Sucker for Payne

by Carrie Thomas

  “I’m—”

  Preston, Richard’s son interrupted Conner. “It’s undecided at this stage who will train Conner. Same goes for where that will take place.”

  Steele grinned from the side, but Conner did not. I could see plain on his face Preston was pissing him off. So could everyone else in the room, which I was sure would be splattered across the front page of the sports section tomorrow. His nostrils flared, larger and larger, as he stared him down. I cleared my throat, hoping he’d hear me and get ready for the next question. He did.

  “Payne, everyone wants to know. Are you single?” asked some blonde bimbo who’d clearly gotten her job as a sports reporter because of her DD’s. Gag.

  Conner’s brows pinched together, and he scowled. My insides tickled with glee as he ignored her out of protection for our privacy. After he looked away, clearly dismissing her stupid question, Navie snorted from my side. The room became so quiet, I could hear the tick from the clock in the corner.

  A young male reporter in the front row stepped up next. “Now that you’re under contract, what sponsor deals are you expecting?”

  “I don’t expect anything,” Conner replied.

  Chatter filled the room, with each reporter fighting for the next question, until a strong female voice could be heard above the crowd from my right. I looked over, recognizing the voice. “Do you think because you’ve killed before,” Dana said, her voice strong and clear, “along with the time you served in prison, it will contribute to your fighting in terms of your mindset?”

  I gasped. First, I was shocked at Dana’s callousness, and secondly, confused by the personal information she knew about Conner.

  The crowd gasped as well. After a couple of seconds of silence, the media in the room began snapping photos, yelling out into the room, one right after the other, asking if the allegations were true.

  Conner’s face had lost all color. He sat quietly, his shoulders hunched, looking as if he’d seen someone raised from the dead. My body moved toward him without thought, as did Steele.

  Not one word was spoken from the stage, as the flashes from the cameras continued their assault on Conner’s body. I reached him within moments, and grabbed his arm. Pulling him up, I led him down the steps and into the only room I could find with a door. Steele followed, closing and locking it.

  “Hey.” I stepped in front of Conner, trying to get his attention. His shoulders slumped forward, regret and embarrassment clear on his face. He didn’t respond. “Sweetie, look at me.”

  “Man, come on. That bitch was just trying to get a rise out of you for whatever rag she is writing for. I told you this might happen. All we have to do is release a statement, and tomorrow, it will be some other poor fucker.”

  “That bitch is going to get sued,” I ranted. “I don’t know how Dana found out about your past.” No wonder I hadn’t heard from her. She’d been ignoring my emails, but I had so much going on with Conner and his career, I almost welcomed the reprieve. “I swear, Conner, I didn’t tell her a thing. I never even mentioned you, except the one interview I did. And that was—”

  “That’s Dana?” He barely whispered it. Had I not been paying attention, I probably wouldn’t have even heard him.

  “Yes. She’s been shady lately. I wanted to tell you more, but I didn’t want you to worry about my job, when you had all this going on.” I opened my arms and gestured around the room.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Her name is not Dana.”

  Confused, I asked. “What do you mean?”

  Loud knocking came from the other side of the door, along with voices I didn’t recognize. I worried how we were going to get out of there. Conner leaned up against the wall, looking more defeated than ever before. Panic seized me, causing me to feel off kilter. I placed my hand on the side of the wall to help keep my balance.

  “Her name is Cyndi Hanky. She’s the mother of the boy I killed.”

  Steele and I looked at each other before turning back to Conner. My guts clenched, feeling like I was in the middle of a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. It had started as such a happy day, and Dana, or Cyndi—whatever her name was—had tarnished it, making me wish it had never happened. Even with all the positive things that had happened, her appearance and the fact that she’d exposed my boyfriend’s one true fear made me wish I could go back in time and pay more attention to the bad feelings I’d had about her. I should have questioned her more. Of course, I could’ve never guessed she would have been capable of such malice, but in the split second I had before Conner began to panic, I was disappointed in myself.

