First Position

by Prescott Lane

  “Will you take my boy’s pictures?”

  “I’d love to. But what about yours?

  “My pictures? No way.”

  “You haven’t had maternity photos taken?”

  “No. I’m not one of those glowing pregnant ladies who want to see themselves.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Olivia waved her hand in disbelief. “You are all belly. You look amazing. Trust me, I do this for a living. Let me take your photos.”

  Emory finally convinced Olivia, and they decided that tomorrow, while their men were off with the Panthers, they would have their own fun, with photography and maybe a visit to a spa, too. The waiter brought their appetizers -- a tray of chicken wings, along with some chips and spinach dip, and refreshed their drinks. Emory reached for the wings, as Olivia dug into the dip.

  “Steven, we better not wait, or there will be nothing left,” Mason said, playfully swatting Emory’s hand, as he took some wings for himself.

  “Don’t worry, I’m on my toes here,” Steven said.

  “I love a woman who likes to eat,” Olivia said, munching on some chips.

  “I sure do,” Emory said, gnawing on a wing. “Always have.”

  “Much better than that picky bitch, Alexis,” Olivia said to Mason.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Mason replied, then glanced at his brother, who shrugged he had no control. Shut the hell up, woman!

  “I do,” Olivia said. “I’ve only known Emory for, what, thirty minutes, and I love her. I’m a good judge of character that way.” Emory smiled, having never met anyone like Olivia, who just said whatever she felt no matter the time or place. It seemed so liberating to Emory, but to Mason, it made Olivia dangerous. “I always hated Alexis,” Olivia continued, reaching for more chips, Mason bracing himself. “We had nothing in common. She was always so concerned with her image.”

  “Not me,” Emory said, waving a wing in the air, “I live with a gay guy in an apartment above a dance studio. I’m perfectly happy that way.” The table busted out in laughter, Mason’s body somewhat relaxing.

  “I’m so glad you two are happy,” Olivia said. “Alexis was such a drag. It just makes me sick she is challenging the prenup!”

  Mason’s stomach clenched, and Steven’s eyes bulged, the words spewing out of her mouth before they could hush her. You loudmouth!

  “What?” Emory looked at Mason, her eyes wide open. “Didn’t think to tell me that either, huh?” She placed her napkin on the table and walked to the restroom, Mason cursing under his breath.

  “Damn, Liv, that was a secret,” Steven said.

  “Oops, but why didn’t you just tell her, Mason?”

  Mason shrugged his shoulders.Unpleasant topic? Not Emory’s business? Protecting her? Mason didn’t want to argue with a pregnant woman, especially when she talked so much and seemed borderline crazy. He chose not to answer her, focusing instead on the wings before him.

  Olivia turned her attention to Steven. “You think your dumb brother handled this the right way?”

  “Why are you bringing me into this?” Steven asked, wishing he still had his menu to hide behind.

  “Because you are handling his divorce. Because you two are joined at the hip.”

  “I can’t control what Mason does.”

  “If you two knew the first thing about women, you’d know it’s better to tell the truth and avoid all the drama.” Olivia hoisted herself up. “I’ll go fix this, boys. Save me some wings.” She waddled to the restroom, and found Emory at the mirror, Olivia placing her arm on Emory’s shoulder. “Men are idiots.” Emory nodded in agreement, causing her to sniffle, and Olivia handed her a tissue. “Steven told me. I just assumed you knew.”

  “Ishould have.”

  “Yes, you should have, honey.”

  “Do you want to know what else Mason told Steven?” Emory gave a slight nod. “He told Steven to give Alexis whatever she wants.”

  Emory’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

  Olivia paused for dramatic effect. “Because all he wants is you.”

  “Mason said that?”

  “He only wants to be able to move on with you. That’s worth any price to him.” Olivia touched her arm softly. “He just wanted to protect you, that’s all.”

  Emory flashed a small smile. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be out.”

