by Jess Bentley
“David I’d like to thank you for welcoming me,” Javier starts in his South American accent. “But don’t be so glad about it, because now there’s a new chief in town.” Javier mocks shooting a pistol and then pushes up his imaginary cowboy hat. I politely smile, and can’t do a thing about it. Neither can I walk off when Javier is addressing me. A hundred cameras are on both of us.
“It’s good to see that you're still playing soccer even after you lost the World cup final to my team,” he grins. It’s football, you fool, not soccer, I grit my teeth. The crowd laughs, thinking this is a part of the banter. And I'm the butt of jokes here, I think.
“In fact, I'm thinking that maybe now, I’d like to win that MVP award too,” Javier turns to the crowd with his head bobbing, his arms wide open and they cheer him on.
“No chance of that,” I say in the microphone but the sound of my voice is drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
“Maybe if I'm generous, I’ll make sure not to score too many goals against your team,” Javier laughs and again the crowd follows his lead. I’m finding it difficult to keep the fake smile on my face. I’m bloody itching to just walk across the stage and punch Javier. Through the corner of my eye I spot Scott, Shauna and Willie and none of them look pleased.
“Don’t be so sure Javier,” I say while still maintaining a polite face.
“Oh I'm sure. I'm always sure. That is why I'm the best player in the world,” He raises his arms in victory and once again the crowd cheers him on. I’m an inch away from losing my cool. To distract myself I take a bottle of water that’s lying on the podium and take a sip. I clear my throat as I know I’m expected to speak.
“Well, the American league is different. It’s not as easy as it looks, perhaps, and one has to prove—” Javier interrupts.
“I've got nothing to prove. Only small players worry about proving things!” He makes a dismissive gesture in David’s direction. “But if you want me to prove something, then I will prove that I can beat your team once again. Just like I've done before.”
My knuckles are white, holding on tightly to the microphone. I’m surprised that I haven’t already flung it toward Javier’s head.
“There is no shame in being second best, David. Señoras y señores, give my friend here a big cheer!”
The crowd claps for me and I smile outwardly but inside I’m raging. Handing off the microphone, I steadily get off the stage. Shauna and Scott quickly guide me to the green room backstage and shut the door in the face of outsiders.
“Are you okay, David?” Shauna asks, massive concern dripping off her face.
“I thought you were gonna beat him up right there,” Scott chuckles and then gets a stern look from Shauna.
“It’s okay. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll beat him up where it matters. On the football pitch.”
Carrie’s words had really made a mark on me. A few months ago, I really would’ve picked up a fight with Javier in front of everyone. But this time, I kept my cool and did the right thing. Carrie was right. I have to let my performance do the talking. I wish I had someone like her to talk sense into me six months ago. That hurt feeling of losing the World cup final comes back to haunt me again.
Although I want to go back home and be by myself, Shauna refuses to let me, and the three of us along with Willie go out for dinner. Their company cheers me up quite a bit as we don't talk about work or soccer but about random things.
After a fantastic meal, I slowly cruise in my Ferrari, lazily making my way home. I plan to sleep right away as there’s a training session scheduled for early morning. Now that the coach is finally looking at me in a favorable way, I want to remain in his good books. Especially since I have to make sure that I play every game better than anyone else, especially Javier.
That stupid wanker, Javier. No way I'm losing this, no way! I’m in high spirits, a new resolve building inside. I turn on the radio and am switching around to find something worth listening to when a car pulls up toward my left side. It’s a silver Maserati. I feel a pair of eyes on me, as if someone is looking at me from inside the car.
As I squint to see clearly, I see a woman, a rather good-looking woman, sitting on the passenger’s side and next to her, in the driver’s seat, is Javier Romero. He rolls down the window and grins at me. Then he points his index and middle fingers to his eyes and then on to the road, as if telling me to keep my eyes on the road.
The engine of my car roars as I put my foot down on the accelerator. Fuck, he wants to race me. The traffic light is still red and I know that I should not let Javier bait me into this. I keep staring at Javier, that stupid grin permanent on his face. Again the sound of a roaring engine breaks through.
“You’re a coward!” Javier shouts. Just then the light goes green and he speeds off.
Fuck it!
I put the pedal to the floor and chase after Javier, through the streets. Thanks to the late hour, there’s not much traffic on the roads but I’m sure that sooner or later, the cops will catch on to us. Still, a man has to do what a man has to do.
It’s not long before I catch up with him and soon enough I leave Javier behind. My car is simply more powerful.
“Fuck yeah!” I throw my fist in the air in triumph. Javier is still trying to catch up and I can see him in the rear view mirror trying his best, but failing miserably.
“Get used to losing, you wanker. From now on, I'm going to hand you a beating every time we face each other.” I laugh, my eyes still on the rear view mirror. I even ran a couple of red lights but I don't care. All that matters is that I beat Javier. This adrenaline rush is what he live for, what he work so hard for. Winning feels amazing, even if it’s something as silly as an impromptu street car race.
I’m heading downhill, when from the corner of my eyes, I feel as if I see something rush across from the other side of the road.