  “I have to get out of here.” Conner moved with purpose toward the door. “I have to go.”

  “Hold up. Let me clear the way, and you guys can—” Steele tried to help.

  “No.” Conner gritted his teeth. “Move.” He shoved Steele’s shoulder. “Get Willow back to the hotel.”

  “Conner, wait! Don’t leave me.” I knew he was already gone mentally, but I wanted to be with him, so I could help him figure this mess out.

  “I’m sorry. I just need some time.” He turned back to Steele. “Get her back safe.”

  I felt like grabbing onto his leg and making him drag me behind him. I wanted to beg him to let me go with him. “Steele?” I cried as Conner opened the door to a flash mob, and pushed his way through the crowd forcefully. All I saw was his back muscles contracting, as he barreled through everyone standing in his way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Conner

  The vibration in my pocket startled me. My body jerked, and my lungs expanded as I took a deep breath and debated on reading the text messages. I knew they were from Willow, and I felt guilty ignoring them. Now that I’d made it to my final destination, I realized the last thing I wanted was for her to worry about me. I pulled the phone from my pocket, and saw I had multiple missed phone calls, along with a few text messages from both her and Steele.

  Steele: Where are you? I can come to you.

  Willow: Please tell me where you are. I love you.

  Steele: Man, come on. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.

  Willow: I’m getting worried. Call me. I love you.

  Steele: Willow’s worried and so am I. Just let us know you’re okay.

  Willow: Whatever you’re thinking, just know I’m behind you. I will hold you up, support you, and be whatever you need me to be until the day I die, because you deserve it.

  Willow: Be careful. And know that whatever happens, I’m here and I always will be.

  Willow: And also, I really, really fucking hate you right now.

  It was too early to knock on the door, so I sat across the street, staking out the place. I took in every square inch of the yard, and the way the fence was leaning on the left side of the house. I calculated the distance from my spot in the car to the front porch. The house needed to be painted. It needed a new roof, and the grass was in desperate need of cutting. The house to the left was newly remodeled. The house on the right looked cookie-cutter.

  I circled my lips with my index finger as I sat there telling myself over and over that I’d done my time. I’d paid the price.

  Punching my stirring wheel twice, I bent forward, feeling like collapsing. Why did I need her forgiveness to move on with my life? It was like she held the key to my happiness, even though I had everything perfectly placed right in front of me for the taking.

  As the sun came up, I leaned back in my seat, taking in the purple, yellow, orange, and red colors that all worked together in the sky. Picking my phone up, I sent off a text to ease Willow’s concern.

  Me: I’m okay. I just need some time. Don’t worry, I’ll call you later.

  Willow: If you need anything, please tell me. I love you.

  Placing my phone back in my pocket, I perched on the edge of my seat when a flicker of light came on from the living room window. The hue of darkness was barely visible anymore with the sunrise making its way into the sky.


  I pulled the handle on the door of my pick up, and stepped outside for the first time in ten hours. The air was different. It smelled musty, and the mugginess of the scorched morning clogged my pours. I put one foot in front of the other, until I counted fifty-seven steps.

  Eyes trained on the window, I knocked on the door. My blood pressure spiked, causing me to break out into a sweat. The top of my head was heated, and my legs felt wobbly. I was a grown man reduced to a small child, as the possibility of rejection stared me straight in the face.

  My mom answered the door.

  I stood still, keeping my distance. She wore the same pink robe I remembered all those years ago. It looked the same. She did too, other than the gray hair. She wore a gold ring with the tiniest rose in the middle on her right hand; one her mother had given her before she died. Her nails were painted a pale pink. She had dark, weary eyes, even though she’d just awakened from a full night’s rest.

  “Conner.” Her voice cracked.

