She snorted. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the great Mark Windham, one of the best quarterbacks in the league who gave up everything he loved because he got hurt! The man, the myth, the legend! A fucking deadbeat on a boat.”<br/><br/>And then she looked around and noticed the people with their phones up. Great. She wasn’t drunk enough to the point that she didn’t care. She did care, very much. If this got out, she was going to have some major explaining to do to her boss.<br/><br/>Mark offered an out and she gladly took it. “Fine,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Without another word to him, she pulled out her phone and requested an Uber.<br/><br/>One wasn’t far away and within minutes, the car pulled up to the curb. Claire got into the backseat, scooting all the way over to the far side. It left him with options - sitting next to her in the back seat or sitting in the front seat.<br/><br/>Once he was in the car, the driver pulled onto the road and headed toward his houseboat. She stewed in the back seat for a few minutes before eyeing him. “You really fucking suck, you know that? You just really suck.”