by Hannah Ford
After a little bit, she heard the water turn on and it occurred to her that the interview had started.
I could watch it while he’s in the shower. Just a few minutes. He’ll never even know.
Faith felt butterflies in her stomach as she realized that she was going to do it. Once the decision had been made, she wanted to act quickly. She went and grabbed the remote and turned the television on.
Then she turned to the channel.
It nearly took her breath away.
Chase was staring at her from the screen. He was handsomer than ever, and she couldn’t believe that this was the same man who was naked in the bathroom a few feet away from her right now.
And nobody but me even knows he’s here.
“I lied about everything,” Chase said, speaking directly to her from the TV.
“But you’re telling the truth now,” Meghan Cowell said from off camera.
“That’s right,” Chase replied.
The scene switched to a clip of Chase holding up a Nationals jersey as the owner of the team clapped nearby.
In voice over, Meghan’s voice narrated. “Chase Winters has had a wild ride since being the number one draft pick, signed by the New England Nationals and widely considered the heir to the throne of a long line of great franchise quarterbacks. But all has not been well since his time in the professional ranks.”
The scene switched to a shot of Chase walking with his head bowed, his eyes downcast. Eerie music played in the background as the narration continued over the scene, with Chase in slow motion, looking beaten and weary.
“After a blazing start to his season, Winters has suffered a series of crushing defeats that have critics proclaiming him another flash in the pan who couldn’t cut it in the big leagues. And with rumored personality clashes between Winters and other players, brewing resentments, and poor performances as the starting QB—it seems that Chase Winters may have finally run out of the luck that brought him to such dizzying heights.”
The shot dissolved back to Chase being interviewed. He looked calm, his hands clasped in front of him, almost too relaxed given what was being discussed.
“Would you say that perhaps you weren’t ready for the pressures of fame and fortune?” Meghan asked him.
His expression registered minor annoyance, but the camera captured it all too well. “My whole life has been pressure, since I was a little kid and I had to take care of my younger brother. Had to stand up and fight bigger kids, even adults, just to survive in the streets of Detroit. This is nothing compared to my life before. If I can survive my childhood, I think I can pretty much survive playing football for millions of dollars.”
The scene switched again, this time to shots of angry fans booing and hissing.
The narration resumed. “Winters sounds confident. But fans’ perceptions of the young and charismatic quarterback are starting to turn ugly as the scandals and controversy surrounding the man grow. And as if that isn’t enough, Chase Winters is unleashing a completely new round of accusations to the mix. It’s a story that Chase swears is true, but so far, no outside corroboration has been found.”
Faith’s heart began beating faster as it switched back to Chase talking about the incident with Velcro Jones and Monique at the hotel. Meghan Cowell asked Chase to walk through what happened, and so Chase did as requested. Detailed, calm, and accurate—Chase told the world exactly what had gone on between the four of them at the hotel that night. The drinking, the party, and then the argument, which seemed to have led to a violent incident in the elevator.
Faith was transfixed all over again as Chase told the story and her own memories of the night’s events came back to her in vivid sound and color.
She leaned forward, her hands clutched the fabric of her shirt until her knuckles turned white.
Chase described Velcro pulling Monique out of the elevator unconscious, and then he was continuing to describe what had happened—
“Hey, what are you doing?” Chase asked as he stood in the bathroom with the door open, steam coming out and entering the rest of the hotel room.
He was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else.
“Sorry,” Faith said, and instantly turned the TV off.
He stared at her, no expression on his face. “So you watched it anyway.”
“I figured, you were in the shower…” her voice faded as Chase waved her explanation off.
“Whatever,” he said, coming out and dropping the towel, getting into his clothes again.
“Are you mad at me?” she said.
He looked up. “Of course not.”
“I don’t want to upset you. I was just so curious.”
“I already said it’s fine. Seriously.” He continued getting dressed, and seemed genuinely not to care.
But Faith didn’t feel right. “I’m just worried about you,” she said.
“Worried about what?”
“You’re very distant,” she told him. “You seem…I don’t know…a little worn out.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, of course not. I just want to be here for you.”
“You have been, but you can’t fix it,” Chase said.
“I know.”
“Are you sure you know?” he asked. “Because I keep getting the vibe that you want everything to be okay. And it’s not. This is going to be a rocky ride for awhile.”
Faith nodded. “I understand.”
“Want to walk to the corner and grab some ice cream from the convenience store?” he said. “It’s just a block away, we should be fine.”
Faith smiled. “That sounds lovely. Like a date.”
He laughed. “Sure. A date.”
They went out into the night together, holding hands.
And as they walked and she felt Chase’s powerful, strong presence, she realized it was just as good a date as any other.
All I need is him.
That’s all I need. Remember that.
When they went into the convenience store, the man behind the counter was watching the end of the Vox 60 interview on a small television while chewing on a lollipop stick.
