Welcome! Thank you for coming. The word prompt is "short". This week is a continuation of Buddy Carruther's story. He's a wide receiver who just saw his old, college flame again. This will be Buddy's last week as I get into writing his story in book form. Thank you for coming.
After the Kings’ victory, Buddy, their wide
receiver, ran to the stands. He led Emmie to a quiet corner.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a
long time,” she said, stepping closer to Buddy.He grinned. Kiss me, baby.
The sound and the sting of a sharp slap on his cheek stunned him. He fell back a step or two, grabbed his face and stared at her.
“What the fuck was that for?”
Her eyes became sharp, emerald points. “For leaving me. Dumping me. The little nobody, wannabe singer wasn’t good enough for the pro football star, eh? Well who’s not good enough now?”
“What the hell are you talking about? You left me.” His eyes were wide.
“Stash told me you’d say that. And the way you’re whoring around.
I see the gossip columns. You’re sleeping with anything in a
“D” cup that breathes. You did me a favor.”
She turned to walk away. Buddy grabbed her arm.“It’s not like that. I’d leave ‘em all behind in a second for another chance with you.”
“Right. Sure. Like I believe that.” But a flush stole into her cheeks.
“Typical Buddy, long on bullshit, short on truth.”
Stash appeared and took her arm. “Come on, Emerald. You don’t have to take his shit.”
“Oh, I get it. I get it now,” Buddy said, nodding
as he rubbed his cheek. “You played us both, Stash, didn’t you?”“Fuck off, Buddy. You’re history.”
Buddy grabbed Stash’s collar, and drew back his fist, but Griff called out from the shadows, “Don’t, Buddy. It’s not worth it.”
Buddy spat on the ground. “You’re right, Griff. Drop dead, Stash.”
The teammates turned and headed for the locker room. One backward glance showed Buddy that Emmie’s brows were knit, her lips compressed in a tight frown.
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