by Kara Hart
“Girl, you’re freaking out right now!” she laughs. “Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be alright. Explain everything to me.”
“I kissed him, Jen. Oh God, I kissed him!” I exclaim, feeling the shame creep up on me. I fall back onto my couch and cover my eyes. “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that I kissed him or the fact that I ran out of the room.”
“You’re a hot mess right now, you know that?” she asks. “So you kissed the guy. Big deal. He’s totally hot and you definitely want it. I know I do.”
“I don’t want it. Trust me, I do not want that monster,” I tell her. Right. I don’t want that big hunk of pure muscle and power at all. He repulses me. I detest him. Right? Right?! “Okay, I know that I am kind of overreacting here. But it’s just too weird.”
She shakes her head and flips to the Sports Network. There’s an image of Jackson on the TV and I instantly feel my stomach drop and my heart palpitate. There’s something growing inside of me and I’m trying to understand it, but it’s difficult to wrap my head around. What is happening?
“You’re insane. That man is like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” she laughs. When she sees me roll my eyes, she shrugs. “Sorry. But seriously, there’s obviously still a connection there, right?”
“Wrong,” I say. “I don’t want to mend things or anything. I just want to go on with my life. Shit, I just want to be back in Los Angeles.”
“You don’t want the guys back there. They all suck,” she says. “Okay, fine. If you don’t want to mend things, don’t mend things. It’s that easy. But you’re a healthy adult. Jump on that bone a little. Explore each other’s bodies.” Her voice gets all weird and jokey and I’m getting annoyed.
“Jennifer! Ugh, no.” But I can’t help but feel as if she’s onto something. I’m not trying to find love anytime soon. And yeah, he broke my heart like a million years ago. Shouldn’t I be able to put that all behind me and move on? “Maybe you’re right. I’m an independent woman. Why am I still hung up on some bullshit that happened over ten years ago?”
“That’s what I’m asking. Seriously, just own up to what happened,” she says, pouring us glasses of the rosé she brought. I grab at a piece of chocolate and instantly feel relieved. “Honestly, he’s probably not even thinking about it anymore.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh, what am I saying? You’re definitely right,” I sigh. “I’m just going to act like nothing happened. We’ll just go about business as usual.”
“Good,” she smiles and takes a sip of wine. I take a strawberry and smile back. “And then fuck his brains out.”
Ugh. Yeah, and then do that. Right. But deep down, there’s a swelling idea that’s causing me to rethink a lot of things. It has to do with our history. It’s the way he touches my arm when I get annoyed. It’s the way he looks deep into my eyes with understanding. He’s the biggest asshole I know, but some of that disappears when he sees me. I don’t get what’s happening, dammit.
I’m not sure I want to.
73
Jackson
I get the word that I can play hours before the game. It’s an unorthodox decision, they tell me. However, I’m an unorthodox kind of guy, so I take it in stride. My team celebrates the decision with me. We scream it out in the locker room, and although Landon is still eying me funny, he knows it’s the right decision.
“Good to have you in the game, brother,” he says, patting me on the back. “Let’s give them hell.”
I smile and nod in approval. We’re going to give them more than that. We’re going to give them their day of reckoning.
Some of the guys on the Arizona team are people I played with in college. Some of them even had the audacity to question whether or not I’d make the pros. I played differently than the guys in the past. I put my ass on the line and they hated that. That’s exactly what I’m going to do today.
Before we run out onto the field, I manage to sneak away for a second to see my ma. She hangs off to the side of the field, wearing my jersey number, 37, and she’s practically jumping up and down when she sees me. She’s as cute as can be. I want to make her proud with every play.
“Oh, my baby boy!” she squeals and gives me a hug. “I knew they’d put you in the game. I told Brianna the other day at lunch, I said to her, ‘no one can refuse to let my son play in the game,’” she says.
“I’m lucky Ma,” I tell her. “I’m going to play my heart out for you today.”
“You know, you can play however you want. But it would be nice if you called me every once in a damn while,” she says with annoyance. “You never update me about your life. I miss you. Can’t a mother miss her son?”
“I’m sorry Mom, I’ve been a little caught up in things,” I say. “Oh, shit. Guess who’s been working on all my PR campaigns.”
“How should I know that?” she asks.
“Fiona Breckinridge,” I smile. “Remember her?”
“Oh lord,” she says. “You’re in trouble. I can already see it in your eyes. Lord, you’re in deep shit.”
“Mom,” I start. “I’m good. Trust me. Just thought it was a funny thing, is all.”
“Bullshit.” She squints her eyes the way she does when she’s trying to flush out a lie. “You’re telling me because you’re in love with that girl again, aren’t you?”
“Hell no,” I say, shaking my head violently. Love? There’s nothing worse than love. It’s a pack of lies. It’s something that was made up in order to imprison people. A good fling is great and all, but I don’t want to get hung up in that love shit.
“Well, be careful,” she says. “And if you do love her, don’t fuck it up this time.” My mother. The woman who raised my smart ass. Even at age 56, she cusses like a sailor.
