I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll be able to work. Probably until my belly gets in the way of massages. But what about after? I love my job and my career is taking off but I don’t want to leave my baby with a stranger all day.
Shit. I was supposed to have all this planned out before getting pregnant.
I have CJ’s ex to blame. Even in jail months later, she’s causing trouble. I try not to think of that day when I was pulled off the street and kidnapped. Haven’t I talked it out in therapy a million times? I’ve described how scared I was, how alone, and how it felt to run out of air. I even told the doc about the out of body experience when I actually died.
It was CJ who found me and brought me back to life. Surely a guy who would do that wouldn’t be freaked about having a baby.
Chapter 7
CJ
When I woke up alone in my Manhattan apartment, I saw where Mel texted me ten times and there was nothing I wanted more than to call her back. What I really wanted to do is to call Jack, climb into the limo and grab her at work. Then we’d fuck ourselves into oblivion and back again. The last time we did that in the changing room, it was mind blowing.
Instead, I’m on my way to Westchester to see Dan Schmidt, a former linebacker for the Jets. The sleet and dark sky match my mood as the windshield wipers screech across the glass.
After about an hour, Jack pulls into a pristine gated community and stops in front of a cookie-cutter mansion. I pause before ringing, trying to remember him the last time we met. To me, he always seemed half-in-the-bag and I figured he was a heavy drinker. I never imagined he had cumulative concussions.
His wife’s an actress but it’s not her who greets me at the door. It’s a pretty brown girl, barely twenty, in tight designer workout clothes.
“Hi. I’m Chance. Dan’s expecting me.” I smile politely.
She, however, bats her eyelashes and blatantly checks me out, licking her lips.
I got no patience for that shit anymore and allow some of my annoyance to show. “Well? Is he in?”
Tossing her long dark hair, she swivels on her heel. “Sure. Follow me. He’s having a good day.”
A good day. How many times did I hear that about my dad? Will they say it about me, too?
I follow her into a huge living room with a vaulted ceiling, stone fireplace, and hardwood floors. For the first time since hearing my news, I consider suicide. Maybe after the Super Bowl I can go south and take care of it in the woods, away from everyone.
Dispelling my morose thoughts, the giant of a black man jumps up with a big grin and shakes my hand, grip firm. He’s been the union’s biggest advocate about CTE and it was damn nice of him to see me on such short notice. After we shoot the shit for a few, he asks the girl to bring us some coffee, then takes me downstairs into his man-cave. It’s got a pool table on one side of the room. On the other is a wall-sized monitor with a half-dozen thick cushioned theater chairs.
“So, what can I do for you?” He leads me over to a bar stool beside a granite countertop and pulls out a couple of Perrier bottles from the fridge.
His smile is normal, his face is normal, and from what I can remember, seems nothing like my dad. Again, I’m left wondering. Did my father truly have Alzheimer’s or was it CTE?
I whisper because to speak the diagnosis out loud gives it some kind of power over me. “After I got knocked out, the doc insisted on a CT scan,”
“How bad is it?” Dan leans his elbows on the bar watching yoga-chick saunter into the room.
I wait until she drops some chips on the bar and sashays out before saying more. “I really don’t know. I was so damned stunned, I didn’t listen to half of what he said.”
Dan’s dark eyes narrow, his mouth purses, and he rakes a hand over a couple days growth on his chin. “Tell me, is your contract coming up for renegotiation?”
“Yeah, after my knee injury, they wanted to make sure I could still throw so I signed for a year. Why?” I grab a couple crisps, and chew, surprised they taste like bananas.
He thinks while munching, then shrugs, but he’s got some bug up his ass.
After swallowing and chugging down his water he says, “I’ve heard rumors and that’s all I’m going to say. Just get yourself checked out. Okay?”
I nod. Why is everyone so damn fired up about me getting a second opinion. Isn’t it enough to know I got CTE? Do I really need to learn all the gory details of what to expect next? I got a pretty good picture thanks to my dad.
