January 1, 2022
Happy New Year! Real Players Never Lose Bonus Scene!
Ahhhh we’ve made it to 2022! Here’s a bonus scene from Teddy’s POV. A lot of you wanted to know what happened when he went to see Tristan so here it is! Spoilers (mostly you’ll just be confused, lol) if you haven’t read Real Players Never Lose.
TEDDY POV
“This is it.” I point at the house with a yellow front door.
Fucking yellow.
Like the people who live there are cheery or something and not the complete pathetic fucks they have to be to have tortured Vanessa in the cruel way they did.
When I think about that bastard, how he not only tricked her into thinking he was her boyfriend, but then took her virginity on top of it—I see red. I want to murder him. Slip my hands around his throat and squeeze until his eyes bug out. I won’t go that far. My dad’s money only does me so good and not even he can get me off on murder charges.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t rough him up a bit.
It makes me even more livid that her sister, her fucking sister, put him up to most of it, was the brains behind it. Talk about cruel. I might not have siblings, but I can’t imagine ever wanting to hurt them like that. It screams psychopath.
Mascen parks alongside the curb.
“We’re not killing the guy.” He feels the need to remind me.
I shoot my furrowed brow gaze his way. “Of course not.” I pause, grinning. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him shit his pants though.”
“What’s the game plan?” Jude asks from the back. “Are we roughing him up to? Back up? You’ve been close-mouthed and I need some details.”
I glance at my roommate in the back of the SUV. “Y’all are there as witnesses.”
He pales. “I thought we said no murder and if I witness you kill him then I can’t plead your innocence. I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.”
“You two are there as witnesses,” I repeat, “in case these fuckers try something later.” If they find out my family is rich I don’t put it past the opportunists to ask for hush money. “And to pull me off before I kill the guy,” I admit.
And don’t hit a woman.
I won’t do that. I won’t lay a hand on her. But she’s going to hear some choice fucking words from me.
“If you want to get in your own hit on this fucker, I won’t stop you,” I add.
They know all the gory details on one Tristan Samuels. Normally I wouldn’t spill someone else’s secret to my friends, but in this case, I had to, and they’re equally as horrified.
“Can I get out now?” I mean, I could if I wanted to, but their hesitation is making me hesitate.
Mascen glances in the back at Jude and turns off his car, sliding the keyfob in his pocket. “Let’s get this over with.”
I’m out of the car in less than a second.
Out of my friends, I’m not the hot head. I’m the level headed funny guy who goofs off. I don’t get into needless fights and I never throw punches. That changes now.
Though, I would argue this isn’t needless.
At the time, Vanessa’s self-confidence was shattered and she couldn’t stick up for herself. Then, she’s had to deal with her sister whom obviously she can’t get rid of, and this idiot still being in her life.
Not cool, not cool at all.
I’ve never met these people or her parents, but I already dislike them.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Vanessa is good people. I can’t stand the thought of anyone treating her badly. She deserves more than that. I mean, after all, she’s helping my sorry ass. If that doesn’t show what a good heart she has then I don’t know what does.
I stride up to the house.
Don’t kill the fucker.
Don’t fucking kill him.
He’s not worth it.
I press my finger angrily into the doorbell before pounding on the door.
It’s after seven in the evening. They might be eating dinner. Or watching a movie.
But I don’t fucking care—just like they didn’t care when they hurt Vanessa.
The door opens. “What the hell? Who are you?” The dude answers.
God, he still looks like the same douchebag he was in his yearbook photo.
“I’m Teddy,” I say, purposely not giving him my last name.
“Okay?” His brows knit together. “I don’t know you. What are you doing here?”
“Babe, who is it?” And then Vanessa’s sister appears behind Tristan. She looks a lot like Vanessa, but there’s a hardness to her, where Van is all soft beauty and stunningly gorgeous. Her sister looks older than she should. Maybe it’s all that hate inside her that’s made her age faster. And then I notice that she’s pregnant. It’s a small bump, but it’s there.
Of course, the two demons procreated to make a spawn.