It’s about this time that I know I need to head back to the game. I love my mom with all my heart, but she likes to keep me, even when I’m about to play one of the games of my career. When the lights dim and the crowd starts to cheer, I give her a kiss on the cheek and run back to the other players.
“How’s the mom?” Landon asks, grabbing my shoulder pads and shaking.
“She’s proud,” I tell him. “Can’t let her down now. I’m going to have to fuck this team up.”
“What’re you thinking?” he asks, knowing I’ve got something in mind.
“I’m thinking I’m going to run this kickoff into the end zone,” I tell him. “Start the game off real strong. Those suits making all the decisions are going to regret even thinking about pulling me from the game.”
We’re announced and we run onto the field, smashing through big wads of confetti. Cheers for Arizona, boos for the away team. I smile wide. They can boo all they want. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to whoop their ass.
Arizona starts the game with a kickoff. The ball goes flying in the air and I know what I have to do. The ball falls into my hands and I run with all the speed I can muster. Suddenly, everything starts to slow down, like in the movies. Only, it’s much more real. There’s so much on the line right now. And I know that if we start out strong, my team will play stronger throughout the whole game.
I glance at my coach, who’s screaming, “Go! Go! Go!” I glance at my mom, who’s doing the same. I look up at the crowd and I spot a fan with my jersey. There’s a look of urgency in his eyes. I look back at the players coming toward me and I’m running right at them.
I juke to the left and a guy falls to the grass, unable to get his hands on me. I dodge to the right and then I scramble to the left again. They miss me left and right. It doesn’t matter what they try and do. I’m too fast for them. I spin, pivot, and hop forward, literally jumping out of someone’s hands. I feel his hand get crushed under my cleats and I know he’s going to feel that in the morning.
Finally, I’m face to face with the end zone. I step into it and the thunderous loudspeakers go off. “Oh my God! Jackson Leeman has scored a touchdown! The game is underway!”
Peopl
e flip me off because, I guess, that’s my thing. This time, however, I just smile back and give a thumbs up to the crowd. I grab the football and I hand it to a younger kid who’s seemingly happy about it. Today, I’m going to be good. I promised Fiona I would.
I come back to the side of the field and my coach gives me a pat on the back. “Keep it up, kid,” he tells me. I nod, but my head is elsewhere. I already know the game is in the bag.
I sit down and watch as our defensive line holds down the field. We’ve got a good team, that’s for sure. Landon throws his arm around me and says, “You nailed it out there. Why the long face?”
I shrug and take another swig of water. “No reason,” I tell him. “This game is just important to me.”
“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” he asks me. I smile a guilty smile and run my hands through my hair. “Fuck, man. Well, you saw her, right?” he asks.
“What’re you talking about?” I ask him as thousands of cheering fans go berserk over Arizona’s play. They gain some yards and I glance at the field, but I’m still not worried about losing this one. Landon points over our shoulders and there she is. Fiona, standing in the press area of the field, smiling awkwardly. She waves over at me and I wave back. “Shit,” I whisper.
“Just bang her already, man,” he laughs. “Get it out of your system.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like myself. It’s as if lately there’s been a giant weight on my shoulders and I can’t seem to shake it. I’ve never really had that before. At least, not in a long while.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I need to relax about things,” I say. “I can’t keep acting this way, man. I need to get back to basics. I can’t let shit control me.”
“Hell no, you can’t,” he laughs. “Come on. We’re up.”
Arizona gives up the ball without scoring. I throw on my helmet and Landon head-butts me before going in. “Let’s fuck them up,” he tells me. There’s nothing I would rather do.
It’s not long before the game is over and done with. Dead and fucking buried. Arizona had no idea what was coming to them. It’s sad, really. I mean, to beat your home state by that much. But that’s how it has to be sometimes. There’re winners and there’re losers. I’m always apt to be on the winning side.
And then I see her. And shit changes inside me. I suddenly feel all too aware of my surroundings, aware of who and what I am. I keep asking myself, “Is this who you really are? Someone who’s obsessed with winning? Is that all you’re good for? What about being a decent human being? What about putting effort into someone that isn’t you?”
Out in the dead hallway of the stadium, she comes up to me. I’m with the whole team and we’re shouting and smiling, and having a good time. We’re in good spirits because of the win, but when I see her, I have to stop myself. I distance myself from the group and the guys know something is up, so they continue walking. A few whistle at her and I give them an angry look. Landon just laughs to himself.
“Hey,” I nod at her and lightly touch her arm. “I didn’t expect you to be at this one. What’s up?”
She looks down at the cement floor for a second before her eyes meet mine. “Well, I couldn’t miss our hometown game. Could I?” she asks. “I had to fly in and see you crush them. Plus, I’m pretty proud of my PR skills. I totally got the league to let you play this game.”
She’s right. Without her, I’d be on the sidelines, cheering on the second string player who took my spot. Fuck that. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for helping me with that,” I say. “So, thank you. I’m glad my mom got to see me play here.”
“It’s no big deal, really,” she says. “Want to take a walk? You probably have a party to go to or something.”
“Nah, not tonight,” I admit. “I’m trying to lay low for a night. You know, I need to control myself a little.”