While I sit there freaking out, Dan gets full into his description of the disease. “Mostly it’s the confusion that sucks. Where the fuck is the car? How the fuck did I get to this part of town? Oh yeah, that, and my wife left me, too.”
“Sorry to hear that.” But I’m not. As I recall, she was a real bitch.
Apparently, Dan’s come to the same conclusion. “Nah. I’ve been trying to get a divorce for years but she won’t settle. Wait until she finds out I’ve left her out of the will.”
When my mouth drops open, he places a hand onto my shoulder. “No worries. I’m not planning on going anytime soon.”
“How do you, ah, manage?” I stare at the fireplace mantel topped with gold trophies. It’s hard to believe that this man in his prime has CTE.
“It’s not so bad. I got me some hired help.” The way Dan smiles tells me that yoga-chick cooks up a whole lot more than his meals.
Then he winks. “I also got a pretty personal secretary who schedules my appointments. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
My brows go up, a question mark of sorts.
“I don’t want to scare you, man, but some guys get pissed off, some guys get depressed as hell and blow their brains out. You just got to decide which one of those guys you’re going to be and do it. Don’t be all on the fence. It’ll make you miserable.”
Brown eyes set deep into this brown face stare me down like he’s actually heard what I’ve been thinking.
I stand, suddenly uncomfortable. “Thanks.”
He does the same and shakes my hand, “Nice to meet you. What was your name again?”
Shit.
When I get into the limo, I call Andy’s assistant in his Fifth Avenue office and tell her to tell my brother I’m coming over tonight.
Later, after practice, Jack drops me off in Brooklyn, just a few blocks away from Mel.
Damn it, I’m so tempted to see her one more time but that’s no good. She deserves a clean break. I may never get over her but it’s all about her. I need to make it easier for my wife to move on.
Before I met her, I was a real asshole. It shouldn’t be hard to play that role again but it is.
As I climb the three flights, I try to figure out how the hell I’m going to get Andy to agree to my plan. He really likes Mel. He actually helped us get together and there’s not much I can say that can get him to start divorce proceedings.
He’s still in his expensive suit when he opens the door. “Lover’s quarrel?”
A dark eyebrow raises but I shove my way into the kitchen where a bag of Chinese takeout is half unpacked. Scowling, I grab a carton and pry off the lid. It’s not on my diet, but right now, I don’t give a shit. What does it matter?
“Can’t I just come over and talk to my own damn brother?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure. Sit.” He moves a neat stack of manila folders onto the floor to clear some space on the table.
I can’t look into his eyes so focus on small pieces of steaming beef and vegetables. “Things aren’t working out between me and Mel.”
“Jeesh, bro. You’ve only been together for a few months. Give it time. Have you tried a little counseling? I can schedule that for you if-”
“Ah, no. no. That’s not it…” I had it in my mind to tell him that I caught her in bed with Kit.
In Andy’s old-fashioned world, that’d be reason enough to have her ousted on her ass. Probably because of the hot sauce, I cough, preventing me from going down that road. I just can’t make h
er look bad.
My brother’s gaze is penetrating. “What’s really up?”
I fucking hate how he can do that to me. “I need a divorce. I can’t do to her what Dad did to Mom.”
He stops eating, mouth dropping open. “Shit, CJ. Why didn’t you call me? Did you get a second opinion?”
“I don’t have to. Do you know how many times I’ve been unconscious?”
He shakes his head.
“As a kid, Dad knocked me senseless at least once a month. Then around middle school, maybe every year? Maybe more? Even the fact I can’t remember how many times I’ve been out worries me.”
“But if you have CTE, it must be in its early stages. You need to let Mel make that decision. You guys could still have a lot of good years together.”
“But she wants kids. I can’t take that risk. She’s still young. She’ll find someone else.”
“My God. You’re going all noble?” He sits and glowers, looking like he might stick a chopstick in my eye socket at any second.
