Backfield in Motion by Boroughs Publishing Group Read Free Book Online

in the mirror hanging in his
locker and ran a comb through his blond hair, wishing he had dark
hair like Harris, or a mean look like Zach, or even a guy-next-door
face like Derek. Hell no, he looked like a fucking movie star, and
he fucking hated it.
    Well, mostly. He did appreciate the perks,
especially the female ones.
    He sighed and pushed a wayward lock of hair
off his forehead, making sure his hair was perfect. He couldn’t
help it; he did care how he looked. He had a brand to maintain.
    He glanced around to find Brett staring at
him. Last year they’d accidentally discovered a mutual love of
fishing after which they spent hours together on Puget Sound and
area lakes fishing for whatever happened to be biting. As a result,
Bruiser became close friends with the quiet backup quarterback, and
Bruiser didn’t have many close friends by his own choice. Neither
did Brett.
    Brett had the locker next to him and sat
down, pulling on his shoes. “Looking forward to the barbecue?”
    “What do you think?” Bruiser shrugged it
off.
    “You’re a prick, Mackey. You wouldn’t know a
good woman if she landed in your lap.”
    “Hey, I’m not looking for a good woman—just
the opposite. Good women expect commitments, and I’m not that
guy.”
    Brett ran his fingers though his wet hair.
“I wish I were taking her.”
    “So do I. Remind me again how I got roped
into this?”
    Brett ignored the question. “I bet she’ll
look great.”
    “Hope so.” Bruiser frowned. “My future
depends on my ability to market myself, and Mac isn’t, well,
exactly my normal date.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Think
she’s gay?”
    “No more than you are.”
    “You have a point.” Bruiser had battled that
label himself, just because he took care of his appearance and
dressed in the most expensive of clothes. Truthfully, he hated
shopping, but it was all part of his persona. He played the part.
The ladies loved how he looked, and men wanted to be him, which put
money in his endorsers’ pockets and in turn in Bruiser’s
pockets.
    “Besides, you got the hots for her, not me.”
Well, except for some recurring erotic fantasies, and he didn’t
have a clue where they were coming from. Maybe he’d grown as weary
of his Barbie doll dates as he had of modeling.
    Brett cleared his throat, suddenly looking
nervous. “I have to warn you.”
    “Warn me? About Mac?” Bruiser snorted out a
laugh.
    “Uh. Not exactly. I saw your mom a few days
ago.”
    Bruiser stiffened. “Did you get your hair
cut?” Brett was the only teammate who’d ever met his family.
Bruiser’s mother and sister owned a hair salon on the peninsula.
Brett had been going there for a year. Bruiser wouldn’t let them
touch his hair. He preferred to get it cut at a trendy salon in
Bellevue rather than in his mother’s pink and purple monument to
poor taste.
    “Yup. Eunice and Shanna said they haven’t
seen you in a while.”
    “I know,” Bruiser swallowed back the guilt.
He sent them money once a month to help pay for the salon expenses
rather than visiting them, as if that replaced him. His mother,
Eunice, had left five messages on his phone this week. Instead of
calling her, he’d sent a text message.
    Yeah, he was a crappy son, one who pretended
he didn’t have a family, which made him a crappy person, too.
    Bruiser hated dishonesty for a multitude of
reasons. His father had figured truth was useless when you can spin
a whole web of lies. And Bruiser’s ex-wife had used lies and guilt
in equal doses to get what she wanted. Then his last three
girlfriends hadn’t been an improvement, except he hadn’t been
stupid enough to marry any of them. Forget that Bruiser practiced
his own brand of deception every waking hour of his day, pretending
to be someone he wasn’t, rather than embracing who he was. But at
least he was only hurting himself. This thing with keeping his
family hidden was another thing altogether.
    “Then why don’t you go see