“You’re broke?”
“Totally,” I was agreeing, just as Lucy came in.
“I see you two are getting along,” she said, smiling at us.
“Not really.” Chara turned her back to her mother. “I have to go home to study. I can’t stay here today.”
Lucy’s face brightened with hope but I waved my hands and shook my head to signal no. There was no way that Chara was going to study. She was going to look for her boyfriend to make sure he wasn’t with the other woman, and I couldn’t blame Chara for her concern. After all, he was the guy who wanted to put his mouth on another girl’s breasts. As he had charmingly expressed it in his comment online, “I’ll suck some milk out of those big udders.”
Lucy frowned at me, like she didn’t get my urgent message. “Do you have a test coming up, mija?” she asked her daughter.
“Chara, I thought we could talk to your mom about the marketing stuff we went over. You had so many good ideas,” I prompted.
“What marketing? We haven’t done anything to advertise since my dad put an ad in the paper in the late seventies,” Lucy told us. “Except you walking around the neighborhood with samples, Tatum.”
“Time to step it up, then,” I said. “Chara, tell your mom what you were saying to me about the store windows, making them post-ready. I totally agree. With the retro ‘El Asturiano’ sign you already have and with a few other tweaks, this bakery could be a selfie hot spot.”
Chara started talking slowly and frowned as she did, but once again, she warmed to the topic. I wrote furiously as she threw out even more ideas about decorating, promoting, selling. She had clearly given this some thought before today.
Lucy listened, and nodded now and then. “That’s a lot,” she said slowly when her daughter finished talking. “That’s a lot to take on.”
“I told you,” Chara said to me. “See? She’s stuck in the CD era. She still listens to them in her car!”
“Why would I want to buy the songs again—”
“These aren’t things you’d have to do all at once,” I told Lucy. “Or at all, if you don’t want to. But Chara could help. She could lead the effort and take a few steps at a time, start out slowly, so it wouldn’t get in the way of all her diligent studying.”
Chara looked embarrassed by my reference to her lying. “Yeah, that could work.”
“That could work,” Lucy echoed.
I looked at the clock on the wall. “I’m done here for the day, but we can talk more tomorrow. Want to come by then, Chara?”
“I’ll see,” she told me off-handedly, but as I gathered up my stuff, she asked to take pictures of what I had written down in my notebook, and she was typing away on her phone when I went out the door.
Another successful episode of life coaching, I congratulated myself. And soon I would be home to see my prize student and catch up with him on what he had done that day. He was supposed to have gone southeast of the city to Cottonmouth Stadium with two of the offensive players that he had met. Not Galen, though. Galen hadn’t been in touch with me, and when I had mentioned his name to Nico, he had just made a face and shook his head.
“Nico?” The penthouse was quiet, with growing shadows in the corners of the rooms as the sun moved lower in the sky. Yesterday, Nico had been there watching some game tape of the Cottonmouths from last season, learning more about their offense. I had considered it a huge step forward. Today, the TV was off, his wallet was gone from the table where he usually, carelessly, left it. Where anyone could have gotten at it if she wanted to, which she didn’t.
“Hello?” I took a few steps toward his bedroom and stopped. I thought of Chara and her idiot boyfriend Pirro. “If he’s with other women, do you really want him?” I had asked her. I looked at the bedroom door. “Nico?”
My phone made the stupid ringing sound that I couldn’t change because this phone didn’t have any features or options or anything good. “Hello?” I asked.
“Tatum? Are you ok?”
“Hi, Daisy. Yeah, I’m fine. These new shoes are really comfortable, despite their extreme unsightliness.”
“No, I mean…haven’t you seen?” She sounded confused.
“I can’t see anything. It’s closed.”
Daisy was silent for a moment. “What are you looking at right now?” she asked me. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m looking at Nico’s bedroom door. I’m wondering if he’s behind it with some woman and you know what? If he is, I’m going to break up with him.”
