The Baller

After my third martini, I could barely hold back tears.

  He never looked my way all night.

  Indie saw my face and wrapped up dinner as quickly as possible. When we stood to leave, I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They came so fast, they blurred my vision. When I wiped them away, the only thing that was clear was Brody staring at me from the other side of the restaurant.

  ***

  I nosedived into the bed. Indie tried to get me to undress, but I was dead weight. She only succeeded in rolling me over and tugging my jacket off. She slipped off my shoes. “You okay?”

  I nodded and pulled my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. At least the crying had stopped.

  “I’m going to wash my face and brush my teeth. You need anything?”

  I shook my head. Alcohol made me mute.

  She was tying her hair into a knot on top of her head when there was a soft knock at the door. She went to the door, sighed loudly and walked back to me. “It’s Brody. I’ll get rid of him. Stay here.”

  I nodded, doubting if I could get up even if I wanted to.

  “Is she okay?” Brody’s voice was low.

  “She’s fine. Just needs a good night’s sleep.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You seem like a good friend. But just so you know ahead of time, I’m going to lift you up and deposit you outside this door if you don’t move out of my way.”

  “Brody . . . ” Indie warned.

  I stumbled from the bed. “Let him in. It’s fine. I’m drunken not so much.”

  Indie shook her head. “Drunken not so much, huh?”

  I waved her off with my hand. “He’s used to it. Dealing with plastered women. Right, Beaston?” (My attempt at Brody Easton obviously had failed.) Maybe that’s what I should have done. Smoked some heroin and then he’d fall deeply in love.”

  Brody’s jaw flexed.

  I turned to Indie, wrinkling my nose. “Do you even smoke heroin?”

  Indie shrugged; she looked very uncomfortable standing between us. She turned to me, cupped my face in her hands and held my eyes. “Do you want me to stay?”

  I covered her hands with mine. “I’m fine.”

  She searched my face, then nodded. Walking straight up to the hulking, brooding man standing in the doorway, she jabbed her finger into his chest. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. If you hurt her any more . . . so help me God. I’ll blow the first guy from housekeeping with a set of passkeys, sneak into your room while you’re sleeping, and when you wake up, you’ll think Lorena Bobbitt had visited.”

  She grabbed her running shoes from the closet and disappeared after one more menacing look.

  Then it was just a slightly drunk me and Brody.

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Why? You’re not staying long.”

  Brody clenched his teeth so hard, I thought he might crack a pearly white. “Because you’re swaying back and forth. Thought it might be better if you sat your ass down.”

  I turned back to the room. Not because he wanted me to sit, but because the room began to spin. I sat on the edge of the bed. Brody stood in front of me.

  I looked up. Even in my intoxicated state, I could see my future with just a glimpse into his green eyes. I was suddenly terrified. My eyes darted around the room. The dresser, the TV, the other bed . . . anywhere but at the man standing right in front of me.

  He kneeled down. “Delilah?”

  “You should leave. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  I stared at my hands for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Fuck if it doesn’t.”

  I waited and then dragged my eyes up to his. “Do you love her?”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before reopening them. “Yeah. But not like you think. We have a lot of history. I just don’t want to see her hurting herself anymore.”

  When I looked away again, he put two fingers under my chin and lifted so our eyes met. “I love you, Delilah.”

  “You can’t love two women at the same time.”

  “You can. You just don’t love them the same. If you fall in love with someone else, the other person you still love was never meant to be yours forever.”

  His words eviscerated what was left of my fragile heart.

  I couldn’t do that to Drew. I just couldn’t.

  Brody covered my hands with his. “Do you love me?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Delilah?”

  I couldn’t love him. I still loved Drew.

  I was terrified, as I looked into his eyes, that he could see through my lie. “No. I don’t.”

  Chapter 38

  Delilah

  “You look like shit.”

  Every time I blinked my eyes, my head throbbed harder. I attempted to lift my aching skull from the pillow but had to put it back down again. It was nearly four in the morning when we finally went to sleep. I’d cried so much, I was certain the headache was caused partly by dehydration.

  “What time is it?” My voice was a groan littered with cracks.

  “Time for you to get your sorry ass out of bed.”

  I pulled the cover up over my head. “I liked you better when you felt sorry for me and sat up handing me tissues from the box.” After Brody had left, Indie held me for hours while I cried. I cried right through intoxicated and straight into a hangover.

  “You have to be at the pregame at one, and it’s going to take you an hour to get the swelling under your eyes down. I ordered you breakfast. Dry toast, a pot of coffee, orange juice and a side order of ice for that face.”

  I pulled the blanket down enough to poke one eye out. “Where are you going?” She was tying her shoes.

  “For a run.”

  “Ugh.” I pulled the cover back over my head.

  “There’s two Motrin on the table next to you and water. Suck it down and stay in bed until room service knocks.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  She chuckled. “Be back in an hour. Don’t fall back asleep.”

