Five-Star

by J Santiago

  “Hey,” he said as he touched her shoulder and shook her again. “I gotta go.”

  Her eyes opened slowly. He liked how she looked in the morning.

  “What time is it?”

  “Six,” he said.

  “Ugh! Why are you so bright-eyed?”

  “Ha. I got some action last night. I’m feeling pretty good.”

  “Trust me when I say I’ve seen the pictures, and I know getting action is not something you have a problem with.”

  The smile left his face. “Wow. Sunshine’s back.”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t been with anyone since they kissed against the barn, but somehow, he thought that would do more damage than her thinking he was with a different girl every night. So, he went with changing the subject.

  “Can I see you tonight?” he asked with as little interest as possible.

  “I have to work.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “It’s not a no. I just have to work. And you have to sleep this week. You do have a game on Saturday.”

  For some reason, that pissed him off. “Let me manage my football.”

  “Okay. I’ll text you when I’m done,” she responded hesitantly.

  “Good.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll see you later.” He stood and walked backward toward the door. “Right?”

  “Right,” she said.

  And he thought she actually meant it.

  Franco felt good as he exited the field. He’d felt good since he’d been between Molly’s thighs the night before. It provided this artificial bubble of hope and light that he knew would pop soon after he met with Tank today. He tried not to think about what he was about to do. He’d made up his mind, and he was going to see it through.

  Franco knew Tank wouldn’t think anything of the request to come to his office following practice. They often talked, dissecting his play. Most of the time was voluntary, but tonight, Franco had summoned him.

  “What’s up, Coach?” Tank entered the office and lowered himself into the chair in front of Franco’s desk. Comfortable. Relaxed.

  “Great work today,” Franco remarked. Now that the time was here, he felt strangely calm, as if making a decision and taking action were what he’d been meant to do.

  “We look good. We all believe.”

  Franco studied him. How this young man had fallen into his lap was still a bit of a mystery. He was grateful every day for the opportunity to coach him even though Franco often questioned his good fortune. Looking at Tank now, he could still see the hints of the fifteen-year-old kid he’d first watched on the field. But there was also a maturity and a determination in his face that hadn’t always been there, and Franco knew that had come from his time at Kensington. He would have gotten it anywhere he had gone. That was the thing about Tank. It wouldn’t have mattered where he was or who coached him; he was just destined to be great. It was in that moment, during that recognition, that Franco knew he was doing the right thing.

  “I’m not going to keep you long. I just have something I need you to do.”

  “Whatcha got?”

  “When you have some time, I want you to do some research.”

  Tank looked at him questioningly. “I’ve been at film this week, Coach. I watched the defense. I know what’s coming for me.”

  Franco took a deep breath. “Not that kind of research. I want you to Google Rowdy Daniels.”

  Tank looked at him skeptically and shrugged.

  Franco knew that Tank would eventually get around to doing what he’d asked; he didn’t ask Tank to do much. He also knew that he had just set in motion a series of events that he was unable to predict. The lack of control over what would happen next scared him a bit, but he also knew that he’d made the best decision he could for everyone involved. He had to hope that they would all see that one day.

  When Tank left Franco’s office, he was slightly confused. Their meeting had been strange. But it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. He pulled out his phone and texted Steele.

  What do you know about Rowdy Daniels?

  Lamarcus didn’t immediately answer, so Tank headed out to his car and started the trek home. It’d been a long day, but he was pumped from practice and eager about the prospect of seeing Amber. He got home and headed upstairs. As he was unlocking his door, his phone buzzed. Then, it buzzed again.

  He went inside and pulled it out. Two texts—Amber and Steele.

  Defying the partner-in-crime protocol, he clicked on Amber’s first.

  Be done around 10. Good?

  Yep. Come here.

  Then, he scrolled to Steele’s text.

  WTF? All I know about the dude is that he’s dead.

  Amber’s shift seemed to drag. It had been a long time since she’d been thrilled about having plans. Why it had to be this guy, right now, she didn’t know. She wished that she could have somehow avoided all of this…him. She thought back to Keira’s red-flag analogy and wondered if perhaps her friend had a point. Would she have ever gotten involved with him if she hadn’t known how wrong it was?

  “You seem awfully dreamy tonight,” Keira remarked, pulling Amber from her thoughts.

  “Maybe,” she admitted ruefully. “I’m supposed to go to Tank’s after work, and I’m really excited about it.” Shaking her head, she met Keira’s stare. “I was just thinking about what you said.”

  Keira cocked her head to the side, attempting to figure her out. “The red flag and all?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shrugging, Keira said, “Sorry about that.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I don’t know. I was being all judgy.”

  “Judgy? What kind of word is that?”

  “A mixture of judgmental and bitchy. Look, I had no right to tell you what to do. And Tank’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  Amber leaned against the bar, looking at her friend. “Yeah, I don’t think you need to worry about Tank.”

  “What about you? Do I need to worry about you?”

  Amber blew right by that question and moved to one of her own. “How are things with Tilly?” She watched as her friend blushed and smiled wide.