I don’t know what makes me say it, but the words come out of me on their own accord. “I’m the man who’s going to marry your sister one day, and I’m going to make sure you two pay for what you did to her.” To Tristan I point a finger at him. “Get outside.”
“What?” He laughs incredulously. “Are you serious? I’m not fighting you.”
“Get. Out. Now.”
“I’d listen to him, man,” Jude pipes up in the back.
“You both,” my eyes go to her sister, “are fucking bullies. You tortured your own sister, your flesh and blood,” I admonish, and at least she has the decency to lower her gaze with a tiny bit of shame. “And you,” anger sends spit flying from my mouth as I turn to Tristan, “not only tricked her into dating you and thinking you liked her, you stole her virginity.”
“What?!” Her sister shrieks over my shoulder.
“You get one free hit,” I tell Tristan. “Offer expires in 3, 2—”
Fucker decks me right in the eye. It’s a pussy move, but I’m glad he did it, because it means I’m free to unleash all my anger on him and I do.
For a moment, I feel like my father and that scares the shit out of me.
I don’t want to be him.
I’m not him.
I hit him and hit him and hit him, all the while reminding myself that I might be beating this guy but I’m not my father.
Tristan rolls over, coughing. There’s blood streaked on his teeth, but he’s laughing.
“Is that what she told you?” He laughs and laughs and laughs like a psycho, like this whole thing is so fucking amusing. “I didn’t take anything from her she wasn’t willing to give. The fat bitch wanted it.”
And.
I.
See.
Fucking.
Red.
I lose it. Completely explode.
It takes both Jude and Mascen to pull me off the guy.
“You’re a sick fuck,” Mascen tells him, always wanting the last word. “You too.” He eyes Van’s sister standing on the front porch stoop with her hand to her mouth. “People like you shouldn’t be allowed to procreate. Sick fucks.”
I don’t point out that Mascen’s a sick fuck too. He knows it. But he’s better since Rory came into his life. Or back into his life I should say.
They shove me into the car and pull away fast.
“Dude has to have a couple broken ribs,” Jude says from the back.
“Good.” I rub my split lip. “He should hurt like he hurt her.” I stew in silence. I thought I’d feel better, and I do, a little bit, but not as much as I expected.
It doesn’t matter, though. I did what I set out to do. I defended Vanessa. That’s what she deserves. No one’s ever stood up for her, protected her, but she has me now whether she wants me or not.
“So,” Mascen speaks up after it’s been quiet in the car for a while. I’m surprised he’s the one breaking the silence. You normally can’t get the dude to talk. “You’re pretty into this girl, huh? I mean, to do all that … say you’re going to marry her…” He trails off. “I thought you hadn’t known her long?”
“Shut up,” I growl, looking down at my raw knuckles.
Jude smacks my shoulder from the backseat and I glance at him. “Since we did all this does that mean we’re tied for best man? I’m prepared to start building my case on why I deserve the title.”
I snort, wiping my nose. The blood is beginning to dry. “There’s no competition folks, we all know who the best man will be.” They’re quiet, waiting. I look at them like they’re crazy that they even want an answer. “Cole, duh.”
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Welcome!
Hi. I’m Micalea. Ma-call-e-uh. Weird name, I know. My mom must’ve known I was going to be odd even in the womb. I’ve written a lot of books. Like a lot. Don’t ask me how many, I don’t remember at this point.
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Lori Seiderman said:
Hello, I am writing to offer my services as a beta reader. I currently work as a beta or a volunteer editor for several authors and I really love your writing. I just finished The Boys series and I think I can show support to you in any way that you might be able to need me. I am a retired professor of literature and all I do is read all day. I have plenty of time for volunteering to work with writers. My name is Lori Seiderman. If you think I could be of help my email is lseiderman@charter.net and my number is 828-684-8387 Thank you for your consideration, Lori p.s. If you need a reference, Katherine Lowry Logan, who writes The Celtic Brooch series, has kindly offered to provide one. I have worked as her beta on her last two books.