by Lucy Snow
“Not too bad, Lee, not too bad. Catching the afternoon sports shows. How are you?”
“I’m alright, man, doin’ alright.”
The silence after that hung in the air for a few seconds. It got awkward. I didn’t mind, I actually enjoyed watching Lee squirm a bit. It was nothing personal; I’m sure if I got to know the guy we could be friends, but that was unlikely simply because it was Oliver Lee’s biggest and most important goal to take my job and never give it back.
The first part he had already succeeded at, and the second part he was working on.
“So, uh, Coach Armstrong asked me to come see you…”
“Yeah, he told me about it.”
Lee reached his hand up and brushed his blond hair back behind his ear. “Yeah, so do you have anything for me? Advice, I mean?”
Ugh, here was the hard part. Coach Armstrong had put me in a serious bind. He knew that I was the kind of player who would do whatever it took to help the team out, even if it wasn’t necessarily in my own best interest.
That was exactly what was happening. In the interest of the team and the season, Coach Armstrong was asking me to help Oliver Lee play well enough that it would be easier for Armstrong to give Lee my job permanently even once I got better.
Fuck. This fucking sucked. But I couldn’t see any way around it. I had Lee sit down and we went over his mechanics and how he needed to mentally approach the game, how to make sure he didn’t get overwhelmed by the action, how to tune out the crowds, and get past the media.
I told him things I wish someone had taught me a year ago when the Patriots had thrown me into the lion’s den after the previous quarterback got injured and I was forced to start way ahead of schedule. They had never even expected me to start; I was drafted to be a pure backup. Of course, that wasn’t my intention - far from it, but that was how things had looked.
Then that injury last year, and I was the starter. And now my injury this year, and Lee was the starter. It was my job to make sure that was only temporary.
But still, I had to help him, because even if I was able to come back and take the job from him, if we didn’t win any games in the meantime, this season was lost anyway.
We talked for a couple hours. Mostly it was me talking and Lee listening and asking questions here and there. I wasn’t quite sure he was taking everything I said to heart, but he at least pretended to listen.
As we wrapped up, Lee said, “thanks for all your help, man, all this stuff is a little nuts.” He had a wide-eyed, overwhelmed look on his face.
I chuckled. “Yeah, I know the feeling. It gets a little better.”
“Shit, I hope so, I could use a couple wins.”
“Don’t I know it. You better win some games, Lee, so when I get back we can still make the playoffs.”
Lee laughed. “Yeah, Parker, I’ll try and do that.” He got quiet. “How’s your recovery going?”
I tapped on my right thigh. “Better now, making progress every day. I’ll be back sooner than you think.” I said it with a smile on my face, but it was really more of a warning and I was pretty sure Oliver Lee recognized it.
He straightened up, and gave me a half salute. “I gotta get moving, got practice coming up. Thanks again for the help.”
Lee turned and was about to open the door when something must have caught his eye through the window. He looked back at me. “It can’t be all that bad, can it, Lance?” He had a smile on his face.
“What do you mean?” I didn’t turn to look at him, focusing again back on the TV. Now we were just making small talk, and I had no time for small talk with my backup quarterback. Even if I had all the time in the world.
“Being stuck here in this room all the time.”
“How do you figure? I’d rather be pretty much anywhere else. I’d rather be working out and practicing twice a day, anything to get out of here.”
“Yeah, but you got Calloway taking care of you, that’s gotta make up for a lot of it.”
I whipped my head around at Lee, narrowing my gaze. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just that she’s hot and all, nothing else.”
“You just focus on the game, Lee. You got more important things to deal with than how hot my physical trainer is.”
Lee chuckled to himself. “She’ll be your personal trainer as long as you’re still technically the starter, Lance.” He waved and left the room before I could say anything else, leaving me all alone.
Now that was a warning if I had ever heard one. Oliver Lee had made it clear that he intended to keep the starting job even if I came back. And he pretty much admitted he wanted Charlotte too.
There was no way I was gonna let either of those things happen. Not on my watch.
I lay back against my pillow and wondered if I had done the right thing, both for the team and for myself.
Fuck. This fucking sucked.
CHAPTER 12 - CHARLOTTE
Just as I was returning to my station after taking a quick break I noticed Oliver Lee coming out of Lance’s room. He definitely wasn’t scheduled and it was getting late, definitely after standard visiting hours.
“Hey Charlotte,” Lee said, flashing that fake-looking pretty-boy grin at me. Something about Oliver Lee had always rubbed me the wrong way. He looked too All-American to be real. That kind of look had never, ever, done it for me and I didn’t know what other girls saw in guys like that.
Give me tall, dark, and Lance Parker any day of the week.
“Hi Oliver. You just saw Lance?” I didn’t mean it to come out so standoffish, but for some reason where Lance was concerned I felt really protective, and Lee was someone who was out to take something from Lance, even if they were nominally teammates.
