Color Blind

by Leigh Lennon

  I’m greeted by the handsome smile of my sister’s man or whatever he is to her when I slip into the town car. Candace is five minutes behind me and I'm not sure I want this time with Lang so he can grill me on behalf of his best friend.

  “Eliza,” he begins, “we have some last-minute shit to sort out on the forty-minute drive to Santa Clara. I’m not sure why we stayed in San Francisco when the new fucking stadium is in fact not in San Fran. But I get that the Santa Clara Forty-Niners doesn’t sound as catchy.”

  I’m happy that we’re talking logistics and geography and not about the elephant in the car, so to speak. I think too soon as his eyes shift from the documents in his hands. “Before Candy gets here, I need to tell you Iz is blowing up my phone like a fucking grenade. He’s demanding your number but I wouldn’t give it to him without your permission, even though he’s my best friend.” In his tone, I notice this conversation isn’t quite done. “And I promise, after you give me an answer, yes or no, the subject of Iz will be off the table.”

  Heaving out a large deep breath, I reply, “I appreciate it, Lang. Just send me his number, I’ll reach out to him later, and feel free to tell him that.” And true to his word, Lang hands me several documents, items I need to get Hudson, the arrogant and mighty flirty football player, the best contract I can. This is me in my best domain, the overly aggressive lawyer who can squeeze water out of dirt.

  Fucking hell on a hotdog bun, that shit was harder than it looked. At the end of the day, I got him twenty-seven million a year, which even Lang and Hudson said was too greedy for a five-year contract. It’s not half bad, especially with it being a hundred percent increase to what they’d paid him when he signed as a backup for Iz four years ago.

  It helps that he’s a free agent when Lang had three other teams on speed dial, already agreeing to twenty-seven million a year. Hudson wanted to stay in San Fran, or should I say Santa Clara as Lang kept on and on about during the negotiations.

  The L.A. Rams was one of the teams wanting to sign Hudson Barrett and before I can say something, Candace says, “Well, fuck, I’d like some time to negotiate with Sean McVay.” I love this Candace, the overly loud and spunky sister of mine. Only I see the absolute mess she is when she lets the insecurities surround her.

  “Um, Candy, babe, I’m right here.” Lang’s voice is a little flirtatious as he drops a kiss on her head. When I see these two together, the age difference isn’t even a blip on my radar.

  “I know, he’s just one of my five.” Of course, he understands the phrase and laughs when he whispers something in her ear and she blushes.

  Turning from her slightly, he declares, “So, let’s go out and celebrate this little payday of ours, Parker sisters.”

  Waving them off, I reply, “You two go out, live large, and have fun. I just got an email from another agent needing to secure my services. I’m leaving for L.A. to do some work.”

  “Liz…” Candace begins and then trails off.

  Reaching for her hand, I continue, “I’m fine, hon. I’m the older sister here. No reason to worry about me.” Tipping her head toward mine, I say, “Okay?”

  She shakes in agreement with her brows pulled together, tugging me in for a hug.

  On the trip back to the hotel, I make the travel arrangements. I rush in, packing quickly and securing my suitcase in Lang’s town car, who’d reluctantly agreed to wait for me. As we pull out, I see the familiar Jeep of Iz’s park. When he climbs out, it’s not long until he disappears from my sight when my car makes its way to the airport.

  16 years ago

  My eyes flutter open and next to me, actually wrapped around me, are the strong and dark arms of this man, the man that has allowed me to forget the worst day in my life, well, one of the worst days.

  It’s only a moment until kisses trail my neckline down to my collarbone. Bringing his face up to me, dropping a kiss on my forehead, his expression immediately shifts from bewilderment to agony. Before I can ask the reason for the sudden change, my hand trails down his stomach and lands on the reason for his current torture.

  “Someone is awake this morning,” I add, stroking his erection.

  With a wicked grin lacing his beautiful face, he begins, “My rod of iron needs to get reacquainted with your love channel.”