“Something like that.” I stare down into the food, feeling like a shit-head.
“Fine. But I’m not telling her. You do it. Now. Face to face.” He thinks I won’t be able to but I can and I will. I love her that much.
“No problemo.” Swallowing hard, I rise, and head to the door.
“Shit. I didn’t mean that. Just fucking go and get a second opinion. Here. I made an appointment.” He hands me a card which I put into my pocket.
“Thanks. I will…” But there’s no way, I’m going to, not after seeing Dan. I’ve seen all I need to know. I’ll just play football until I can’t anymore, then… Well then, I’ll figure something out.
Jack’s been circling the block and when he sees me, jumps out, and holds open the door. “Can I say something, boss?”
“Go ahead.” I’m in no mood for any kind of a lecture, but he’s more than a driver, he’s a damn good friend so I’ll let him get whatever’s bugging him off his chest.
“You should let me take you to your wife.”
“I agree but do me a favor and wait. I don’t think I’ll be staying.”
Shit, she’ll never speak to me again, not after what I have to do.
Chapter 8
Mel
When the door handle rattles and the locks click, I shut my latest book, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and throw it under the couch cushion.
Oh my God! He’s here! I run to the door, fling it open, and give him this huge hug. My face finds a home in his warm chest and my arms shoot around his waist.
Huh? Why aren’t his biceps curling around me like always, squishing me close? Why is he just standing here, cold and statue-like?
My God, something horrible must’ve happened. Stepping away, I search his face and start shaking. I’ve never seen his mouth so grim nor his eyes so dead of emotion.
“What’s wrong, hotshot?” Chin up, I step forward, needing to kiss that look away.
However, instead of connecting his lips to mine, his brows furrow with fists clenched at his side. Shit. He must’ve found out I’m pregnant.
“Listen…I can ex-”
Large hands grab my shoulders and he leans over so he’s all up in my face, holding my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear what’s coming next.
“We’re done.” His mouth, two inches from mine, is downright unfriendly.
Suddenly, I’m frozen in place. This can’t be. We’re in love. We’re married for heaven’s sake. People don’t give up like that.
I must’ve misunderstood. “Done? Like in me and you done?”
One quick nod, then he stares at the wall behind my head.
Stunned, I stand there like a stupid idiot, going through every conversation we’ve had recently but I just don’t get it. I had no idea he was unhappy with me. I mean, the baby has made me a bit crazy but during football season he’s not been around enough to notice.
Shit. Suddenly I get it. He hasn’t come home a few nights. “There’s someone else?”
He nods.
Oh man. Tears pool, my throat gets all tight, and I slide down the doorframe, about to puke. I love this guy so damn much and yet my heart is being ripped to tiny shreds inside my chest. My soul’s broken. This can’t be happening.
“Who is she?” It comes out as a whisper.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of for life.” His voice cracks and one tear slips down his face. Angrily he swipes at it.
“I don’t want your damn money. Is there any way we-”
“Sorry, baby. I never meant to hurt you.” He squats to my level, tears flowing freely.
Bawling, I grab his neck. “You can’t go. I love you so much. How will I live without you?”
He has to unclamp my fingers to pull me away. “Baby, I got to go now. I’ll have Jack come and pick up my things later.”
He pushes me gently away and all but runs down the hall and out of my life.
Then I’m alone. All alone. Forever. My stupid broken heart will never mend.
Crawling into the apartment, I slam the door and lock it. Then I just sit there on the kitchen floor while I sob the whole damn night away.
The next day, I call in sick to work, and the next. Then it’s the weekend, and I eat a little leftover cold pizza for breakfast lunch and dinner. It doesn’t matter. It all pukes out, anyhow. Nothing matters anymore. My whole damn world is empty, everything is gray, and my future holds nothing except long empty days.
Oh shit. I’m going to be a single mom. How the hell is that going to work? I can’t even go home to Iowa and I can’t look to his family for help.
