Dethroning Crown

by Lila Felix

  “He is, but they are saving up for when their grandchild is born. But we’re gonna call and maybe one day I could come back here and visit.” My voice intonated without my permission. It sounded like I was asking her if visiting would be okay.

  Lyra lifted her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose as if the notion of me coming back and extending the hope of there ever being an ‘us’ gave her pain.

  That’s all I was doing by extending promises to her—causing her more and more pain.

  Yet I craved her like a drug I couldn’t put down.

  Maybe I could do this.

  Maybe I could visit and make this work somehow.

  Tippi had fixed everything for me and with the funds I’d made from the games I’d missed, she’d paid off most of my debt and got my credit somewhat fixed. She’d also found that my accountant and agent were taking a bigger portion of my money than they were supposed to. She’d put a stop to it.

  “One day sounds like never, Crown. Don’t say things you don’t mean. It just makes it worse.”

  I sunk down to sit beside her on the bed and almost wished that I was who I’d been so many months ago, years ago, it seemed like. That Crown wouldn’t have given two shits about Lyra. That Crown would’ve packed his bag a week ago when he was perfectly capable of travel just to get away from these people who he considered in a lower class than him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes change and before I knew what had happened she snaps on me and I realized the depth of the hurt—the depth of the pain—the depth of the interruption I’ve caused in this precious soul’s life.

  She’d taught me so much. Mainly, to get over myself.

  And here I was, extending the collateral damage.

  “You’ve gotten so good at sorry, Crown. Almost as good as your acting.”

  Something, some unknown is swirling around us and I don’t know how to stop it, hell, I don’t even know how to survive it.

  “Why are you even staying here one more day? You’ve been well and running again. Blake said you’re fine to go home, I heard him. So either you’re looking to start something we both know you can’t finish or you just enjoy making me hurt like this.”

  “How am I hurting you?”

  I was such a rat bastard for asking that question. She and I both knew that regardless of the fact that the words hadn’t been spoken, more was going on here than a deal, or a friendship, or anything that resembled a platonic relationship.

  “You made me fall in love with you. You know what you did!”

  There was no answer I could give Lyra that would make any of this good or heal her heart. She was right. I knew what I was doing—not because I had the faintest idea of how to make someone fall in love with me, but because I knew from the beginning that I would be her demise one way or the other.

  Her stance was cement, stiff and cold. She’d never seemed so closed to me before.

  I couldn’t take it.

  Taking three steps, I grabbed her shoulders and made a cage around her torso. She tried to fight me, wriggling and worming herself. But I just squeezed harder until finally she gave in and for what would probably be the last time, let herself be the person I knew so well.

  The woman who’d given me a smile she gave no one else.

  The woman who fixed old broken things and gave them a new life—including me.

  The woman who named her dresses.

  From my soul, I’d never let her go.

  We stayed that way for hours, silent but saying so many things.

  The next morning I left her there, without a word. We’d said all we needed to.

  Crown Sterling was a coward.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Crown

  Grass Clippings

  It was all just like I remembered it. The grass smelled the same. The roar of the crowd didn’t seem as loud, but the kaleidoscope of noises boomed in my ears all the same. My uniform was a little snug from all those carb-filled meals of Lyra’s and instead of being angry, I smiled at the memories the sensation conjured.

  It wasn’t the same. It was all different now. Somewhere out there in the stands she was sitting in a crusty seat waiting to see me play. There was no amount of praise or jeering from the crowd that could undo the sensation that knowledge left me with.

  She was there—to see me.

  Slurping down the electrolyte gel, I fell back into habit and chucked the container on the floor and then immediately regretted it. I reared back, away from my own action. I picked it up, still listening to the coach’s tired pep talk.

  “I’ve got it, Sir.”

  Ellis—Elmer—shit, I didn’t know his name, reached for the trash in my hand and tried to take it.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you before.” The words just barreled out of my mouth lately.

  Apologies were the worst. They made me feel stripped open.

  But after they were spoken, they released me from my chains.

  He looked around stunned and then cleared his throat. “Busted a lot more than your knee, did you?”

  I chuckled in agreement. “Yeah. Busted my pride too.”

  “Sometimes a soul gets pieced together wrong. But you can’t just fix it—it has to get torn apart and put back the right way.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  If I hadn’t had my head up my ass, I probably could’ve learned some good lessons from that man.

  “Are you two gonna wax poetic all day or you gonna let me finish?”

  I sat down. “Sorry, Coach. I’m listening.”

  “Look, Crown.” Already I didn’t appreciate being called out in front of the whole team. “I know you’ve been gone for a while and you’ve got some girl in the stands, but I need your head on the field—and I meant the bigger head.”

  The room laughed at his antics, but the only thing I could think of was how in the hell he knew that Lyra was in the stands.

  I hadn’t told anyone.

