Copyright 2024 - Jordan Fuller
This story features cheating and revenge. If this does not appeal, please move along.
At the end of the day, it's just a story. Enjoy!
Keeping my Promise
I stare out of the rear window of our taxi as it snakes through London's West End. Gone are the cramped, grungy streets of South London. Here, the streets are lined with leafy trees, houses for only the wealthiest, interspersed with modern apartment blocks for the millionaire up-and-comers.
The taxi slows in front of a grand, stately building that appears to have been plucked from the pages of a history book. It stands tall and proud, its ornate windows glinting in the early evening sun.
"Can't believe they converted this building to apartments," the taxi driver says. "I've always loved this building."
After tapping his card to pay, Brad jumps out of the taxi.
He leans down to look at his reflection in the taxi window. "How do I look?" he asks as I step out.
"Geez, Brad, you've asked me five times tonight. You look good, alright?"
"Are you sure?"
"What are you going to do if I say no? It'd be a bit late now, wouldn't it?" I say, grabbing the back of his belt and dragging him away from his makeshift mirror.
"Yeah, all right. We can't all look amazing all the time, like you."
Brad pats my ass and whistles, "Take a look at these apartments, babe. We'll get one like this when I make it to the Premier League, too."
I take his hand, and we walk towards the apartment block. A concierge, dressed in a black uniform, opens one of the two large glass-and-wood doors. He looks us over, his eyes lingering a moment too long on my skirt before returning to my face. He gives me a warm smile, which I return, and we walk inside.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I started dating a footballer, but I quickly found out. It's a bit of a tradition I had to adopt when I married Brad. There is always a celebration when one of the guys signs with a new team, and tonight is no exception. Most of these signing parties are a rowdy affair. Hopefully, tonight will be different. This time it's Jake throwing the party, so I feel slightly more relaxed. Now that he's made it big and signed a £100 million contract to play goalie for a London Premier League team, he's celebrating tonight with teammates, old and new. However, if I know Jake, the atmosphere won't be as riotous as usual.
Jake was the best man, or rather Brad's best man, at our wedding. Growing up and playing football together, Brad and Jake have been great friends for years. They are as close as brothers. Maybe closer. Not that they have much in common. Jake is ridiculously tall and handsome. Brad is not much taller than me, but what he lacks in size, he makes up for in energy. Jake is the laid-back, suave, and quiet type, but he always has a way with the ladies. Brad is loud, super fun, and always the life of the party. It's his fun-loving nature that made me fall in love with him.
Brad wanders over to look at the beautiful bronze statue of a ballerina in the middle of the foyer. He runs his hand down the ballerina's back.
"They'll make one of these with my name on it one day, babe," Brad says.
"You'll have to start dancing first, Brad."
"No, you know what I mean. A footballer. They'll put it outside Wembley."
"Yeah, well. There's nothing wrong with chasing your dream."
"Hi, we're here for Jake Hardy's party," Brad tells the concierge.
"Of course, Sir, right this way," he says, pointing towards the elevators. "There are quite a number of guests here already," he says before wishing us a pleasant evening.
When the doors close, I check myself in the elevator's mirrored wall. "This skirt isn't too short, is it?" I ask Brad. "I noticed the concierge checking it out."
"What are you going to do if I say yes?" Brad says with a grin. "Besides, I think it's your legs he was looking at."
I think back to the last time I saw Jake. It was Tanner's engagement party more than six months ago in Manchester. Jake's been living in Newcastle for the past year, so we rarely see him. Hopefully, that will change now he's back in London.
"Hey, come on in, guys," Jake says as he greets us at the door of his new penthouse apartment.
"Wow! "Look at this pad, man," Brad says as he slaps Jake on the shoulder. Jake is 6'10", so this is no easy task.
"I told you, Brad. I'd make it one day," Jake says.
"You're right, man. You did it. But I never believed you. You were shit in seventh grade," Brad scoffs.
For a brief moment, I watch their verbal joust. Something they always do when greeting. A boy thing, no doubt.
Brad swaggers past Jake. His attention fixed directly in front of him and into the crowded penthouse. Jake turns to me, shrugging his shoulders, and laughs. We both know what he's like.
"Come on in, Lucy," Jake says, bending to kiss each of my cheeks tenderly. "It's so great to see you."
Thank God I put my heels on. He's so tall. I put my hands around his chest and give him a quick hug. He feels solid and much bigger than I remember.
"Thanks Jake. I'm not sure if I'll see Brad again," I say, shaking my head.
Jake turns to see where Brad has gone, but he's nowhere to be seen. He's disappeared into one of the many groups standing around chatting.
"Well, I'm pretty confident he'll be at the bar," Jake says with a smile.
"Or with a busty blonde," I say, rolling my eyes.
"Nah, he's got one of those," Jake winks at me.
I feel a warm flush spread through my face and neck, and I poke his ribs. "Don't you pick on me, too. I had enough trouble from Brad before we came out," I laugh. "He wanted me to wear something even lower cut. I'm practically spilling out of this top as it is."
Jake laughs. "Don't worry, I'm the best catcher in the game," he whispers. "Besides, you look spectacular."
