A Game of Inches

By Davee Jones

Will Lola really shut down the Fantasy Leagues, just as she was making serious friends? With Rudy, her best client and confidant, in the hospital after a paralyzing football injury, she must evaluate what's important. Her mother reveals a bizarre addiction just before she gives Lola cryptic information about her dad. What did Rod Stewart really have to do with Lola's father?
The Letter opens doors to both heartache and love, but, she doesn't know how to deal with either one. Just what did she do to make Marty attack her car with a baseball bat? Does she really have that much passionate power over her closest companions?
Meanwhile, a second encounter with Danika ignites smoldering passions leaving these besties more than confused. Does Danika love both Lola and Finn? How could the two relationships be so opposite?
Will Eugene agree to shoulder Lola through this latest crisis? Potentially, working behind the scenes on the Fantasy Leagues may have revealed to Eugene what he is missing the most- a soul mate.
Finn receives an offer almost too good to be true, if he takes the brass ring opportunity, will he say good-bye to Danika just as things are heating up?
Lola spirals downward in an alcoholic torrent of hopelessness and fear, trying to help her long lost daughter, Sharlyn. Dying from a disease, Lola would've never even met her long lost daughter if the situation wasn't critical.
With Sharlyn's appearance, an unknown father is revealed, unraveling everything Lola tied shut years before.
Just as in football, life is a game of inches, some gained some lost. Watching these characters struggle to gain yards may destroy relationships instead of scoring touchdowns.
With many twists and turns keeping the reader guessing, a Game of Inches exposes the raw as well as the tender we all experience in life. But, do we get up and power on, or do we lie down and give up what may be the best game of our lives?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Davee Jones
• Release date: Jan 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310140556

Davee Jones

Davee Jones began a career in the counseling field with her M.Ed. She then diversified and began work for the federal government. The dryness of the day to day assignments fostered the desire for her to do something more creative. Everything between the covers comes from the heart. Now avidly writing, she has several other books in progress. She has books that draw from eroticism, romance, suspense, drama, and sometimes comedy. A few of her books garner only one flame, but, others will secure all five flames in the heat index.

Book preview

A GAME OF INCHES

The Fantasy Leagues Book Two

Davee Jones

Published by Davee Jones

Copyright 2014 Davee Jones

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Before You Jump In – This series would be lost without my home girl, Lee Alviar, beta reader deluxe. Also, The Husband, Alan, for the awesome covers.

Each sub-chapter has an introduction. The character’s name in the introduction will be the character POV.

Just an FYI…hugs and thank you for your support-- Davee

Many Lashes Ago…

Something was wrong, I felt someone staring at me, but, I didn’t see anyone in the hazy yellow glare of the streetlights. Hundreds of gnats, flies, and who knew what else swarmed grossly around the glow. Of all days to forget my bike, this really sucked. Of course, I hadn’t ridden that fucking thing in two years. Both tires had flats and cobwebs strewn over the frame, winding in through the tire spokes. I was too cool for a bike, usually someone gave me a ride. Cue the Police and one of my favorite songs…Don’t Stand So Close to Me…unfortunately, no one was even within rock throwing distance today. I pulled my jacket up closer around my neck, taking another glance around before moving forward.

The night air felt crisp against my cheeks. I likened it to the way peppermint made my throat achingly cool- refreshing to just this side of painful. In my opinion, this time of year passed way too fast into straight cold. Football season… who didn’t like men crouched at the ready? Someday, I’d control one of those massive, beefy muscled specimens. Cheerleaders just thought they had the best positions on the field. Mine occurred in the locker room.

I’d spent years walking the neighborhoods close to my house. Mom and I never moved around, I knew each back alley, side street, and abandoned tree house within a five mile radius, maybe more. Strangely, I’d rarely felt uncomfortable, yet, that night, the closer I came to my street, panic settled in my gut. My ears perked up when I heard a car engine purr somewhere behind me. I moved closer to the inside edge of the sidewalk. Sensory overload confused me, my footsteps quickened. I could see my house, white rope lights lined the perimeter of my porch. I squinted, hoping to make it seem closer, as if those few extra yards would matter.

I looked over my right shoulder, not seeing anything. Before I turned to my left, someone bear-hugged me from behind. This asshole put a gloved hand over my mouth, restraining both my arms with the other. The fucker was strong. I tried to bite but, kept getting a mouthful of leather glove. Then I realized the smell filling my nostrils wasn’t peppermint, it was something foul, yet akin- making my lungs hurt even more. I struggled, kicked, but, a stabbing pain hit my brain also making me weak with dizziness. My hands and feet went numb.

I’m gonna die.