  “I got it.”

  “Good. And you’ll be playing only in the last quarter this game. That’s final.”

  It was then that with my new lease on life intact that I realized what was going on. This was karma—payback. These people, all of them, my teammates, my coach, even the assistant coaches—they all hated me. The reason they had never called to check on me. The sneers I was getting at that moment told it all.

  They hated me—all of them.

  The thing was—I didn’t blame them one bit. More and more I’d learned to despise who I was before even if I didn’t know who that made me now.

  With the prayer said, we lined up to get on the field. Lyra had programmed the National Anthem onto my iPod so that I could learn the words and as I got onto the field and saluted right on time, I could sing them all—off tune, but at least I knew the words.

  When I sat on the bench, I scanned the crowd looking for her section. I wouldn’t be able to see her, of course, but I had to know where she was. I’d gotten her the best seat I could since she didn’t want to sit in the section where most of the players’ wives and families sat.

  I shouldn’t have been able to spot her, but I did. It was like my eyes needed to see her just as much as the rest of me did.

  She wore a white dress and among the crazed fans with painted faces and team tshirts on, she couldn’t be missed. And even from the field, her beauty was undeniable.

  I contained my cringe as the game started without me. Long gone were the people singing my praises, instead they all belonged to Davey now.

  As much as I denied the feeling, I craved the attention again.

  I needed their cheers flooding into my ears making my ego bleed for more.

  And even though my knee was pumping and throbbing in anger at my hasty attempts to practice, I would give anything to be on that field again.

  All the doubts began to finger through my conscience.

  You’re nothing but soccer.

  This is all you are.r />
  You were born and trained for this.

  You think reading books and going to school will replace your need to be praised?

  You are nothing unless you are playing the game.

  Maybe all those doubts were right.

  “How ya feelin’ champ?” The slither of Gina’s voice replaced any weirdness I was feeling about not playing.

  “I’m feeling like I should be playing.”

  “And I’m feeling out of the loop. All this time, the only thing that’s keeping you hanging on is your link to that Cajun cutie. Yet, you fail to tell me that she’s sitting in the stands cheering on her man.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Come on, Crown. You know the deal around here. It’s not that big of a city. When one of our local celebrities farts crooked, we know. You two were spotted together at the hotel.”

  “Local celebrities?”

  She laughed, but I didn’t find anything funny. “Really? You play soccer in a country that likes football. You’re famous, but only as far as I can spit. And until you start playing again, you’re a once was celebrity. But we can fix that quickly.”

  The players around me had snickered several times at her attempt to cut me down. More and more I realized that the truths I held so dear to me, truths that I relied on to make myself feel important were simply false.

  They were empty—just like me.

  “We can get you back on top. There’s a way—just until you can get playing again.”

  Despite my loss of reliance on what she was offering, I found myself needing it just as much.

  “Tell me.”

  She slipped an arm around my waist, along my back, and leaned into me. “No, you tell me. Just a couple of pictures—that’s all we need. I can get you back on top in no time.”

  An influx of my old feelings took me over.

  I would do anything—anything—to further my career.

  My eyes darted to the spot where Lyra sat, giving Gina ample fuel.

  “Well, would you look at that? There she is—Miss America.”

  Though my insides protested the idea and wanted to stop her, I didn’t.

  I just sat there and watched as the scales tipped, but whether or not it was truly in my favor, I didn’t know.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lyra

  This Eyeliner Doesn’t Run

  I didn’t care if he wasn’t playing, it was enough to be there in the stands, looking at him on the bench. There was a marked limp in his run as the team took their places on the field and on the benches after the National Anthem.

  And Crown knew every word.

  He must’ve been practicing hard enough to hurt himself.

  I’d questioned myself over and over again about why I was here.

  I was here because I was freaking in love with Crown Sterling, even though I could never have him and by the time he realized that he was in love with me, we’d be senior citizens.

  If he was even in love with me.

  He’d have to stop loving himself so much first.

  Down on the bench I could see him talking to some woman. She wasn’t a coach and after only a few exchanges, one of the other people on the team said something to her that made her leave. She was an older woman with helmet hair that had been teased into oblivion.

  Whatever Crown had said to her hadn’t made her happy—that or whoever made her leave.

  The crowd wasn’t as large as I expected. Halfway through the game, the teams went back into the locker rooms and I was left to my own devices.

  “Hello.” Someone sat next to me and it didn’t register that they were actually talking to me until a hand laid on my shoulder.

  “I said, hello.”

  It was the woman from before, who was sitting next to Crown.

  “Hello.”

  “You’re Amber, correct?”

  Amber. She was calling me by my model name.

  “And you are?”

  “I’m Gina—Crown’s agent. Listen, I’m so glad you and he came to an agreement. He really needed the publicity.”

