Hate the Game

by Renshaw, Winter

  “What?”

  I had no idea …

  Just the other night he asked me to go with him to Richmond. I assumed he’d already signed the contract …

  “The deadline is tomorrow,” she says. “If he doesn’t sign it, they can take the offer off the table completely or they can give him a less … savory … offer.”

  “I had no idea. He hasn’t told me any of this.” There’s a sharp stab in my middle, though I think the pain is all in my imagination, the emotional sting of betrayal.

  Why wouldn’t he have told me this? It’s not the kind of thing that someone casually leaves out of conversation with their significant other, especially when we’ve talked about the future on several different occasions.

  He always made it sound like he was going—so what’s with the contract?

  “I need you to end this with him,” she says, sitting taller, her gaze cold and penetrating. Gone are her nerves and in their place is an agenda. “Immediately.”

  “Camilla …”

  “Irie, he’s come too far to throw this all away, and I know you know that. You seem to be a very reasonable young woman with a good head on your shoulders, so I’m sure you understand the gravity of this situation,” she says, taking another sip of her mimosa. “If you love my son, and I believe that you do, you’ll end this. You’ll let him go so he can sign the contract and do what’s best for his future.” She examines me before continuing. “And if he loves you, he’ll wait for you, for the right time. If what you have is real, you’ll be together again. Someday.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, but I think he and I should talk about—”

  “No,” her voice cuts over mine and her shoulders straighten. “This is the only way. I know my son. I know how relentless he can be with something he wants and I know how wild he is about you. You’re going to have to call it off. It’s going to have to be your decision, not something you decide together. If you love him, if you care about his future, you’re going to have to break his heart.”

  My stomach twists until it burns. The thought of doing this to Talon tears me up inside.

  I can’t go behind his back and make this decision for him.

  But I also know he shouldn’t throw his entire future away for me.

  There’s a part of him that loves the game, even if he’s temporarily misplaced that love.

  I can’t take that away from him.

  I love him too much.

  “You seem to be thinking about this,” Camilla says, her full lips pressed into a hard line. “I was afraid of that.” She clears her throat. “The first time we met, you mentioned you’d been offered a job with Kira Kepner, opening her new Malibu location.”

  “Yes …”

  “Kira actually started out as an intern of mine back in the day,” she says, brushing a silky strand of hair off her cheekbone. “We’re quite close. In fact, I’m quite close with a lot of people in this industry—particularly in the Southern California region. And Mark does quite a bit of business with a lot of them. It’s quite an incestuous little industry. Anyway, a couple of phone calls, Irie, and your shiny new degree would be reduced to ash.” Camilla clucks her tongue. “It’d be a shame seeing all those years, all that hard work, go to waste.”

  My eyes sting, but I refuse to cry in front of this woman.

  Talon once described her as “fragile.” When I met her, I thought she was quite effervescent, though maybe that was the sangria talking. Now I realize she’s nothing more than a bully.

  “I’m sorry, Camilla. I need to leave,” I say, standing.

  But she reaches across the table, covering my hand with hers. “I need this to happen by tomorrow or I’ll be making a phone call to Kira, personally.”

  Chapter 38

  Talon

  “Irie.” I can’t answer the door fast enough Thursday night. “I’ve been calling you all day. I thought something happened.”

  She isn’t wearing her dimpled smile and she doesn’t run into my arms, wrap her long legs around me, and greet me with a kiss.

  Her hands grip the strap of her handbag and she swallows, keeping her gaze low.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” I make a move for her arm to guide her inside since she’s standing in the hall, still as a statue, but she jerks out of my reach.

  “I’m sorry, Talon,” she finally says. “I don’t think we should date anymore.”

  None of this makes sense.

  She was here this morning and last night and all day yesterday … the night before that and the night before that.

  “Is this because of what I asked you the other day?” I ask. “About moving to Richmond? Because if it is—”

  “—no,” she says. “We’re just … we’re moving too fast and we know exactly where this is headed, so I think it’s time we—”

  “—no.” It’s my turn to interrupt this time. “I don’t want that. Irie, you don’t want that. I know you don’t. What changed? What happened today?”

  She checks her watch. “I have to go.”

  “Come in. Let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve made my decision.” Her gaze avoids mine.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m at a complete loss.

  I can’t force her to come inside. I can’t force her to talk this out with me right now.

  “I don’t know what happened or what brought this on, Irie, but I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I know I came on strong in the beginning,” I say. “If you want space, take it. If you want time to yourself for a bit, that’s fine too. I’ll still be here. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, no matter what you decide, I’ll still love you.”

  She tries to say something and stops, and I swear her lips tremble for a second.

  “Goodbye, Talon,” she says before turning to leave.

  Space. She needs space.

  And maybe some time.

  But this isn’t the end.

  I won’t allow it.

