Chapter Text
~Lexa~
It is too early to be up.
No scratch that:
It is too early to be up.
It is too fucking early to be up.
Yeah, sometimes the word fuck just makes things better. And at the moment I really need to let the world know how I feel. The world meaning me and my baby. Because we were seriously up to fucking early. And for what? Some lady's birthday.
I mean seriously, what person in their sane mind signs up to get up before 7 every day and babysit someone else’s teenagers. This chick has to be crazy, and Indra’s even crazier for thinking that this is going to make Costia’s fucking bullshit go away.
~Yesterday~
“People ain’t stupid, Indra,” I told her, but she didn’t care what I was saying. She just stared me down like she was my mother, but she wasn’t. She was my publicist, and when I looked bad she looked bad. Therefore, I though that this approach would work.
But it didn't.
She just kept talking. Just telling me, “The WNBA has invested a lot of money in your face… blah blah blah… she’s a fan and her students are trying to do something nice… blah blah blah…the one who wrote the letter says she is like her savior-“
Indra must have noticed that I wasn’t really listening because all of a sudden a giant envelope hit me in the head and fell to the ground before me. I know my face was red, because I could feel my blood rushing to it. My hands are clenched and I am about to jump from my seat and give her a piece of my mind.
You know that piece of attitude that develops from hitting too many threes in a row or winning a MVP trophy. The attitude that my actual mother told me was eating me alive last week, when she saw my “latest stunt” on the news.
But seriously I am Lexa fucking Trikru. The Commander of the Phoenix Mercury, and my employee just threw something at me. I should sue her ass for assault.
I should fire that pinche cabrona. Yeah, yeah! I’ll fire her ass… Then I breathe. I breathe and realize I am doing it again. So I scratched that. I’ll fire that pinche cabrona.
“Tomorrow, Lexa,” Indra stated and turned to leave. But when she hit the locker room door, she turned aburtly to hand me one more piece of sass. “I did my research. She’s not Costia and she’s not crazy so please be nice to her. She seems like someone that deserves the old Lexa. Not this ruthless bitch you are steadily becoming.” She kicked a box near the door, and just the shape told me it was a ball. “the other girls sighed it, so don’t forget it.”
So I flip her off. I mean she said I was a bitch right. That deserves at least a little fuck you. But it made me wonder, so I grabbed the fucking giant envelope. Like seriously, what the fuck was Indra thinking throwing this at me? It could have sliced through my throat and then she would have had to actually have a press conference that I died from a fucking paper cut or something.
Shaking my head, I knew I was going overboard but hey that’s what a fucking brain is for right. Use your imagination and all that shit. It’s not crazy as long as it doesn’t come out of my mouth. Well doesn’t come out when I’m sober. Drunk you can say all the crazy shit you want and no one gives a fuck, in fact they usually cheer and shit.
Opening the envelope, I first see the glossy photo of myself. Fuck, they did a good job. Made me look taller, and that stylist was amazing. The way I had her screaming my name, fuck. What was her name again?
I bit my lip and scanned over the purple and orange lockers. I seriously spent way too much time trying to think of the hit and quit’s name, but I like to think that I care enough to try and remember the girl’s name. Even though I didn't really care, and I didn't remember her name.
I pulled a Sharpie from my duffle and signed the photo. As I went to put it back in the envelope, I found the crumpled piece of paper that was making my life difficult. I reached in and pulled it out. I was about to throw it away, until something caught my attention.
My name in purple pen and careful print.
Dear Ms. Lexa Trikru,
I’m writing to you in hopes that you could help me honor my English teacher on her birthday. She is a huge fan of yours and has never missed a game. I know that you are extremely busy, and I know that the playoffs are about to start. (BTW, congratulations on making it to the playoffs.) Griffin is a very special person.
You see she saved my life…
I stopped reading there. I stopped reading because this was about to get sappy and honestly I don’t do sappy. I do bitchy and sexy. Yes, if Griffin the Teacher was either of those things then maybe I would give her a little more of my time.
Never had a teacher before.
The drive isn’t too bad. A double lane highway into the middle of fucking nowhere, but still who the fuck knew there are actual farms surrounding Phoenix. Where the hell does the water come from? Who wants to be a farmer in Arizona. Picking fields out here must be hell. The literal definition of hell.
“Continue on County Road 85 for the next fifteen miles,” the robotic female GPS drone instructs me. I scowl at the digital map largely displayed on the Tesla touch screen, and I lift up my plastic cup. The iced coffee is almost empty, and the fields on either side of me make me fear that I will not be finding a Starbucks at the end of this road.
“Who the fuck lives out here!” I mutter to no one but myself. But the song changes and the bass in the trunk thumps through my chest pumping me up.
I pray that Griffin isn’t a seventy year old woman. Just please make her one of those hot chicks that chooses to be selfless and poor until they marry rich.