  Olivia slugged out of the restroom and back to the table. The men stood up for her return, unsure what to expect. Steven pulled out her chair, and she lowered herself, surveying the trays on the table. “Hell, you saved me just one lousy wing?” Each brother pointed at the other, shifting blame, as Olivia grabbed it.

  “Is everything OK?” Mason asked cautiously.

  “She’s fine now,” Olivia said, taking a bite. Steven pulled her close to him and kissed the side of her head. I don’t need this drama the day before the press conference.

  “Thank you,” Mason said. “Is she coming back?”

  Olivia looked towards the restroom, and the men followed suit, seeing Emory on her way back. Mason pulled out her chair and whispered as she sat, “Sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry about it.”

  “I know,” she said, patting his thigh. “We’ll talk later.”

  * * *

  Kathleen’s home was her showcase. It was exquisitely designed, a blend of the old Southwest and modern decor, and she’d spared no expense furnishing it, figuring her home was her best advertisement for client development. She had a flashy website for her interior design services, but nothing could match the clients she generated merely by hosting parties in her grand Texas home. Of course, it didn’t hurt to have pictures of an NFL quarterback throughout the house, either. They attracted attention, and she reaped the benefits, emotionally and financially.

  But more often than not, Kathleen found herself alone. Her boys long ago had grown up and moved out, and at least Mason seemed uninterested in communicating with her anymore. She curled up in an oversized chair in her den, a glass of red wine next to her on an end table. She played with the diamond cross hanging around her neck and glanced up at the clock on her mantle, knowing Steven and Olivia would be in Charlotte by now. She also knew her sons were keeping something from her. Who is the new woman?

  She took a sip of wine. She wasn’t used to -- and certainly didn’t like -- being kept in the dark, especially in matters involving her boys. She put the glass down and ran her hand across the leather-bound album on her lap, brushing off some dust. She opened the cover, the leather creaking, then looked through the pages, scanning the newspaper clippings and photographs of Mason in his football uniform. She’d saved every one -- playground years, school newsletters, county publications, and national sports magazines. Will there be any more?

  She closed her eyes, remembering sitting in the stadium in Miami with Alexis, seeing the crushing tackle, the force of the hit driving her son to the ground and twisting his body. It replayed in her mind, haunting her. She ran a finger over a photo of Mason in his high school jersey, her eyes filling with tears. Why is he shutting me out? She turned the page, then a few more, stopping on a black and white photograph of Mason after a bowl game in his junior year. Emory stood beside him, smiling broadly, without any regard for the camera, looking deeply into her son’s blue eyes, alive and sparkling out of the photograph. Kathleen patted her eyes. My baby was happy then. She knew -- indeed, she’d known for years -- she was at least partially responsible for their break-up, but it rarely kept her up at night. She couldn’t remember losing any sleep over it, believing the cost was worth the benefit. Her son had developed into an NFL quarterback, living out his -- and her -- dream, and there was no telling whether that would have happened if Mason simultaneously had to deal with a ballerina’s career. He simply didn’t have time for that, and neither did she.

  But what had happened, she knew, was her son had become distant. She hadn’t seen the glowing smile or sparkling eyes in years. The cost was more than I thought. She took a big gul
p of wine, finishing the glass, then flipped through more pages, landing on a color picture from draft day six years ago. Mason and Alexis sat together in Radio City Music Hall, his hand on her knee, her arms wrapped around his neck. Alexis smiled brightly, but her son looked tired, a hint of sadness behind his radiant blue eyes. She hadn’t noticed it before -- perhaps she didn’t want to -- but she could see it clearly now. A fire burned inside her.

  Kathleen slammed the album shut and grabbed her phone, determined not to be ignored any longer. She texted Steven first. Find out about the new lady friend. She then texted Mason. Call me about “housekeeping.”

