the crowded floor, I headed for the staircase leading up to what I knew to be the VIP lounge. In her follow-up texts, Tami had said she’d meet me in the exclusive lounge and that she’d even consider having a drink with me. My answer had been a flat no. I didn’t drink for the most part, and I definitely wasn’t sticking around long enough to have a round. I was the only parent Amie could rely on and I wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. The only times I did cut loose and have a beer or two, or even the rare scotch, was when Amie was with my parents or with Tami’s. I trusted Tami's parents completely and knew they would never do anything to hurt my girl or make her unhappy. All four of her grandparents worshiped the ground she walked on and for that, I was beyond grateful.
“Travis MacDaniel,” the bouncer blurted out, visibly stunned as I approached him. His eyes went saucer-wide from where he stood guarding the stairwell. It wasn’t often that people recognized me anymore. I’d been out of league for a few years now and other younger, more popular players now held the spotlight. This dude must have been one hell of a fan if he had recognized me that quickly.
“Wow. What an honor. Nice to meet you man.” I offered him my hand to shake which he was quick to accept. “What brings you here tonight?”
“I’m meeting someone upstairs. I don’t suppose she put me on the list.” I don’t know why I said that, but it was out before I could stop myself.
“Dude, you’re always on the list.” The guy who introduced himself as Bruce, stepped aside to let me up. “Such a shame about your knee, man,” he called out as I began to climb up. “Never saw a running back like you before. I doubt we ever will.”
Flattered by his words, I used them as a buffer for when I came face to face with my ex-wife. I spotted her again as I reached the top of the stairs. Dressed in a barely-there silver strip of cloth, she was sipping on a glass of champagne.
This is what she’s done with her half of the money? Clubbing and booze?I couldn’t help but think as I watched her knock back a glass of what I knew was high end stuff, judging by the expensive bottle resting in a bucket on the table.
I’d just taken a step towards her when she casually looked up and locked eyes with me. Her fake smile disintegrated into a scowl that would have even shriveled the Devil’s balls.
“Tami,” I said flatly as I took a seat opposite her. I made it a point to keep as far away from her as possible. The last thing I wanted was for a photo of us to end up smeared across all the gossip columns tomorrow morning with a headline claiming Tami and I were getting back together. No way in hell was that happening. Ever.
“Asshole.” She griped as she tossed back the remnants of her glass before promptly refilling it.
“Why am I here? Why couldn’t this wait?” I demanded, getting straight to the point. I didn’t want to be here and I felt bad about ruining Dee’s night to come and watch Amie. I’d much rather be home sitting in my favorite wingback chair reading the latest suspense novel from my favorite crime author while my daughter slept soundly upstairs.
“I’m running out of money,” Tami confessed instead of what she normally did: beat around the proverbial bush.
“What happened to the ten million dollars you got when we divorced? Don’t tell me you managed to blow it already?”
“My life is expensive, alright?” She rolled her dark brown eyes at me. Eyes I once lost myself in, but now reminded me of raw sewage. “I’ve got things to pay for and frankly, I never felt like our divorce settlement was fair. I should have gotten more.”
I resisted the urge to pound my fist on the table. “It was beyond fair. I gave you half of everything! How can you be in need of more money when you had more than enough to last a lifetime?”
Tami’s angry eyes flashed. “Like I said, I’m accustomed to acertainlifestyle and it’s proving to be more costly than I expected. Plus, I know you got more money from the NFL. I know they paid out the rest of your contract.”
That happened after our divorce.
I snorted and blatantly ignored the last part, choosing to focus on what was driving this ridiculous request. I had no doubt that the ‘lifestyle’ she spoke of still consisted of unplanned trips to exotic locales across the globe, brand new designer duds and accessories for every season, not to mention all the partying and drinking that filled her days and nights. Even though my money manager and accountant offered to help her manage her funds, Tami declined, stating she knew more than they did and that it was beneath her to hire outside help. Her self-absorbed ignorance knew no bounds and look where it had gotten her. I shot her with a glare as the server stopped by. Tami ordered another three hundred dollar bottle of champagne, while I went with a simple Pellegrino. I needed something to wet my throat if I had to deal with her much longer.
“Like I said,Travis,” Tami snarled once the server had walked away to place our order. “I need money and I was thinking if you’d give me, I don’t know, a million dollars or so, I’ll consider waiving my parental rights.”
Was she fucking serious? Did she actually think selling off the rights to her child was okay? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. But not surprising.
“So, just because you need money you think it’s okay to blackmail me to get it?”
Tami’s cheeks blazed, matching the angry flush that crept up her neck. “No, I’m notblackmailingyou, Travis! I’m offering you what you want in exchange for something I want. That’s called compromise.”
“Wrong. That’s not compromise, that’sblackmail, Tami.” I snarled back. “Perhaps if you had spent more time paying attention in class instead of partying it up all the time, you’d know the difference.”
Tami rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just give me what I want and the brat is all yours.”
That was it. I’d had enough. It was time to leave. Without entertaining her any further, I got up, dropped a twenty onto the table to cover my water that had yet to arrive, and started to make my way back to the staircase.
“Where are you going?” She shrieked. “I thought you were going to cover the cost of my drinks tonight?”
“You thought wrong,” I gritted out without turning back. There was no way I was going to indulge her excesses. And I most certainly wasn’t going to give her another goddamned dime. Our divorce settlement was ironclad. A woman Jason and I knew from college, an experienced lawyer who just happened to also hate Tami’s guts, had seen to it that the former Tamerra Davenport-MacDaniel, couldn’t milk me financially any more than she already had.
“What about my money?” Her voice faded as I took the stairs down. Bruce was still at his post when I reached the bottom.