  ***

  At least I look way better than I feel. I stared at my reflection in the shiny metal-and-glass door in the hallway leading to the locker room. The Steel had won 21-14, with Brody running in the winning touchdown with thirty seconds left in the game. He deserved to be happy. The last week had been awful, to say the least. A lesser player might not have been able to focus and play the way he had. I was proud of him, but also extremely anxious to walk into that locker room.

  Playoff games had triple the number of reporters. Everyone needed a sound bite for the news tonight, and most wanted more. The lines to speak to the players would be an hour long. We had three reporters going in today, not just me. Nick approached with Michael Langley at his side. “You ready?” Nick had flown in this morning, and I doubted he knew that Brody and I broke up.

  “Yes.” I picked up my bag and started to follow, but Michael stopped me, putting his hand on my arm.

  “You okay?”

  I forced a smile. “I’m ready. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Are you okay?”

  I took a breath. “I will be. Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  We waited in line forever and worked out our attack plan of player interviews. Michael claimed Brody and a defensive lineman who’d recovered a fumble. Indie had mentioned seeing Michael at the gym this morning, and I had a feeling that she had filled him in a little—enough to make sure I didn’t have to interview Brody. I was grateful for the reprieve. I picked two of the less exciting players, careful to also stay away from Colin, who happened to have had the best game of his career. It meant the lines for my interviews would be the shortest.

  I tried to avoid stealing glances at Brody, but my eyes didn’t follow my brain’s direction. He was wearing his signature towel wrapped around his waist, but his
cocky smile was nowhere to be found. At one point, Nick, Michael and I were standing in the open center of the locker room, and my eyes locked with Brody’s. He was between interviews and waiting for Angie Snow and her cameraman to finish setting up to film. A pang of jealousy hit me. Angie was gorgeous—young, blonde, curvy and very touchy-feely. She said something to him and reached out to touch his arm, and I had to look away. But like a bad car accident, I went back for more gore.

  Brody’s eyes flitted back and forth between Angie and me as he spoke to her while her cameraman tinkered with his equipment. I was so preoccupied with watching the two of them, I didn’t realize Michael had asked me a question and was waiting for a response.

  “Delilah?”

  “Hmmm?” I turned to Michael.

  He furrowed his brow. Then leaned into me and whispered, “We can handle this if you need to take a break.”

  I assured him I was fine and just a little overwhelmed by the craziness of my first playoff locker room trip. When Michael had leaned down to me, his hand had gone to the small of my back. I hadn’t even realized it was still there until I saw the look on Brody’s face. His eyes were burning into where Michael was touching me. He looked furious, about to blow. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights when his eyes lifted to meet mine.

  Angie’s cameraman said something, and Brody’s attention was forced back to the impending interview. Just as the light flashed on Brody and the cameraman lifted his camera into position, Brody glanced over at me one more time. It was the exact same minute Michael leaned in again to say something. I grimaced as I watched Brody’s face shift from angry to an evil smile.

  He turned his focus back to Angie, and she shot her first question off. His response played out in slow motion for me. He grinned wide, then his hand slowly went to the knot at his towel, and he gave it a little tug. It fell to the ground. I didn’t stick around to watch the rest—I already knew what came next. And my guess was that Angie wouldn’t put up half the fight that I had.

  Chapter 39

  Delilah

  January 15th—Drew would have been twenty-six today. This was the first year that I wouldn’t be spending his birthday with his family. Mr. Martin had retired a few months back and had finally convinced Mrs. Martin to move to Atlanta, where Drew’s sister already lived. I was happy for them, but when they packed, it meant they had to pack up Drew’s things. Even last year, six years after Drew died, his room had been untouched when I went over to celebrate his birthday.

  The car ride out to the cemetery was long. I was alone with my thoughts and tried to recall memories of the good times Drew and I shared. Homecoming, senior year in high school. I smiled. Some of the guys from the team had booked a few hotel rooms, and we all went back after the game.

  That first time Brody kissed me in his hotel room, it hit me so hard, I wouldn’t have been able to stand if he wasn’t holding me so tight.

  I forced Brody from my head. Again. It was becoming a full-time job lately. A plane from the nearby airport was flying low overhead in front of me. I remembered back to when Drew and I flew to Alabama to meet the football coach of the college he was planning on attending. It was my first flight, and my nerves were on edge. Drew had held my hand and calmed me by telling dirty jokes.

  Brody took my breath away on the plane with a kiss and tried to stick his hand up my skirt under the blanket.

  I switched on the radio station. It only jumbled my mind more.

  Pulling up to the cemetery, my phone buzzed, so I put it on speakerphone and sat in my car to talk.

  “Hi, Mrs. Martin.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jana, dear?”

  I smiled. “Hi, Jana.”

  “That’s better. How are you, sweetheart?”

  “I’m good. How are things in Atlanta?”

  “Hot.”

  I looked at the temperature on the dashboard. Thirty-five. “Wish I could say the same.”

  We talked for a while about the move and how they were settling into Atlanta life. Then she surprised me. “How are things between you and that handsome quarterback going?”

  The fight between Brody and Colin had brought my relationship with Brody into the news. I’d wondered if it had made its way to Atlanta. “Um . . . we’re not . . . ”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, honey. I just thought . . . well, I saw some pictures of the two of you, and the way you looked at him . . . I just thought maybe you had found someone.”

