Chapter 1

Chapter

One

TREY

I smile into my phone as I look at my niece, Maggie’s, adorable little freckled face and messy brown hair. “Sorry I had to leave your T-ball game early today, but I saw your homerun. You’re a chip off the old block.”

“Uncle Twey,” she can’t pronounce her blended R’s yet, “Mommy said I hit like her, not you.”

I hear my sister, Diana, laughing in the background before she yells, “It’s true, Magpie. I was always a better hitter than Uncle Trey.”

I twist my lips. “Hmm, that might be a little true, at least when I was four, like you, Magpie. Your mommy was six, so she was bigger and stronger than I was. She was a very good ballplayer.”

Maggie gives me one of her sweet smiles. “Will you come to another game? All the parents on the team were excited you were there. My fwiend Jenna said you’re famous. I told her it wasn’t twue, but she asked if she could have your autogwaph.”

I chuckle. She’s so freakin’ cute. “Of course your friend can have my autograph. I’ll bring Bombers’ stuff for everyone on your team. If you want me at your next game, I’ll be there, baby girl.”

“Yay! Thanks, Uncle Twey. I gotta go eat my veggies so I can have ice cweam tonight. Mommy wants to talk to you.”

“Okay. Love you, Magpie.”

“Love you too, Uncle Twey-pie.”

My sister takes the phone. Her familiar blue eyes meet mine as she holds her baby boy, Leo. “Thanks for being there today. She was excited to see you. She never realized that you’re famous, but all the parents were chatting about it after the game. Now Maggie thinks you’re a movie star.”

I straighten my collar on the nice shirt I’m wearing. “That’s how I roll.” I wink. “It must be my movie star good looks.”

“Don’t get a big head. You’ll always be Demon Trey to me.”

I wince at the nod to my real first name, DeMontré, which no one knows. Ever since I was old enough to offer an opinion, I’ve gone by Trey. My big sister loved to call me Demon Trey instead.

Leo coos, “Demon, demon, demon.”

What? He’s not even one yet. “Is he talking?”

She shrugs. “He mimics all the time. I have to watch my mouth around him, Demon Trey.”

“Shh. Layton and Cheetah are here. I don’t want them to ever find out my real first name. They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Riiight. Your big dinner tonight. That’s why you had to head home early. I’ll let you go.”

“It’s okay. Those prima donnas are still getting dressed.”

She grins before her face turns more serious. “Hey, I’m sorry you lost in the playoffs, but I’m happy you have some free time. We all hope to see you more often. Maggie adores you. She’s at a fun age right now.”

“I adore her too. It was exciting to see her play.” This fall was her first season being old enough to play T-ball, and it’s the first game I’ve been able to attend due to my busy baseball schedule. “Honestly, Lady Di, she’s the best. You’re an amazing mom.”

She smiles. “Thank you. I hope you have one while you’re still young enough to enjoy them. Any prospects?”

I shake my head. “Just the usual groupies. It’s hard to find a good woman. You set the bar too high.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re full of shit, but I appreciate the compliment. And I get how hard it is for you. Stay away from the bloodsuckers.”

“I’m trying.”

“I worry about you.”

“Don’t. When the right girl comes along, I’ll know.”

“I hope you’re looking in the right places.”

I’m not, so I don’t bother to answer. “I need to run.”

She sighs. “Okay. I’m really sorry for what Tanner is going through. Give him my best.”

“Will do.”

I hang up the phone and yell out from the living room. “Are you jerkoffs ready? You two take longer to get dressed than chicks.”

My friends Layton Lancaster and Cruz “Cheetah” Gonzales are staying with me in my New York City penthouse for the night. I play professional baseball for the New York Bombers and they both play for the Philadelphia Cougars. We all share the same agent, Tanner Montgomery. His divorce became finalized this week, and he’s a bit down. We’re taking him out to a steak dinner to both celebrate the end of a long, draining process and cheer him up.