  “I know you don’t want to see me, but I . . .” All that time on the road, and I hadn’t thought of one thing to say to her. My mind was blank. Pain and resentment had always been in the front of my mind when I thought of her, but as I stood there, I couldn’t for the life of me get angry.

  She seemed so frail. I didn’t know if she’d shrunk, or if I’d gotten bigger, but as I took her in for the first time in more than ten years, I was frightened. I was terrified of telling her how much she’d hurt me.

  “Do you want to come in?” my mother asked, with little conviction. I could tell she was afraid I’d say yes. I was afraid too, but I’d made the trip. It seemed stupid to just walk away.

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  She opened the door wider and I stepped up, our bodies nearly touching because the entryway was so small. I always thought I’d feel the need to hug her, or swing my arm around her, but it was the exact opposite. I pulled my shoulders in, and tucked my hands in the pockets of my jeans, not wanting the contact. It was as if there were some invisible wall—something that had the power to hurt both of us if we crossed it. It was awkward, and I fought the urge to head back to my pickup as soon as she closed the door.

  We stood in her living room and just looked at each other. She broke the link first, by walking to her recliner and taking a seat. She nodded toward the couch, and as much as I didn’t want to, I sat as well.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She folded her hands in her lap. Her fingers worked a mile a minute, fidgeting with the rose ring on her finger.

  “Neither do I.” I would have given my left nut to have had access to a time machine. Nothing about it felt normal, or even partially comfortable. “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were doing okay.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Good.” Like a toddler learning new words, it seemed to be the only response I could conjure. Like I’d just realized I could say it and I had nothing else in my vocabulary.

  “Conner, I know this isn’t pleasant.” She folded her arms, like she was hugging herself for comfort. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  My head tilted up, my eyes searching hers for honesty. I hadn’t banked on her apologizing. Actually, I hadn’t had any expectations. I think I’d been more worried about her telling me to leave and never come back. Blinking, I tried to buy more time. I was surprised, and didn’t know what to say. All those years, I never counted on her being sorry. I just knew I was.

  She faced me head on, waiting for my response. Her apology had seemed genuine, although she appeared to be anxious, but more in the sense that she didn’t know if I’d accept. If I’d learned anything from being in a relationship with Willow, it was to be honest.

  “I know everything is messed up, and I know I’m the reason for that.” I choked back my tears, forcing myself to get the words out. “I live with regret every day. I’ve only recently felt like I had the right to live, to succeed, to love and be loved. And for that, I’m not sorry. You have to know…that had I understood how my actions could affect you, I would have chosen different. Obviously, with the outcome, I would have chosen different regardless, but I just didn’t have a clue what I did to you in the process.

  “I’ve thought about it over and over, and tried to discover new ways to be forgiven, but I realized something not too long ago. I can’t control anyone else. As hard as I try, I can’t control how someone feels about me. And the irony that it took someone loving me—when I didn’t feel like I deserved it—to figure it out, isn’t lost on me.” At the thought of Willow, I had the most peaceful feeling overtake me. I knew no matter what happened, I’d be all right.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My mother’s hands gripped her face tight, holding every tear she shed in the palms of her hands. Her wails were soft, not loud in the least, but I could tell by her labored breathing and her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, that she was crying.

  I sat quietly, giving her a moment. As weird as it was, seeming that I was the reason for her breakdown, I felt like I was intruding on what should have been a private moment. I watched as she tried to catch her breath, then let it all out—whatever it was that had been inside her. Grief. Heartache. Guilt. Regret. I couldn’t tell if it had been one, or all of them, but as sad as it was, it was beautiful.

  I was finally witnessing what I’d craved for the past ten years—to know she cared. I never expected her to be okay with what happened. I always knew disappointment would follow me forever, like a shadow. I knew the moment someone died from a choice I had made, there would be a stain on my back. I knew there would be a dimness across my mom’s heart that I had put there. I just didn’t know how dark the dimness would be.

