Support Play

by Ella Jackson

  I chuckled. "I'm sure you don't make a habit of this with all of your interview subjects."

  "I really, really don't. You have to believe me on that." She nestled into my chest a little further and I slipped my arm further around her shoulders. "Mind you, most of them are pensioners telling me about their lost, cat, or complaining about the drainage situation. So maybe less opportunity to do so, let's put it that way."

  "I'm glad to hear it." We lay together in silence for a few minutes. I thought about how long it had been for me, and part of me wondered why her, why now.

  Sure, she was sexy, damn sexy.

  But there were a lot of girls in a lot of bars on a lot of Saturday nights, and I had no interest in any of them.

  Why this one, all of a sudden? Was I just getting too horny to control?

  "Dale, there is…" She takes deep breath. "There's something you not telling me, isn't there?"

  I try not to stiffen against her, but I can't help it. And she senses the movement. "It's not like that, Keisha. It's… I haven't been like this for a long time, okay? There's a lot going on in my life that…"

  She put her head on one side, and I saw doubt in her eyes. "I had figured you had a lot of girls here."

  I shook my head. "No. None. I'm not really that kind of guy."

  "Okay. Look, I just want you to know that, well, I don't expect anything as a result of this, right? This was a nice time, but –"

  At the mention of the word time I got a cold chill. What time was it?

  Shit. I only had 20 minutes before I had to go and pick up Daisy. I rolled out of bed, almost dumping Keisha in the process.

  "Look, I'm sorry but – well, I need to go. I've got an appointment." I wanted to say more, but after the discussion we just had, there was no way it was going to come across right.

  Her face clouded over. "You mean, now? Okay."

  I feel like a heel. But standing there, watching her as she straightened her blouse and pulled her skirt down, I knew that telling her about the rest of my life would make things too damn complicated.

  And I don't like complicated.

  We walked downstairs, and I helped her into hear jacket, and handed her her bag. "Look, thanks for coming. I'm sorry we didn't get to do much of the interview, okay? Maybe we can –"

  "Sure, Dale, sure." Her face was troubled again, her green eyes fixed on me. "Look, it sounds like you're doing something, and you don't want to tell me what it is. That's okay, right? That's your business. But just don't insult my intelligence, okay?

  I had a burning feeling in my chest. "Look, it's not like that. Now is just not the time, okay? I don't mean anything by it, honestly."

  She tapped one hand against her thigh. "Dale, I thought you were going to be open with me. We can't do this interview unless you're open with me. Didn't I make that clear?"

  I can tell she's pissed off, and she has every right to be. This would have been okay if I hadn't been so damn stupid as to kiss her in the first place, to take her to my bed, and to please her the way I did. But I did, and now I need to bear the consequences. "Look, I can't talk about it now. That's all I have to say. I'm sorry."

  "Fine." Her voice has an edge that I've never heard before, and I wish I'd had never heard.

  She gripped her bag tightly to her, walked to the door and opened it. On the threshold, she turns back and looks at me as if to say something, then stopped. For a second I saw her bottom lip tremble, then she straightens.

  "I'll contact Jessie to set up another time for the interview. I think it's best if we conducted in a more formal situation."

  Without waiting for my response she walks through the door, and I watch her disappear.

  Nine

  Keisha

  When I walked out the door, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about Dale.

  I knew that going to see him at his house was a bad idea; I knew that it had the potential to blow up on my face.

  Even though I walked out and played it like it was nothing when he blew me off, I felt a wrench inside. Something should have told me I was just another one of his girls, but I thought that he'd at least have the grace not to push me out the door when he had another one on the hook. I thought from his manner, from the kind way he talked about his friends, and from the way his dark eyes looked at me, he was more than just an arrogant pro athlete.

  Evidently, I was wrong.