We walk through the halls and find an exit. I hold the door open for her and feel the hot air outside come rushing in. We walk out and the desert noises that were once home, are loud and familiar. They bring back memories and emotions I never thought I’d feel again. It’s oddly comforting.
“I never thought I’d hear you say those words,” she laughs. “Control myself. You did really well out there. No showboating necessary, you see? When you handed that kid the football, that was perfect. Just keep doing stuff like that for a while. Right now, you’re just trying to impress the networks and league.”
“I don’t know,” I laugh a little, feeling nervous. I don’t know how to act around this woman now. I don’t know what the protocol is. Ever since we met again, things have been all around crazy. My whole life has been in the spotlight. I guess it always has been, but this feels different.
“What don’t you know?” she asks me. We sit on the curb of the sidewalk, outside the stadium. A few fans walk by, but they don’t notice me. This isn’t like Portland. I’m practically anonymous out here.
I put my hand against hers, almost out of instinct more than anything. “Fuck the networks. Fuck the football league. I’m not trying to impress them or anyone,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” she asks, but she’s staring away. She’s looking off into the distance as cars drive by on the freeway.
“I don’t know,” I laugh. “Sometimes I think I’m only trying to impress…” I stop myself and feel my body grow anxious. My heart is actually beating faster than it does out on that field. I gulp down the bit of saliva I have left, and I allow myself to face what I’m feeling. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just trying to impress you.”
Her pupils widen and I feel her hand underneath my hand move away from mine. What the fuck? I didn’t expect her to have such an adverse reaction to those words. In my mind, I pictured something completely different.
Her breath quickens and she starts to look around us, as if she’s making sure no one is around. “Look,” she says, “we have to talk.”
No thanks, I think to myself. But what I really say is entirely different. “Okay. What’s on your mind?” I’m already trying to get out of here at this point. That shit I said about not partying after the game was just something to say. Now I’m wondering how I’m going to get out of this one.
She starts by taking a deep breath. Then she says, “The thing that happened the other day—”
I cut her off. “You mean, when you kissed me? That thing?” I ask her. “Look, don’t worry about it. I haven’t thought about it in days. I forgot it even happened.” I move away from her slightly and cough.
“Are you sure?” she asks, eyes full of fake emotion and empathy. “Because I felt really stupid for even doing that.”
“Yeah,” I repeat. “I’m sure. It was an accident. We have a lot of history together. It was bound to happen.” I smile and act as if everything is okay. Truth is, everything is not okay. Everything is dull. It’s boring. And now I want to get back to my old life. Why the hell did she have to even come here, anyway?
“Definitely,” she says, nodding hard. “I work for you. It would be a total breach of contract. Not to mention, it would be totally unethical if anything more were to happen.” I look at her finally and notice she’s wearing a nice dress that cuts off around the tops of her thighs. It’s brand new and I can tell she wore it for a reason. I can’t help but feel a mixture of confusion and anger. Why is she playing games?
“Well,” I say with a sigh. “It was good seeing you here. I’m glad we had this talk.”
“Wait,” she calls out as I step off the curb. “You’re not leaving, are you? I mean, maybe we could get some drinks or something.”
I laugh and turn around to face her. The look in her eyes is priceless. She knows she shouldn’t have brought that shit up here. Not tonight, anyway. But I guess I overstepped my boundaries. I shouldn’t have let out my true feelings. I should never tell women how I feel. I’ve learned that lesson one too many times.
“I shouldn’t be drinking. No
t right now, at least. I have to focus on my training,” I tell her, winking. I smile wide to make sure she feels better about the situation. “Everything you said tonight needed to be said. Don’t even worry about it. Seriously. I’m cool.”
“Okay,” she says, dangling her keys in her hands. She wraps her palm around them and gently slides her fingers through the metal rings. “Let me know if you want to get breakfast or something. We can talk about getting you a cover shoot in Time. Sound good?”
“Sure thing,” I say, keeping my smile up. I unlock my rental car and jump in. I turn the car on and watch her walk slowly to her own vehicle. Before leaving, I roll down the windows and tell her one thing. “Nice dress, by the way. I’m glad you took my advice.” I pull out of the lot as she stares in my direction and watch her sit back down on the curb.
74
Fiona
Leave it to me to fuck everything up. I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t let him say anything more. I don’t want him thinking that we can keep playing this little game. We had something real, but that was years ago. Now, we’re just business partners. That’s all we’ll ever be.
But I can’t deny what I’ve been feeling for him. If I’m being one hundred percent honest with myself, I have to admit that I wish something would just happen. Take tonight, for instance. Why did he have to say anything? Why couldn’t he just take control and kiss me?
I find myself driving home with the radio off, headed in the direction of my hotel room, feeling lonelier than ever. On the freeway, I drive fast and steady. I get to my hotel and fall onto the bed, groaning loudly. I want to call Jennifer and expel all my problems to her, but instead, I grab a wine cooler from the fridge and guzzle it down.
I turn off the lights and turn on the TV. The only thing that’s currently on is infomercials and the coverage of tonight’s game. I keep it on the Sports Network, but it just causes more anguish seeing Jackson’s face all over the screen. The headline is: Has our favorite bad boy finally gone good?