  His deep chuckle elicits a loud and obnoxious laugh from my own mouth. Somehow, his cheesy names for our private parts don’t stop the fact I’m horny for this man next to me. It takes just long enough for him to don a condom and his rod of iron is eliciting the most pleasure in my love channel.

  17

  Israel

  I find myself almost pounding on her door at the hotel. I’m surprised I haven’t done damage to it. It’s right then I see fucking Hudson Barrett walking down the hall as if he just landed the prom queen. In his defense, though I hate the fucker, with my first large contract, I did the same thing. All I’d heard from Lang today was that Liz killed it with the negotiations and got Hudson what he wanted. I want to be happy for the jackass but my mind is boiling with fury. With my jaw clenched, I continue pounding on the door.

  “Hey, Iz,” he says, and I try to ignore him. “You looking for my hot lawyer?” He’s making it hard to overlook the fucker. “She left about ten minutes ago in one of Lang’s town cars.”

  I internally shudder because I remember seeing a town car leaving as I was pulling in. Fuck, she probably saw me. Twisting my body, my tone indicates to the rookie I helped train that I’m in no mood for his games.

  “Barrett, where’d she go?”

  Now, his smile widens and I look down at my clenched arms and though this person in front of me is ten years younger than I am, he’s still a bitch punk and I can take him.

  “Calm down, Iz. I’m not trying to start anything. I mean, Eliza, she’s hot and all, but it’s very evident who she belongs to. I have no intentions of getting in between that, though I tried and she shot me down.”

  Now, it’s my turn to grin like I just ate the fucking canary. “Anyway, Iz, like I was saying, I think she went home. She had all her luggage and said something about a work thing that came up.”

  Part of me wants to chase her to the airport, buy a ticket, and follow her home, but I have Nev. As much as I need Liz, Nev is and will always be my number one in this world, though Liz is a close second. I lick my wounds, knowing we’ll come face-to-face very soon. That she can fucking bet on.

  After a quiet dinner with Mama and Nev, I find myself sitting with her on the side of the bed in the bedroom Mama decorated solely for my little Sugar Bug. “Daddy,” she pauses for a second, giving me a nervous smile. “You like that girl, right? The blonde that looks like Mommy?”

  “Well, Sugar Bug, Liz and I used to date. We broke up shortly before I met your mommy.”

  Her lips pinch together and her brows furrow, bringing her eyes close to one another. Sticking her head up with curiosity, she replies, “So, you picked Mommy because she looks like your ex-girlfriend.” Her tone isn’t accusatory and it’s certainly not mean, but curiosity has always been a trait in my girl.

  I loved Kendra. That was never in debate, but how do I explain this to my daughter? Just in that second I have a light bulb moment, looking around my daughter’s very pink room. “Let me ask you this, Nev. What’s your favorite color?”

  Spreading her arms out wide, as though they were encompassing the entire room, her little devilish smile shows through when she says, “Duh, Dad.”

  “Okay, gotcha, it’s pink. If you go to the store to pick a dress, what color will it be?”

  “Pink, of course, Daddy.”

  “So, you know what you like, right?” I ask, hoping this analogy is understood quickly.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, when you start liking boys, it might be the same way.” Her head crooks up and I know my girl enough, I continue before she can question me. “I’m not talkin’ about pink boys, I’m just sayin’, you might know you like boys with brown hair and green
eyes or boys that are tall or thin.”

  Her eyes taper in on me and I let her understand what I’m saying. “You’re telling me you like girls that look like Mommy.”

  It’s not so simple, but for a nine-year-old-old, it really is. “That’s right, I have always liked girls that are blonde, tall, with light colored eyes.”

  “You like white girls then?” Only my daughter would be this direct, but she comes by it naturally.

  “I guess I do. Are you okay with that?”

  Taking her little hands in my large palms, she gently raises it to her cheeks. “Daddy, I like seeing you happy. After Mommy moved in with Paul, you were so sad. Then Granddaddy died and you didn’t play football. I was sad for you. I like Paul, he makes Mommy happy. If Eliza makes you happy, I like her a lot.”