  * * *

  After dinner, the foursome made their way to the hotel, the same one where Mason stayed during his Panthers visit. He was still staying there until he found a place of his own, though not in the same luxurious room -- this time it was on his own nickel. Steven made a reservation there, too. Before heading up to their rooms, they decided to pay a visit to the Atrium Bar, and upon entering, the brothers each received a text, about a second apart. They looked at their phones, then at each other, neither of them wanting to respond to their mother -- at least not now.

  They walked up to the bar, Clive greeting Mason with a big smile. Mason introduced his group, and then explained, tongue fully in cheek, how Clive was not just a bartender, but a counselor, a man of such intellect, full of solid advice about women and life itself. Indeed, his powers were so great that, with the help of some alcohol, he managed to lead Mason back to Emory. Clive flashed a sly grin, a toothpick dangling from his mouth, genuinely touched by Mason’s words. He told them to order whatever they liked, Olivia ordering water and the rest getting beers. Mason dropped a fifty in the tip jar, Clive expressing his gratitude by shaking Mason’s hand and gyrating their fingers together in an odd fashion and releasing with a snap. Olivia and Emory were completely smitten with the strange bartender, but Steven saw him as a bad influence, a creepy, old man no doubt looking to corrupt his impressionable brother.

  Emory reached for a deck of cards on the bar. “Olivia, did Steven ever tell you he’d always lose to me?”

  “No,” Olivia said, raising her eyebrows at him.

  “She cheats!” Steven exclaimed.

  “I do not!” Emory cried, shuffling the cards. “You just stink.”

  “Mason, doesn’t she cheat?” Steven asked, hoping his brother of all people would defend his honor.

  “I don’t know, man. If she does, I never caught her. I gave up trying to beat her. It was bad for my self-esteem.”

  Emory cut the cards into thirds and placed them on the bar. “What do you say, Steven? I’ll even let you pick the game.”

  Steven rubbed his hands together. “It’s so on, little girl. Straight-up poker, one hand, five cards.”

  “Fine. Olivia can watch to make sure I don’t cheat.”

  “And Mason will watch, too.” Steven patted his brother on the back and took a long swig of beer.

  “When I win, which I will, you fly Olivia home first class.”

  “Oh, I so love this game” Olivia said, a twinkle in her eye. “Cheat if you must, Emory. And Mason, you can help.” Mason winked at her, Olivia seeing a confidence, a smoothness, in him she’d never seen before. She’d only ever known Mason with Alexis -- tense, hesitant, and dreary. Steven had told her about how Mason used to be, but she’d never seen it for herself, until now.

  Steven took the three stacks of cards and made one pile, placing it in front of Mason. “You shuffle. I don’t trust Emory at all.” Mason took the cards, as Steven looked at Emory. “By the way, when I win, you admit you’re a cheater and tell me how you do it.”

  “Deal the cards, baby.”

  Mason dealt, and Steven put on his game face, again rubbing his hands together, but now also cupping them together and blowing on them. Emory watched all of Steven’s tells with amusement and flashed a look that she knew something he didn’t. She asked for one card.

  Steven eyed his brother. “Don’t you dare help her cheat.”

  Mason threw his hands up. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He slid a card to Emory, who peeked at it, her face revealing nothing. Steven looked at his hand and asked for two cards, twisting his wedding ring on his finger and again blowing on his hands. Mason gave him the cards, Steven flipping them around in his hand, licking his lips. Olivia tried to sneak a peek at what he was holding, but he shielded his hand.

  Clive came back over. “What you white people doing?”

  “High drama here,” Olivia said. Steven looked again at his cards, licking his lips again and giving his ring one final twist for good measure. He suddenly flew out of his seat, unable to contain himself any longer, and slammed four aces on the bar. “Take that, ballerina! We’re flying coach!” He slapped Clive and Mason a high-five, as Olivia gave him a disapproving look.

  Emory looked at the aces and tilted her head to the side. “Damn, that’s really good, bald man.” She rested her hands on her face-down cards. “I didn’t think all that weird shit you were doing -- blowing yourself, licking your face, twisting your ring -- would work.”