Layton walks out of one of my guestrooms and smooths the sides of his brown hair with both hands. “You can’t rush perfection, DePaul.” He points to his body as he swivels his hips. “The ladies love the whole package. They all want to be #laidbylayton .”

Pathetically, #laidbylayton is often used on social media by women Layton beds and plenty of women he doesn’t. It’s always a trending hashtag and he loves to rub it in our faces.

Cheetah then walks out of the room he’s using. “Lancaster, you’re practically deformed with your weirdly square chin. No woman in her right mind wants that.”

Layton deadpans, “Do you even comprehend how many women clamor to sit on this chin? They fucking dream about it.”

Cheetah chuckles. “You’re such a douchebag. In fact, you graduated come loudly from Douchebag University.”

I ask, “Cum Laude, as in graduating with honors?”

Cheetah thumps his head. “In my mind, it’s come loudly. I graduated from StudMan U with a degree in making women come loudly.”

I sigh. “You’re both the co-valedictorians of Douchebag University. Can we go now? Lancaster will cause a paparazzi shitstorm. It’s going to take us twice as long to get there.”

While Cheetah and I are recognized within our respective playing towns of Philadelphia and New York City, Layton is one of the most popular players in all of baseball and has been for over a decade. He’s recognized everywhere he goes and can’t go anywhere without being hounded by autograph seekers and people with cameras begging for a picture of him, often with his latest conquest.

An hour later, we’re sitting at a table with Tanner as we all sip high-end whiskey from our whiskey tumblers and feast on a fresh seafood tower ahead of our steaks arriving. Tanner looks like shit, with bags under his eyes. He rubs his dark beard before admitting, “I feel like I’ve failed Harper. She’s only three. She won’t even remember the time period in her life when Fallon and I were together.”

The three of us look at each other. We can’t offer much guidance. None of us are fathers and none of us have been married. Layton and I are probably among the older unmarried players in the league. He’s thirty, and I’m twenty-nine. Even Cheetah, at twenty-seven, is an older unmarried man in our league. Many of the guys marry young, most to their high school sweethearts. I get the appeal of that. Someone who cared about you before you had money. Before you were famous. That’s priceless.

He continues, “And now I only get her half the time.”

I pinch my lips together. “I’m sorry, man. Divorce sucks. My parents went through it. If it makes you feel better, I remember their last few months together, and it would have been better for me if I didn’t.”

He slowly nods. “I suppose. I’m trying to keep things civil with Fallon. It’s better for Harper. That’s why I asked you guys to dinner tonight.”

Cheetah, who has looked at his phone ten times since we’ve been here, feigns hurt. “It wasn’t for our wit and charm?”

Tanner clears his throat. “Definitely not.”

Cheetah wiggles his hips in his seat. “My Latino flair?”

“Umm, no. In all sincerity, you three mean a lot to me. You’re the first three clients I called when I left SMI and went out on my own because you’re like family to me. None of you asked any questions or hesitated. You blindly followed me. I can’t tell you how much that meant.” He swallows down his obvious emotions. “As you may know, Fallon is originally from Philadelphia. She moved here after grad school, and then we met and eventually got married. But she wants to move home now, closer to her family, and I understand why.”

Layton pinches his eyebrows together. “Does that mean Harper will have to split time between Philly and New York?”

Tanner shakes his head. “That’s not fair to Harper. I don’t want her wasting her childhood in a car or train. And I don’t want to miss her eventual school and sporting events.” He briefly pauses, pushing his lips together in a thin line. “I’m moving to Philly. Effective next week, Montgomery Sports Management will be headquartered in Philadelphia.”

I’m hit with a sudden wave of emotion. I’ve always had Tanner nearby, ever since I was an eighteen-year-old kid getting drafted by the Bombers. Even though he’s only ten years older, he’s been a surrogate father to me in this crazy city. I can’t fathom being here without him.

I put my own fears aside and slap his back, giving him the reinforcement I know he needs right now. “I’ll miss having you here, but I understand. Family first. I commend you for putting Harper’s needs and happiness above your own. You’re a great father.”

