Us Again

by Jennah Thornhill

  Pulling my office door open, I look over to Tracy who’s going through my appointment book with a fine-tooth comb, before she spots me standing there by her desk.

  “I’m just going to lunch with Sammi, I’ll be back in about an hour. Do you want anything or would you like to join us?”

  Pulling the pen out she’s got wedged between her teeth she says, “I’m good, El. I’ve got a bag of snacks in my purse; I’ll just nibble on them while I work, but thank you for the offer.”

  Leaning over her, I give her arm a rub as a silent thank you for everything she does for me, before turning to leave. Then with a quick thought, I turn back around to face her desk.

  “Trace, don’t work too hard. You do enough as it is, so please eat something.”

  With that said, I head to the elevator with the notion that I will grab her a sandwich from the deli down the block, while I’m out. She never eats right when she’s working. Once she’s set on a task, she doesn’t stop until it’s perfect. It’s what I love about her.

  Stepping off the elevator, I walk with a confidence that I don’t actually feel through the lobby. Giving Mollie on reception a wave, instead of stopping for our regular lunch time chat. If I stop my legs from carrying me in the direction I’m going, I’ll freeze up and won’t go. It just won’t be worth the ass chewing I’ll get from Sam if I don’t.

  Pushing through the enormous glass doors, I step onto the sidewalk and take in the city that I never thought I would end up in; Los Angeles. When Sammi said she was relocating here to open her own boutique for her clothing line; Chic Pink Clothing and that she wanted me to come with her, once I had my license to practice, I point blank refused. There was no way I was moving to the same city I knew he resided in. I always planned to open my practice in New York. That way, there was still enough miles between us, but I couldn’t stay there and let her leave. She’s my rock, my person. I managed to convince myself that it’s a huge place, so what are the chances of seeing him? Slim to none. So far, I’ve been lucky, he doesn’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way. I made Sam’s brother Dean, swear on his sister’s life that he wouldn’t tell him either. They still speak, that’s how Sam found out about today’s announcement.

  Without any warning, a car honks its horn making me jump and causing my heart to race. It’s then I see Sammi’s car pull up at the curb and the passenger window descends.

  “Get in, bitch. We don’t have much time and I still need to park the beast when we get there.”

  Laughing at her, I head over to her car that she likes to call The Beast and climb in. Why she calls is that is laughable. It’s pink and girly with a soft top roof. I wouldn’t know what make it was if my life depended on it, but I do know for sure it certainly isn’t a beast.

  “About fucking time, I thought I was going have to come up there and drags your ass down here.” She says to me as she checks her mirrors, before pulling off into the L.A. traffic.

  Twenty minutes and some very imaginable hand gestures to other drivers on Sammi’s behalf later, we’re walking into Smiths sports bar. It’s packed to the hilt; which isn’t surprising considering what’s about to happen. There’s men who have come straight from their offices, construction sites and all walks of life in here. All awaiting the news that I know is to be true. One thing I can say about L.A. people is that they take their sport very seriously, especially baseball. People either call in sick or book the day off for shit like this. Me on the other hand, couldn’t give a shit, I’m only here for one reason and that’s to get my fix.

  This place isn’t somewhere I would normally hang out, but it’s the biggest sports bar here. It has massive TVs mounted on the wall behind the bar that I’ve ever seen. It means I get to see him in all his glory, without him knowing about it. My heels stick to the floor and I have to peel them off the hardwood as we find somewhere to sit.

  “Over here.” Sammi hollas over her shoulder, loud enough for me to hear over the crowd. Traipsing behind her, I get pushed from side to side, as I wrestle my way through the patrons who are clearly excited. Me on the other hand, feel sick to my stomach.

  Taking my seat in the booth that Sam has got us, I place my purse down beside me and take my phone out to give me something to do. If I look up at the TV above me, then I will have to admit something I don’t want too.

