Friday Night Frights: A Monster Sports Romantic Comedy, page 1
FRIDAY NIGHT FRIGHTS
ZORA BLACK
FRIDAY NIGHT FRIGHTS
By Zora Black
Copyright © 2023 by Zora Black
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
1. Dalkaar
2. Alyssa
3. Dalkaar
4. Alyssa
5. Dalkaar
6. Alyssa
7. Dalkaar
8. Alyssa
9. Dalkaar
10. Alyssa
11. Dalkar
12. Alyssa
13. Dalkaar
14. Alyssa
15. Dalkaar
16. Alyssa
17. Dalkaar
18. Dalkaar
19. Dalkaar
20. Alyssa
21. Dalkaar
22. Alyssa
23. Dalkaar
24. Alyssa
25. Dalkaar
26. Alyssa
27. Dalkaar
28. Alyssa
29. Dalkaar
30. Alyssa
31. Dalkaar
32. Alyssa
33. Alyssa
1
DALKAAR
“Give it up for Dalkaar!” It’s around the thirteenth time I’ve heard my entourage spit the praise out the window of my Porsche.
Half of me wishes they’d start hollering something else to the pedestrians gathered around the main street. But still, I can’t get enough praise and motion for the sea of faces on either side of me to make some more noise. I’m here to win their small-beans football team a championship, not run for mayor.
“Who all wants to see the Ripper rip?” Conrad, a troll in my entourage, hollers through a megaphone.
I honk the horn and wave a thick arm out the window, even to the passing citizens too busy window shopping to notice me.
“Ladies, looking good!” I call to a few purple and pink-haired sirens. They all smile and wave back. I grace them with a wink, something I know drives the fans wild.
For a sunny afternoon in the middle of the day, Rose Creek has a lot of foot traffic, and the slow, two-lane main road is intimate enough that everyone can get a good look at me. Maybe living here won’t be the minor to major bore-fest I’ve been assuming it will be.
I’m too busy looking for the radio station to stop at the red light. I cruise through as Felix, my right-hand man and fellow orc, leans forward to blast the music currently blaring through the speakers.
“Good idea!” I call back, then catch sight of a few crying children, spellcasters by the look of their grouchy, black-clad parents.
“What?” Felix calls, just as Theron, a tattooed werewolf with more red in his hair than I have muscles, points through the windshield.
I turn just in time to see a few cheerleaders in the intersection. I slam on my brakes as the ringleader, a brunette with a major scowl, motions for me to turn the music down. I do so, mostly because I like the way she’s keeping one hand on her hip while shaking her head slowly in my direction. I feel like a kid who just got caught reading comic books in class. Except by the cutest teacher’s aide in all of the tenth grade.
“I’m here,” I say as soon as she graces me with an up-close look at her generous curves. “We’re just looking for the radio station.”
“The interview is over,” she says. I take in a good whiff of her as she leans in to turn off the music.
“Thank you, Alyssa!” an angry voice behind her says.
I move my head to look at the oldest satyr in existence standing behind her. Even his hobbled footsteps sound ancient as he steps forward. Like his hooves are covered in cobwebs and barely hanging on. I look down just to make sure I haven’t totally nailed the monster’s problem and notice his press badge.
“You must be the droid I’m looking for.”
“You’re late,” both the satyr and cheerleader say in unison, the one he called Alyssa.
“Just wanted to make sure the parade’s a smash,” I offer casually with a shrug. In my experience, women love shrugs. This goes double for human women.
“You mean the farmer’s market?” Her voice is all irritation and disbelief. I look in my rearview and notice the myriad booths and pedestrians with new eyes. All this hubbub wasn’t for me?
“We’ve been waiting for you for two –”
I cut the satyr off, feeling bad he’s already wasted enough of his time waiting for me to get through this poorly timed farmer’s market. Who plans an event like this when the town’s newest star is set to arrive on the scene? It’s not my fault I mistook the roadblocks for semi-personal directions. Excuse me for thinking the people of Rose Creek care about a warm welcome.
“Beastly sorry,” I begin. “But here’s a quote I think you’ll really love. This bush league isn’t ready for my throwing arm. And I know the competition ain’t prepared for my fast feet. You let Rose Creek know their hero is home.”
I promised myself I wouldn’t plop my shades on for effect, having polled the entourage earlier. They all agreed my eyes are too bright to hide behind a set of shades, even custom-made ones. At least not during an important interview. I hang my arm out the window and let Alyssa size me up. Lucky girl. She must be in heaven and too embarrassed to admit it.
That scowl doesn’t fool me, babe. You’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand any minute now.
“Practice starts at the time on the itinerary, not whenever you feel like it. And the light’s green.” Her tone is ice, and before I know it, both Old Man Satyr and Alyssa are walking back to the radio station. I clock the balloons and banners outside the station and scoff. Those definitely say Welcome, Dalkaar, making my confusion about the crowd totally warranted.
