Love At Every Size

by Jordan, Jesse

  I shake my head, trying not to cry at Cassandra’s relentless assault. Finally, I look up at her, sniffing. “I care about him, Cassie.”

  “And I care about you, babe,” Cassandra says. “But if you’re going to keep this up, I can’t imagine a good future for you.”

  “I... I want a good future,” I whisper. With him. But he won’t say how he feels for me. Is Cassandra right? Am I being an idiot led around by the clit?

  “Then drop this cis-boy and come to the meeting tomorrow,” Cassandra says. “We can go out afterwards and get some cheesecake, and fuck it, I’ll take you shopping to the adult shop, they’ve got a new vibrator in there that’ll make you forget Louden Graham and his supercock in one minute flat. Or....”

  “Or what?” I ask, and Cassandra shakes her head, getting up and going to my door. “No Cassie, or what?”

  “Or else you’re not going to be welcome at BoPo any longer,” Cassandra says, looking over her shoulder at me. “I won’t let you hurt the other girls as long as you’re caught up like this, Denise. You’re my friend, but they are too. Think about it, and I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Cassandra leaves, and I stare at the door, horror and shock on my face. Lose the group? Lose all my friends that I’ve made over the past few years, the people who accept me for who I am?

  Is Louden really worth that much?

  Chapter 21

  Louden- 23’9”

  Twenty three feet, nine inches. It’s a hard distance, and I suspect one of the reasons that I didn’t get drafted by the NBA. The NCAA three point line is four feet closer, and it’s in those four feet that I went from being a deadeye shooter to being average. I could drain twenty foot jumpers all day.

  Still can.

  Twenty four feet makes me average, and in today’s league of long distance sharpshooters, I just don’t fit in. Still, I’ve taken the seven years since I graduated to conquer those four feet as a personal challenge.

  The ball racks are lined up at five points along the outer curve of the three point arc, all arranged with a cone at exactly twenty three feet, nine inches. I’ve got forty balls, eight shots at each station, and while I really shouldn’t be taking the time to do this, I’ve found the three point practice to be calming for me.

  When I was trying to get my three point motion down, Coach had me watch a video about military snipers. I could see the connection, and there was something that one of the instructors said that resonated with me to this day. He said that when you were sniping, there was no place for emotion, no place for outer thoughts or even for inner thoughts. There was space for just the target. Everything else was supposed to fade away, to the point that the shot happened totally by itself.

  So for me, this is like meditation, helping me cool my nerves. Denise didn’t respond to the e-mail I sent around lunch time, and Billy’s out of town for his middle daughter’s wedding, so I don’t really have anyone I can talk to.

  Even tryouts were simple, and I made the announcements to the three that we’re inviting to summer workouts. Petersen made the list, but that doesn’t give me any way to relieve my whirling mind.

  Instead, I have the balls, a clear plexiglass backboard, and a bright orange hoop that’s twenty three feet, nine inches away. I pick up the first ball, squaring my feet just like I’m supposed to. I’ve shot a basketball a hundred thousand times in my life I bet, and the motion is automatic, ingrained into my muscles after twenty four years of finding myself in this game, in this one space where I’ve always felt comfortable.

  My elbows are in tight, just like they’re supposed to be, my right elbow pointed at the basket while my left is flared out just a little bit, the leather in my fingertips alone as I extend, my knees and hips, my arms and shoulders all working together, my wrist adding just a little bit of backspin on the ball as it leaves my hand.

  I watch as the ball soars through the air, rattling inside the rim twice before bouncing out, but I don’t have time to be disappointed. Instead I pick up the next ball, trying to make the tiny adjustments that I messed up last time, and watch as this one goes through the net with the swish sound that I’ve loved from the first time I ever heard it, dropping into the ball cart that I’ve put underneath to catch most of my makes.

  The world becomes simple, a repeating pattern of ball, chamber, extend and shoot, repeat. All my worries drop from my mind as I move from the first rack to the second, and the only thoughts are ball, chamber, extend, shoot.

  Ball.

  Chamber.

  Extend.

  Shoot.

  I don’t even know if the balls are going in or not, I’m in a zone that I rarely get to, and when the last ball drops into the cart I close my eyes, wishing I could do it all again.

  I hear feet behind me and I turn to see Jessie and Naila, both in their team warm-ups, looking like they want to say something. “Yes, girls?”

  “Coach,” Naila says, tugging at the braids that she likes to wear, all black right now instead of the Mount Reston colors she favors during the season, “listen, we were talking and... well, we wanted to say we think what Coach Kelly’s doing is really fucked up.”

  I purse my lips, going over to the side of the court where I pick up one of my misses and carry it over to the ball cart, tossing it inside to join its friends. A quick glance tells me I hit on at least thirty of my tries, close to my record of thirty three.

  “So how many people know about this?” I ask, not wanting to argue with them. “The whole university?”

  Jessie shakes her head. “No, we heard Coach Kelly talking about it on the phone with a friend of hers after our last conditioning session,” she says. “We haven’t told anyone else, I swear!”