  Be still my heart, my daughter might make a small tear escape from my eyes. “I do. I guess you could say after all these years, I still love her.”

  Nev sits up on her knees and reaches out her hands until they cup my face. “Then, Daddy, don’t let her get away.”

  Leaning down to drop a kiss on my daughter’s forehead, I reply, “I’m not planning to, Sugar Bug.” This is the truth. I’ll somehow win my girl back.

  The plane ride home is quiet and somehow the condescending asswipe known as my replacement isn’t on the private jet. I’d been secretly hoping what he shared with me last night about Liz leaving early was not true and she’d be on the plane. No such luck.

  Leveling out in the sky, Nev is asleep on the couch to the left-hand side of the jet while Lang works on his laptop at a swivel chair and table. Nev will inherit her height from both her mother and me, seeing as how at nine, she’s already five-five and stretches out across most of the couch. With Candy engrossed in a book, I take the opportunity to pick her brain about Liz.

  She’s as sweet as the south makes their iced tea. But when she looks up from her story, her eyes narrow in on me. In them, I see hell will freeze over before she gives up too many goods on her sister.

  Before I can speak, she interrupts me, “What did you expect, Iz? You promised her the world last night. Promised to take care of her.”

  After going toe-to-toe with Candy on Friday in front of my mama, I really didn’t think over my next words, “And the last time I fuckin’ checked, it wasn’t a crime to promise to take care of her.”

  Lang’s eyes lift at my choice of words at his girl but he only grins as he fucking did when my mama lit into me.

  Candy puts down her book, her eyes narrowing in on mine, in the same pissed off way Liz would when I pushed my luck with her. With Candy’s eyebrows tapered together, she almost shouts at me. “And this is where you fucking don’t know her anymore, you arrogant ass. If you did, you’d know she was promised that by my daddy under the pretext of giving you up then promised that by her deadbeat fucker of a husband. Now, you promise her the world, too. I understand with you, it’s different. You don’t want to control Liz, but in her eyes, it’s the same.”

  I open my mouth to say something, or at least try to understand what Candy has revealed. I don’t need clarification. Everything she’s opened up about concerning her sister is pretty black and white. Just like the two of us.

  16 years ago

  It worked out well that we were already in the L.A. area, since Stanford is in the Rose Bowl. I’m due to meet up with my team the day after Christmas. Now that our relationship has moved to the next step, a very physical one, I can barely keep my hands off of Liz. Mama has made me sleep on the couch. Every night, after Mama and Dad head to bed, I find my way to my old room.

  Each night, Liz denies me. “Iz, we can’t in your parents’ house.” Sure, I might not be able to insert my rod of pleasure into her love channel but after having Liz, I still need something. Every night, I make Liz come undone, as her touch is enough to undo me at the same time. Having set the alarm by four a.m., I’d stumble out to the couch. Not that I’m fooling my dad, but it’s now the only way I can sleep. It’s time to drop hints that come our sophomore year, we’ll be living together.

  18

  Liz

  My cell phone on my desk is staring at me, like it’s not an inanimate object. I have a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup in one hand as I’m staring at the new contract that’s been sitting in front of me for two hours. My brain is somewhere else; certainly not on work. Thankfully, Iz hasn’t been bothering Lang, or maybe he has and Lang’s telling him to fuck off.

  My mind drifts to a lifetime before and how one season of watching Iz throw the game-winning touchdown still sends shivers down my spine. Every toss, every running play, and all the times he had to make a split-second decision is burnt into my memory, still after all these years. Out of all the games I watched of his, either in the stadium or on TV, still calls to me as the best days in my life; well, except for Friday night.

  That’s when I started living again, in Iz’s arms. I push this most recent memory out of my mind and remember the Rose Bowl of 2003. It was a big deal for Pac Ten teams to have the Rose Bowl back for their rival with the Big 10, since the BCS took over the national championship the year before, something all fans had a hard time accepting. As my memory takes me back to Iz in those tight pants and his number four jersey he’d had since junior high, he’s as vivid as if he was playing in my office right now.