“Yeah, Coach Armstrong asked me to get some pointers from him so maybe I can get some wins under my belt and save the season.”
“Ahh, I see.” Yeah, Lance had mentioned that. “I hope Lance was able to set you straight.” Under the surface, of course, I hoped Lance hadn’t given him anything really useful. I did not want Oliver Lee taking the starting job from Lance Parker.
Nope, not on my watch.
“Yeah, he was really helpful.”
“That’s good to hear. So nice to see you again, Oliver.” I wanted this conversation to end as quickly as possible, but Oliver clearly had other ideas - he walked toward the desk I was sitting at and leaned against it, smiling at me.
“So, Charlotte,” he started. “How are you enjoying working for the Patriots?”
“It’s great, Oliver, a lot of work but I really enjoy being part of the team.” I broke our eye contact as quickly as I could and looked down at the papers on my desk, shuffling them around even though I didn’t have to, just to look busy and hopefully give Oliver the hint.
I had just realized that I was holding my breath when Oliver finally laughed and stood up straight, no longer resting on the counter. “That’s good, glad to hear it. I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing.”
“Thanks, Oliver. Have a great game this weekend, please take the Cowboys down.”
Oliver was already halfway out the door. “Don’t you worry about that, Charlotte. The Cowboys? One of the sorriest teams in the league. They’ll never be good again.”
Lee was probably right about the Cowboys, but he didn’t have to be so smug about it. They were one of the most popular teams in the league, and had been good in the early 90s, and totally sorry since then. Still, their owner was a genius at marketing and had conned millions of people around the country and the world into becoming fans of his terrible team. They got on national TV all the time because they had tons of fans, but continued to be bad every year. It was almost comical.
After Oliver was gone I stood up and went to Lance’s door. I could see him through the window, definitely watching TV, but he didn’t look like he was paying much attention to it. I knocked once and went inside.
He didn’t turn to look at me, but by now we had lapsed into such a r
outine that he didn’t need to. We had gotten comfortable with each other. I didn’t know if that was because the palpable sexual tension between us had been tempered by us already having had sex, but I had a hunch that was it.
I pulled up a chair as usual and sat next to Lance’s bed and watched the news with him for a few minutes. Nothing exciting today; even ESPN ran out of things to talk about every once in a while. There were thousands of professional and college athletes, but even so there were a few hours of the day when none of them were playing or getting themselves in trouble.
Now was one of those times, clearly. “So…” I started, then trailed off.
Lance said nothing, continuing to watch TV.
I tried again. “Sooooooo…”
Again, Lance said nothing, but I could see his mouth quiver a little bit, like he was trying not to smile. So that was it - we were back to playing one of our games. I wondered if I would ever get tired of those.
“Sooooooo…”
“Charlotte,” Lance stared at me, “you gotta move on to the next word, please, for my sake, do this one thing for me!”
“Sooooooo,” I started again, this time on purpose, and Lance grimaced. “Oliver Lee was just in here.”
“Your keen powers of observation continue to delight and amuse me, Miss Charlotte. You are in fact correct - my understudy Oliver Lee was just in this very room.” There were very few men who could pull off doing sarcasm and sexy at the same time, and some how Lance Parker had stumbled upon the elusive secret of just how to do that.
I put my hand on his mattress, looking down at my fingers on the folds of his white sheets and avoiding eye contact again. “What did you guys, uh, talk about?”
“Football, mostly.”
“Football?”
“Yeah, Coach Armstrong wanted me to help him out, give him some advice on how to handle all the pressure that comes with starting for a pro team.”
This was a thorny subject, I knew. “That must have been tough for you.”
“It certainly wasn’t easy, that’s correct.”
We both let that hang there for a second while we watched the highlights from a baseball game. The Red Sox had beaten the Yankees yet again.
After a minute I started again. “So, how did it go? Did you help Oliver out?” I wanted Lance to tell me he had said nothing of importance, nothing of value, nothing that would help Oliver secure Lance’s job long term.
“I did, I helped him out. I gave him some good advice.” My face must have clearly registered shock, because Lance looked at me. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I just don’t understand how you could have done that, Lance. You know Oliver is trying to take the starting job from you. How could you actually help him do that?”
Lance sighed. “You don’t understand, Charlotte.”
“No, I really don’t!” I started to get worked up. “You talk a big game about how football is the most important thing in your life, you make all these rules that keep you from dating or enjoying all the rest that life has to offer for almost half of every year, but when you have the chance right in your grasp to help yourself out, you practically give it away!”
Lance’s jaw had dropped, and he was looking at me like I had suddenly decided to take off all my clothes. “So yeah, I really don’t understand what’s going through your head! Please, by all means, please enlighten me! Tell me what your grand master plan is, because I’m in the dark here!”
He kept looking at me like that, like he was seeing me for the first time. I loved how he looked at me, how it made me feel all these wonderful and frustrating things at the same time, but right now it was more frustrating than anything. “Please, Lance, at least say something…”
“No, no, I just wanted to make sure you were done.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’m done. Your turn.”
