Dont tempt me, p.1
Don't Tempt Me, page 1
DON’T TEMPT ME
A novel by
Ziggy Harris
Also by Ziggy Harris
Not In His Shadow
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Don’t Tempt Me. Copyright 2024 by Ziggy Harris. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address Get It Girl Publishing, PO Box 24269 San Francisco, CA 94124.
Get It Girl Publishing books may be purchased for educational, business, or sales promotional use. For information, please email GIGP at info@getitgirlpublishing.com.
First Edition
Cover art by Tracey Eng
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN 978-1-7345270-5-6
This book is dedicated to readers who love love.
To my friends and family who have supported me and my art through the years, thank you! To the readers and supporters across the globe, thank you! I am forever grateful for the time you spend with me and the journey you take when reading about the lives of dynamic characters. Characters I hope resonate with you and that you see yourself in.
Enjoy
Bailey
In college Bailey was head over heels for the San Diego Oilers defensive lineman Casey Christopher. He has built like a God; his sculpted body made men envious and left women yearning. Casey's body was tatted like a New York City subway station. He was covered from head to toe with well over 40 pieces of art across his body except his unmentionables, hands, face, and feet. She did not typically go for guys with locs, but because he kept his neat and clean, Bailey wanted to lay on his chest and play in them. Casey also had the most kissable lips she had ever seen on a man. She had the blues for the bad boy of the American Football League, but as the new public relations intern for the Oilers, she learned she would need to keep her left shoulder devil at bay.
********************
Bailey Jones relocated from Los Angeles to San Diego to take a public relations internship with the San Diego Oilers. During the first semester of her senior year of college, Bailey wowed the Oiler's recruiters at the Los Angeles State University job fair in the fall of 2011. As a Communications major at LASU, Bailey concentrated on public relations; she enjoyed the fast-paced environment and shaping public perceptions. She felt empowered to influence the public's perception of an individual, group, or company. During her junior year at LASU, Bailey interned for The Beat, an online magazine, as an assistant to the editor-in-chief, Sharla Campbell. Sharla was a hard-nosed investigative reporter committed to releasing accurate celebrity news. She was not concerned about gossip or hearsay; Sharla had learned in Los Angeles people would say or do anything to plant a story for fifteen minutes in the limelight. She loathed attention whores and upheld the integrity of The Beat by holding her contributors to the highest investigative regard. Each story went to print once it was cross-referenced at least twice.
Bailey learned a lot from Sharla while interning at The Beat. The most important thing she learned as a professional in a dog-eat-dog world was all she had was her word, integrity, and never to compromise them. Now, as an intern for the American Football League, she knew it was critical now more than ever not to compromise her reputation, regardless of any potential gains. As if concerning herself with the global image of one of the AFL's top teams, Bailey had to learn how to navigate foreign territory; working with professional athletes and their "handlers," as she liked to refer to agents, managers, and entourages. As a public relations intern, Bailey worked with the Oilers Foundation to plan community events for various charitable causes with an array of audiences, corporate to communities in need, and everything in between.
********************
Bailey greeted the receptionist sitting at the large desk on the open ground floor of the Oilers corporate offices and training facility in Mission Valley, north of San Diego's city center. The older woman had been with the organization for well over thirty years. "Good morning, Sally!" Bailey said to a red-haired woman.
"Good morning, Bailey! How was your weekend?" Sally asked.
"My weekend was great. I have been preparing for my first day of work. I can't believe how nervous I am," replied Bailey, "How was your weekend?" she asked.
Sally was the first person to show any sign of being human to Bailey when she arrived at Oilers Central for her second interview. Bailey placed Sally to be in her late fifties or early sixties, who was full of life as she always greeted everyone who walked through the doors of Oilers Central with a smile. Bailey was relieved by the older woman's sweet disposition because her boss, Jonathan Starks, was as lovely as a porcupine.
"It was wonderful; Jim and I took the grandkids to the beach. We are trying to enjoy the great outdoors before it becomes too hot." Sally gushed.
"I definitely understand," Bailey responded, "This SoCal heat is brutal. Well, Sally, I better get going, I do not want to be late on my first official day of work."
Beaming at the young woman before her, Sally responded, "Okay, dear, I'll catch you later."
Bailey
Bailey had been working tirelessly for two solid weeks on SummerFest, which was scheduled for the weekend following the July 4th holiday. SummerFest was the annual event hosted by the Oilers where local youth community football teams would get a chance to tour At Comm Stadium, play flag football, learn football drills, and talk to the pros about what it takes to make it to the American Football League. Much to Bailey's surprise, when she started working for the Oilers, she found that the planning for SummerFest had yet to begin and was scheduled for just over a month away.
Silently cursing John, Bailey was upset that no one had started working on the event before her arrival. It was well past 6 pm on a Friday, and Bailey wanted nothing more than to go to her apartment and soak in some vitamin D while the sun was still up. With her luck, she would be satisfied with leaving the building before 8pm.