“So?” I call out, then roll through the light anyway.
By the time I park and get the entourage together, the station doors are locked and the cheerleaders are nowhere in sight.
“They did say you were late,” Conrad offers. “Guess that means they’ll see us at practice?”
“Their loss,” I say, shrugging as I turn on my heel and head back to the Porsche. If they don’t want to see me till practice, I’m not going to force them.
The rest of the evening is spent unpacking and rabble-rousing, one of my favorite pastimes. And the following day’s practice starts exactly how I expect it to, with teammate after out-of-practice teammate sullying the game of football with their lack of enthusiasm. Is this really the best of what Rose Creek has to offer the town? And me, as their star player?
“I’m glad I showed up when I did,” I say as the rest of the team runs drills. I refuse on principle, needing to gauge each teammate’s skill before participating myself. Couch Behold Cantone isn’t happy when I explain this, which leaves me no choice but to explain again.
“It’s just how I do things,” I say to the stalky elf.
“And how I do things is as follows,” he snaps, pointing to the bench without breaking eye contact with me. What about gauging my teammates and their skills does this guy not get? “You sit till you run. End of discussion.”
He’s walking away, and I’m suddenly glad Conrad, Felix, and Theron are out picking up food for fuel and getting the lay of the land. They don’t need to see such a piss-poor excuse for a coach dressing down his one and only chance at success. The Ogres are a throwaway team. He knows it and so do I.
As I pass the remaining practice time on the bench, I can’t help but notice the cheerleaders practicing in the distance. Their high-pitched and affected voices tell me how determined they are to do their jobs, unlike the actual team.
I scan the collection of scantily clad women, all looking good in their red, black, and blue ensembles. Then I see Alyssa. I’m almost positive she’s been watching me, despite the fact her eyes are currently somewhere else. I wonder if she’s rethought her behavior from yesterday and wants to apologize.
I fight the urge to get to my feet. I can’t imagine Coach Cantone being pleased, but then again, I’m not sure if the man can be.
“Give me one good reason to put you back in.” His hands are on his hips as he hovers next to me. When did he get over here?
“I can give you ten,” I say, looking him dead in the eye.
“Well, that answers my question,” he huffs, crossing his thick arms and walking off as if I’m somehow in the wrong.
“I like benches,” I mumble, grateful the coach hadn’t heard. Not because an altercation would be any kind of problem to me, but the practice is almost over. I’m not trying to stick around any longer than I have to.
Even if that means you get to watch Alyssa more?
I’m too busy appreciating her enthusiasm to answer the question. Plus, that’s a given. My attraction to her, that is. It means nothing more than that I’m an orc in his prime. Possibly even the orc in his prime. Definitely in this town. I could get her if I wanted.
Practice finally over, I unlock my car just as Alyssa and a few other cheerleaders enter the parking lot. I wave but don’t know if she needs glasses or something. I start the car and decide to roll the window down. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?
I wave again as a gluttonous cacophony of what some would call music strikes my ears. No, assaults my ears. La Cucaracha blares from my own speakers, and I’m speechless. How? Who?
This is when Alyssa and every other cheerleader with her burst out into laughter. I smile because I know how to take a joke. I catch Alyssa’s stare as she points to a blonde next to her waving a wand.
Witches. They think they’re so clever.
“Knock it off! You know how foolish you look?”
“Huh?” Alyssa says, motioning to her ear. Who does this woman think she is?
I drive off admittedly in a huff, reserving my smile for after I’m miles away from the field. That was… different. Maybe even impressive.
2
ALYSSA
“Marty said that Dalkaar guy gave Coach Cantone the hard time we were expecting,” Dee Dee says while staring into her phone. I chew my lower lip and wonder if it’s okay to be impressed by the newbie’s reaction to her prank. Well, mine and Dee Dee’s.
But he isn’t a newbie, is he? Just a new transplant. I shrug in response to my own thought as the red-headed witch finally pulls her eyes away from the screen in her manicured hand.
It gives the orc no excuse to be rude. And who confuses a farmer’s market for their own personal welcome parade? The road was blocked off so that people could walk, not dodge his ridiculous car while crossing the street. True, there was more than one team banner around town, but still.
It was the least I could do to drum up some team spirit among the squad, who eventually had a good time making the red, black, and blue banners shine despite the team’s lack of fandom. Soon, those signs will be collectors’ items. Well, maybe not that but something of note.
The town of Rose Creek, North Carolina could use a boost in morale, something to turn our B-rated football team into something more than a collection of monsters scrambling to keep the ball away from even each other.
“Where’d you go?” Dee Dee asks, and I realize I’ve been zoning out.
“Is that all the text says?” I tilt my head and lean both elbows on my kitchen table. I know Marty, one of the linemen on the team, has been dying to take Dee Dee out. Even after she turned him down for the second time only today.
