Supernova

by Anne Leigh

  That I could do. “Got it.”

  “How is Bridgette doing?” His question was why I liked Trayton. He was ruthless in his business deals, but he also cared about the human being, the emotions that encompassed the athlete, the life away from sports.

  “She’s actually doing okay. I know she’s stressed out about all the attention on her, but she’s a trooper. She hasn’t really let them bother her too much. The only thing that she was concerned about was that there were photographers around Paint Me Mine. She wants them away from the kids.” Even in times of distress, Bridge cared about other people. That was one of the qualities that endeared her to me. She was considerate and kind, and always thought of other people before herself.

  “I’ll send out an email to my contacts. They can’t come near the kids. I’ll have my lawyer check in on that, that’s gotta be a violation of a California law or something,” Trayton replied. He had two kids of his own, so he understood my sentiment that the kids needed to be protected, away from the prying eyes of the cameras.

  “Thanks T,” I said as I drank the protein shake I’d stuck in the blender along with my daily mix of greens and proceeded to walk towards the sofa. Dillon, my roommate when we traveled, was still out at a meeting with Coach. After practice, I met with Coach and we didn’t talk about my personal drama anymore. He asked if I was ready and I said yes and that was the end of it.

  Tomorrow’s game was a big deal.

  All of our games were big deals, but tomorrow was the first time I’d be taking the field after the now infamous karaoke video incident came out.

  All eyes would be on how I played, and I was pretty sure cameras would be zooming in on my interactions with Dex.

  We practiced together, but Berger, for the first time since he became a Royal, didn’t spout shit during practice.

  He was quiet and it was the best thing.

  I had no time to ruminate on why he was acting like a decent person, so I just ran the plays with my teammates, talked strategies, and did my job.

  Trayton had put me on hold and now that I could hear buzzing on his end, his voice picked up, “Is Bridgette going with you to the Royals’ Read and Learn Ball?”

  The Read and Learn Ball was a charity event that the Royals held to increase children’s literacy. The Royals’ president and his wife, Candice and Matthew Ball, didn’t have children of their own, but most of their charities revolved around kids. They were good people, and it was an added benefit that I worked under their ownership.

  “Shit, I forgot about that.” We were playing in Mexico during that week and it was only a half a day’s rest when we arrived back in the US before the charity event and it just slipped my mind. “I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “Ask her before I cancel with Divine.” Trayton had a list of models and celebrities that he paired me up with for charity events. He called it good exposure for me and my partner.

  I’d hooked up with two of my ‘partners’ before, but they were onboard with the idea that as the night ended, so did our short-term agreement.

  “Divine? As in Divine Porter?” Anyone who watched movies would recognize her. She was a blonde stunner who was Hollywood’s It Girl at the moment.

  “None other,” Trayton replied with a laugh. “You sure you wanna tell your girlfriend that you’re taking her instead of Divine?”

  “I’m pretty sure my girlfriend would rather I take Divine than her,” I chuckled. Bridge would tell me to go ahead and have fun with Hollywood’s A-lister and take selfies with her. She was cool like that. “Unfortunately for Bridge, I’d rather take her than any actress or model.”

  Trayton cut in, “You really like this girl. I’ve never heard you this way…all sappy and weird.”

  “Ha. Of course I like her.” People could argue that it was too soon for me to know that Bridge was the one, but from the moment we got together, I knew deep in my bones that she was worthy of my affection and my love. “She’s the woman I wanna win three Super Bowl rings for.”

  “Just three?” Trayton laughed. It was nice to hear my agent find humor right now. He’d been through a heck of a week, what with having me as a client and I’d heard that two of his major clients were also undergoing media firestorms due to rumors of PED use.

  “We’ll start with three,” I said as I stretched out on the sofa and channel surfed. I eyed the watch on my left wrist and figured out that it was four in L.A. Bridge would be coming out of her class and maybe I could catch her at a good time.

  I ended the call with Trayton and rang Bridge’s phone.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “Hey babe,” I said as I heard noise in the background, then her soft voice filled the airwave.

  “Hold on, Mike’s helping me with my books.”

  Mike? Who the hell was Mike?

  I picked up on a guy’s voice, “Where do you want them? Damn these are heavy. How were you planning to lug them across campus?”

  I heard Bridge laugh and from thousands of miles away, I found myself missing her. I was repeating the lame excuse, ‘long distance sucks’ in my head, but in truth, it really did.

  “I’ll be glad to help you out anytime, okay?” Mike, the guy who was obviously carrying however many books Bridge had, said, and it made me clench my teeth.

  He was helping her and I was here, sitting my ass on a couch, waiting for a few stolen minutes with her.

  He was there, watching her smile, as I lounged here, staring at the muted TV.

  How long was she going to stick with me with the distance between us, not to mention the ongoing drama of the media’s attention on us?

  She was young, beautiful, smart, and she could have anyone she wanted; why would she keep my sorry ass around when even on a good day, during the season, she could only be with me for hours that were numbered?