  “Good,” she said briefly.

  Amber waited, but Keira didn’t offer anything else. “That’s all I get? Seriously?”

  “That’s all you get for now because he just walked in, and it’s time for you to go.”

  Amber turned and saw Tilly ambling toward the bar, looking directly at Keira. Smiling, she glanced at her watch, saw it was ten, and cashed out. Keira didn’t need to tell her twice.

  Amber hurried to her car. She wanted to shower and change, the smell of the bar heavy in her hair and on her clothes, so she detoured to her house, and seeing the driveway empty, pulled in. She ran inside, trying to move quickly in case her dad came home and because she didn’t want Tank to think she wasn’t coming.

  Even though she didn’t have time to dry her hair, she felt better with the smell of fried food and stale beer washed from her body. Donning her standard-issue outfit—jeans and a T-shirt—she left the house, thankful that her luck had held and she’d avoided her father.

  As she drove, she tried to fight her enthusiasm. She really didn’t want to be giddy to see Tank. It meant all sorts of things that she wasn’t ready to deal with. How could she be with him without sharing her past? Or telling him who her father was?

  God, she thought, what the fuck am I going to do about that little secret?

  For the first time, she thought about Tank and Franco’s relationship. What would Tank think of his coach when he found out that Franco had seen Tank with his daughter in a compromising situation, and he hadn’t admitted to Tank his relationship to the mystery girl? That he’d virtually lied to his star to protect the identity of his daughter?

  As she pulled into the parking lot of Tank’s apartment, she was overwhelmed by the impossibility of the situati
on. What the fuck am I doing?

  She almost kept driving, as if she’d pulled into the parking lot in error. But then her phone buzzed. She put her foot on the brake and picked up her phone.

  You close?

  Another moment of truth. She could ignore it, keep driving, and go home. But her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as she typed a message back.

  Just pulled in. Be up in a second.

  She parked the car and rested her head on the steering wheel. Taking a few deep breaths, she got out of the car and walked toward Tank Howard.

  Tank finally sat down on the couch. Noticing the time, he texted Amber and then pulled out his iPad. He had gotten caught up with other stuff and hadn’t taken the time to do his research. Curious about Franco’s directive, he typed Rowdy Daniels into the search engine and waited. When the results came up, he clicked on the first one.

  TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT CLAIMS LIFE OF OLE MISS FOOTBALL PLAYER

  Friday, April 15, 2011. By Shannon Marshall, Staff Reporter, Oxford Eagle

  Ole Miss football player, Rowdy Daniels, was killed Thursday morning in a one-car accident at the intersection of State Road 7 and US 278. The cause of the accident is not known at this time.

  The driver, whose name is being withheld, pending notification of her family, is in critical condition at Baptist Memorial Hospital.

  The article went on to list his stats and his high school bio.

  Tank didn’t understand the significance. There was nothing in the article to tie him to Rowdy Daniels. He scanned the other links until one caught his eye. Clicking on it, he began to read.

  FATAL CRASH RULED AN ACCIDENT

  Tuesday, May 3, 2011. By Jack Sargeant Staff Reporter, Oxford Eagle

  He’d only read the headline when Amber knocked on the door. Quickly putting his iPad away, he stood up. Seeing her was much more interesting than trying to look up stuff on some guy. As he opened the door, he took her in. Predictably, her platinum-blonde hair was pulled to her right side, covering the ghastly scar. She wore a pair of well broken-in faded jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt.

  “Hey,” she said, not necessarily with enthusiasm.

  He pulled her inside and directly into his arms, hugging her. “I’m not gonna lie. I didn’t think you’d show up.”

  She leaned into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. “I almost kept driving.”

  “Nice,” he said, laughing.

  She pulled away from him. “What have you been doing?” she asked.

  “Some schoolwork. How was work?”

  “Uneventful. Tilly just got there. I guess he’s going to keep Keira company tonight.”

  Tank sat on the couch. He wanted to pull her down next to him, but he hesitated to force her into anything and opted to let her pick out her own seat. She sat across from him, the table between them.

  “Keira’s family down with the swirl?” Tank asked.

  “Huh?” she said, looking at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. “The swirl?”

  “The black-white thing,” Tank explained.

  Amber looked at him before she laughed. He loved the sound of it, but he could tell that it always startled her when she did it. She would look around for the source, surprised that it was coming from her.

  “I mean, I’m pretty hip, but I’ve never heard that. The swirl.” She laughed again.

  “So, are they?”

  She stopped laughing and took some time to think before she answered, “I wish I could say with complete certainty that they would be good with it, but I don’t really know. Keira’s their only daughter and the youngest. And they are old-school Southern people. But they’ve always been so open that I can’t imagine it would bother them. I’ve definitely been wrong before though.”

  “What about your family?”

  “My family’s cool with it,” she said quickly with conviction.

  “My dad’s family wasn’t cool with it. They didn’t want anything to do with my mom and me. But I think they thought she was a groupie and a gold digger.” He stopped himself from saying more. His dad wasn’t someone he usually talked about and definitely not someone he offered up without being prompted. A little thrown by his willingness to open up to this girl who held so much back, he stopped himself before he went any further.