  I was still shaking my head, kicking myself inside for my foolishness, when I pulled up outside my apartment. The morning sun had lowered, and the temperature was dropping; I pulled my coat closer about me, and grabbed my bag from the back of my car, slamming it hard enough to make the passers-by jump.

  I wasn't able to stop thinking about what had happened, replaying the way that he touched me and the words that he said again and again.

  He had basically made it clear that there wasn't anything between us; this was just a temporary thrill for him.

  The shame of it burned in my breast. Sure, I'd had a few flings myself, a few regrettable one night stands. But I always knew what I was getting into, always knew that they were nothing more than a temporary physical thing.

  This time, I hadn't thought about it until it was all happening, until his hands were on me, and mine on him. That was what made it sting.

  Pounding up the stairs to my apartment, I thrust my key in the lock and forced open. Nicole was sitting on the sofa reading a book, and one look at my face and my stance made her stand up.

  "What the hell happened?" Her face was worried, her perfect brows curved upwards in a question.

  I fought the urge to throw my bag down – it still had my expensive laptop and it, after all – and plumped into a chair opposite her. "Nothing happened. I mean, something happened, I mean… Dale Williams is an asshole, that's what happened."

  "What? What did he do?"

  With a deep breath, I pushed my fingers into the arms of the chair, staring at the nails as they go white. "It's nothing. I just… We were talking, and then we were kissing, and…"

  Nicole covered her mouth with a hand, shaking her head. "Oh, honey, no. Didn't I tell you? Never get involved with sports guys." She came over and perched on the arm of the chair, putting an arm around me, her, long legs twined one over the other. "What did he do to upset you? Tell me."

  "I don't know. It was just that, he seemed so nice, and then he practically pushed me out the door." My face was red, and I was talking too fast. "He was really good with his hands, too. Fuck, this is so embarrassing."

  Nicole's eyes widened, and she said nothing for a moment. "So… What happened then?"

  "He's a fucking player," I spat. "He just wanted to show me his big fancy house, and get me into his bedroom, but once he'd gotten me in there, he couldn't wait to get me out again. He said he had another appointment, and he had to meet someone. He didn't want to say who."

  Nicole watched me for a moment, her eyes softening and sympathy. "Okay." A little sad smile crosses her face, and she takes a breath. "Honey, I've learned one thing in my life; it's that guys will let you down when you least expect it. As much as we might want to believe something else, it just keeps happening."

  She leaned back and rolled off the edge of the chair. "But, we are going to do something about it. You and me, right now."

  I'm too angry and embarrassed to argue. "What do you mean? I'm not going to key his car or post poop in his mailbox, or something like that. That seems a little bit extreme, that."

  She snorted. "I was thinking of something more self-help oriented." Crossing to the kitchen, she threw open one of the cupboards "Behold! Cupcakes!"

  And cupcakes there indeed were; a whole cupboard full, in what looked like several different flavours. Nicole beamed. "My emergency stash. And, this sure sounds like an emergency." She chose one and tossed it in my direction. "Chocolate. Always a winner."

  I caught the cupcake, and eyed it wilfully. It did look good, I had to admit; a brief pang of guilt about what it would do to my w
aist was washed away in a tide of self pity. "Fuck it. This is for you, Dale Williams."

  On the other side of the cupcake, things were looking a little better.

  "I don't know why," I muttered mouth still half full of chocolate icing, "guys do this kind of thing. I mean, if they were just upfront about what they wanted, I'm sure a lot of girls would be down for it, right?"

  Nicole was working on her strawberry cream quite slowly, pulling it apart into little pieces and devouring each one thoughtfully. Every girl has a different way of eating cupcakes, and that's part of the great diversity of life.

  "Well," she gestured with a cherry in my direction, "I think guys often don't know what they want until it's too late." She frowned. "That's certainly been my experience."

  I indicated my laptop, still poking out of my bag. "Problem is, I still have to write this fucking story. About this guy, I now don't want to see again. What the fuck am I going to do?"