His mouth dropped open as he saw them come inside. “Oh my God,” he said.
“Nope, just two regular people,” Chase replied. “Two people with a hankering for ice cream. You got some?”
“Freezer’s in the back of the store,” the man called out.
“Thanks,” Chase said, and headed back.
Faith followed him. They walked to the freezer and rummaged through the various flavors of ice cream. In the end, they both got peanut butter cup. And then they went to the front and Chase placed the pints on the counter near the register.
The cashier was still staring at them, his eyes as wide as headlights. He rang them up, while Chase’s interview played in the background.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” the cashier said. “Is it really you?”
Chase laughed and glanced at Faith. “I don’t even know how to answer that.”
Chase paid and the man bagged their ice cream, handing the bag across to Chase, along with his change. “Dude, could I at least get a quick selfie with you?”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Chase said. “Not a good time.”
“What about a snapchat, at least, so I can send it to my Dad?”
“Maybe next time,” Chase called back, as they walked out of the store, his hand grabbing Faith’s as the door opened and they went through it.
“But no one’s gonna believe me when I tell them you came in here!” the cashier yelled.
Chase and Faith were both laughing now.
It was less than a block back to the motel, and when Faith happened to turn back and look where they came from, she saw the figure of the cashier, standing on the sidewalk.
“Is he filming us?” she asked.
Chase turned and saw him, but the man darted back into the store. “What an ass,” Chase muttered.
“Everyw
here we go, it’s going to be like that now,” Faith said, as they went back into their room.
“Might be time to purchase some disguises,” Chase said, and she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “You know, mustaches. Fake noses. Fake beards. Shit like that,” he continued.
“Maybe plastic surgery too,” she said.
He opened one of the pints and began digging into it with the plastic spoon. “Damn, that’s tasty,” Chase said, as he ate.
Faith grabbed hers and similarly began eating.
They ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor across from each other, smiling and laughing like two teenagers, eating their ice cream and cracking dumb jokes about joining the witness protection program.
* * *
“My stomach aches,” Faith moaned, as she tossed the empty pint to the side and crawled onto the bed.
“That’s what you get for devouring the whole carton,” Chase said.
“You finished yours like ten minutes before me,” she whined.
“Yeah, but I’m also about three times your size.”
“Details,” Faith groaned. She felt a little tired, come to think of it.
There was noise coming from outside, she realized, as she lay there without talking. Voices. Engines. It sounded like a motorcade was going by or something.
“Do you hear that?” Chase asked.
She turned over and looked at him, worried now. “You don’t think Club Alpha is out there—“
“No,” he said, but his expression wasn’t reassuring. “I wish I had my gun,” he muttered.
“Chase, you’re scaring me,” she said, scooting up to a sitting position. Now her stomach ached for an entirely different reason.
He slowly walked to the side of the window and then used his hand to lift the curtain just enough for him to peek through, without exposing himself to being viewed from the outside. “Shit,” he whispered.
“Is it them?” Her stomach twisted nervously.
“It’s the fucking media. They found us. Damn it.” He let the curtain drop.
Faith felt a little relieved, in actuality. The press wasn’t nearly as frightening to her as the goons from Club Alpha. The media wouldn’t kidnap and shoot them.
But Chase seemed to feel quite the opposite. He was pacing the length of the room now.
“We’ll just hide out and eventually they’ll leave,” she said.
He stopped and looked at her. “Do you believe that?”
“No, not really,” she admitted. “But what else can we do?”
He went to the window cautiously, then peered outside once again. “The crowd is growing by the second.”
And she could hear it, too. The voices and sounds from outside were getting louder.
“They don’t know what room we’re in, do they?” she asked.
He continued to peek out the window from an angle, so as to not be seen. Suddenly he stepped away and pressed his back against the wall. “There’s a goddamn paparazzi right outside,” he said. “The guy practically was sticking his camera lens in my face.”
“So they do know we’re in here,” she said.
She realized that idiot from the convenience store must have ratted them out to the media. He’d been filming them just as she’d suspected, and he had probably tweeted it out to everyone who would listen.
Chase stood there in the center of the room, his jaw twitching, hands clenched. “They’re going to just get more and more dangerous,” he said. “A crowd that big.”
Now she could hear a chant starting.
WINTERS! WINTERS! COME OUTSIDE!
And then, another chant started, and it was even louder.
GO BACK TO DE-TROIT! GO BACK TO DE-TROIT!
They were practically singing the chant, and it sounded like dozens if not a hundred people.
A succession of knocks on the window and then a loud pounding on the door made her jump and scream.
“Goddamn it,” Chase said, his cheeks turning purple and a vein pulsing in his forehead. “I’m going out there.”
“No!” she cried, frightened. “Don’t do it, Chase. I’m scared. There’s too many of them and they sound wild.”