“When did you two decide—ok, no. I can’t get into that right now. Go turn on the TV if you can’t get news on your phone. I’m sure it’s on the local Miami stations.”
“Hold on.” I flipped on the big TV in the living room and flopped on a couch, forgetting that it was made of iron. “Oh!” I had probably bruised my ass.
“Did you see?” Daisy asked anxiously. “Tatum, I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”
“No, I hurt my butt. I’m looking for the news, but right now it’s on a cooking channel because I was watching it earlier to get some tips. It made me late to work, in fact.” I hit buttons while I spoke.
“I bet it was a mistake,” she told me. “I’m sure it’s not true.”
“What…oh,” I said again. I froze, because there was Nico on the gigantic TV screen. Nico, with the police, being led in handcuffs? What…I hit at the buttons more to make the sound come on but I didn’t know how to work the speakers very well. “What happened?” I asked Daisy and the universe. The police held the back of his head as he bent to sit in the back of the squad car. Somehow it was worse to watch it in total silence.
“Tatum, he couldn’t have done that,” Daisy was assuring me. “Even though I don’t know him very well, I’m sure he didn’t.”
“What did he do?” My voice sounded a little slurred. Was I drunk? Was that why it seemed like Nico was getting arrested on TV?
“He got arrested for drug possession and some other things. I’m so sorry, Tates. It was—”
I finally hit the right button for the speakers and the sound blared on. “—a bust on a known drug den with what police say are verified gang ties, about an hour ago. Neighbors describe the house as the go-to in the area for the substance commonly known as Molly, or MDMA. According to department insiders, Williams initially scuffled with the arresting officers, which will lead to additional, unspecified charges. He was one of the biggest names among the fifteen suspects now in custody following the coordinated effort between local authorities and the US Marshall Service. Also netted in the raid was repeat offender Lance Forbryter, who was released from a federal penitentiary just weeks ago, and whose company is listed as the owner of the house…”
“No one called me,” I said, still sounding slurred. “No one told me.” An hour ago, I had been waiting for the bus, thinking about what we were going to order for dinner, or if I could attempt the chicken with garlic that I had seen on the cooking show that morning. Everything that had happened in the day suddenly seemed like it was years ago, rather than hours.
“Are you ok?” Daisy asked anxiously. “What are you going to do?”
I snapped out of it. “I’m going to get into his computer and find his agent’s number. I’m going to get him a lawyer if he doesn’t have one, and I’m going to get him bailed out.” This wasn’t a time to sit and moon about garlic chicken, this was a time for action. “Maybe I’ll go down to the jail and see if they allow conjugal visits.”
“Tatum!”
“Daisy, I have to go. Nico’s in jail, and this is not happening on my watch.” And I hung up, and got to work.
Chapter 8
When things are bad, don’t count yourself out. Count your blessings instead, and also count down the days until my new book release on March 9th!
Yours in hoping for robust sales, Mysti
He didn’t say a word. He hadn’t, since he had gotten home, trailed by his agent, two lawyers, three people from the crisis manageme
nt team, and four security guards. All of them were currently seated in a circle in the living room, occupying every inch of the hard couches and the floor space behind them. The room was full of voices arguing, talking over each other, rising and falling but not stopping.
Nico sat in a chair with his head in his hands. He had entered the penthouse silently about an hour ago and walked right into his bedroom, and a moment later, I’d heard the shower come on. Now his hair was wet, he was still pale, and he still hadn’t spoken.
I had spent my time after talking to Daisy calling every single person I could think of to try to help him out, using the contact information I had found in his computer. I had called his agent, Ethan Tolvaj; I had called lawyers and accountants, anyone who had communicated with him about financial or business matters; in a stretch, I had called people on the Woodsmen coaching staff to see if they could lend a hand. And finally, I had even called my dad, but he hadn’t answered and he hadn’t called me back.