  A young waitress wearing a tight Smiths t-shirt and cut off shorts comes to our table, notepad in hand waiting to take our order.

  “What can I get y’all today?”

  Instantly, I want to snap at her for being so fucking happy, yet I can’t. She doesn’t understand my turmoil and it’s not fair if I take it out on her. Sensing my mood, Sammi takes charge, she knows what I like anyway.

  “We’ll take two iced teas, two steak and cheese sandwiches, one on white and one on whole wheat please.”

  I’ve only had the food to stop her from whining at me. My stomach is knots waiting for the crowd to quieten down, because when they do, I’ll know it’s time.

  The waitress tells us both that she’ll be back with our drinks in moment, but I pay her no attention, my mind is elsewhere right now.

  “Dean says his new contract is worth millions, apparently…”

  “Sammi.” I snap. “I don’t want to know. I’m happy that he’s happy and I’m only here to watch him get watch he deserves, that’s all.”

  The lie on my tongue tastes like acid, as it passes my lips.

  She gives me a lift of her eyebrows, clearly not believing me but she doesn’t say any more. The waitress comes back with our iced teas, informing us that our food won’t be much longer. When she’s flounced off all happy and shit, I silently plead with my phone to ring. For it to be Tracy telling me I’m needed back at work, but as if the world hates me, the call doesn’t come making me stay exactly where I am.

  The moment I’ve been dreading comes all too soon, when I hear someone shush the people surrounding us and the volume on TV’s go up to almost deafening volume. With everyone now not saying a word in the bar, the reporter that’s speaking sounds like he’s actually in the room with us.

  “Today is a big day in baseball, the L.A. Dodgers have a new captain. There’s been speculation on who that shall be, but the lead runner for the job is Nate Michaels. He’s been with the team since he left college and has more home runs under his belt than anyone else on the team. I’m here at the Dodgers training ground, waiting to report back with a definite name for all your eager fans out there.”

  I don’t look up at the TV, I just listen and take in what’s being said. You could hear a pin drop in this place, everyone is holding their breath and containing their excitement while they wait.

  “This place is going to go totally crazy in about five minutes, you do realize that, don’t you?” Sammi whispers to me across our table, to which I just give a nod of my head to tell her that I heard what she said.

  Taking a chance, I look up at the screen above me and watch as the reporters that all gathered in a room, start getting restless. Then they start to clap when I middle-aged guy who’s decked out in full Dodgers sports gear, walks to a wooden stand, that’s been placed in the middle of the room. It’s then a sign comes rolling across the screen, telling us that he’s the team’s Coach. Everyone in this room knows who he is except me, because they’ve started whispering for him to just get a move on and tell them what they’re waiting for. He starts by thanking everyone for coming, then explains why they’re having a new captain. That they wish their old one all the best for the future with his new team. Then, in the corner of the screen, I spot a man in a suit holding something white, my guess would be that it’s a Dodgers jersey. Which means Nate is about to step out and accept his new role on the team.

  I hold my breath and wait. I’m that focused on the TV, that I don’t even register the waitress bringing us our food, until the plates land with a clatter onto the table. Sam shushes her sharply and gives her a ‘hurry up and fuck
off look’. My attention goes back to the television, the man in the suit is now talking, but it’s all mumbo jumbo to me. That is until Nate’s name is mentioned. Without thinking about what I’m doing, I’m standing up from my seat. Suddenly I feel like I’m floating, as I push my way through the crowd. I’m getting cussed out by the other engrossed people, who are just as intrigued as me, but for totally different reasons. I can hear Sammi shouting my name, but I don’t answer her. I’m in a trance now, as I make my way to my destination. After I’ve received a few more verbal complaints for my pushing and shoving, I finally make it to the front of the crowd and just in time as well. When I look up at the TV, he’s there, standing at the podium with the Coach and the suited dude. They’re shaking hands and smiling as the journalists and photographers go nuts. Then sending them into even more of a frenzy, Nate is handed the white jersey and stands before the press with it. Michaels, twenty-four.