  "I don't know. You could write it about…irresponsible manbabies is who refuse to take ownership of their actions, maybe?" Nicole's smile was wicked. "Just a thought."

  I sighed, and put down the last of my cupcake on the coffee table. "Yeah, I guess so. On my way out of the house, I really wanted to say something, to call him out for what a prick he was being. But I 'djust thrown myself at him, let him put his hands all over me, and I just felt so… Rejected. Part of me wants to hit back, to embarrass him, but… I don't know."

  Since when did I decide that trusting this guy was a good idea? I had read about how athletes were all horndogs, and how they had a string of groupies throwing themselves at them, but of course I assumed that I was different.

  That I was not that kind of girl.

  I was going to promise myself that I would get over this embarrassment. "Nobody can make me feel stupid or embarrassed unless I let them. And I'm not going to let Dale Williams make me feel that way."

  "Damn right!" Nicole replied through a mouthful of cupcake. "What are you can do about it?"

  I thought for a minute. Wait a second.

  "If he is going to see another girl, I'm sure his team management wouldn't be very pleased to hear about all of this. When I was there on Monday, they gave me chapter and verse about how the Thunderbirds were a new kind of sports team, one that didn't have sexual misadventure, and scandals were groupies."

  Nicole nods enthusiastically. "Right then. There's your piece. Expose them for the hypocrites they really are. People love that shit."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I think I need to come up with something really insightful." I leaned over and grabbed my laptop. "I've got some notes here, from what Dale did say, before we…" I blushed, thinking back to the memory of his fingers on me. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure I know enough about him to find out who this other girl is that he seeing, and maybe ask her about her side of the story. I don't want to come across like a bunny-boiler, but if her man is sleeping around, she should at least know about it for safety's sake."

  "Okay then. You're going to expose his dirty secrets, and in doing so, make sure the town knows that the Thunderbirds aren't all that. Sounds like a winner to me."

  I shrugged, trying to feel more enthusiastic about the idea that I really did. "Yeah. I mean… It's just that this feels like revenge, Nic, and revenge isn't really my thing. I mean, I'm pissed off with him, and embarrassed, but hurting his team just because he's a bit sleazy feels kind of vengeful."

  Nicole flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled at me. "Honey, you're not doing it for yourself, remember?" She squashed the paper of her cupcake and deftly snagged mine, then threw it into the trash from a distance. "If this guy Dale is that much of a sleaze with you, a girl he's only just met, what else is he doing? You need to expose him now, for the sake of the next girl, and the next girl after that, you know?"

  "I guess." I kept thinking back to the way he talked, to his arms around me, and trying to square that with the idea of him being a sleazy manipulator.

  "I mean," Nicole stood up, warming to the subject, "it's one thing for guys to just be completely upfront about what they want, right? Like, that what's his name, Ricardo Cortez, dude, right?" She gives a low whistle of appreciation. "Hot, but… All I'm saying is there ain't no point expecting that guy to be anything more than Mr Tonight, know what I mean?"

  I nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, sure. We're all adults, and it's a game for adults. I just feel kind of suckered."

  "So, do something about it. Strike a blow for the female population who don't want to get creeped on by pro athletes. There are millions of us, I promise."

  I stared down at my hands. "Okay. Maybe you're right. Put together my notes, and see if I can find out who this girl is. It's not a big town, after all; people can't hide that easily."

  I guess reinforcing the message that you never know when a guy is going to be creepy or sleazy isn't a bad thing.

  Ten

  Dale

  If the last game was any indication, we were in for a long season. So, despite the fact that I knew this was wrong, I wanted to make things right with Keisha. Between her doubts and all the troubles of my family, I just wanted to feel settled here.

  And even though I had a lot to explain, I needed her to understand that I'm not the guy she evidently thinks I am. As I got ready to turn the corner to Daisy's school, I looked through my windshield and see girls and boys filing out through the school gate, chatting happily, lost in all the dramas of being a kid.