  I refuse to make it this far, only to fumble the ball.

  Chapter 39

  Irie

  I pull Aunt Bette’s Crown Vic to a stop at a light a couple blocks from Talon’s place, my sight clouded with thick, salty tears.

  I ended it.

  But not because of Camilla.

  I didn’t do it for her and I didn’t do it because she backed me into a corner.

  I did it for him and only him.

  I had no idea he hadn’t signed the contract, but when Camilla dropped that on me, I knew exactly why: he’s holding out for me.

  As wonderful and magical and lovely as everything is when I’m with him, it’s all so new, so uncertain. I can’t be the reason he walks away from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  Camilla said that if our love was real, we’d be together again someday. While that all sounds good and well, I know the instant he sets foot on Virginia soil and is handed that jersey, he’s going to have his pick of the litter. Women will be lined up everywhere and he’ll be coming fresh off a heartbreak, looking to screw his way into forgetting me.

  I wipe a tear from my cheek, knowing that probably isn’t true.

  Talon isn’t like that.

  Once upon a time I thought he was … but that was before I actually got to know him.

  Under his arrogant façade and unapproachable persona is a good man, and one of these days another woman is going to recognize that in him and she’s going to hold onto him for dear life, marry him and have all of his babies, and I’m just going to be a watercolor memory.

  I swipe at another tear and another.

  They refuse to stop.

  And suddenly I’m pulling into Bette’s driveway.

  It’s like I blinked and I was home, with no recollection of the drive here.

  I kill the engine and check my phone—three missed calls, two voicemails and a text … all from him.

  I can’t bring myself to listen to the
m so I delete them all, and then I silence my phone.

  If I let myself hear him out, I know exactly what will happen. I’ll change my mind and I’ll ruin his future. Maybe not now, maybe not in the short term, but in the long run. I don’t want to be the girl he threw it all away for.

  I love him too much.

  Chapter 40

  Talon

  “Talon,” Ira damn near screams my name on the other side of the phone Friday morning. “The deadline is today. TO. DAY. Why the hell have you not signed anything yet?”

  I exhale into the phone.

  I didn’t want to answer, but he’d already called me thirteen times this morning alone and he wasn’t going to stop until he got through.

  Irie left me last night.

  All I’ve been doing since she walked away was replay every conversation, every word that ever came out of my mouth trying to figure out where I went wrong.

  She won’t answer her phone.

  Won’t reply to my texts.

  I stayed up all night, tossing and turning in sheets that still smelled like her.

  “You know they can drop the offer altogether,” Ira continues. “They could also chop it in half—and you’d still have to take it because even half of what they want to give you is twice as much as what anyone else wanted to give you. I’m sorry, kid. I love you, but you’re a goddamned fool if you don’t sign this thing.”

  He doesn’t love me.

  He only loves his fifteen percent—the six million he stands to gain the second my pen touches that signature line.

  “Something like this will never happen for you again in your lifetime,” he says. “You’re not going to take a few years off, turn twenty-seven, and then magically find yourself with another multimillion-dollar offer from the pros. This is it, Tal. It’s now or it’s never. We’re down to zero hour and you need to make a decision.”

  “I’m aware of all of that, Ira,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose as I pace my quiet apartment.

  “Tell me … why the sudden change of heart?” he asks. “Is it the girl? Is that what this is all about?”

  I stop pacing. “I never told you about her.”

  He blows a puff of breath into his receiver. “Ah, come on. It’s always about a girl when it comes to this shit.”

  “You’ve been talking to Mark, I see.”

  “Talon …”

  “As my agent, any communication needs to be directed toward me and only me. Not my fucking stepfather.”

  “I’m sorry, kid. You’re right. It’s just he called me the other day because he was concerned since you hadn’t signed yet.”

  “Then you should have directed him to me.”

  “I tried. You know how he is.”

  “I know exactly how he is,” I say. “I also know how you are. You’re no pushover.”

  “Look, I get that you’re upset and you have every right to be, and I’m sorry for that. At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to look out for you, trying to make sure you don’t throw away your future.”

  Oh my God.

  I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before but it makes perfect sense now … Irie dumping me on the eve of my contract deadline has Mark written all over it.

  “I have to go,” I tell Ira when he’s mid-spiel, still trying to cover his ass.

  “Talon. You have to sign by three o’clock today or it’s all over. If you—”

  I end the call, grab my car keys, and head across town to Bette’s. I thought time and space were all she needed, but now that I know her hand was forced into dumping me, it changes everything.

  She didn’t want to leave me.

  She felt like she had no choice.

  I fly into Bette’s driveway, shift into park, and hurry toward the front door, knocking like a crazy person until the door swings open.

  Only it isn’t Irie.