Having made significant gains with an event of this magnitude in three weeks, the last items on Bailey's agenda were to send invitations, arrange transportation for participating programs, and to get as many players as possible to commit to the festivities. It was common for lesser-paid players or players in contract negotiations to forego these kinds of events. However, with training camp in full swing, Bailey hoped to persuade more players to volunteer their time with the activities instead of relying on external volunteers.
Bailey knew that players were unwilling to commit to community events if it was not a contractual obligation, and she could not blame them. Football was a tricky business, with contracts not being guaranteed and pushing their body to extreme limits; she could not blame those players who wished not to participate. Still, she kept hope alive. Bailey was putting the finishing touches on her compelling presentation that she hoped would encourage the team to join SummerFest.
********************
Grabbing her purse from the bottom left drawer in her cubicle desk, Bailey gathered her pink blazer, that she had worn with a denim pencil dress, from the back of her desk chair. As she prepared to exit the building and head for the employee parking lot, Bailey made a pit stop at the ladies' restroom located a few feet away from the exit on the ground floor of Oiler’s Central. Startled by what she'd seen as she entered the bathroom, Bailey quickly turned around to exit. "Hey!" The voice called out. Bailey did not respond as she kept walking. "Hey, miss, could you please stop?" Slowing her stride, Bailey turned to see what the person wanted. "I apologize if I alarmed you," he said, "but the men's room is being cleaned, and I could not wait. I didn't know there was anyone left in the building."
Bailey's eyes ascended from the floor until she looked into the eyes of Casey Christopher, defensive tackle for the Oilers. "It's okay, I totally understand," was all Bailey could muster. Bailey's mind wondered as Casey stood before her, wearing black and grey gym shorts, a black tank top and black and red Air Jordan retro six sneakers. Bailey tried to calm her nerves, but the print in his gym shorts made it hard for her to focus.
"Are you sure?" he broke into her reverie.
"Uh-umm, yes, I thought I had to go to the bathroom, but it turns out that I don't have to", she responded.
Rocking back on his heels, Casey countered, "The way you bum rushed the bathroom door, I would have thought otherwise," before chuckling. Bailey was doing her best to remain calm, and she could not decipher if he were mocking her or being genuine. The added nervousness and staring at one of her many crushes in the eyes added to Bailey's growing urge to relieve herself.
"Well," she began, "Mr. Christopher, you would be correct. If you do not mind, I would like to use the restroom now." Feigning confidence while walking past the bank of sinks, Bailey scrambled to the nearest stall when she heard the door of the bathroom close behind her. After relieving herself, Bailey readjusted her clothes and added a fresh coat of lip gloss. "Shit!" Bailey cursed under her breath as she exited the restroom.
"What did I do now?" Casey asked as he stood near the exit door of Oilers Central.
"Why are you still here?" Bailey asked with an ounce of bite and apprehension.
"You d
"That would have been preferred," Bailey responded as she rolled her eyes.
"Clearly, little lady, you have no idea of who I am. Plus, my father would kill me," Casey said as he opened the exit door for Bailey to exit, "Now, where did you park?"
"You can't be serious; I can make it to my car from here, thanks, though," Bailey responded.
Casey said nothing. His eyes grew serious as his jaw clenched. Bailey could not pinpoint what she saw in Casey's eyes, but from what she gathered, he was a man who did not take to being challenged. On either account, Bailey decided that his kind gesture would not be one she would quarrel over. Instead, she pointed to the right of the building and said, "This way."
Bailey and Casey walked in an awkward silence until they reached her lipstick-red Charger. "Well, this is me," Bailey said matter-of-factly to Casey.
"Is that right?" Casey followed in disbelief at the vehicle the little lady drove, "This looks like the ride of a dope boy. You sure this is your whip?"
"Ha-ha, hilarious," Bailey countered, "This was a graduation present from my father; before you ask, no, he is not a d-boy."
"Pops must be a baller," Casey commented as he opened the driver’s door of the tricked-out car equipped with a custom interior, tinted windows, and custom rims. Casey held the door open as he watched Bailey make herself comfortable in the driver's seat. When Casey closed her car door, Bailey let down the window to express her gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Christopher. I appreciate your chivalry."
"Please, call me Casey. Mr. Christopher makes me sound old."
"Well, then, Casey, thank you for your superior concierge service and seeing me to my car."
Casey watched as Bailey maneuvered the vehicle from its parking spot in the employee lot. "It was my pleasure," Casey muttered as he watched the red car with a vanity license plate that read "LADYBUG" drive out of sight.
Casey
"Bro, you should have seen her face when she saw me in the women's bathroom!" Casey said in between sets of bicep curls. "She looked mortified, and all I was doing was washing my hands," he added with a laugh.
"But is she fine?" Jamal asked.