The flying bugs all fell like black rain, closing around my hallucination. Everything folded into tunnel vision, dark as the night sky…

Chapter One

Lola Fontaine Leaving Fantasy Leagues?

Eugene, I’m taking a leave of absence. He would either deal with me taking a timeout or he would be without a job when I closed the bitch down.

How would this be different from the past few weeks? He shook his head, putting his hand on his hip.

You look gay when you do that. Are you gay, Eugene? I’m fine with it, just asking for future reference. Maybe we could do a lesbian and gay league.

I wouldn’t give a good damn if you accepted it or not, it’s none of your business.

Snippy shit today, aren’t you?

You look like shit today, how’s that?

I hadn’t slept well in days, no matter that I’d passed out every day this past week. I drank enough to dull the pain, masking the reality that was now my hell. Or was it the hell now my reality? How could that beautiful girl claim I was her mother? However, I disgusted her enough she left quickly, hopefully I wouldn’t see her again. I don’t need those ridiculous claims.

I couldn’t be her mother.

The child I gave up for adoption would be far away from here.

Yeah, I didn’t tell you about the kid before. It didn’t seem relevant.

I didn’t tell anyone. Only my mother, and the female bastards’ father. I had to be angry at those chubby cheeks, full head of dark hair and wide blue eyes. If I wasn’t angry, I couldn’t have passed her to a better woman than me. I didn’t need the hassle of a kid. I was barely sixteen years old. A kid definitely cramped my partying. However, she did prove quite lucrative.

Dear old dad had to keep me quiet somehow. Blackmail it was.

I wouldn’t blackmail my current bestie. Eugene, I’m asking you as a friend.

You want me to enable your piss poor way of dealing with life, which is not a friendship, by the way. I feel dirty.

I need some time.

You need therapy. The Rudy thing has taken over your life.

I wish it was so simple. Where would I start explaining?

I don’t want to talk with you anymore. I will help you finish out football league. But, I will not start basketball, nor do any part of it, without you.

I’m touched by your concern. I could hope Eugene was coming from a place of sincerity.

Not concern, my rent is still due every month. However, I could easily have another job by the time football is over.

Thank you. I really need to go now. My head is splitting and I need to lie down.

I’m sure you’ll go the hair of the dog route.

Eugene was well versed in all things snark. You little asshole eunuch. Of course, I didn’t say it loud enough for him to hear. I needed him to take care of my real baby, The Fantasy Leagues. My business was the only thing truly mine. My ambitions didn’t leave me scarred like a human baby did.

Chex mix. I also missed Marty.

I called my mother. I still had the issue of The Letter.

Lola Discovers The Puzzler…

Mother, I insist on driving to your house. The truth was I’d rather carve my eyes out with a spoon. Thou shalt not see…

Let me come visit you. I could stay over one night, I’ll take you out for supper.

I’m already on my way. I’d shut her down quickly. Silence droned over the cell connection.

You’re on your way here?

That’s what I just said, I’ll be there, in like, a few minutes.

I’m hardly prepared for company.

Seriously, mom, I’m not company, I’m your daughter.

Let’s meet at that burger shop you like so well.

I’ve not asked directly out of a necessary respect. She forgets I interview people all the time, knowing what to look for. What are you hiding?

Rare quiet, I wish she could always be so accommodating.

I’m doing some…cleaning, of sorts. I have things all over the place

I’d be remiss if I didn’t understand the psychology of my own flesh and blood. Though indirectly, my mother taught me varied ways of dealing with my neurosis. I act out my frustrations boldly with the gifts God gave me, if he even exists. She’s different- I fear Laverne’s taken up another compulsive hobby. From as far back as I can remember, Laverne Fontaine jumped on every fad train she came across.

Wholeheartedly.

Let’s just say, my mom still lives in a four bedroom house, alone. She needs every nook, cranny, and closet for all the stuff she’s accumulated over the years. I wouldn’t say she is one of the trendy hoarder type people popping up on reality television shows. However, there is a really good chance that when she passes away someday, I’ll make a mint from some antique roadshow appearance.

I know you have your collections. I won’t say a single word. I’ll just get The Letter and get the hell out of her claustrophobic she-cave.

You promise not to say a word.

If you could see me crossing my heart, you’d know I was serious. The less talk meant I could leave sooner. I sense disbelief.

I’d really rather we meet somewhere.

Now, mom had me concerned. Normally, she’s going out of her way luring me back to ground zero. I’ve turned down home cooking, money, vacations, you name it. I always had an excuse. I know it appears I harbor nothing but contempt and frustration for this female who birthed me. However, I must admit, right here…right now. I love my mother. I will always love my mother, no matter how weird she becomes. Neither of us can change the past. My indiscretions, insert heavy sarcasm, more than outweigh the burden of being Laverne’s spawn. We are at a stalemate in the game of hurting each other. I realize neither of us have the energy, nor the inclination, to continue throwing emotional daggers at one another.