“I’m not scared. Bunch of knuckleheads that will run as soon as I go outside.”
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t go.”
And then he was throwing open the door and walking outside, and she got off the bed and followed him. She couldn’t risk being separated right then.
When she stepped outside behind Chase, Faith was shocked by the sheer size of the crowd that had gathered in front of the motel. There must’ve close to one hundred people, including plenty of reporters and media people with cameras.
As soon as Chase came into view, a huge chorus of boos erupted from the crowd.
A police car pulled up with flashing lights, followed by another and another. The cops got out of the cars and started to try and push the crowd back.
Chase began pointing and yelling at various hecklers. “Come here,” Chase said to one large guy who was screaming profanities at him. “Come here and say that a little closer to my face.”
Faith grabbed Chase by his hard bicep, which felt like iron right now. “Don’t let them bait you into a fight. You’ll get arrested.”
One of the officers walked over to him. The police officer was short and skinny, and he looked fresh out of the academy. “Sir, we’re trying to get this crowd under control and you yelling and stirring them up isn’t helping.”
As more people gathered, Chase only grew more tense. “Do you think you and these other cops are going to control a rowdy mob of two hundred?”
“Just let us do our job,” the officer said. “You’re Chase Winters. Correct?”
“Look at me and look at them,” Chase said. “What do you think?”
The cop stared up at him. “You should go back inside the motel now. Your presence is only encouraging them.”
“We’re leaving immediately. But I need to get to my car.”
“I’ll escort you,” the officer said. “Follow me closely.”
As the officer moved slowly forward, he pointed at the crowd and yelled for people to disperse.
The mob was getting louder and more aggressive now. Most of them were shouting terrible things in Chase’s direction. Calling him a liar, a loser, a coward.
People had begun throwing trash from a nearby barrel on the curb.
“Stay behind me,” Chase told her. “Keep close. Hold onto my shirt.”
She grabbed hold of his shirt from behind and hung on for dear life as the angry mob closed in around them.
The cop tried pushing people back, but the crowd would quickly collapse in around them again once he got rid of any individual troublemaker.
“Fuck you!” someone shouted and then spit on Chase’s neck. Chase turned and tried to grab the person, who retreated.
Soon, it was a giant melee. People had begun tossing cans and bottles at Chase, and things were smashing on the concrete.
Faith screamed.
Chase grabbed her and pulled her into the crook of his arm. He whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”
She clutched him, flinching as the sound of bottles breaking nearby greeted her ears. People in the crowd had even begun fighting one another.
The police were totally overwhelmed.
As they got to Chase’s car, the people were now trying to attack him and grab him. They were even trying to grab Faith.
But Chase was so much stronger than any of them.
The moment someone actually put their hands on Chase, he would literally take them and throw them so hard that they would fly comically to the ground. Sometimes they’d knock other people over like bowling pins.
One man grabbed Faith’s hair and Chase snatched the man by his fingers and quickly bent them backwards. The man let out a high-pitched shriek and then fell to the ground, screeching like a child.
Chase opened the car door. “
Get in. Hurry.” A small rock hit him in the back of the head.
He didn’t even flinch.
She was frozen, but Chase quickly got her moving, helping her into the car, and then sliding in next to her. He shut the door as people began pounding on the car, grabbing it and rocking it as Chase inserted the keys in the ignition.
A moment later, the engine revved to life.
The crowd was going insane.
People were jumping onto the hood and dancing. Someone kicked out his headlights.
Chase gunned the engine and the crowd dispersed a little, giving him just enough room to begin driving.
As he surged forward, people darted out of the way. But others were still spitting, throwing food and drinks, hitting and kicking the vehicle.
Just before they were able to get out of the parking lot, someone snapped off the side mirror on the driver’s side.
And then they were finally free of the crowd, which surged after them, but couldn’t keep up.
After a minute, the crowd was already being left in the distance.
Faith sighed. “I thought we might die out there,” she said.
Chase looked at her. “Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay. Just a little rattled is all.”
They continued driving in silence for a bit. Chase pulled into a lot with an ATM. There was nobody else in the lot.
“Going to try and withdraw some cash,” he said. “I’m running low.”
Faith smiled, trying to appear brave. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll be right here, waiting.”
He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then left the car running, as he ran to the ATM. She watched him, her heart still pounding.
Faith was still taken aback by the ferocity of the people that had gathered outside the motel.
It truly had been an unruly mob. All they’d needed was torches and pitchforks to complete the picture.
How could they hate all him so much? Had his interview gone so poorly as that? Shouldn’t they have been sympathetic to what he’d gone through?
And then it hit her.
They don’t believe him at all. Nobody believes him.
They think he’s a liar.
It was a difficult moment for her when she realized that. Not only had Chase taken a huge risk in going on television and telling the whole truth about his past, but he’d also blown the whistle on the team trying to cover up Velcro Jones’s actions.