  I nod, going to get another ball that I see underneath a chair by the baseline. “I gotta say, it’s hard to believe you two. You were the ones giving me shit down in the weight room about who I’m dating. Why should I believe you now?”

  “Come on Coach, that was just... this time it’s serious! We were giving you shit because you’re one of us still, we were just having a little bit of fun!” Naila says, before elbowing Jessie. “Right, Jess?”

  “Yeah,” Jessie says a little more quietly. “And, well, some of us...”

  She goes quiet, blushing beet red, and Naila finishes for her. “Coach, a lot of the girls, we think you’re hot as hell, hotter than a lot of the guys on the teams even. You’re like, hot but you’re mature and cool like that and shit. So yeah, we gave you some shit, but that’s because we’re kinda jealous of this woman Denise. I mean, I remembered when you did the presentation for the women’s b-ball team, I could see it in the way you looked at her. You got it bad for her, Coach. Fuck, I wish my boyfriend looked at me that way, his trifling ass.”

  I swallow, touched by their honesty. “Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter though, does it? You girls can’t go to the university about it, you’ve got no proof, and I wouldn’t ask you to risk your spots on the team and your scholarships anyway. Your degrees are more important than, well, what I’m being asked to do.”

  “It’s bullshit though, Coach!” Jessie says, her face hot. “All that bullshit about fair play, about doing the right thing? I mean, we got our asses handed to us last year, but I was still proud to be part of the team! Now though...”

  “Don’t you even think of quitting, Jessica Gardner!” I growl, getting in her face. She’s short for a basketball player, only about five eight, and I glare down at her. “Don’t you dare fuck up your chance at a good degree because of this! That is your life we’re talking about here! You promise me that, goddammit!”

  Jessie swallows, then squares up, looking into my eyes with all the ferocity that a twenty year old can muster. “I will if you promise me the same thing, Coach. You don’t quit, you don’t fuck this up. It’s your life we’re talking about here too.”

  I nod, offering her my hand. “I promise. And hey, maybe I’ve got something up my sleeve. I’ll see you two in the weight room Mo
nday.”

  Jessie shakes my hand, her grip firm. “I promise too, Coach. Oh, and if you are there Monday, I promise. No more talking shit about your girlfriend.”

  “Good,” I say with a light chuckle. “Or else I might just have you join the boys for conditioning next time.”

  * * *

  My collar bites at my neck, and I really wish I hadn’t tied my tie quite so tight. I tug at it a little, getting at least a little bit of relief before I put in my microphone, which I decided to wear instead as a lapel pin, it sort of looks like one there too.

  I still can’t get in touch with Denise, the last time I tried her number it was busy, so I just left a quick message and drove over to Julian’s, hoping that I don’t look too much like the idiot I feel like.

  I check my watch and I see that I’m still a bit early, so I go in and head to the bar itself, the place is still quiet. I can understand, this is the sort of place that heats up after nine o’clock. Right now there’s a few people who are here for after work drinks and that’s about it. I slide over to the bar, where the barkeeper notices me and comes over. “What can I do for you?”

  “Just a soda water, I’m driving tonight,” I say. “Listen, can you ask the security guys to keep an eye out in my direction? There might be issues with the lady I’m meeting with later.”

  The bartender takes out a coaster which has some instructions printed on it. “Here’s our system. You need help, call a waitress over. You tell her you want to order a Mister Rogers, a security guy will make sure you get to your car safe. You order a John Wayne, and security’s there in thirty seconds.”

  I nod, and drop a ten on the bar. “Keep the change, thanks for the info.”

  Melissa shows up just as I’m halfway through my drink, which the bartender added a shot of ginger syrup to, making it look a little bit like a whiskey highball. I remind myself that no matter what, I need to come back to thank this man.

  “Well stud, you’re looking hot,” Melissa says as she approaches. She’s wearing a tight black dress with six inch high open toed shiny ‘fuck me’ heels that bring her taller than me by a few inches. She’s playing the dominant game, and while the rational side of me does say she looks like a million bucks, I’m barely able to not choke on my soda water.

  Melissa runs a hand over my chest, purring as she gropes my chest and squeezes my left pec. “You know, all the stress has done wonders for you, you’re buffer than ever. And not an ounce of fat.”

  “I’d rather have a little bit better sleep and more fat,” I reply, finishing off my drink. “I’m more than my body.”

  Melissa laughs cruelly. “Listen to yourself, would you? Your fat girlfriend is soaking into your brain, Louden. Come on, let’s dance.”

  “Not feeling like it yet,” I protest. “You know, all that stress wears me out. Can we just sit down and have a drink first?”

  Melissa’s eyebrows knit, but she shrugs. “Play it your way, I’m still going to see what your body’s made of soon enough. Yo, barkeep!”

  The bartender comes over, giving me a bland look as Melissa orders a vodka martini for herself, and he turns to me. “And for you, sir?”

  “Same as last time, for now,” I reply, lifting up my glass. He gives me a slight nod and disappears, keeping his back turned while he mixes up my drink and brings it back. “Thanks.”

  “On your tab, sir. Enjoy,” he says, going off to another customer.

  Melissa, who paid cash, gives me a surprised look. “You have a tab?”