  “Do you have an Xbox?” she asked.

  He eyed her skeptically. “Is that a trick question?”

  Again, with the laugh. She was all lit up. “No. Call of Duty?”

  “For real? You’re not just fucking with me?”

  She smiled, and it hit him directly in the gut. “I am not fucking with you. I grew up with a lot of boys. Keira says I need to trade in my girl card.”

  “Trust me when I say, you do not need to worry about your girl card.” And just like that, everything was all hot and intense.

  “No?” she asked, the smile gone from her mouth but not her eyes.

  Tank got up and walked toward her. He held out his hand for her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet and into a open-mouth kiss. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as he grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him. They continued to kiss as he maneuvered her into his room.

  He broke the kiss. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can we have a rain check on Call of Duty?”

  She laughed. “Sure.”

  He moved to kiss her scar, eliciting a gasp.

  “You know, Sunshine,” he said as he continued to kiss her, “I could get used to that laugh.”

  He thought he heard her murmur, “Me, too,” but he wasn’t sure.

  And then he didn’t hear anything else.

  They didn’t come up for air for a while. When they did, it was late, probably too late to be having a conversation about anything. But, somehow, Tank found himself talking about football and the guys. He even told her about Steele, laughing as he admitted that Tilly had referred to his friendship with Steele as a bromance.

  “Do you regret your decision?” Amber asked.

  “Being here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you asking me about signing day? If we are going there, I’ve got a shit-ton of questions for you.”

  “I recant then.”

  “You gonna ask me if I need a dictionary?”

  Amber winced. “I was a bitch for saying that,” she said with what sounded like a little bit of regret.

  “Yeah, you were. But it’s okay. I asked Iman the day after I met you if he knew what necrophilia meant, and he said no, so I’m letting you slide on that.”

  She gifted him with a laugh again. “Poor Iman.”

  “Poor Iman, nothing. He’s doing just fine.”

  “Don’t you need to get some sleep?” she asked.

  He glanced at the clock. “Shit. I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to finish something for Coach.” He turned back to look at her. “Fuck it. I can finish tomorrow.”

  “What do you have to do for your coach?”

  “He wanted me to look up some dude. But I have no idea why, so it can wait.”

  “Who did he want you to look up?”

  “You know anything about Rowdy Daniels?” he asked.

  Twenty-Two

  Amber heard a whooshing in her ears. Everything fell away, including Tank’s body, which had so recently been inside her. She felt far away, like she was Dorothy and she’d just landed in Oz.

  The moment Rowdy’s name had fallen from Tank’s lips, she’d known that her time was up. Her laughter faded away, her scar burned, and her heart broke. Her father had given Tank Rowdy’s name. He’d betrayed her to save Tank. To say that her heart was breaking would be an understatement.

  For the better part of the last year and a half, Amber had blocked all of her memories of the crash. But the mere mention of Rowdy’s name catapulted her back to that night when she had been in Rowdy’s car, trying to get away from him and the party. She had known she’d made a mistake in not driving herself, but it was too late to repair it. She’
d begged him to stay away from her, but he kept coming. When she started to leave, the passenger door opened, and Rowdy threw himself into the car.

  She had thought he said, “I’m coming with you, so we can figure this out.”

  But, later, when she’d tried to explain that to the police, the words had flitted away, like water slipping through her fingers.

  She’d pulled up to the Stop sign and had turned to Rowdy. “It’s over. I told you that the moment you did that. You knew I’d walk, and you did it anyway. I don’t care…”

  That had been the last thing she had said. The last thing she had remembered.

  From somewhere far away, she heard Tank trying to talk to her, but she needed to get away from him. As she tried to unravel herself from him and the sheets, her uncoordinated movements brought her closer into Tank’s body, pulled her deeper into the tangle of the remnants of the sex they’d shared. She could smell him, feel his hands on her, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything, except for attempting to get away from him. She finally found her feet. She stood unsteadily, and she noted that she needed clothes. As she leaned down to pick up her jeans, her heart began to beat faster, her upper lip beaded with sweat and her hands dampened. Dizziness overtook her, and then there was nothing.

  Tank scooped her up and gently placed her on the bed, his mind screaming at the fucking insanity of the last couple of minutes. Yes, he’d checked the time quickly; the whole thing had lasted about sixty seconds. It had felt like an eternity, but it had only been a minute. He’d never seen anything like the full-blown panic attack that Amber had just experienced.

  He ran to his bathroom and got a washcloth. Dousing it in cold water, he placed it on her forehead. When she still didn’t move, he got worried and ran to get his phone. He needed help and although it was late, he quickly, he texted Glenna.

  Amber just had some kind of panic attack and passed out. She’s not waking up. What do I do?

  When Glenna didn’t immediately answer, he parked himself on the side of the bed and continued to drag the wet, cold towel over her head and neck. His phone rang, and with relief, he saw Glenna was calling him.