  Steven beamed, so happy with himself. “Just a few tricks that I’ve picked up over the years.”

  “Well, like I said, that was all a bunch of shit.” Emory suppressed a laugh, and Steven looked at her, confused, realizing she hadn’t yet played her hand. Emory flipped her cards revealing a straight flush to the king. “Enjoy first class, sweetie!” she shrieked, hugging Olivia tightly.

  Steven slumped in his chair, his ego shattered. “What the hell?” Mason burst into a huge laugh.

  Clive raised his hand to Emory, and she slapped it. “Little white woman beat yo’ ass, bro!”

  “This is impossible! There is absolutely no way.” Steven scratched his head. “Let me see the deck.” Mason passed the cards to him, and Steven inspected them, like a detective dissecting a crime scene. They look normal. He got up from the bar stool and exited the bar with what little pride he had left, giving a parting shot on the way out. “This isn’t over!” Olivia yelled back that he had only a few weeks to learn some sportsmanship for the sake of their son, as Clive nodded in agreement.

  “Looks like it’s my turn to go perk someone up,” Mason said.

  “You do that,” Olivia said. “We need some girl time anyway. Clive will keep an eye on us, too.”

  “Damn right I will,” Clive said. Mason asked for two longnecks before calling after his brother.

  “Can’t believe they ditched you two fine white women,” Clive said, refilling their drinks. “I’d never let you two out of my sight!”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it, Olivia?”

  “Yeah, I think they went out to lick on each other,” Olivia said, realizing that didn’t sound quite right, holding her belly to control her laughter. “I mean, lick on their wounds.”

  “That’s some messed-up shit you just said,” Clive replied, “and you ain’t even been drinking.”

  Clive excused himself, and Olivia took a sip of her water. “Steven told me you two were very close.” Olivia liked the friendly relationship her husband had with Emory, watching them tease each other, particularly enjoying that Emory seemed always to have the upper hand on her stressed-out husband. It was an unusual sight.

  “Yeah, I’m an only child, and Steven was always like a brother to me. You really get to know someone sitting together in a football stadium in freezing weather, pouring rain, or scorching heat.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Do you know Steven never missed one of Mason’s games in college, even though he was in law school?”

  “I didn’t know that. Steven doesn’t talk about himself much. Half the time, he’s talking about Mason.”

  * * *

  Mason found Steven sitting alone in the lobby, his head in his hands. Mason handed him a beer. “Dude, did you fucking help her cheat?” Steven took a long sip of his beer.

  “Of course not. Are you done pouting like a little girl?”
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  “Yeah, I’m done. I just needed some air.”

  Mason took a seat next to his brother. He knew he needed to talk to Steven about Olivia’s big mouth, hoping his brother could reign her in at least a little bit, but he wasn’t optimistic his brother, or anyone else in the whole world, could contain her mouth. It was just out of control. He needed to find out exactly what Olivia knew. “I can’t have Olivia bringing up Alexis, and talking about the prenup to Em. That’s not helpful.”

  “I know.” Steven took a long drink. “You can blame me for some of that.”

  “I sure as hell can. What the fuck happened to attorney-client privilege?” Mason flicked Steven’s ear with his finger. “Does Olivia know about the Seattle offer? I don’t want her blurting out something to Emory.”

  Steven assured him Olivia didn’t know any details about the Seattle offer, but urged him to just come clean like Olivia had suggested. It would avoid any problems. The last thing Steven wanted was a huge fight before the press conference, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep the details of the contract offers from being leaked.

  “I’ll think about telling her,” Mason said, standing up. “Let’s go back inside.”

  Steven took out his phone. “You mean you don’t want to check back with Mom first?”

  * * *

  “What have you two been talking about?” Mason asked, concerned.

  “I was just promising Olivia I would teach the next Mason boy how to play cards and dance, since you two can’t do either.” Emory and Olivia giggled together.

  “Wow, maybe we should’ve just stayed in the lobby?” Mason wondered.