  I wasn’t immune to the fact that women wanted to be with me because of my status. Because I was the hot shot athlete. Because I had millions in my bank account. I’d heard them and seen these women at parties, clubs, signings, and even way back when I was in high school – they wanted me because I was popular.

  But what they didn’t know was that my lifestyle wasn’t conducive for a relationship.

  Case in point: My girlfriend was in college and she needed help with carrying her books, but some other guy was doing the job for me.

  If I had a regular job, I might not be able to walk with her from class to class, but at least I’d be in bed with her every night.

  I wasn’t an insecure guy, but when reality came at you and made you face the harshness of it, I didn’t care how much of an ego you had, the fact that there were things out of your control brought you down a peg or two.

  “Scott? You still there?” Bridge’s sweet voice permeated through my cellphone, and all I wanted to do was hug her and sink my face into her hair that always smelled like flowers. With everything that was happening around us, I just wanted to be in the same space with her. Plain and simple.

  “Babe?” She rarely called me babe or baby, and it melted the wall of insecurity building inside of me.

  “I’m here,” I said, clearing my voice. “Mike took care of everything for you?”

  It was asshole-y of me, but with Bridge, I didn’t hold back.

  “Oh stop it, you loon. He was helping me bring my luggage of books. My advisor asked me to look for historical research and most of the ancient astronomers’ works like Eudoxus and Eratosthenes aren’t in the databases. I literally have to page through their books so I can find what I’m looking for.” She was rattling off scientists that I’d never heard of, and I found my cock hardening in my workout shorts.

  “He’s there and I’m here,” I said, not caring if I sounded like a stubborn fool.

  “He’s also my classmate and you’re my boyfriend. What’s your point?” Her voice was stern and if I was within spanking distance, I had no doubt that she would be spanking my ass and slapping my arm for being ridiculous.

&n
bsp; “I just miss you is all. I wish I was there helping you out instead of another college dude who just wants to be in your pants.” My jaw flexed as the words came out. Bridge underestimated her beauty. She thought guys just wanted to be friends with her. Yeah sure, with her vagina. I was crude, but I was also being realistic.

  “First of all, I don’t wear pants. I wear jeans, so you’re wrong on that account already.” She was scolding the anxiety out of me, and I couldn’t help but grin. She was a feisty little thing. “Second, every guy who’s watching football tomorrow wants to be you, so what is your problem?”

  I let out a loud laugh and my mouth was still twitching when I said, “I’m just being a jealous boyfriend.”

  “I’ll smack the jealousy out of you.” She returned and it was quite amazing to listen to her. Bridge was shy, and even when we first met she wouldn’t look me in the eye. It took a while for her to warm up to someone, but once she did, she showed her sassy, fiery side and I loved it.

  Her voice was calm, “I saw the interview…thank you for saying everything that you said. You didn’t have to. I can protect myself, Scott. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m not a helpless girl.”

  “You’re far from helpless, babe, but I just want the laser beam off of you. I want you to be left alone.” The hardness in my voice could cut a knife. “We’re in this together and if they’re coming at you, I want them to know that I got your back and I’d rather they just come at me.”

  “I asked Mom to help me out with this. She’s more experienced with the media.” I knew how hard it was for her to ask for help from her mother, but we’d talked about it and I’d listened to her as she arrived at the conclusion that she was going to use her mother’s expertise on how to spin her involvement with me and Dex.

  So far, there hadn’t been any defamatory news about Bridge and although it couldn’t be helped, I breathed a sigh of relief. The media could be unkind, and they were especially rowdy to women who got between two well-known athletes, like in our situation. Whatever her mother was doing, it was working in our favor.

  Bridge was being portrayed as a college student who fell in love with me, and that her past with Dex was becoming insignificant by the second.

  The fact that she was the daughter of America’s queen of beauty products made the press cautious of any story that they printed about her. Her mother’s company invested in a lot of advertising, and if that was the angle that Bettina was working on to paint Bridge in a good light, then it was working.

  They couldn’t label her as a gold digger because Bridge had a fortune of her own.

  They couldn’t label her as a player because Bridge had made it clear in the video that she loved me.

  The mere fact that Trayton, my agent, had said nothing about Bridge’s reputation was proof that my woman’s honor was intact. They couldn’t dig dirt on her because she was clean. Someone contacted Trayton about Bridge’s time with Dr. Fortez, that they were going to release something about her treatment, and with the way I thundered over the phone, Trayton knew that he had to put a stop to that. Bridge had divulged to me that at an early age she went to special schools because her brain worked in a different way, that she processed information way too fast and it affected her speech, and Dr. Fortez helped her enter the mainstream schools when she was older.

  If there was one person who understood how the brain could be a tricky liability, it would be me.

  I hadn’t had the chance to tell her about my seizure-filled past, but one day I would.

  She was still talking to me about her day and I got lost in her voice, only she had the ability to mesmerize me.

  “Scott, you’re still listening, right? Or am I talking to air?” She was huffy and it was cute. I could picture her mouth in a pout and her nose wrinkling from annoyance.