He smiles in gratitude, knowing I’m the most adversely affected of the three of us. Layton appears thrilled that he’ll have Tanner nearby. I know he, too, looks to Tanner as a father figure in his life, not having a father of his own.

I glance over at Cheetah who is looking at his phone again. It’s annoying me. Tanner needs us, and Cheetah is only half listening.

I bark, “Cheetah! What is so damn important that you’re on your phone during our friend’s time of need?”

His blue eyes snap up toward Tanner. “Sorry. I know moving isn’t ideal, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to have you in Philly.”

I nod toward his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Just a funny situation online that I can’t stop watching. It’s been unfolding all day.”

Tanner sighs. “I could use a distraction. I know I’m the Grim Reaper tonight. Tell us what it is. But if it’s porn, I don’t need to hear about it.”

Layton and I smile at each other. Cheetah is known for watching a ton of porn. He doesn’t bother to hide it.

Cheetah points to his phone. “These four hot chicks—not trashy hot, classy hot—clearly had too much to drink last night. They’re all romance book authors, and they posted videos of their new business. It’s called Book Boyfriend Builders. They train men to act like the men in their novels.”

I ask, “Like in the books you read?”

Cheetah reads romance novels all the time.

He nods. “Yes. I’ve actually read some of their books. I never knew what the authors looked like. They’re hot as hell. They posted last night, and they have tens of thousands of comments. Some of them are a riot.”

I scroll through a few of them on his phone.

“Romance novels, huh?” Layton mock sways long hair that he doesn’t have. “Like Fabio riding a horse at sunset?”

Cheetah lets out a loud laugh. “Fabio is, like, eighty now. Maybe forty years ago. But sort of. He was a fantasy to women, and now these authors want to teach you how to become a fantasy man. They’re calling it a man training academy.” In a female voice, he breathes, “You, too, can be as sexy as the famous Layton Lancaster. If you have a square chin and take lessons from us, women will beg to sit on your face like they do for Layton.”

Tanner and Layton are doubled over in laughter. I nod toward Cheetah’s phone. “Let’s see the video.”

He turns his phone and presses the button. It is, in fact, four drunk women growling at and spanking each other. They keep calling one another good girls and then giggling uncontrollably.

They’re in pajamas, holding drinks. He’s right that they’re all attractive, but it’s the brunette with big green eyes and full lips in the dark pink, silk pajamas who catches my eye. Her hair is up in a bun, but pieces fall on her gorgeous face. Even in the loose pajamas, I can see she’s got a great body. She’s effortlessly sexy as hell. Everything she does and every giggle she makes has my heart beating faster.

I point at her. “What’s her name? She’s fucking beautiful.”

I can’t stop staring at her. Every move she makes seems so unintentionally erotic, from licking her lips to moving pieces of her hair off her face. My mouth is watering.

Cheetah shrugs. “I only know her pen name, not her real name. It’s Tami Maida.”

I can’t help but smile at the pop culture reference. I look around at the guys, realizing that the name doesn’t register on their faces. This chick is clever.

He continues, “I read one of her books. It takes place in Philadelphia. All of her books do. I think that’s where she lives. ”

I try to play it cool. “So…umm…what happens if you sign up for her…their service?”

Layton scoffs. “You pull nearly as much ass as I do, DePaul. Why the hell would you need this service? Chicks flock to your all-American looks and dented ass-crack chin.”

Cheetah rolls his eyes. “Lancaster, you’re a fuckwit. He’s not interested in the service. He’s interested in the sexy woman providing the service.”

Cheetah turns to Tanner and scrunches his face. “Sorry, man. We don’t need to talk about hot chicks right now.”

It’s undeniable that Fallon Montgomery is an extremely attractive woman.

Tanner bites off a piece of shrimp with nothing but a big smile on his face. “This is a great distraction for me. No need to further wallow in my misery. Let’s sign him up. This is much more fun than me talking about my divorce.”