  “Bette,” I say. “I need to talk to Irie—and before you tell me she isn’t here—”

  “She isn’t here,” Bette says, point blank. “Feel free to take a look around if you don’t believe me.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Said she was going to go work on some project for one of her classes. Last I saw her, she had her bag and she was walking to the bus stop. I imagine she’s on campus. Check the design lab maybe? I know she hangs out there quite a bit. Or she did before she met you …”

  Bette isn’t in an overly friendly mood—which makes me wonder what she knows—but the fact that she didn’t shut the door in my face is a good sign.

  “Thanks, Bette,” I say as I trek back to my car.

  Backing out, I head to campus to find my girl.

  Chapter 41

  Irie

  I wander around campus in a daze most of Friday morning. We’re on the cusp of spring and everything’s coming alive, only I don’t see it.

  It’s all gray to me.

  The color, the life, it’s been sucked out of my world.

  Every time I close my eyes, I see his face … specifically the look on his face when I told him it was over. The light went out in his eyes and his smile faded, and the instant they were gone I wanted more than anything to be able to put them back, to see the face of the man who stole my heart when I least expected it.

  I take a seat on a bench outside the Mercer Campanile, which lets out ten melancholy chimes.

  I called Brynn earlier to see if she was around, but she had to cover a shift this morning at the print shop in campus town. I didn’t tell her about Talon. I will later, but it didn’t seem right to drop it so casually via text.

  I tried to kill some time in the design lab earlier, working ahead on an upcoming project due at the end of the month, but I couldn’t focus and every configuration I designed paled in comparison to my normal work.

  Leaning back, I stare at the picturesque PVU campus, which for two short months of my life was heaven on earth.

  I think about Talon’s mother, her threats and her manipulations.

  If Talon and I would’ve been given a chance to discuss this on our own, I imagine we would’ve reached the same decision—we would have agreed to go our separate ways … for now. But the fact that that decision was made for us the way that it was is a fact I can’t get over.

  I keep replaying my conversation with Camilla in my mind, over and over, each time growing angrier, each time wanting to tell Talon the truth.

  But I can’t do that.

  He needs to sign, he needs to embrace his future without me because he’s going to do amazing things with it.

  I just wish we could’ve had more time together.

  Chapter 42

  Talon

  She isn’t in the design lab.

  Or the library.

  She isn’t in Meyers Commons or the armory.

  I’ve walked the campus for hours …

  She isn’t here.

  “Just go ask him,” I hear a woman whispering from behind me.

  “I don’t want to bother him,” a guy whispers back.

  “I’m sure he won’t mind …” she argues. “Just ask him to take a quick selfie with you …”

  I glance behind and find a baby-faced high school kid and his mom staring my way. The guest badges hanging from their neck mean they’re touring the campus. The kid freezes when we lock eyes. Either he’s starstruck or shy as hell.

  I’ve never been a fan of selfies and the last thing I want to do is be bothered about a picture from some kid who looks like he’s probably going to end up with MIT instead of PVU, but then I think about Irie and that silly little speech she gave me about being someone’s hero someday.

  “You want a pic?” I ask. “Give me your phone.”

  “What?” The kid’s eyes widen and he glances around him, as if I’m talking to someone else.

  “Get up there, Ronnie, take a pic with Talon Gold!” His mom shoos him toward me.

  “Come on, Mom. You need to get in here too,” I say, forcing a smile that takes all the
energy I have.

  She does a happy squeal before joining her son and they each hand me their phones.

  I snap two pics and send them on their way.

  I never would have done that shit before Irie.

  She’s changed me for the better, in ways I never could have anticipated.

  Just wish she were here to see it …

  Nevertheless, I keep searching, and I won’t stop until I find her.

  Chapter 43

  Irie

  I bookmark five Malibu rentals and fill out a handful of inquiry forms online. One of these weekends I’m going to have to drive up there and tour them in person, but for now I settle for photos.

  I thought apartment hunting was going to be a good way to focus on my future, I thought making my plans all the more real would help me accept my fate.

  But it only made me miss him more because every time I found something I thought he’d like—a built-in ice maker, a trendy bar down the street—I realized I wouldn’t be able to tell him about it and that he’d never be able to see these places; not in screenshots, not in real life.

  It’s funny how life surprises you sometimes. Never in a million years did I think I’d have agreed to a date with Talon. Never in a billion years did I think I’d fall in love with him.

  He wasn’t who I thought he was.

  He was so much more …

  Pushing my thoughts aside, I keep searching for the perfect place to call home.

  The rental market in Malibu is slim pickings and rent is astronomical. Most of the places that claim they have ocean views only boast the kind of ocean views you find when standing on your tiptoes, leaning over your tiny balcony railing.

  But I’d take that over Iron Cross, Missouri a million times over.

  Kira said I could borrow some furniture from her stock until I’m able to get some things of my own. Her only caveat was that I professionally style everything—which is a given—so she can have her photographer snap pictures for her social media.