Wait what? Scratch that:
Just please make her one of those hot chicks that chooses to be selfless and poor until they marry rich.
Just please make her one of those hot chicks that chooses to be selfless and poor.
Wait. Those bitches aren’t real. Scratch again:
Just please make her one of those hot chicks that chooses to be selfless and poor.
Just make her hot, preferably not crazy, and… a screamer. Yeah, let her be a screamer.
The music changes and I can’t help but roll my hips with the beat. I love to dance, and ‘Hey Mama’ is a great throwback to high school. One arm is doing the wave out the window when I blaze past a dusty black Corolla that is like the only other car traveling into town.
Yeah, so what its early as fuck. I’ll go meet the teacher. I smile at that thought. Meet the teacher, all domestic and shit. Wait… maybe that’s not domestic. I start analyzing what classifies as domestic and what doesn’t. Because I felt like I needed to know this, I’m meeting an English teacher.
So here’s the thing. I hate English. The only memory I had of English were four years of pot-bellied dudes that sat in front of the mentally fired teenagers pretending ineffectively to pay attention as they would drone on and on and on about the pinche climax. And when they would say climax, the boys would chuckle or high five, while the girls would roll their eyes. Teenagers knew what a climax was but really, none of us girls had ever hit one.
Especially me. I was tall and into sports. And gay. Not a little gay. Like really gay. But the school had 400 people and I was already weird. Being gay then made it even worse. So I dated a football player, ha! He was also gay. Everyone thought we would grow up and make super tall babies. But no there would be no babies for Ryder and I. No because he couldn’t get it up for me no matter how cute my ass was, and I couldn’t become moister than the Sahara at the thought of his… ew. No scratch that last thought.
“Make your next left,” Tesla tells me and I follow her words.
Blindly. Like the satellite bitch didn’t know that back country roads were not roads and god damn it there was dust and rocks everywhere.
Screaming at the car, I ask, “How much longer on this fucking road?!” The tires hit every fucking rock, rattling the vehicle in a manner that is probably very detrimental to the fucking suspension. All because Indra decided to send me off roading to the middle of fucking nowhere all because some kid wanted to tell her teacher Happy Fucking Birthday.
Fuck this.
I pull off the side of the road, and stop the car. Getting out, I brush as much dust as possible from my black fitted slacks that I knew made my ass look sharp. Crunching tires pull my eyes from my pants though, and I saw a dented and pealing yellow pick-up approaching.
It stops a careful distance behind my car, and short brunette pops out from the driver’s side. A smaller blonde exits next for the opposite side. I can see the stack of balloons bopping around in the cab of the car. Who the fuck goes this far in for their English teacher? Then I remember, sad story. This must be the kid.
“Oh my god! You’re here!” the girl exclaims, and is jumping up and down.I hated these kinds of fans. The giddy, “I’m so fucking excited may fart glitter any fucking minute.” And this kid looked like she lived off glitter and rainbows and all things of happiness.
She is still talking, and her hand is about to touch me but I pull away. No way.
I didn’t do touching then. Especially middle of nowhere, crazy fucking fan touching.
The girl’s face tenses and it seemed that she gets the picture. But I swallow because the brunette is not unattractive, and I find myself sizing her up and paying probably too much attention to the shading that peeks out from the girl’s tank top, and the sliver of tan flesh that threats to make me blush. A hot teenage piece of fucking jail bait.
Damn it, Lex. No.
“Sorry,” she starts again, “I just… I didn’t know if you would get my letter. And Griffin is going to be so excited!”
I pull my attention from Glitter and fight my desire to laugh. Scanning the blonde that hung back by the car. I realize that she is the other type of annoying fan. The kind that wants to say hi, but doesn’t so they stand by awkwardly until I feel like I’m a douche for not acknowledging them.
I nod to the other girl, and turn my attention back to the excited one. She is still bouncing, which is making her breasts bounce, which is distracting to say the least. I have to say something, I know this. But I was struggling to come up with something other than ‘you look hot.’ I find words though, “So… where is this school?”
The girl’s hand swings up and points towards the end of the road. “Just up there,” she answers with too much energy for this early, and then adds, “You can follow us if you want?”
I look at the truck and consider it. But then I realize that the truck will probably kick back enough rocks to destroy my baby. Yeah that truck will destroy you worse than how I’m going to fuck up Indra for the damage this road had that is already done to you. What was she thinking?
“I think I better go first,” I tell the girl and go to get in the car. But she is touching me and damn it I thought we seriously already covered this shit.
My neck cracks from how quickly I turn, but then it became real fucking clear that I am being ridiculous and I hate when I feel that way. “Thank you, Ms. Trikru. She saved me and I just know she is going to be so happy. So thank you.”