  A chill takes over my body when I see he’s changed his jersey number. He’s always been number sixteen and vowed he wouldn’t never change it, apparently, it’s his lucky number. Seeing twenty-four splattered under his name makes me want to scream and shout, but I can’t. No-one here would understand and they would think I was some crazy chick. I probably am.

  Only when your ex puts your birthday on his jersey, then I think I’m entitled to some sort of meltdown. He was supposed to move on and forget me, not keep a constant reminder. Watching him be this happy and smiling, not only simmers my shock and anger slightly, but it breaks my heart all over again at the same time.

  I couldn’t be prouder of him, he did it.

  He achieved his dream and more.

  Chapter Ten

  Nate

  Well, it’s official now, I’m now the captain of the L.A. Dodgers. I always thought I’d be over the moon, happy about it. I am in a way, but there’s just something missing that’s stopping me from fully enjoying it. I know what is or should I say who it is that’s missing, but I’m refusing to acknowledge it at this moment in time.

  Standing here with Coach and the chairman of the team, I hold my new jersey up for the press to get their pictures. I can already see the questions whirring around in their minds, they all want to know why I’ve changed my number. When I did it, I didn’t think of all the questions that would be thrown at me. I just told Coach I fancied a change. A new position, a new start and a new number. He brought my pathetic excuse and granted me my change when I signed the contract. Thing is now, I’ve got to tell these vultures a pack of lies, so they don’t get a whiff of the real reason. On cue the pudgy guy in the front row puts his hand up, indicating that he wants me to answer his waiting question first. The sweat and desperation is pouring out of him. Putting him out of his misery, I give Coach a nudge with my elbow and when he looks at me, I indicate with a nod of my head to the sweaty dude. Sensing he’s going to get his chance; he straightens his suit jacket just as Coach tells him to go ahead and ask his question.

  “Nate, you’ve always been number sixteen since you were in college. Even declaring once that is was your lucky number and you would never be anything else, so why the change now? Does the number twenty-four have a specific meaning to you?”

  I look straight at the camera that’s streaming this live over every TV station in the country and stay silent for a few moments. Hoping that she’s somewhere watching this. I want her to see that I’m about to lie for her, but I don’t mean a single word of it. Plastering a fake as fuck smile on my face, I turn back to the pudgy reporter.

  “No. It has no special meaning to me; I just fancied a change. If it brings me bad luck then I’ll change it back, but something tells me that it’s going to improve my game.”

  I give off a small laugh as a flashback hits me like a wrecking ball.

  “Nate, no. Your Coach said no sex before a big game and I’m not going to be the reason the team loses and they kick your ass. You’ve only got wait twelve hours so contain yourself.” El chuckles as she slides out from underneath me, leaving me frustrated with a raging hard on. Also leaving me no choice but to use blackmail.

  “Coach doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I know if I bury myself between your thighs right now, then it will improve my game not hinder it. You don’t want to be the reason I’m frustrated and can’t concentrate do you?”

  Like I knew it would once I added a pouty lip in the mix, a lip that she can’t resist tugging on with her teeth, she’s out of her clothes in record time and climbing back onto my bed.

  “Well… when you put it like that, I guess we have to do it don’t we?”

  I don’t answer, instead, I spend the night before the college playoffs making the girl who means the world to me, cry out my name.

  I’m brought out of my memory when I’m thrown question after question. To which I answer professionally and with a bright smile. Eventually when they’re satisfied that I’ve given them what they wanted, I’m thanked for my time and given best wishes on the new season. Before they all pile out of the room, chatting amongst themselves as they go.

  “Well done, Michaels. You handed that like a pro, just like I knew you would.” Coach praises me as he gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Now I’ve given you and the team tomorrow off from training. So, you can all go out and celebrate, so go and enjoy yourselves, but not too much, okay?”