I flush even more at his teasing flattery and punch him lightly on the arm in response. "Men! You are all the same!" I say. God, he is gorgeous, though, and feels ripped through that black shirt. The light in the room throws hard shadows across his jawline.
"Hey, I was just kidding," Jake says. He throws his head back and gives me a warm smile, then puts a giant hand on the small of my back and walks with me to the catered bar. "Come on, Luce. Let's get you a drink."
I'm married, and this is a friend of Brad's. I should not have these thoughts about him, but Jake's smile makes me swoon.
*You can window-shop all you like, as long as you don't sample the goods*, my friend Gemma always says.
I hate that it feels so good when he touches my arm or brushes his fingers against mine. I feel like I am betraying Brad. I also know Jake's reputation as a complete womanizer. Still, he knows I am with Brad and is always decent with me, apart from some innocent flirting.
When we get to the bar, he leans across, talking to the barman. I turn and rest back against the bar and take in the room. It's filled with other team members, old and new, a few girlfriends I recognize, and a bounty of young women. Brad assured me that the guys were all bringing girlfriends, but most of these guys are young, fit, and very wealthy. Few can commit beyond a first date, so there are plenty of girls but not so many girlfriends. I bagged the only one that could commit, and sometimes I have doubts about that.
The decor in Jake's apartment is either very minimalist, or he just hasn't finished decorating. I've never been to any of Jake's places before, but I take him as a minimalist kind of guy. The music has a chilled-house vibe, and a group dances on the vast balcony.
"This is a great place," I say, looking around the room.
"Yeah, I'm pretty pleased with it. I'm happy I got to return to London and the club is great. So, I'm enjoying life," Jake says, handing me a drink.
"Well, congrats on the new place," I say, raising my glass. I take a sip.
"Gin and tonic?" I ask. "That's my favorite. How did you know?"
"Last Christmas. Actually, the year before, I think. We were all at a club in Soho. You told me then," he says, raising his glass to mine.
I shake my head at him. "Do you remember Brad's favorite drink though?"
"Who?" he laughs.
I'm always surprised when I see Jake. His face is usually streaked with sweat from a game and covered in mud and grass stains. I guess it's funny to think about a giant like him being so devilishly handsome.
"You should let me show you all of my apartment," he says.
God, he's a tease. "Easy, tiger," I say.
"Well, I have a roof garden that overlooks the city," he continues. "You'll have to come up and see it someday."
"I'd love to," I say.
Just then, someone jostles him from behind, and he jerks forward towards me, his glass bumping mine, splashing a little of my drink onto my chest.
Oh fuck, oh fuck.
"Hey, careful buddy," Jake says to the guy behind.
"Sorry, Jake," the hidden assailant says.
"Are you okay?" he asks me.
I hold my drink up in my right hand, my clutch bag in my left, and shrug. We both look at the splashed liquid on my chest.
"I need to find somewhere to put these," I say.
"Hold on. I've got it."
Jake reaches over to the bar behind him and grabs a napkin.
"May I?" he says, raising the napkin toward my chest.
I nod without thinking, and he dabs the napkin on the top of my breasts. His eyes remain on mine while he does it.
When he finishes dabbing at me with the napkin, he looks down and dabs once more, before looking back into my eyes again with a smile on his face so genuine that it reaches his eyes and pushes his cheeks up into a boyish grin that would make any girl melt into a puddle.
"I think you got it all. Thank you," I say. I feel like a giddy teenager. "I really ought to find that husband of mine. Besides, you're the host, and you should mingle more."
Just as I finish saying that, a roar of laughter comes from the balcony, followed by Brad yelling, "Jake, get over here!"
Jake rolls his eyes and says to me under his breath, "Oh god. I know what this will be about."
I have no idea and shrug.
"I have a new sponsorship deal with Hugo Boss," he says. "We filmed a promotion a couple of weeks ago, and there's a massive digital billboard you can see a couple of blocks over. Right on cue, they started my advertisement in the rotation the day I moved in."
I can't help but laugh. "Okay, I have to see this."
I follow Jake as he walks through the apartment onto the balcony with everyone else.
"Let him through, people, let him through," Brad yells jokingly.
I follow Jake out onto the balcony. Most people cannot fit and stand on their toes to see what the fuss is about.
I squeeze through to stand with Brad. He drapes his arms over my shoulders. "Are you flirting with my wife again, Jake?"
"Always, Brad. You know me," Jake says.
I stand on my toes to see the billboard. There is a promotion for a new James Bond film playing. "Is this worth all the fuss?" I ask Brad.
"Just wait," he laughs.
"Here it comes," yells someone.
"Hurraaahhhhh," the boys all cheer as the billboard changes to a scene of a muscular man swimming in the ocean at sunset. Various ridiculous scenes of wild horses running through the waves follow, then finally, Jake emerges from the sea wearing not very much. Holy crap, he looks fantastic. He is far more muscular than I imagined. He is ripped and dripping with water.
"Great CGI," one guy shouts, getting laughs from the men.
"Bloody hell, Jake," says a girl next to me.