Finally, someone from Ethan Tolvaj’s office had contacted me to tell me to cease and desist my efforts, that I was stirring people up and that everything was under control. His agent was still in Miami and he was handling this. Nico would be home soon, she had said, but ‘soon’ turned out to be midnight. He looked exhausted and completely demoralized, and nothing was under control.
“Have we heard from the Cottonmouths yet?” one of the crisis management people asked the agent now.
“Not a word,” Tolvaj answered sharply, and everyone looked at each other nervously. Everyone except Nico, because he was still staring at the floor.
Enough. “We’re going to reconvene in the morning. Later in the morning,” I corrected, because the night had already passed into tomorrow. It was one AM and I was done, and Nico looked ready to pass out. “Come on,” I told him. “We’re going to bed.”
He looked up at me blearily. “Yeah. I’m really tired.” He took the hand I held out to him, and I tugged on his arm until he stood.
“Nico, we’ll have a plan put together by morning. Later this morning. We’ll get a handle on this,” another of the crisis people told him, and he nodded at her.
“Thanks.”
We walked into his room and he sat down on the bed in exactly the same pose: slumped and defeated. I pushed his shoulder. “Go to bed,” I ordered. “Lie down.”
He did, swinging his legs up onto the comforter. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was doing there, Tates? Don’t you wonder if I’m guilty?”
“Oh, I know you’re guilty, but not of what you got charged with,” I said. I sat next to him and bumped with my hip until he scooted over a little. “You’re guilty of not listening to me and of being stupid. I already know you weren’t there to buy or deal or whatever and I don’t believe that you assaulted a police officer.”
“They threw something that made noise and I swear I didn’t hear them identify themselves as police. I thought we were being robbed,” he told me earnestly. I nodded down at him. “Ethan didn’t ask me. None of the people in the living room asked me if I was an addict or if I was selling drugs. I guess they don’t want to know, or it really doesn’t matter. They’d spin this the same way if I was guilty or not.” He put his hand over his eyes. “I was so stupid.”
“Yep. But we’ll figure this out.” Somehow, even though I didn’t see a way quite yet. I touched his cheek. “You’ll be ok.”
Nico turned his face into my hand to look at me. “When I saw the police lights flashing outside and they clicked the handcuffs, I had this sudden flash of everything I had risked. How many people get the opportunity that I have to play pro football? To live like this? It’s like a dream, right?”
“It is,” I agreed, glancing around the huge bedroom, at the lights of the city below the penthouse windows. “You’re a really lucky guy. But you worked hard, too, for years. You aren’t going to lose it.” His face looked even bleaker than before. “You aren’t!” I insisted. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
“How is this feeling today?” He reached for my other hand, the one with the coconut injury. “How did you eat dinner?
“I guess I forgot about dinner. I wasn’t very hungry. When I got home, Daisy told me what happened and I went to work.”
“What did you do?”
“I called everyone, even my dad. Then I was heading over to where they were holding you but Del stopped me at the front door. He said it was better not to get involved over there, that it would be like sharks when you threw chum in the water.”
“It was.” Nico drew in a huge breath and sighed. “Fuck, Tatum. Fuck.”
I leaned down and put my cheek on his chest. “We’ll fix it,” I told him. “I know we can.” I closed my eyes.
Nico put his arms around me and this was exactly as we were supposed to be, just like this. I was absolutely sure that it was all going to work out.
∞
I leaned on the broom and let it support me. Thanks, broom.
“This is certainly a change from yesterday, the dancing and the singing,” Lucy remarked. “Now I miss that stuff a little.” She looked over the counter at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, thanks.” I had just heard María José filling in Roger, the guy who came late to start making bread at night, as they cleaned up the kitchen for the day. I caught the words “Nico” and “drogas” and “Molly” and then I had left. I didn’t want to hear them gossip about it in any language and I didn’t want to talk about it myself. “Nico and I will straighten this out.”
“He’s leaning on you, to help him through it?”