Cheetah’s face lights up. “Alright. You good with that, DePaul?”

I pretend to consider it, even though I was already planning to do it as soon as I got home. I nonchalantly shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

He presses a few buttons and mindlessly says, “Name…Trey DeP—”

I interrupt. “Don’t use my real full name. I don’t want her to know I play ball.”

They all understand that. It’s sometimes hard for us to let people in, not knowing their intentions. That’s why we rarely find ourselves in relationships. Women are interested in our notoriety more than anything remotely substantive.

“Oooo-kay. What name?”

“What are the next few questions?”

“Where do you live and what do you do for a living?”

“Let’s work backward. Obviously, write that I live in Philly, so she has more incentive to take me on as a client. What’s a humble profession? ”

He twists his lips. “Hmm. I don’t know. A teacher?”

“No, that’s too specific. She’ll ask which school and shit. Pick something else.”

Cheetah thinks for a moment. “Porn star?”

“Pass.”

Layton’s face brightens. “What about a plumber?”

Cheetah nods. “Yes, you can unclog her pipes.”

I consider it for a moment. “That might work. Now google plumbers in Philly named Trey, just in case she googles me. Preferably a last name that starts with D.”

Cheetah fumbles on his phone for a minute. “There’s a Trey Donatucci’s Plumbing company.”

I smile. “Perfect. Trey Donatucci it is.”

He continues to input my information. “Hobbies?”

“Write football , both playing and watching.” They may not get the Tami Maida reference, but I do.

“Okay. What about a personal statement of why they should consider working with you?”

I grab his phone. “I’ll type it.”

I spend a few minutes doing so before he reads it with a smile. “That’s perfect. Now we need two pictures. They want one that shows your physical appearance and another that shows your personality.” He glances at me with a confused look on his face. “A picture that shows your personality?”

I shrug. “Maybe a funny photo or one of me doing a hobby?”

“If she sees your photo, she may know who you are.”

“I don’t think my face is as recognizable as Lancaster’s outside of New York, especially for a woman from Philly.” I rub my scruff. “And I have more facial hair than I normally do.”

Our team owner forbids facial hair during the season, but we’re in the off-season now and I can do what I want.

The waiter comes by and asks if we need drink refills. Tanner answers that we do. An idea occurs to me. I look up at the waiter. “Hey man, do you have a hat and sunglasses I can borrow?”

His face lights up with excitement. “I have a Bombers hat, Mr. DePaul.”

“Anything but Bombers. A football team would be perfect. Or a knit hat would be even better. Not a baseball cap.”

His face falls. “Give me a minute. I’ll see what I can come up with from the employee locker room.”

“Thank you. And I’d be happy to sign your Bombers hat if you’d like.”

He grins like he just won the lottery. “I would be honored. Thank you, sir.”

After a brief hat signing and a few photos, I’m wearing a knit hat and sunglasses. Cheetah takes a picture of my profile, not from the front, just in case.

He looks down at his phone. “Damn, Trey, you’re a hottie. Don’t worry, you can’t make out the butthole in your chin.”

Layton and Tanner once again burst out in laughter. They all love to make fun of my chin dimple.

I roll my eyes. “Now I need a personality photo. Any ideas?”

We all think as our steaks are served and we begin to slice into the juicy goodness. Cheetah chews but I can tell he’s thinking long and hard about it.

“Ooh. I have an idea. Trey, stand and bend over.”

“No, I will not bend over for you.”

“Just do it. It will be funny.”

I stand in my black jeans and sweater and then turn around. I bend over slightly, and he snaps a photo.

After sitting back down, I see him typing furiously on his phone. I motion my hand toward it. “What did you write?”

“Under a photo of your covered ass, which is sexy by the way, I wrote, No plumber’s crack here, but I do promise to crack you up. The only pipes I’ll make burst are yours. ”

I smile. “Perfect. Submit it. Game on, Tami Maida .”