  I wanted to be the person who kept my distance from someone who’d proven they would leave me in my time of need. I wanted to be the man who turned his back to the crowd every time he won a fight, because he didn’t give a damn whether they cheered or booed for him. I wished like hell I could have had the same wall built in my heart that shielded me from women like Simone, but I couldn’t…not where my mother was concerned.

  “I’m here.” I placed my hand on her shoulder.

  She peered up at me through swollen, red eyes, and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was kneeling beside her, my shins on the dull, brown carpet, and I was still taller than she was sitting in the chair. I let her arms envelope me. I let her squeeze me as tight as she could, even though it wasn’t very hard, and I just took it all in. I sighed, thinking how good it felt. I’d been hugged before. Hell, Willow showed me love with a single touch, but having my mother give me all her forgiveness, and ask for mine in return, was beyond measure.

  “I do love you. I do. I’m sorry for leaving you. I just—I didn’t know what to do with my anger. I didn’t know how to support you without supporting your choices. And…I was so disappointed, Conner.”

  I wiped her tears with my thumbs as she leaned back to compose herself. For the first time in fifteen years, I kissed my mother. I pressed my lips to her forehead and held them there until I felt breathless. “I understand. I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

  “Please forgive me.”

  “I do, Mom. It’s over. I don’t want to look back.”

  “Me either. I’ve wasted so much time. Time we can’t get back.”

  “I just want you to be okay. I want you to be happy and healthy.”

  She hugged me again, only this time, all the tension dissipated, like water evaporating. Clinging to her, my muscles relaxed, my chest expanded, and I took the first deep breath I’d had since being sentenced—a real breath. One where a sigh didn’t follow it, nor was there any extra weight attached to it, putting pressure on my chest.

  Once we’d gotten the heavy talk out of the way, I walked around her house as she pointed out the obvious improvements that needed to be made. I told her I wanted to help. She declined at first, but I insisted, knowing it was my fault it was in such bad shape in the first place. I’d already decided to just fi
x them, making a mental list, while trying to remember what days I had to meet with people, so that I could get back here to get her home looking nice.

  “You mentioned love. Are you married?” She’d walked around the subject so much, I was getting dizzy, but I was still a bit gun shy about how personal we were going to get. We’d only just talked for the first time in years, and I didn’t know how much I’d be comfortable disclosing.

  “Not yet. I’ve got a girl. Willow. I just asked her to marry me last night.”

  “That’s wonderful. What’s she like? I always pictured you with a strong-willed girl. She’s not too thin, I hope. These girls today, think they have to be waif-looking.” She shook her head, and I smiled.

  There was my mother. The one who used to tell me to drink plenty of water before every football practice, so I didn’t overheat. The same woman who told me the first time she met one of my girlfriends in high school that we’d be over within the month. She’d been right.

  “She’s beautiful, and kind, and caring, and you guessed it…strong. She’s strong enough to keep me grounded, even in the circus of the AFL.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fighting league. I joined a gym when I got out, and the owner—my buddy, Steele—he’s a fighter. He’s taught me a lot. I just signed a contract with the league.”

  “That sounds dangerous. You don’t get hurt do you?”

  I could have lied, told her what she wanted to hear, but something inside me didn’t want to give her the benefit of ignorance. I was perfectly fine with her knowing the risk I took at every fight. “Sometimes.”

  “What about construction? Or flipping homes? You were so good at that.”

  I shook my head, knowing I’d never go back to that. All of that seemed like a lifetime ago. “That was then.”

  We reached the front yard in silence. With those three words, I’d ended our conversation. It was for the best. I’d been up all night, driving. And given the morning we’d had, I was tired and wanted to get back to Willow. I knew I’d be facing a shit-storm with the media, and even with all that time driving, and being able to think, I still couldn’t wrap my brain around the shock that it was Cyndi who had been the one to expose me. Everything, from her taking on an alias to getting close to my girlfriend, not only worried me, it fucking blew my mind.