“Because you were going pretty well there for a second. Full head of steam and everything. It was kinda nice to watch.” His dark eyes glowed, and I noticed the room was getting steadily darker as the sun outside went down. I had forgotten how late in the day it was. “Really sexy.”
“Please, don’t, Lance.”
He reached out and covered the hand I had left resting on the mattress with his hand. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t tease me like that anymore. Please just tell me why you helped Oliver Lee out so I understand what’s going on.”
Lance kept his hand over mine, and I had to suppress a moan. It was so nice to have him touch me like that. Of course I was used to touching him by now, given how often I worked on keeping him in shape.
But this was different.
This was intimate.
This was touch I craved from him.
“Listen, Charlotte,” Lance began, dropping his voice down low, in such a way that I leaned forward to hear him better. He must have gotten a glimpse down my shirt at my cleavage, because I saw his eyes drift lower for a second and I could tell his train of thought started to leave the station for a brief moment before the conductor slowed things down and he focused back on me.
“There are two reasons I helped Oliver out. The first is because if he’s anything like me, then no amount of advice is gonna help him. People are like that, athletes especially so. We all think we’re unique snowflakes and that for us the road will be different. The reality is that every path has been traveled already in one form or another, but even if I drew Oliver Lee a map to a championship ring he wouldn’t be able to read it. No one can just get help on this stuff, they have to learn it for themselves.”
I was dumbfounded. “And…the second reason?”
“That is a little more selfish. I helped Oliver because I need him to win some games. I need him to keep the Patriots from being eliminated from playoff contention before I get back. Whenever that is, I need to have this season still mean something so I can go out there and ball like I know how to ball. If giving Oliver a few pointers here and there can keep us in the running, for even a wildcard spot, it’ll be worth it.”
“But…what if you don’t get the starting job back?”
Lance shook his head. “Irrational confidence is just one of the many things a professional athlete must cultivate, Charlotte, if he’s going to have anything even remotely resembling a successful career.”
“Huh?”
He nodded toward the TV, still showing highlights. “You ever see an interview with or a camera shot on someone, an athlete or coach, who has just lost a huge game? Like a championship game?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen that. They look like a deer in headlights.”
“Exactly. They look like their entire world has come crashing down around them.”
“So?”
“So why do you think that is?” Lance got quiet and looked deep into my eyes. When he looked at me like that I just wanted to kiss him all over, all day, forever.
“Tell me why.”
“Because that moment is the first time they’ve actually admitted to themselves there was even a possibility that they could lose.”
“But…they had already lost. Surely it had occurred to them in the waning minutes of the game that it wasn’t gonna go their way…”
Lance shook his head. “Nope. If the game’s not over yet, there’s a chance you can win. Every athlete’s gotta believe that 100%, or there’s no way they can make the decisions necessary to make it happen no matter what’s happening.”
I leaned back in my chair, trying to digest all that Lance had just said, and noticed again that we were still holding hands. “You’re really quite something, you know that?”
Lance chuckled. “Me? Nah, I’m just a dumb jock.”
“No, you’re not, and I don’t know why you keep saying that about yourself. You’re way smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
“I’ve just had a lot of time to think about the nature of competition and team sports.”
“Well, whatever you’ve done, it’s
worked.”
“I guess so.”
I looked up at the clock and realized how late it was getting. “Do you need anything else?” I stood up as I asked.
Lance looked around. “Yeah, would you check out my sheets over here?” He indicated a spot close to him.
I leaned over, confused. The sheets looked fine. Lance caught my head softly in his hand and kissed me on the lips right as I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong with them.
I almost collapsed right there, but Lance’s other arm was there and kept me steady. We kissed like that for a few moments, our tongues greeting each other in the way only they knew how.
“Wow,” I moaned, in between kisses. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to do that again.”
As soon as I said it, I felt Lance pull back, retreat, and our lips disconnected. Immediately I pushed my face forward, trying to get back to where we just were, but Lance had settled back against the pillow. I opened my eyes and I knew the question was clear on my face.
“I-I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Lance forced out. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I groaned. “We both know we want to.”
“I know, and I do want to, but I did it for the wrong reasons.”
This was new. “The wrong reasons?”
Lance sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I did it because I’m frustrated.”
“I’m frustrated too! You know how difficult it’s been being around you-“
Lance stopped me with a look in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, though that’s part of it. I’m just frustrated with my recovery, or lack there of. I just want to be playing football again, and it just feels like I’m not getting any closer.”
So it was a different kind of frustration. I turned away, crestfallen. “I know it’s been difficult,” I mumbled, “but you gotta trust the process, Lance. You’ll be back better than ever soon enough.”
“I wish I could be so sure.”
“What happened to irrational optimism?”
“You got me there, Charlotte.”