This is going to be impossible.
I keep looking at my cell phone, longing to ask him to go to couple’s therapy but all I can do is picture him with some model or some actress on his arm, laughing at how pathetic I am. How could he do this to me? Why hadn’t I seen it coming?
I bet he found out I was pregnant, and couldn’t deal. What else could it be?
On Monday morning, when the alarm goes off, I puke. This is my new norm, Then I nibble on the last of the pizza crust and stare at the bedroom ceiling. Altogether, I got maybe ten hours of sleep in the last three days. My eyes are so swollen that they barely open, my stomach hurts so bad I want to die and my hair is matted from not showering.
How can I go to work? How can I not? I swear I will never take a penny of that man’s money.
Crying again, I start pulling all of his stuff out of the dresser and throw it into huge green garbage bags. When everything of his is gone, I throw all of his shit into the spare bedroom, the one that was going to be the baby’s room and slam the door.
Crazy-like, I run through the whole apartment tossing his stuff into a huge pile. His frypan, his aftershave, his football shit, all get tossed down the hallway garbage shoot.
When I look at the clock, it’s seven AM. I still have time to shower and get out the door.
Somehow, purging him has helped me feel a little bit better.
After combing the knots out of my hair and applying way more makeup than I’ve ever worn in my life, I look almost presentable. I may be exhausted but I’ll have something else to think about other than how I wish to hell that I’d never laid eyes on CJ Quinn.
Chapter 9
CJ
Lying to Mel is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done and it doesn’t feel noble. In fact, I feel like the world’s biggest loser. What’s hurting most is how quickly she believed that I’d take up with someone else. We’re married for fuck’s sake. I would never cheat on her. There’s been no other woman since that first moment in the rehab center.
Now, despite insisting I tell her, my brother is so pissed that he stopped taking my calls. Shit. All I picture, every damn waking hour, is her sad face when she thought I was unfaithful. I have no idea why I nodded to her accusation but it seemed like an easy out, a way to make
her hate me. I thought she’d shout and throw stuff. That’s been my experience with such things. Never in my worst nightmares did I figure she’d break down and beg.
Ah shit. I’m such a fucking asshole.
To make matters even worse, because of my stupidity, my playing goes all to hell.
Today, I’m sitting with the team’s shrink in a posh office on Park Avenue, shutting my fucking mouth hoping not to get ejected from the team. I need to get my shit together. Then I can leave Mel with a wad of cash so she never has to worry about money the rest of her life. That’s the least I can do for her after being such a sorry excuse for a husband.
“Are we done?” I glare at the frowning doctor who I almost feel sorry for because she’s been trying like hell to get me to open up for over an hour.
With her gray hair drawn back in a tight bun, she glances over half-glasses, trying to show me how concerned she is. “How’s it going with you and Melanie?”
“We’re over. I got my brother drawing up divorce papers.” As I cross my arms over my chest, my face is cool and my tone even more so. I got this.
“Want to tell me about it?” The shrink looks a lot like my mom when she glowers which makes me feel guilty about lying so I break my gaze away.
There’s toys in one corner, a couch, her office chair, and the comfy hot-seat I’m in.
I don’t do good in small spaces for long periods of time and I want out. “Look, we just didn’t get along and decided to part ways. Friendly-like. No big deal. Shit happens.”
I’ve said it often enough now that my voice doesn’t crack but she’s not buying it. “Do you want to get back on the field, Chance?”
“Of course, I want back,” I snap with the best of my scowls which doesn’t faze her in the least.
Instead, she taps her pen on her pad of yellow lined paper. “Tell the truth or walk. I get paid either way.”
But I know on which side her bread gets buttered. “You get paid by the team, right? If I tell you something, you got to tell them.”
I give her some credit for looking highly insulted. “Not if you tell me not to. That would be unethical. I assure you, you can trust me.”
Final Play: A Sports Novella (Players Book 3) Page 4