I nodded slowly. Maybe he was, just like me on my broom. I had listened to him fall asleep the night before, still holding me closely. His face had relaxed finally, until he looked like himself. Then I had cuddled up on the bed and conked out too, resting on his chest and breathing slowly along with him. In the morning, I had woken with him wrapped around me like an octopus, and I had stayed and reveled in it for a moment before making myself untangle his limbs and get up. The crew of his agent, lawyers, and crisis clean-up people were still in the living room, plotting and arguing, when I came out after getting dressed.
“Nico is asleep,” I told them. “I’ll be at my other job, consulting with a local business.”
A lawyer squinted up at me. “I don’t remember you being British last night. Is this the same woman who threw herself on Nico like a monkey when we walked in?” she asked Ethan Tolvaj.
It was the same woman, me, but I had worn a power suit this morning instead of a little dress. I looked like one of the news people who were clustered downstairs in the rain, kept out of the building by Del. And I had put my hair into a bun on the top of my head to give myself a little more height, although I’d had to stay with the ugly shoes to make it through work at the bakery. I probably looked a lot more beautiful and sophisticated than I had the night before when they had come in and when, yes, I had jumped up on Nico and hugged him as hard as I could.
“This is the same woman,” Ethan Tolvaj announced. “Her name is, uh…” He squinted, trying to remember.
“Tatum,” Nico said. He walked behind me and tugged on a lock of hair that had fallen out of my bun. “Tatum Smith, from Michigan. Not British.”
“Or maybe I’m a little British…” I started to say, but he tugged again.
“Nope, not at all,” he told the room. He turned to me. “Aren’t you going to be late? You better head out. I ordered a car to take you and it’s downstairs. Walk right out, the reporters won’t know you and they won’t bother you.”
“Ok. Thanks,” I said, and hesitated. “I’ll be home soon.” I looked around at the people in the living room. “Don’t let them make any dumb decisions,” I continued loudly, so that they would know there were other eyes on them. “Remember that you’re in charge!”
“Got it. Have a good day,” he answered, then gave me an awkward pat on my shoulder. Del had held an umbrella over me and walked me through the reporters o
ut to the car, and then—
“Tatum. Tatum?”
I jerked back to the present moment, me and the broom in Lucy’s bakery. She was staring at me. “Sorry, what?” I asked her.
“I was saying,” she continued, but Chara threw open the door and burst in, gasping and dripping with rain.
“Oh. My. God,” she panted.
“Chara! Language!” her mother quickly reprimanded her.
“Mamá! Didn’t you see Tatum’s boyfriend?” She waved her phone in the air. “He got arrested and they just cut him from the team!”
“What?” I dropped the broom and grabbed her phone. “They did? It wasn’t on the news the last time they translated it for me!” I had gone as frequently as Lucy would allow into the shoe repair shop next door to check in with the guys there as they listened to sports radio, but this had happened within the last 15 minutes.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do for him on social media now,” Chara said. “Look what the Cottonmouth’s president said! Your boyfriend is screwed.”
“Chara! Watch your mouth!”
“No, he really might be,” I said slowly as I read from Chara’s phone, because the team’s statement was bad, really bad. Effective immediately, Nico was released from the Cottonmouths. They said they were saddened and disappointed by his conduct. Although they weren’t making any assessment about his guilt or innocence in regard to the charges pending against him, obviously he should not have put himself in that situation. In addition, this was the last of a string of incidents that had undermined their confidence in him as a person and a player. Based on the recent events, they stated that they would also try to recoup the bonus he had already received when he signed with the team. And that was a lot of money.
“We need to regroup. Immediately,” I said. “Chara, look at what the other Confederation teams are saying. Por favor. If he can re-sign with a new team, he can play himself out of this, so I’ll need to know their opinions, especially if it’s coming from an ‘unofficial source’ that they’re using to broadcast their real thoughts. I need to talk to Nico and his agent, en seguida!”
The Comeback Route Page 11