  Daisy had been begging me for a phone for some time, but I wasn't quite ready to give one to her yet. What that meant was that I had to be here early to make sure I was waiting when she came out, no matter what.

  On the drive here, I kept thinking about Keisha, what happened between us, and how much I had wanted her to stay. I should have stopped. I should have explained what was going on and why I needed to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw other parents waiting for their kids, or couples. I felt a pang; Daisy didn't have that, and it was my doing.

  I was willing to do anything for her; I moved to this little town and took a chance on my career with a brand-new team, so she could commit to a school for years. Growing up the kid of a pro athlete was not an easy life; you were moved around from one place to another, constantly, and you never had time to settle in, never had time to make your own friends, always called 'that person's kid'.

  I knew, because of my dad. That was how I'd grown up, and I was damned if I was going to let Daisy grow up that way as well. She had only had two loving parents for a short time, but I promised myself that I was going to love her enough for two. I knew what it was like to feel alone in the world, and I would do anything to make sure that she never did.

  I sucked in a deep breath and let it out, drumming my fingers on steering wheel as the night of Julia's death came back to me. Daisy was too young to remember the argument, too young to remember Julia blowing up at me for being so buried in training and reviews and practising skills that I'd never had time to pay attention to her. I had argued back, saying that I was doing it for all three of us, and Julia had stormed out, saying she needed some space.

  Three hours later, flashing lights and pulled up at our house, waking Daisy. The grim faced policeman had nothing to say except that Julia had died instantly when her car left the road and went into a ravine. He didn't need to tell me, but I knew she'd been speeding at the time. She always drove fast when she was angry.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Daisy would come out any time now, I couldn't let her see me like this.

  Watching the kids file out of the school gate, milling around excitedly pushing and shoving each other, I was struck by how different they were already. You could see that every single one had their own personalities, their own relationships, and in a few, their own sadnesses. It was hard to think of kids Daisy's age having things to be sad about, but a moment of watching them would show you that they did.

  Finally, there she was; her blonde hair shining, in t
he middle of a small group of kids chattering excitedly. I opened my door, put one leg out, and knocked on the roof of the car, our universal signal for attention.

  "Daddy!" An excited shout greeted me, and she pushed through her friends, running toward me.

  Every time I saw her face light up, it never failed to wipe away whatever worries or fears I had; all I had to do was see her running toward me, pigtails flying, and I knew what I was here for, and what I had to do.

  I scooped her up off the ground in a hug. "There's my little girl. How was school?"

  "Good. We spent a lot of time doing fractions today, which was pretty boring, but Sally Wexler needed help, so I finished mine and then helped her with hers, and that was a bit less boring." She kicked her feet against me. "You can put me down now, you know."

  I grinned. "Oh, I can, can I? Who says?" Oblivious to the traffic in the street, I spun her around on the spot.

  "Daddy!" Daisy grimaced and stuck her tongue out at me. "Ms. Cooke says we need to be careful at the school gate, and to watch for traffic. You aren't watching for traffic."

  Grumbling, I was forced to admit she had a point. "Okay, okay." I lowered her to the ground next to the car. "Soon you're going to be too big to do that, and I'm going to be too old to pick you up."

  Daisy shook her head vehemently. "No you're not. You're so strong you'll always be able to pick me up."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, kiddo. But maybe you'll be grown-up, and you won't want me to. C'mon, let's get you home and fed." I had opened the door and was about to help her in, when I heard a voice behind me.

  "Mr. Williams? Could I have a word?"

  I turned, and saw Daisy's teacher, Ms Cooke. "Sure, what's up?" We'd met a couple of times before, usually on the pickup or drop-off, but never really spoken much. I had read her comments on Daisy's reports, written in careful handwriting, and showing a genuine interest in her kids. I had meant to come and meet with her more, but training had meant I hadn't done it. I felt a brief pang of guilt; was she here to tell me off for that?