The girl pulled her arm away and I won’t lie, I kind of missed the touch.
Everyone around me knew better than to touch me, but this kid was just a kid. The ideas of teenage tango time faded as quickly as they rose, because the girl before me was just a girl and for some reason, I wanted to protect her.
“You’re welcome,” was all I could get out, before I climbed back into the car. Flipping the visor down, I checked my curls and then my eyeliner. Yeah, I look great so I should feel great. I’m Lexa fucking Trikru.
I put the car back into drive, and pull forward. Immediately my ass vibrates as the coins in in the change cup rattle. The rattling is driving me fucking crazy, but I can see the small set of buildings breaking out from a cove of trees and I can’t help but think of the place as a little picturesque. I justify that Jail Bait deserves to be filled with gaseous glitter because I probably would be too if I get my wish to bang this teacher, or if I had ever gotten to go to school in a place like this.
The dirt road turned to pavement, just as I pull into gate. I park the car in the visitor’s spot and notice that it is still too fucking early because there is like no one here yet.
I watched the truck pull into an unmarked spot a few spaces down, and the two girls jumped from the cab again. They were hauling out balloons, backpacks, and plastic bags of supplies. Yes, these girls must really care about this Griffin lady.
I felt the smile then. Indra was right this is the type of shit that I used to love doing; spending the day in a classroom with a bunch of teens talking about college and setting goals. I shake my head though. I shake my head because seriously I’m not a fucking benchwarmer. Stars don’t do that shit. And Lexa fucking Trikru is a big fucking star, so I didn’t have time for this type of shit.
When I'm about to get out the computer panel lit up with Indra’s face. Of course she would be checking on me. She had no faith in me to do what I said I would.
A part of me then knew that Indra had every reason to doubt me. Broken promise after broken promise, and a night sobering up in a cell after a bar fight, fucking Costia made my publicist start to lose faith in me.
Yeah, Indra is right. Things used to be different.
Things used to be simpler, and maybe there was a chance I’d reassess my choices. But I wasn’t there yet.
“Answer,” I tell the car, and hear Indra’s children laughing in surround sound.
“You there yet?”
No” hello”, no “good morning.” No” thanks for getting up, Lexa.” I’m going to fire her.
“I’m here,” I practically growl, because seriously who the fuck does she think she is. But I remember that I pay her to be like this. Pay the only person that is willing to put up with me on a daily basis.
Yeah, you’re a big fucking deal. Even Anya left your ass.
“Remember this is for good press. Be nice and don’t fuck her on the desk,” Indra states so matter of factly, it pisses me off. However, I realize that Indra wouldn’t have said that unless Griffin is hot.
“So you’re saying she’s fuckable?” This just made this morning much more interesting. The woman wants to meet her celebrity crush, maybe I could just make her year.
I smiled then because at the time I seriously thought I was hot shit. I thought that no one would deny me.
I see the black Corolla that I passed forever ago pull into the spot next to mine. The car shutting down is loud, and I can tell it’s a piece of shit. My attention gets pulled back to the monitor where Indra calls me, “LEXA!”
“Fuck! You’re on fucking surround sound. I don’t pay you to make me go deaf,” I tell her. The flash of blonde waves speeds by the hood of my baby. I miss her face, but her toned legs were covered in black skinny pants and the leather calf length boots covering the bottom edges of the skin tight material make me pray that that is Griffin.
As the woman turns into the school’s front gate, the simple cardigan rose just enough for me to see how the material of her pants covered the curvy hips and toned ass. I check the corners of my mouth for drool because even if she’s fugly, I would gladly bend her face forward into the desk.
I was pretty fixated on fucking my first teacher. Call it an all-time fantasy after 12 years of forced schooling and four years of undergraduate hell.
Indra is still ranting, “Lexa, if you fuck this up I quit. I mean it. I researched this woman and she-“
“I heard you,” and I hit the end button. I am over being told what to do like a child. I already drove out here and if I want to fuck the blonde teacher, I will fuck the blonde teacher. If she is as excited as those damn kids make it seem like she will be, then it won’t be that hard to get consent.
Settling myself, I take a moment to get into character. This is for publicity after all. Flipping the mirror down, I take another look at myself. I check that my makeup is still touch up. My hair isn’t frizzing out. And lastly that my lips were glossy.
I smile at my own reflection and say, “You are Lexa fucking Trikru and you’re going to go in there and play the nice guy. She’ll jump up and down, and touch you and it will be okay, because you’ll have her screaming you name in just a short time after that.”
Yeah, I was fucking confident about that last part. I was confident alright because I was so fucking full of myself. And I wish I could say that day changed my attitude. That Griffin was as magical as Jail Bait made her out to seem. But no, she wasn’t magical… she was just a girl.
That’s what I told myself at least.
I figured if I could lie to myself enough maybe I could make it true.