  “I’m here, babe. I just got lost in your melodic voice,” I said in defense. I usually got lost in football scenarios when I talked to someone on the phone, but Bridge always had my full attention.

  “What did I say last?” She said, trying to test me.

  “You said that if the stars align, you’d be able to find research that would back up your theory about how the planets maintain life form,” I repeated what she’d said seconds ago.

  “Wow, you’re really listening,” her voice was awed.

  I sniggered, “Don’t you know, babe. You always have my full attention...especially when you’re wearing those purple panties and matching sparkling bra.”

  She giggled and it was a wondrous sound, “It was a one-time deal, Scott.”

  She’d worn the purple number for me, blaming her roommate for her extravagant lingerie purchase, and ever since, I had a very different opinion on purple.

  When she did the shimmy and danced around my cock, I swore I thought my dick would fall off if I couldn’t get inside of her that second.

  While distance might be a huge barrier right now, all the time I spent with her was precious and we made it worthwhile.

  Our Facetime calls were abundant, but they never came close to matching the need we had for each other.

  The insecurity that hovered over me at the beginning of the call was being chipped away at a rapid pace because I heard the sincerity in her voice when she talked and laughed with me.

  We couldn’t change our circumstances, but we were working with it and that was what mattered.

  I let her finish chatting about her research when she asked me, “How about you, Ice Man? You ready for tomorrow’s game?”

  “Always ready.” I’d been watching so much film that I had to use Visine to wet my eyes. The Falcons had a good defense and they would undoubtedly be trying to sack me play after play. Their defensive backs could make necessary adjustments against the pass rush and they created enough disruption at the line of scrimmage. If my O-line didn’t bring their A-game tomorrow, we would be putty to their hands.

  “I’ll be watching the game.” She was excited and I loved hearing it from her. She wasn’t into sports. Even if her brother was a sports guy, Bridge didn’t care much for it. She hated the violence that was present in football. I argued that rugby was way more violent than football, but that still made her squeamish. Knowing that she was going to be watching my game was added incentive for me to win.

  “I’ll throw five touchdowns for you,” I said in a confident voice. I never came into a game hoping that I could throw less than five. It was a mindset that I had since high school. Any time I could throw the ball, I would. Many times I passed it depending on what I read on the defense, but my favorite would be always throwing those long passes.

  “I’d love to see that.” There she was. My woman. She didn’t say I couldn’t do it. She didn’t even voice out any doubts. She just believed that I would. “Ugh. I gotta go, babe.”

  “Okay.” I said, then remembering what Trayton and I talked about earlier, I asked, “Bridge, can you attend an event with me? It’s going to be the Friday after we arrive from our game in Mexico.”

  It would be the first time she’d be on a red carpet black tie event with me and I couldn’t wait to ask her.

  “Who am I booting out of your arms now?” She questioned with a hint of amusement in her voice. The last time I had to attend a suit-and-tie dinner, a European model was in my arms. Bridge couldn’t go because she had a late class and it was early on in our relationship where she was trying to figure out if she wanted to be seen out in public with me.

  See my dilemma right there?

  Women wanted to be seen with me. Tucked in my arms.

  Not Bridge.

  Her hesitation to be with me was largely because of her affliction against the spotlight.

  If that didn’t make her any more special than she already was, it just made me want to earn her trust more and made me want to fight for her more.

  “Divine Porter,” I said nonchalantly, kicking an invisible lint under the rug where my feet were.

  “What? You’re trading Divine Porter for
me?” She was laughing wholeheartedly now and I joined her. I loved her ability to see humor in the absurdity and it was refreshing to be with someone who didn’t care about fame and social status the way other women did.

  “Don’t you know, babe, I’d trade any woman for you. Just to hold you and be with you.” The laughter had died down and my voice carried the hope that my heart had been holding onto. The last week had been difficult. Insecurities and distance poisoned my sanity, but the thought of being with Bridge was the vestige that my hope resided in.

  “Awww…I’ll rearrange my schedule. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet because I don’t have my calendar with me, but who can resist you when you’re being so sweet?” She said, her voice like a caress over the phone.

  “Thanks babe.” I said, “It means a lot to me. Love you.”

  A few beats of silence greeted me over the air, but I could hear her sighing.

  “I love you, too, Ice Man.”

  Those words were filled with so much emotion that I knew I’d never get tired of hearing them.

  And in the moments where I questioned how she could stay with me, those were the elixir that I hung on to.

  They filled me with the hope that yes, we’d be okay.

  That we would be just fine.

  Bridgette

  I might not dress up every day, but I knew when the occasion called for it.

  I knew the ins and outs of fashion.

  I stayed in the outskirts of it, given that my mother was in the forefront, but maybe it was also a part of my DNA that I could mix and match clothes without any effort.

  When I put in the effort, I wanted it to be special.

  My go-to designer was Armani.

  My mother’s assistant was friends with Armani’s lead designer which meant that he sent me samples from the latest collection when he could.

  Many times, I donated them to clothing stores within the area.

  I couldn’t give them away before they were worn on the runway, but a few months after, if someone found Armani at Goodwill in Melrose, it was probably from me.