  I hear the warning in his little speech, he means no random hook ups that could potentially ruin me and my new job.

  “I hear ya, Coach. You don’t need to worry about anything, I’ve been a good boy recently.”

  I’m so lying through my back teeth and he knows it. When he raises his eyebrows at me, it tells me he doesn’t believe a word I’ve just said. He walks off with a cocky smile on his face and I laugh lightly to myself, because if I was him, I wouldn’t believe me either. Just as he’s getting to the door to exit the room, I notice I still have the jersey in my hand.

  “Hey Coach, you forgot this.”

  He turns and sees me holding it up in the air for him to see what I’m talking about.

  “Keep it, we have plenty more where that came from. Give it to one of your many admirers, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

  I hear him laughing at his own little joke as he pushes through the door, leaving me standing there as I look at the jersey I’m still holding onto. It’s then I make the decision that no woman will ever wear this, not unless her name is Eliza Rodriguez.

  After all it does have her birthday date on it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eliza

  I’m dreaming, I have to be.

  What just went down at that press conference, wasn’t for the team’s benefit, or his. It was for mine. He couldn’t have made it any clearer as the nose on my face is to me. How dare he refer to a private moment between us. That happened years ago on live TV and in front of millions of people. I haven’t seen the man for eight years, well not in the flesh anyway. I don’t know if I want to kill him or kiss him. I’m leaning more towards a slow strangulation death at this moment in time.

  The TV in front of me has now turned to some other sports channel, but I can’t bring myself to drag my eyes away from it. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen. It’s not like he’s going to pop back up on the screen and shout out to the world the truth behind the lies, I’ve just heard him spout off.

  “El?... El… it’s time to leave. I have to get back, do want a ride back the office?”

  I can hear Sammi talking to me, but I’m lost in my own head when a sudden surge of anger ripples through my body, as I feel her hand touch my shoulder.

  “You knew about this, didn’t you? That’s why you insisted that I came and watched this shit. Why didn’t you tell me Sam? Instead you let me stand here like a dick and listen to all that bullshit.”

  I’m fuming and she knows it when I turn on her and my arms start flying about. I never lose my temper with her, but this time it’s called for. Dean obviously knew
about the number change and told his sister about it; I can’t fucking believe it.

  “El, please just listen to me?” She pleads with me, her eyes start to gloss over as she continues, “I’m sorry, okay? Dean didn’t tell me until this morning. I tried to get him to speak to Nate and convince him to change it, but he wasn’t having any of it. I knew it would upset you. I also knew that I couldn’t be the one to tell you. That’s why I made you come, you had to see it for yourself. He still loves you, El. Can’t you see that? I know I always said I’d support you, and I will until the day I die, but it’s been years now. He’s still doing crazy shit to prove he loves you.”

  Ignoring her, I look down and see that she’s picked up my purse for me, to which I lean slightly forward and take it from her rather roughly. I can’t even go there with her right now, she’s talking shit. He’s just playing mind fucking games with me.

  “Sam, I love you. You’re my best fucking friend, but at this moment I can’t even speak to you, you knew. You knew it would fuck me up all over again.”

  I don’t even give her the chance to come back at me with anything, I storm past her and stomp out of the now nearly empty bar. I need air.

  Walking back to the office was supposed to clear my head, not fuck it up even more. That little announcement courtesy of my ex is all I can hear people talking about, as I make my way through the busy lunchtime crowd of L.A. Moving here is now coming back to bite me on the ass. Nate is a legend around here, so I should have expected everyone to think the sun shone out of his ass. In his defense though, I’m being a bitch. He didn’t ask for any of the hurt and pain I put him through, that was all on me.

  One hundred, fucking percent.

  Spending the rest of my afternoon in a haze, I get through my patients one by one all with a smile on my face. The last thing they need is to see their therapist falling apart. I’m a professional, goddamn it.