The first thing I notice is the young woman on the pavement, shouting in panic. All she has in her hand is a leash. Why the hell would anyone walk around with a leash? In a moment I know why as my peripheral vision widens to notice a dog rushing across, right in the driving line of my car.
In a split second I turn the steering and dodge the loose animal but the speed I’m driving is way over the legal limit. The car slowly goes out of control, my head spins and I crash head first into a tree by the roadside.
Chapter 91
Soccer superstar David Adams involved in a car crash. Possible DUI, reads the headline.
My breath gets stuck in my throat. I texted him last evening, before he was about to go on stage. What happened after that? I thought he was with Shauna and Scott.
I've to go see him.
Picking up my bag, I dial Shauna’s number on the way out of the office.
Within half an hour, I’m parking my car at the medical center in Santa Monica that David is at. There are a bunch of sports journalists camped outside and I have to make another call to Shauna, who sends in one of her assistants to get me in. There’s a crowd of people in Anaheim Knights soccer shirts waiting in the hallway and as I enter the room where David is staying, another man in team uniform storms out of the room.
The mood inside the room is glum as Scott, Shauna and David sit motionless with long faces. David looks at me and smiles grimly. His leg is in a full cast and a pair of crutches lay on the left side of the bed, Shauna and Scott on sofas on the right. My heart sinks. For a soccer player, an injury to the foot is the worst thing ever. I’m lost for words and if it weren’t for the presence of the other people in the room, I would rush up to him, hug him tightly and do my best to comfort him.
“How bad is it?” I finally muster the courage to speak.
“The doctor is still checking the reports,” Shauna says as she stares down at the floor.
“You should’ve laid low man. This is not good,” Scott shakes his head.
“Well, then, you shouldn’t have sent me to that damn event then,” David shouts back.
&nbs
p; “Man, you shouldn’t have let that bastard Javier to bait you like this.”
David has no reply to that and just stares daggers at Scott instead.
“It’s just unfortunate. No one is to blame. Boys will be boys,” I can tell that Shauna’s trying to be positive, but the tone of her voice betrays her nervousness.
“I'm just glad you're okay,” I say softly, sitting on a chair on his side.
“Thank you. Finally someone gives a toss about me and not about what the media and the coach will say,” he says sarcastically.
“We all care about you, David, but we have to think about your career too. You heard the coach. If what we fear is true, you might not play again this season,” Scott explains, trying to mollify David.
“Okay let’s not be negative. We still haven’t heard from the doctor,” Shauna interjects.
David for his part is low, engulfed in a cloud of doom and while he may look normal from the outside, I can tell that he’s anything but. I slide my chair closer to him.
“You'll be okay,” I smile. “I'm there for you as a friend if you need me.”
“Thank you, Carrie. That means a lot.” A ghost of a smile comes upon his face but vanishes quickly as the door opens and the doctor enters the spacious hospital room.
“Well doctor…” Shauna asks, a mountain of concern visible on her face.
“I'm afraid I've some good news, and some bad news,” the aged doctor, who has a kind, fatherly face, replies. “The good news is that it's not as bad as we initially thought. Considering the impact your body took, it’s a miracle that there is no meniscus tear, and neither is there any harm to the anterior crucial ligament. There is however a severe grade III injury to the knee ligament and that could take about three to four months to heal, I'm afraid.”
Scott mouths a curse word and Shauna’s head sinks even lower. David’s face remains devoid of any emotions—he just stares into nothingness.
“Still, I recommend that you undergo physiotherapy and then we’ll run some more tests. The picture will be a lot clearer then,” The doctor leaves the room after expressing his sympathies.
“This does not look good, does it?” He finally says in a cold, demoralized voice. My heart melts when I feel the pain in his eyes. Just when he was about to turn it all around, this happens.
“I'm afraid it does not,” Scott speaks up. “Division playoffs are next week. If the Knights win that game, then we’re looking at the final which is a couple of weeks after that. Even if you recover in a month, you'll still have to pass fitness tests from the team doctors before they can consider you ready for action.”
David just shakes his head.
“I had a bad feeling when I heard that Javier was back. Nothing ever goes right when he is in my life. Looks like once again, he won.”
“Maybe his team will lose their playoffs,” Shauna says.
“No, they won’t,” David replies, with a faraway look in his eyes. “He’s here to win and is very motivated to prove that he can do better than me in the league. No one knows him better than I do. He won’t lose.”
“Shit, man! I shouldn’t have left you alone last night. This wouldn’t have happened then,” Scott slaps the arm of his sofa in frustration.
“Shut up, Scott! Now is not the time,” Shauna cautions him.
“When is it time, then, Shauna? This man is hell bent on ruining his career and I should just shut up and be polite?”
“It’s not his fault!” Shauna protests.
“Then whose fault is it, Shauna? The car wasn’t driving itself!”
“Enough!” Shauna shouts.
There’s finally silence in the room when David speaks.
“Bloody hell, you lot are making me feel like a fucking arsemonger.” He gets up, balances himself on the crutches and hastily makes his way out of the room.
“And Scott, you’re fired,” he says before he leaves the room.