  “I’m here because I have to, not because I want to, Melissa. The least you can do about it is pay for a few drinks at the bar,” I protest, sipping my drink. “Now, where do you want to sit?”

  She leads me over to a corner table that overlooks the dance floor, the lights dim enough that she can be as lewd as she wants without catching any attention. She takes advantage of it too, running her foot up and over my calf before I can pull my foot away.

  “Still playing hard to get, I see,” she says, grinning. “Come on Louden, it won’t be all bad. Like I said, I spent two years in Europe, there are things that we can do tonight that you’ve never even dreamed of before. You should see the little technique I learned in Paris.”

  “I’m more of an All-American type,” I reply, sipping again at my drink. It’s bitter, just ginger syrup and soda water, but at least it’s not alcohol. “Melissa, why are you really doing this? I mean, really, it’s not like there can’t be men lined up around the block for you. Hell, we’re close enough to Washington that you could have your choice of a lot of Beltway high powered men.”

  Melissa drains half her drink before setting it down, giving me a look down her plunging neckline as she does. I know she’s trying, but honestly, not a damn thing is happening downstairs. All I feel is disgust, and a desperate hope that Denise has already started her meeting with the AD and the Chancellor.

  I slip my hand into the pocket of my pants, sliding my phone halfway out before tapping speed dial and sliding it back in before Melissa notices. Thankfully she doesn’t, the lights are too dim and she’s too intent on trying to seduce me.

  “Louden, half the fun of when I do this is taking a man who isn’t into it and making him my fuck puppet,” she says, sitting back. “It’s all a game to me, one that I’ve played before. I find them, I force them into fucking me, I string them along until they’re as addicted to me as they would be to meth, and then I move on. It’s more fun that way.”

  My stomach does a slow flip-flop as I consider the horrible monster in human flesh in front of me. Evil doesn’t begin to describe her. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” she says, smiling sweetly. “Oh, don’t even try, Louden, I can see it on your face. You’re asking yourself how I got to be this way. You think I’m fucked up. You think that there’s something wrong with me, that maybe somewhere in my past someone did me wrong, and who knows, maybe someone did. I can’t put a name to a face though, for as far as I know I’ve always liked playing this game. Hell, I lost my virginity to my high school coach, and no, he didn’t come after me, I went after him. Same way I’m coming for you. I spent a year and a half getting him so hooked on my body that he was in tears the last time I fucked him, same as he was the first time I fucked him, but obviously for different reasons.”

  “So that’s your game,” I say. “What did you have on him?”

  “You mean besides him being married and me being a student? That was all I needed. Every man has a weak spot, Louden. Yours is that you’re too damn private, you let everyone think you were a player when you aren’t, because you’re so dedicated to protecting your daughter and her mother. It’s admirable, really. Not that it’s going to stop me from giving you two Viagra and turning you into my real live sex bot.”

  “So that’s the deal, then? I fuck you, or you...”

  “Or I cry that you’re sexually harassing me. Come on, you’re not that dense that I need to repeat myself,” Melissa says, downing the rest of her drink. “Now, come on, I want to get a couple of dances in before I take you back to my place for some action. Think of it like a warmup.”

  I down the rest of my drink while Melissa stands up, but she pauses when I don’t move. She looks back at me over her shoulder, turning around. “Well? Did you hear me correctly, Louden?”

  I nod, and sit back in my chair. “I heard you just fine, Melissa. But I’m not going to dance with you. In fact, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  She blinks, putting her hands on her hips for a moment, staring at me angrily. “You what? You’re really that fucking stupid?”

  “Melissa, let me put it plainly. You’ve harassed me. You groped me. You’ve taken pictures of me without my permission, and you’ve made me feel like shit. So no. I’m not going to dance with you. I’m not going to go home with you and fuck you. I will not cheat on my girlfriend with you.”

  “Is she really that special?” Melissa asks, crossing her hands under her breasts. “You’re willing to gi
ve up your job, your daughter’s security, for some plus sized social justice cow?”

  “Denise Taviolo is a good woman, better than you’ll ever be,” I tell her evenly, caught up in our argument. “I love her.”

  Melissa shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Love. Fuck me, you’re talking about love. I don’t give a fuck about love, I’m talking about fucking!”

  “And I’m talking about something more than that,” I say simply. “I love Denise. I’m not going to betray her, or become a man that can’t look his daughter in the eye and say he’s trying his best to be a good father.”

  “Fine,” Melissa says, reaching for her small purse. “Then you can tell your daughter that you need to go to the unemployment office next week instead.”

  I reach into my pocket, and take out my phone, setting it on the table. “No... I don’t think so,” I say simply, raising my other hand to get the waitress’ attention. “Say, can I get a John Wayne over here?”

  The waitress nods and hurries off, Melissa immediately getting the message. “You son of a bitch.”

  I nod, and toast her with the few drops of soda water left in my glass. “Goodbye, Melissa.”

  Thankfully, the security staff is faster than thirty seconds.

  I’m not one to hit a woman. Even if Melissa Ann Kelly deserves it.

  Chapter 22