Hence my deep concern she obviously doesn’t want me in our family home.

It became our family home the moment I felt unwelcome.

I pulled into the driveway. Mom, I need to be home, just for a little bit.

Oh, corn nuts, fine! You promise not to say…

I opened the door with flourish. Not a single… Dear baby Jesus in a basket. Or was that Noah? What the hell was she doing? I shouldn’t have made that promise.

Every flat surface was covered. If the surface was soft, there was something stiff like cardboard covering it. I stepped further into the living room. Bits, odd shapes, and tiny multicolored fragments scattered around. I had to be surrounded by ten thousand jigsaw puzzle pieces. Mom?

Laverne stood wringing her hands. So, I have new hobby.

How…how many of these do you have going?

Oh, I don’t know, when I get stumped with one, I can go to another.

I slowly nodded, smiling as much as my skepticism would allow. You certainly have…options.

I knew it. I knew you would think I’m crazy.

I promised you I wouldn’t say a word. I won’t.

You can’t stop your body language.

I closed my eyes, seeing fresh baked cookies, a Christmas tree, and our stockings by the fireplace. I casually glanced over. There were three puzzles in varied stages of completion on the tile in front of the hearth. I walked to them. Holiday scenes and snow… I looked at the box lids demonstrating the completed picture.

Yes, I thought they would look good framed hanging over here for Christmas.

Then, I saw it. The Letter. It was on the mantle. I reached out, touching it gingerly. I drew my hand back fast. I like the idea of Christmas puzzle pictures.

The letter won’t bite you Lola-girl. Hold it for a while. Think about it.

She came to see me, mom. She came to my office. I stared at the envelope. Suddenly, I wanted to sit down on the floor with my mom and work puzzles. All day long. Something I could start, work on, finish. I think I see the appeal.

But, did she need like fifty going at one time, jamdammit?

Your daughter?

Daughter? The word stabbed me between the shoulder blades. Sad piano music filled my brain. The theme song from Terms of Endearment worked between the folds in my gray matter, filling the creases with reasons to cry. I blacked out. This time, it had nothing to do with alcohol. I blamed this one on regret. I landed on mom’s Christmas puzzles, scattering the loose pieces underneath me.

Somewhere out of the gray fog I heard my mother’s voice. Dear, lift up, here’s some water. My mom balanced my head with one hand and a glass of ice water with another.

Thanks, mom, I’ll be fine. I sat up, vertigo immediately settled in. I went back down to the floor. I guess I should lie still for a bit. Was I out long?

No, maybe a few minutes. I think you may be dehydrated.

I’ve been so busy lately.

You don’t need to make up stories for me, dear. I know a meltdown when I see one. You never did deal with emotional stress very well.

Ya think? It wasn’t quite a dagger, but, she was crossing a line.

Okay, okay, I know I didn’t give you the tools to cope in life. I never figured it out. She stroked my forehead. I didn’t have a very good relationship with my mom. Your grandma was a rather cold fish. She believed children should be seen, not heard. Actually, she didn’t even think children should be seen. I spent several hours in my room. I had imaginary friends or the neighborhood kids to keep me company. I tried too hard with you, trying to be a best friend, not a mother. You were always so independent and strong. I thought nothing could faze you.

Oh, cheese whiz, mother, I’m horrible with emotions.

I’m seeing. I’m sorry. What can I do?

Can I borrow about ten puzzles? I need something I can solve without losing perspective.

Do you want to stay the night and work on some with me?

Everyone talks about crossroads in life. I’m here to tell you they don’t have to be major life events to truly qualify as a fork in the road. Sleeping in my old bed could absolutely fork up my life. I don’t know…

Even if you don’t wanna stay, you can’t leave just yet. You cannot drive in your condition.

Maybe I could lie down in my room.

My mom looked around, pursing her lips. Yes, that would be a good idea. I need to see if I put sheets on the bed.

You have puzzles going on my bed, don’t you? Ladies and gentlemen, if you thought the Riddler was bad, meet middle America’s nemesis, the Puzzler.

It won’t take a minute to move them.

Aww, corn nuts, mom. Do you have puzzles in every room?

Not a word, you promised. I heard her voice echo down the hallway.

After the Puzzler cleared off my bed, I finally settled in for a long nap. The weight of the past weeks heavily rested on my weary shoulders. I needed a reprieve, somewhere I wouldn’t think too much.