Daddy's Game

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Daddy's Game Page 17

by Alleman, Normandie


  He stumbled toward the practice field, steeling himself for the jokes, the bullshit he’d take from the other players. With great effort, he put on his game face, cocky and confident as ever on the outside.

  Only he knew that cloud over his head had just turned from grey to black.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Carmen arrived at Gustav’s gallery a few minutes early. She had recently signed a deal to work with the popular local photographer, Niho, creating portraits for high-end clients.

  Today she was supposed to meet Niho to go over some of their new clients’ proposals. The marriage of their two businesses could possibly double Carmen’s commissions, and she’d also be able to charge more based on the wealth of most of Niho’s clients. Soon she’d be hobnobbing with the wealthy on her own, and she wouldn’t have to rely on Natron for those kinds of contacts.

  Carmen wasn’t sure where things stood with Natron. He’d sent her a long e-mail in which he insisted that he’d never had anything to do with the woman in the photograph. He swore that he was at a party with Clarence and some of Clarence’s friends, minding his own business, in a hot tub, when that girl took off her top and slid against him.

  His story was that he said, “Excuse me” to her and that was the end of it. He said he didn’t remember seeing any photos being taken, but these days when everyone had a phone with a camera on it, pictures could be snapped anytime, anywhere.

  The whole thing sounded farfetched and Carmen thought she’d be a fool to believe him, setting herself up for the whole thing to happen again. She needed to accept that he was a cheater. Most professional athletes were; the temptations were too great and too numerous.

  But her heart ached. She loved Natron Dakers with everything she had. He’d opened her heart and shown her a love she hadn’t known was possible. He cared for her so sincerely, so tenderly, so completely… that it broke her to know he’d never be hers and hers alone.

  The sound of her name being called jarred her from her thoughts and she looked up to find Niho approaching.

  “Niho! Good to see you,” she said, trying not to breathe as he hugged her tightly. The man refused to wear deodorant, and it always amazed Carmen that his fancy clients never seemed to notice the putrid stench that surrounded him. It was as though his eccentricities made him more exotic and therefore his portraits became even more of a status symbol.

  She frowned, hoping her jeans and t-shirt look wasn’t going to stop his clientele from commissioning her. Compared to Niho, dressed in a sapphire-blue velvet suit with purple suede cowboy boots, she looked like a conservative teenager. Hmm. Note to self—jazz up the wardrobe a bit. She could always get Charmaine to take her shopping. Or Nellie. Those two were always shopping.

  Niho took her hands in his. “Cherie, before we get down to business I must tell you how sorry I am to hear of all this trouble with Natron.” He pursed his lips in a funky-looking pout.

  She brushed a hand in front of her face. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Cher, you do not fool me. I know how attached you are to zee football player.”

  Niho’s concern made her uncomfortable, like he was overstepping. She and Niho socialized sometimes, but she wouldn’t say he was a close friend who knew her intimate business. Yet, somehow, whenever you were talking about celebrities, people tended to insert themselves. She’d learned that with Charmaine as well as Natron.

  People wanted a piece of their fame, even if it was a distant piece. It didn’t make sense to Carmen. Fame had never been important to her, but she’d learned that it was a tendency of most people to chase fame. Or famous people.

  “Yes, well, can we get down to business?” Carmen asked, exuding a cheerfulness she did not feel.

  “But of course, but first I have some news for you.” The little man was so excited it looked like he might bust the shiny blue buttons off his suit.

  “You do? What news?”

  He drew close to her and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “I know who took the picture.”

  She nodded. In Carmen’s mind they had moved on to portraits, pictures of wealthy socialites and politicians willing to put groceries in her cupboard.

  He turned his protruding eyes to hers. “The picture.” When she still didn’t seem to get it, he nudged her with his elbow. “Of Natron with the hooker.”

  Carmen felt the blood rush from her face and she found the nearest chair and slumped down into it.

  “Oh, dear,” Niho cried, hovering over her. “Are you okay? Let me get you some water, Cher.”

  Carmen nodded. Why did this have to happen? She’d been hoping to escape her personal problems and focus on work today.

  Moments later Niho returned with a bottle of water and Gustav, who brought several pieces of paper which he fanned her with.

  “Are you okay, Carmen? You don’t look so good,” Gustav said, fussing over her.

  “I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk about the thing with Natron. That’s all.”

  “Oh, but honey, you do. You need to meet with this man who took the picture. He was there.” Niho patted her on the shoulder.

  “Why do I need to talk to him?”

  “Because it’s not what it looks like.” Niho shook his head.

  “How do you know? Who is this guy?”

  “Let’s just say he’s a friend of mine. Going through a divorce, poor guy. He goes to some of the same meetings I go to.”

  “Meetings?”

  “Yeah, you know, honey, the confidential kind.” Niho gestured himself tipping a bottle to his mouth, and Carmen realized he meant Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.

  “So… what do you know?” she asked.