“Marty is asking me to congratulate you on our prank. Even though Dalkaar didn’t respond quite as petulantly as we’d hoped. He has it on good authority that it probably upset him.”
“Whose authority?” I ask, remembering how his minor response was nothing like what I’d expected. Sure, some would say what I did was childish but so? He’s childish. And children need to be spoken to at a certain level and with a certain confidence.
I’m smiling a little and notice Dee Dee waving a hand in front of my face. “I’m telling Marty we lost you. I know when someone’s reminiscing and that’s you all the way.”
“Can you believe he thought the farmer’s market was for him?”
“Yes, just like the last time you asked.” I feel the smile on my face fall at the comment. I don’t mean to be over the top. She seemed more than happy to accommodate me when I’d broached the subject before practice.
“You and your team spirit,” she continues, smiling at me, then looking back down to her phone. “And it was Coach Cantone, by the way.”
“Coach Cantone?” I’m too busy wondering how long Dee Dee’s car enchantment lasted once Dalkaar left practice to grasp her comment.
“Who said he must be angry. He was pretty open about the guy’s bad attitude with the guys.”
“Including Marty?” I move my shoulders up and down in the world's worst attempt at being flirty. “Is this an admission of interest?”
Though I’m not pleased to hear she’s fraternizing with the team, Dee Dee stays focused and would never let a relationship get in the way of a stellar performance. At least I’d like to think so. It’s hard to gauge sometimes whether she’s humoring my genuine pep and team spirit or if it’s coming from her own well of hometown appreciation.
Besides, it’s not like there’s a real rule against it or anything. Dee Dee can get involved with whomever she likes.
“It’s an admission that it is indeed who I’m texting,” she replies, not bothering to look up.
“Same thing,” I quip and roll my eyes as she frowns at me. “What are the chances that dude’s car is still blasting La Cucaracha?” I ask, hoping the answer is somewhere between one hundred and ninety-nine percent.
She smirks and puts her phone down. “Very little, but I can guarantee you it’s still ringing in his ears. Did you hear how loud it was even down the block?”
“Me and everyone else in Rose Creek,” I say. “Or just about. Hey, what do you think we should do next? You know, just in case he didn’t learn his lesson the first time?”
I’m leaning in more than I mean to and take note of the inquisitive look in her eye. “Let’s see how he acts at tomorrow’s practice.”
“Smart, smart,” I offer, then get up to check the time on the pizza I have cooking in the oven. The savory aroma fills the air, and I have half a mind to reach in and grab the pie without a glove.
“Was that you?” Dee Dee asks, whipping her head around to look at me.
“Yeah,” I admit, feeling another growl in my stomach. Maybe I’m more hungry than I thought, what with all the energy I put into practice. I don’t care if I’m not cheering for the world’s greatest team. Just so long as I’m cheering for Rose Creek’s greatest team.
Which can only happen if everyone plays like the band of brothers they should be, I think as the timer on the oven blares, much to my delight.
“Yay!” Dee Dee hops up out of her seat to help, and in no time at all, we’re both well into our second slice and first bubble water.
“I can’t believe Dalkaar doesn’t care if we know he thinks this place is bush league,” Dee Dee says, wiping her lips free of pizza sauce with a soft paper towel.
“I know. Talk about rude.” Would it kill the orc to pretend like he has feelings for anyone but himself? What are we all supposed to think other than he’s stuck up?
His reaction to the prank wasn’t what you expected. Maybe he’s got the hint. I take a bite and think back to what Mike the DJ and owner of ARG radio and broadcast said.
Maybe he just needs to be reminded that Rose Creek isn’t the big city.
I didn’t agree with him then, but maybe I do now. Besides, would it kill me to give him a chance? Especially when I’m the one preaching teamwork?
“You’re think-chewing,” Dee Dee observes, pointing at me with the remainder of her crust.
“What do the guys say about his skills?”
“That they’ve only heard of them or seen them on TV. They’re just as confused about his antics. Why wouldn’t he want to practice?” Her phone vibrates, and I take note of how quickly she picks it up. “It’s Mom,” she offers, and I’m entirely unconvinced that it’s Dee Dee’s mother, Shannon.
“Does he know your pet name for him yet?” I ask.
That gets me a smile. “Why? Do you like it?”
We share a giggle that turns into a laugh. Over time, many of us on the squad have grown closer, if not attached at the hip, as a result of football season. Marty and another player, Otto, just bought a business together, and before they each joined, the two could barely stand each other.
I let the example fill me with a sense of optimism as I let Dee Dee type a response to her ‘mom’ in peace and quiet. Maybe I could give Dalkaar a break and chalk his bad attitude up to this point as nerves.
After Dee Dee leaves, I get ready for bed and finish my nightly routine of prepping my uniform in record time. I’d be more proud if I knew practice would go well, but there’s something about knowing my hard work won’t be appreciated that spoils my efforts. What if I showed up acting like I was better than everyone else?