  “The way I looked at him?”

  “You looked happy. I thought I saw the way you looked at Drew in your eyes. I was hopeful.”

  I didn’t know what to say. “It didn’t work out.”

  She was quiet for a long time. I thought maybe we’d been disconnected. “Mrs. Martin? Jana?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Oh. I thought I lost you for a minute.”

  “Sweetheart, I could be totally out of line, but I’m going to say this anyway. Do you remember a few weeks before the draft when you broke up with Drew? Because you wanted him to be able to focus on school and football, and he didn’t want to leave you behind?”

  “Yes.”

  “You cared about him so much, you wanted him to succeed and be happy, even if it meant you didn’t get to be with him.”

  “I remember. I told him I didn’t want to go out with him anymore. He was pissed for about ten minutes, then stormed back in, realizing what I was doing. He could always see right through me.”

  “Well, he felt the same way about you, you know.”

  “I know.” There had never been any doubt in my mind that Drew loved me.

  “But do you understand what I’m saying? Drew would want you to meet someone. He would want you to move on. Be happy. Fall in love. Have a family someday.”

  “Of course he would. I just haven’t met anyone who could replace Drew.”

  “That’s what I worry about, Delilah. No one has to replace Drew. He’ll always have a place in your heart. But you can love two men at the same time. You just love them differently.”

  It wasn’t lost on me that Brody had basically said the same thing.

  “Thanks, Jana.”

  “Don’t be afraid to love again, dear.”

  I spent a long time that afternoon sitting beside Drew’s grave. Unlike other times I came to visit, my time wasn’t spent crying. Instead, I thought about what Jana had said. Was I afraid to love again? Light snow started falling before I left. Unlike most New Yorkers, I loved the winter. Hot chocolate, bright lights, warm sweaters, snow, and football.

  I leaned my head back, opened my mouth, and stretched my arms wide to catch the flakes as they came down. After a few minutes, I wished Drew a Happy Birthday and headed back to my car. Reaching the sidewalk, a hundred feet from the warm confines of my Jetta, I slipped on that pretty white snow I’d just been enjoying. I wiped out, landing on my ass with both feet up in the air. For some reason, I went hysterical laughing. An elderly man walking by with his wife stopped to help me up, but I waved them off, unable to speak through my fit of laughter.

  I sat there alone on the sidewalk, the snow frosting my hair white, and cackled until my laugh turned into a cry. The cry turned into a sob before I finally got up. My teeth were chattering, my lips were swollen from the bite of winter, and my body trembled. I was a mess . . . but for some reason, everything seemed to be clear all of a sudden. It wasn’t that I was afraid to fall in love. I was pretty sure I had done that already. I was afraid that if something happened again, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

  Chapter 40

  Brody

  “Ready to go, you damn cripple?” Grouper took his time getting up, his bones creaking as he lifted himself from a chair in the dining hall.

  He wagged his bony finger at me. “You should be so lucky to be in as fine a shape as I’m in when you get to be the ripe old age of sixty.”

  “Sixty? Who you kidding? You have age spots older than sixty.”

 
Grouper grumbled something under his breath. He lifted a box off the table. “This is the last of Marlene’s things. There’s a nice little gold cross necklace in there and some old coins—not sure if they have any value or not. Everything else is pretty much paperwork. We donated everything to Phoenix House like you asked. They were pretty excited to get all those clothes. More than half of ’em had the tags on still. You sure did spoil her.”

  “She deserved it.” I took the box from Grouper and waved goodbye to Shannon at the nurses’ station as we walked to the front door.

  “That place said you’d be surprised at how many of their patients aren’t young kids anymore. Drug and alcohol rehabs are more than thirty percent women over the age of fifty.” He shook his head. “Would never have guessed.”

  I didn’t know the statistics, but I knew Marlene would want her stuff to go to a place where people were trying to get help. “Thanks for taking care of that for me.”

  “You gonna bring the cross to Willow?”

  “I’ll mail it to her. She moved upstate yesterday. Her roommate from rehab bought a place up near Saratoga, and Willow needed to get out of the city. Place she was living had too much temptation for a recovering addict. It was easier to score drugs from her neighborhood than it was to buy milk. Marlene left her a nice little chunk of change, so I’m hoping it starts her on a new life.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Marlene would be happy about that.”

  We picked up Grouper III and one of his buddies on the way to Media Day. The two of them were wearing Easton jerseys and didn’t shut the hell up in the back of my car the entire way to the stadium. Their excitement was contagious.

  “They always that loud?” My eyes slanted toward Grouper.

  He nodded. “The Good Lord made old people go deaf for a reason.”

  Even arriving at Media Day four hours before the start, the place was mobbed. More than two thousand members of the media from all over the world and four thousand fans were expected to attend the day’s event, which was the unofficial kickoff to the Super Bowl next week. If today turned out to be anything like previous years, the crowd on the field would resemble more of a circus than a news event. Crazy fans dressed as superheroes, women with painted bodies, and questions that were often off the wall.