  “I don’t know the whole story, but he said he sold the photo to the tabloids for some money to get a place to live, and that he feels bad because he knows it didn’t really represent the true situation.”

  Carmen forgot all about her work. “How can I get in touch with him?”

  Niho handed her his bedazzled cellphone. “His name is Nicholas Marinovich.”

  Seeing the number, she pressed the call button.

  * * *

  The Vipers won their game against the Portland Explorers. Monday morning Natron showed up for practice thirty minutes early. His team was going to the Super Bowl and he planned on doing everything possible to play in that game. This was his last chance and he was going to do everything in his power to show everyone that he was back.

  Later in the week, he had a meeting with the team doctor who would either approve him to play or leave him benched. But between now and then Natron would be working overtime with Jack to get him in the best shape possible for his potential return.

  Practice that day went well, the coaches integrating him in with the other receivers. When he’d first come back, he’d been given the newest additions to the playbook during the time he’d been gone. He’d made sure to learn every detail of every play and now he was showing it on the practice field.

  His abilities to juke around the defender and make quick cuts were still not where they used to be, but he had improved in other areas. His quarterback even commented on it. “Damn, Natron. You’ve bulked up. What the hell have you been doing in rehab? Maybe I need to get hurt, see if I can come back with guns like that.”

  “Hell, no, Clay. I don’t recommend it. Don’t you be doin’ nothin’ to get hurt. I’ve been working too hard and too long to get back so you can toss me that ball.”

  They laughed and clapped each other on the back as they headed into the locker room.

  “Really, Natron. I’m hoping you get to play,” Clay said.

  “From your lips to Coach’s ears,” Natron said.

  “I know I can count on you in certain situations. Stalcup is good, but he’s not you.”

  Natron beamed. “Thanks, man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Carmen had arranged to meet the photographer at a diner. It seemed like the kind of place people met private eyes in movies, and tha
t was as close as she could get to these strange circumstances she found herself in.

  Sitting in the booth, she knew Marinovich from the moment he walked in. He looked every bit the part of the down-on-his-luck guy who’d been kicked to the curb by his wife and was trying to make sense of the cruelties life often doles out to the already downtrodden.

  The five o’ clock shadow that covered the lower half of his face had turned into more of a two a.m. last-call kind of shadow. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had the lethargic air about him of a man who had given up.

  He scanned the handful of customers in the restaurant before his eyes rested on her. Carmen lifted a hand in greeting and he approached her table.

  “Hi. Mr. Marinovich?” Carmen asked extending her hand.

  He took it, offering the limpest of handshakes.

  “Have a seat,” Carmen offered.

  “Alright,” he said.

  “Thank you so much for meeting me. Niho said you know the real story behind that photograph of Natron Dakers.”

  Before he could speak, the waitress came over and they each ordered a cup of coffee. Carmen felt like she might jump out of her chair and strangle the woman for interrupting them. But since the woman was only doing her job, she refrained.

  The instant the waitress was out of earshot, Carmen leaned across the table. “Tell me, what happened? The real story.”

  “Miss Harris, I’m real sorry about that picture getting out. When I saw it on my camera I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I knew the papers would pay big money for it. And I needed the money something fierce. You see, my wife…”

  “Mr. Marinovich, I understand that you’re in a bad place financially. I realize you have regrets, but the photograph looked like there could not be any other explanation other than Natron was being, ahem,” she cleared her throat, “inappropriate, with that woman.”

  “I agree. But you see, Miss Harris, that was not the case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, I was at the party and once I saw that Natron was there I went to the car and got my camera. I know it was horrible, but when he got into the hot tub in his shorts, I thought I could maybe get a money shot, you know? Because he’s got that awesome physique women love and the Internet guys will pay for pictures of that. That was my only intention, to get a shot of him in his shorts.”

  “Go on,” Carmen encouraged.

  “Except there was this woman there, she was kinda tipsy and she kept hitting on him. He wasn’t interested. She practically followed him around the party and when he got in the hot tub, she followed. When that didn’t get her anywhere with him, she took off her top.”

  “Eeew!” Carmen couldn’t help herself. What a skank.

  “Well, most of the guys were excited and paying her lots of attention, as you can imagine. But Natron, he was trying to avoid her.”

  “Okay.” So far it didn’t sound so bad.

  “Then she tried to kinda sit in his lap or something. I’m not sure because I was back behind some bushes, so nobody would notice my camera and kick me out. Next thing I know he started helping her out of the hot tub. She was so drunk she kinda stumbled and well, judging by my pictures—her boob kinda hit him in the face.”

  Carmen grimaced.

  “Yeah. I think it grazed him. Sorry, but he just laughed it off and some other guy gave her a towel and went inside with her. I didn’t see her again.”

  “So… he didn’t hook up with her?”

  The waitress ambled over with their cups of coffee. “Anything else?”

  “I think that will do it,” Carmen said shortly.