Jamal Scott was the right guard for the San Diego Oilers. A native of San Diego, Jamal was drafted in the third round the same year as Casey out of the University of San Diego. It was rare for linemen on opposite sides of the ball to build solid friendships. Casey and Jamal were different, they were more than teammates, they were brothers. Though highly competitive, they used that energy as motivation to improve their individual skills and abilities. In the last four seasons, they bet on which team, offense or defense, would have the better season: points earned versus points allowed.
Casey was like a lost puppy when he arrived in San Diego for organized team activities; much to his delight, Jamal's family adopted him. Casey loved the Scott family dearly, and having a family he could rely on when his own was thousands of miles away made life, especially the holidays, more tolerable. "I can't lie, shorty was fine." Casey bragged as he dapped up his compadre.
"Well, hook a brother up then." Jamal pleaded, "You know a smooth, handsome fella, such as myself knows how to treat a lady."
“Yeah, not going to happen. She’ll send you to the hills quicker than you could get off the line of scrimmage,” Casey countered. He hoped his friend did not detect the protectiveness in his voice as he spoke about Bailey.
“Aww man, why are you blocking?” Jamal asked, feigning hurt and disappointment.
Starting a new set of bicep curls, “Not blocking, just trying to warn you. Honey, damn near had me shaking in my J’s for wanting to walk her to her car,” Casey replied.
Convinced his friend was sweet on the lady they discussed, “Just remember, you do have a family.” Jamal’s words pierced Casey; he loved his son, but the relationship with his son’s mother was beginning to weigh on him.
“Please do not bring Monica up; I’m trying to have a pleasant workout,” Casey grumbled.
“No problem slick, I won’t say another word.”
********************
“Fellas, before we get started, someone from upstairs wants to talk to you about an upcoming event”, Coach Harold Melvin informed the room full of men dressed in various athletic wear. A collective moan came over the room from the men as their head coach left the lectern.
Dressed in red wide leg pants and a cream printed chiffon collar shirt, an extremely nervous Bailey walked down the center aisle. Praying not to stumble in her nude Christian Louboutin platform heels Bailey approached the front of the room. Preparing to take on some of the world’s most physically intimidating men she mentally rehearsed her pitch. Taking her place at the lectern, Bailey heard the loud music of a phone notifying its owner of an incoming call or text message. Centering herself, Bailey began to speak to the room of warriors.
********************
“That’s her,” Casey texted Jamal as he watched the beautiful and confident woman stroll past the eyes of admirers. Casey thought he had seen the woman give him a light smile. Unsure if the gesture was natural or imagined, he decided to believe she could recognize him in a room full of amazons. If you had asked Casey five minutes ago, he would have told you that he could not care less what the people upstairs had to say. Now that this angel was standing before him, he was all ears and eyes.
“So, as you see,” Bailey began, “we are mindful of your contractual obligations. However, we want to provide the youth of San Diego a unique experience. One only you can give them. Your expertise could potentially change the trajectory of these boys’ lives.” Bailey had used every trick in the book to pull on these giant’s heartstrings. Some were from troubled upbringings, while others had children themselves. No matter their current or past circumstance, Bailey presented a scenario that would cause them to consider participating in the upcoming SummerFest.
Casey watched as Bailey left the dais to hand out packets to each row for players to review the material for the upcoming event. Casey’s contract required him to participate in at least four foundation events, and the annual SummerFest was his favorite. However, with the lady he admired leading the campaign, he volunteered for a leadership role to spend more time with her.
Bailey
Bailey had been working like a mad woman after she met with the players that morning, and it continued well into the afternoon. Startled by the shrill of her office phone, Bailey quickly swung her desk chair around to oblige the demand for the small piece of office equipment. "This is Bailey," she answered on the phone.
"You have a call," the receptionist, Geneva, said as she transferred the call, not waiting for Bailey's response. Bailey waited for the double beep, which indicated a successful call transfer, "This is Bailey," she said for a second time.
"Bailey!" The pleasant yet unfamiliar voice said on the opposite end of the line, "Hi, how are you?"
"I'm sorry, who might this be?" Bailey asked of the gentlemen who had contacted her.
"This is Casey. Don't tell me that you have forgotten about me already", he feigned being hurt by her not recognizing him.
Rising in her seat, Bailey scrambled to locate her notes for the SummerFest, "Uh, Casey, no, I have not forgotten you. I just did not recognize your voice."
Hearing the rustling of papers in the background, "Did I catch you a bad time?" Casey asked.
"Oh, no, what can I help you with?" Bailey asked, hoping that he was calling to discuss the SummerFest.
"SummerFest, and the real question is what can I do to help you? Did you know that it is one of my favorite events?" Casey inquired.
"No, I did not know that this was one of your favorites and thank you for volunteering. You are the first player to reach out. I surely hope more of you guys feel compelled to help", Bailey admitted. "Is there something in particular you would like do at SummerFest?"
"I did have an idea or two that I would like to share with you, but I would like to discuss them in person," Casey replied.