  “Sure.” She was in my personal space and her eyeliner was melting. Her arm had encircled my shoulders while she spoke and maybe it was her perfume choking me, but I didn’t tell her to pull away.

  “Since you know his career is on the line, you won’t mind smiling for me, will you?”

  I knew that clicking sound like I knew the palms of my hands. A camera. Cameras. Tons of them and right in front of me. The people around us were cheering—they didn’t notice that my world was caving before me as they rallied together over a goal that was scored.

  Before self-preservation could take over, the treason crept up my spine and took hold of my heart.

  How could he?

  That was what he was doing—telling her where I was so he could get one last publicity soiree out of me before we were done. I should’ve known better. Grabbing my purse, I took the first exit I could find leading downward to the parking lot. There must’ve been a million stairs and everyone seemed to have the same idea that I did about getting out of there as soon as possible.

  I gritted my teeth together, demanding that the tears stay put until I could release them.

  A line of cabs hugged the curb outside the stadium and I jumped into the first one I saw and barked at the driver to take me to my hotel.

  I should’ve known better.

  There was nothing to be had with Crown Sterling but a deal and heartbreak.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” The cabbie asked. Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, I noticed that I had let myself cry.

  “I’m fine. Just get me there as quickly as you can.”

  “Sure.”

  In minutes, I was at the hotel and in my room before I could really comprehend the weight of the situation.

  He’d made my choice for me, hastened my schedule and forced my hand to act before I was ready.

  Six weeks of Crown Sterling had completely obliterated years of planning.

  I would stay in California until my flight the next day and then I had to leave—not just California, not just Louisiana, but everything.

  It was all over.

  Taking off the dress I’d worn to the game, I put on some yoga pants and a tank top and with the door locked and my anti-stalker routine run through twice, I curled up in the king-sized bed and bawled myself into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Crown

  Brats

  I was the last one in the locker room because I was the slowest. Coach hadn’t even let me play.

  I felt like a bratty kid who’d been left out on Christmas morning.

  “The pictures will hit the papers tomorrow. Thanks for the tip.”

  My heart palpitated in my chest, thrumming the rhythm of guilt and regret.

  “I told you to leave her alone.”

  She ran an artificial fingernailed finger down my chest. “And my job is to make my stars shine. Your light had gone out a long time ago, Crown. Don’t you want those fans shouting your name again? Because the last time I checked, they are shouting everyone else’s name but yours.”

  I scoffed. “That’s because I’m not playing yet. I’m Crown Sterling.”

  She laughed then, actually laughed, a squawking witch of a laugh. “I know who you used to be. You used to be a cut-throat player who wouldn’t give a shit about how he treated a woman. That’s why we practically had to pay girls to go to the parties and screw you.”

  A bass noise boomed in my ears. “What are you talking about?”

  “Anyone who was anything to you was paid to be that way, Crown Sterling.” She hissed my name. “The girls at the parties were paid. Your maid, your cook, me, your manager, hell, even the coach of the team has taken a check or two to continue putting up with your bullshit. Because you’re a hell of a player, but no one can stand to be within a mile of you. So grow a pair already and let’s run this dating the model thing into the ground. Let’s face i
t. You’re nothing without your connection to this girl.”

  The truth of everything that I’d suspected, but was too much of a dickhead to own up to slammed into me. She was right. No one liked or respected me. The people around me were either paid to act like they did or were part of the team and didn’t want to stir up trouble.

  It had been there in front of me all along.

  Crown Sterling wasn’t shit.

  Crown Sterling meant nothing.

  Crown Sterling was nothing.

  She was right about one thing. I was nothing without Lyra.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who? The girl? Probably on her way home. Poor thing, she was like a deer caught in the headlights when the cameras started shooting pictures. I hope they got some shots of the tears welling up in her eyes—not to mention that priceless chin quivering.”

  I’d never wanted to slap a woman until then.

  “I quit.”

  “Good, it’s about time you quit fighting me. Now give me a quote that I can give the papers.”

  I got right in her face so that my height would intimidate her as much as possible. “That’s my quote. This should make your job a lot easier. I quit.”

  “You can’t quit. We own you. You’re under contract.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, you were in charge of getting me such a shitty contract in the first place, so why don’t you figure out a way for me to get out of it. You’re well versed in weaseling.”

  I didn’t even take my bag, my thousand dollar cleats or my uniform. I left it all—the career, the false fame, and the plastic life right there on the bench.

  The only thing left was to find out if I could save the only thing that meant something to me—the only thing that made any sense at all in my life.

  Lyra.

  I got into the car and drove straight to the hotel. If she was still there, she would talk to me. We would work this out. I was good at apologizing. I’d done it so much that it wasn’t even that big of a deal anymore and most of the time it felt good to admit that I wasn’t perfect.

  Imperfection equaled independence.

  I got to her room and knocked on the door.

  There was no answer.