  Marinovich poured two packages of creamer into his coffee and took a sip. “Not that I saw. From what I could tell he’s used to dealing with a lot of attention. It looked like he could tell she was trouble and he was trying to steer clear of her. He was nice about it too. When she started falling down he helped her, like a gentleman. That’s why I felt so bad that my picture made him out to be a cheating bastard.”

  She frowned. “Yeah. Having to deal with paparazzi sucks.”

  He shrugged. “Hey, I gotta make a living. If I hadn’t taken that picture, somebody with their Smart phone might have. Being a celebrity is a tradeoff. You get the money and the fame, but you pay for it by losing your privacy. The public thinks they own celebrities, and in a way, they do.”

  “One hell of a tradeoff.”

  “Like I said, I’m sorry it made Natron come off like a bad guy. He’s not, at least as far as I could tell.”

  Carmen bit her lip thoughtfully. “So you’re sure he didn’t hook up with her? That nothing was going on?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing I saw.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for meeting with me. You have helped put my mind at ease.”

  “Sure,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. “So can I come to the wedding?”

  “Don’t push it,” she replied, leaving a ten-dollar bill on the table.

  “Leaving so soon? I thought maybe we could at least have a piece of pie.”

  She tossed another ten on the table. “Knock yourself out. I’ve got someone I need to see.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That afternoon while Natron was lifting with Jack, a text came through to his phone. His spirits lifted when he saw it was from Carmen.

  “Can you come by tonight?”

  “Sure. What time?” he texted back.

  They agreed on eight and he rushed to finish the rest of his workout.

  Certain that she was still mad at him, he stopped at the store and picked up some flowers on his way over. His mamma had taught him that it was never a bad thing to show up bearing some sort of gift, so he picked out a bouquet filled with yellow roses.

  Carmen let him in, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for the flowers. She set them on the kitchen counter and asked him to sit down.

  “Babygirl, I know you’re still mad at me…” he began.

  “Not really,” she interjected.

  “Wait, you’re not?” He’d been devastated by the rift between them. The only way he’d been able to deal with it was by putting the situation out of his mind and focusing on football.

  Carmen told him about her conversation with Marinovich.

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me. So that’s how that picture got taken. That’s nuts.” He shook his head. “Damn, I can’t go anywhere.”

  “Apparently not. Especially places where there are half-naked women.” She frowned.

  “Hey, babe, I didn’t know women would be takin’ their tops off. I was doin’ my best to stay away from that tramp.”

  “Alright. Well, maybe you should steer clear from Clarence. Every time you two get together, naked women seem to be involved,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “That’s probably not a bad idea. He’s a good guy, but…”

  “And what is this about you proposing to me that I saw on Entertainment Nightly? Don’t you think you might want to mention that to me first?”

  “Baby, now don’t be mad about that. Why would that make you mad?” he asked, perplexed. Being proposed to, isn’t that what women wanted? Hell, he’d never understand women.

  “Because first of all it sounded like a publicity stunt, since you’ve never even talked to me about our future. And second of all because if you did mean it, well, it sucks always being the last to know.”

  “What do you mean always being the last to know?”

  Her eyes began to well up with tears. “It’s like when you were hurt and I was at the bottom of the list. Everyone in America with a TV knew you’d broken your knee before I did. And then, when they wouldn’t let me see you…”

  He got up and sat beside her. Draping an arm around her, he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. That reporter started asking me about you and I just told her what was in my heart. I’m sorry that upset you.”

  He hugged her close. She felt so good in his arms. He’d misse
d holding her. What he’d said in that interview was true. She meant the world to him.

  “Will you forgive me?”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For being stupid.”

  She giggled. “Sure, I can forgive you for that.”

  “I really do see a future with you, babygirl.”

  “And I can’t imagine a future without you, Daddy.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of future it will be,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Carmen asked, twisting her lips in confusion.

  “Just that I don’t know what’s going to happen with my career, Carmen. I just don’t know,” he said, rubbing a hand over his bald head.

  “Daddy, you are going to make it back from this. You’ve worked so hard, and you’re so talented.”

  He shook his head. “That may not be enough…”

  “You’ve got to get all that negativity out of your head, Daddy. I believe in you. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

  She turned her face to his and he bent to kiss her. She believed in him. With her, all his hopes and dreams seemed possible, and this fueled his passion for her. He needed her, not just as his sexual plaything, but as his partner, the woman he wanted by his side always.

  He pressed his lips against hers. She opened to him, invited his exploration of her mouth. Her arms encircled him and she gently scratched his back through his shirt. Damn, it felt incredible to hold her.

  He pulled back and gave her a sharp look. “There is another matter we need to discuss.”

  She raised a brow quizzically.

  “You and Charmaine burning my stuff.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Yeah, sorry about that, Daddy.”

  “You should be. Not only was that impulsive, but that fireman was right. You girls could have caused a real fire and hurt somebody.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry about your things…”

  “Shit, I can buy new things, Carmen. You know, if I’m not supposed to hang out with Clarence, maybe you shouldn’t hang out with Charmaine. That girl’s a menace.”

 

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