  Iz is relaxed and calm ninety-five percent of the time, but he’s cocky. At the ripe old age of fifteen, he was told he’d be a big name in the NFL one day if he kept out of trouble and trained. He worked hard, there’s no doubt of that, but having the attention he had, made him the arrogant bastard I still see in that bright white smile of his.

  It’s not until I hear the ding of the elevator that my stomach tightens. Honestly, I partially want this elevator arrival to be him. Then my most sensible side wants it to be the FedEx man, though it’s Sunday.

  For this reason, I brace myself until the six-foot wonder I know as my little sister strolls in the room. “I knew you’d be here, trying to hide.” Her little smirk beams at me as though it’s to say, ‘I know you slept with THE Israel Laita.’ Rolling her suitcase behind her and throwing her pink Tory Burch purse onto my couch, she falls back on it like it’s the one responsible for her trust fall. Relaxing in the comfort of my sofa, she props her feet up, still in four-inch Louis Vuittons. With a smile that could rival a bride on her wedding day, she continues, “So, what is new with you? Slept with any football stars lately? I mean, if this is a trend, I know another football player that would slip his pig skin into your end zone.” It’s been obvious that Hudson Barrett wanted more from me until he realized Iz has always been the one.

  My sister and her phrases somehow sound cruder with the little hint of her southern accent she lets float from her lips when she’s not careful. “That’s nice, Candace. Great. Next time I negotiate for Hudson, your little visual will be all I see.”

  She apparently isn’t staying long because she stands, strolling over to my desk, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Ah, sis, you’d be lost without me, you know that, right?”

  No truer words have ever been spoken.

  My alarm wakes me to “Feels like Teen Spirit,” and though it’s five in the morning, a little smirk cracks at the side of my face, knowing that Nirvana was one of Iz’s favorite bands. Being from the south, I was big into country music but my year with Iz filled me with a love of grunge and alternative music that has been a constant in my life since.

  Pulling my feet out of the bed, I wonder if it’s been long enough and if I’m ready to face Iz. Leaving him to wake on his own was the pussy thing to do, but fear won out when my mind screamed this had been the worst idea since marrying Neal.

  My body, on the other hand, had not been this satisfied in years. I snicker at my inner monologue, grabbing my workout pants and bra. As I make my way down to the in-house gym, the smile doesn’t break from my face. I feel it there, like I would when you step on gum, it’s apparent and annoying. But the truth is: Iz is
stuck to me like that sticky shit.

  Facing my nemesis, the stair stepper and treadmill in one, I try to sweat out the need I have to touch Iz one more time, having his big hands take hold of me, slip himself into me as though I’m molded for him and him alone.

  The machine is only ramping up my desire to see Iz, to put this to bed, and then I snicker again. I have something else I want to put to bed when it comes to Iz. It means I have to come clean and this is a secret I’ve hidden for so long. Can I risk losing the two people I love the most in this world?

  After a quick shower and a change into my favorite dress, deep purple and just enough of my ample ass showing, I start the day with a new outlook. They will understand. They’d have to understand. Love is love and I did it solely for this reason.

  Rounding the corner from our little apartment to the double doors opening to the main business part of the building, I have my hand hovering over Iz’s name. I’d input it the second Lang gave me Iz’s number. I stop, just on the other side of the doors, and decide to bite the proverbial bullet. Sending Iz this message may just be the start of something new for us. It’s time to act like the fucking adult I am. No longer am I the scared little girl. It’s seems simple, in this moment, to come clean—to share everything.

  I start to type.

  Me: Hey, it’s Liz. Let’s talk.

  That’s simple enough, right? I hit send as I hear Candace scream and realize nothing in my life has ever been that easy.

  “Oh, fuck no. You take your scrawny little weasel ass out of here or I’m calling the cops.” The next thing I hear is a large bang into what I assume is our filing cabinets. I run toward my sister, the one person I’d give my life for and stop dead in my tracks. The worst nightmare of my life is standing in front of me.