Scott gets up to follow him but Shauna holds him back.
“Let him be, Scott. We were out of line there. He needs us to be his rock and we were anything but.”
An uncomfortable silence settles in the room.
“Perhaps we all should keep our worries to ourselves and build a positive atmosphere around him,” I say softly.
“And who made you his best friend?” Scott demands.
“I didn’t have much choice since he has no other,” I snap back. For once Scott doesn't come back with a sharper reply.
“I'm sorry. This thing has me on the edge,” he says.
“We’re all on the edge, Scott, but we aren’t going around attacking everyone around us. Besides, he just fired you so why don’t you go home now.” Shauna gives him a stern look, and Scott just sinks further in his chair.
“You guys think I'm only in it for the money, and that I don’t care about David. That’s not true.” He looks straight at me. ”He’s one of the very few clients that I do care about. He’s not what the media portrays him to be, and that pains me. I'm always looking out for him and it frustrates me that he is hell bent on self sabotage.”
Shauna nods along.
“Which is why we have to be there for him. I haven’t known David for long, but apart from you guys and Willie, he has no one to count on in this country. Can you imagine how lonely it must feel?” I stand up. “I mean even if he’s fired you, you can still be there as a friend for him.”
Scott just smiles.
“If I had a penny for every time he has fired me…”
“Like that time we were all in Mexico,” Shauna chuckles.
“And that time at Disneyland. Who fires their manager at the happiest place on earth?” Scott says, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “He’s a loyal guy. That’s what I love about him.”
“Me too,” Shauna says, her eyes staring at the ceiling as if she was reminiscing.
“Now that you guys have come back to your senses, how about we go find him?” I propose.
“Good idea,” Shauna gets up. “Scott, you wait here to see if he comes back, and me and Carrie will take a look around. Carrie, you go left—I’ll go right,”
I search around the hallway, even looking around staircases to see if David is sitting anywhere by himself. I feel worse for him every moment and my own problems are seeming teeny tiny compared to the troubles he has right now. It becomes obvious to me how deeply I care for him. I want him to be healthy and happy. I can also sense how alone he must feel, in a foreign country, without any of his friends or family to care for him.
Finally I find him in the kids’ section of the hospital. Through the glass, I see him talking to a kid who’s wearing a bandana on his head. The child is smiling as David plays around with his toys, apparently making up a story. It takes a moment for me to recall that this boy was among the group of kids who visited David at the practice the other day. He’d looked feeble even then, hidden under a big baseball hat, but I’m devastated now to realize that this child was likely really sick.
He seems to be having a great time as David entertains him. That puts a smile on my face.
“I thought he’d be here,” Shauna’s voice distracts me.
“I saw this boy at the training the other day.”
“Yep. David met Joel a few months ago at a game. The club, you know, they do this kind of thing for kids who are not well. They give them free tickets and organize a meet and greet,” she explains. “This kid really impressed David with his soccer knowledge and once he discovered that this poor child was suffering from leukemia, he decided to pay for his treatment.”
“Really?” My eyes grow wide. Though I knew that David was a kind person, I wasn’t expecting him to be this generous.
“Yep. It’s a pity, too, as this is a great story for the press but David refuses to leverage any PR out of it.” Shauna shakes her head. “He doesn’t want to destroy this kid’s privacy.”
“I think that’s very noble of him.” My admiration for David had just grown by leaps and bounds.
He’s almost the polar opposite of Max.
“It’s my job as his PR rep to make sure that the rest of the world thinks of him as noble too, but he won’t let me,” Shauna sighs. “Anyways, let’s go on.” She moves toward the door to the room but I stop her.
“Maybe we should let him be in there for a while. Just look at how peaceful he looks taking care of that child. Let it have him a moment of peace for now?”
Shauna nods and both of us make our way back to David’s room.
He is a good person and he doesn’t deserve this bullshit. I feel so useless. I want to make it all better for David. More than that, I’m surprised I’ve started to care so much about him.
Much more than I can afford to for any man.
Chapter 92
Although we’ve texted and spoke on the phone, I haven’t seen David for the last few days and I’ve missed being around him. Late at night when I’m alone by myself, I tell myself not to fall for him, and that I’m just a good friend and caring for a lonely man in a foreign country.
Instead of seeing him, I’ve just been polishing the final draft of the feature article on David. It might be my first masterpiece. I give the rough draft one more read.
It’s funny. In the beginning, I didn’t want to work with David at all and had pretty much decided that he was the definition of evil. I was under the influence of Ana and Max. But here I am, writing an article that shows him as he really is: a wonderful human being.
Max, however, is still awol. He’s a guy who’s hands on with any business he’s running. He constantly proclaims that he’s going to be the savior that leads Coyote magazine back to its glory days and yet, he’s been missing in action for such a long time. It’s uncharacteristic of him to be away from work for so long, unless he’s placing his bets on bigger stakes. Not that I care.
An hour before the end of the day, I get a text from David, calling me over to Santa Monica where he’s undergoing the last bunch of tests to determine the exact nature of his injuries. From all of our conversations I figure David’s not expecting any good news and I want to be there for him.