#Player

by Cambria Hebert

  “You know how you said everyone’s eyes were on me tonight?” she asked. Whatever was in her voice put me on red alert. I forced myself to remain relaxed, at least outwardly anyway.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I don’t want to sound paranoid or anything,” she began, “but that man over there has been staring at me all night. It’s kind of creeping me out.”

  “What man?” I was no longer able to hold my relaxed posture. All my muscles tensed.

  “Maybe I’m just imagining things,” she muttered.

  Rimmel wasn’t the kind of girl who cried wolf. She was the kind of girl that didn’t even ask for help after the wolf chewed off half her arm. If she was saying someone was making her uncomfortable, then it was because there was a creep in this room.

  “Where?” My eyes scanned the area.

  “Over there by the entrance and to the right. He’s wearing a black suit and no tie.”

  Casually, I rotated us in a circle as we danced. I found him right away. Not because he stuck out in a crowd. Not because he was particularly interesting.

  I knew him.

  Clear memories of the night he approached my Hellcat outside my parents’ house flashed vividly through my mind. It was the man who told me he was a reporter, but he wasn’t.

  “Romeo?” she whispered.

  “You said he’s been staring at you?”

  “Yeah, but not the direct kind of stare. More like watching me. He was never far behind when I was speaking with people throughout the night. At first, I didn’t notice. It was only like a creepy feeling. But once I caught him looking…”

  “Go sit with B,” I told her.

  “Why?”

  “Just go.”

  She caught my hand. “Don’t cause a scene. Just forget it.”

  “I know him.”

  “Oh.” She dropped my arm. “Maybe he just wanted to say hi to you, then.”

  “Probably.” I kissed her head and tried to tamp down some of the suspicion bubbling inside me. “Go sit with B.”

  As I spoke, I looked back to where he was standing. He smiled.

  Braeden was coming toward the dance floor with a woman on his arm. I gave him a pointed look, then glanced at Rim. He dropped the woman he was walking with and started toward us.

  I glanced back at the man.

  He was gone.

  Oh hells no.

  I rushed off and pushed through the doors, knowing this was the way he’d come. Out in the hall, he was leaning against a far wall.

  “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

  “Roman,” he said like we were old buddies. “You never called for the interview.”

  “You aren’t a reporter.”

  “Sure I am.”

  “The Maryland Tribune has never even heard of you.”

  “Probably a good thing I quit, then.”

  I wanted to punch the smirk off his face. “Quit playing games. Who are you?”

  “Speaking of games. Congratulations on your big contract with the Knights.”

  I glared at him in stony silence.

  “A million is a pretty nice payday.”

  “How do you know how much I’m getting paid?” I asked low. As far as I knew, the personal details of my contract hadn’t been released.

  He shrugged. “I’m a reporter. I do research. The article I read a while back was my favorite. Catchy headline. ‘The comeback quarterback.’”

  “Were you the one who left that paper on my windshield?” I stepped closer, threatening.

  Who was this fool? What the hell did he want?

  The look in his eyes told me he was exactly the one who left it.

  “I wonder,” he mused. “How much of that money would you give up to protect that girl you just can’t keep your eyes off. I think her name is… Rimmel?”

  At my sides, my fists clenched. “The last guy who threatened her ended up with some broken bones, a wired jaw, and is currently sitting in a straightjacket in the loony bin.”

  “Threat?” He raised his eyebrows. “That wasn’t a threat.”

  I heard the door to the ballroom open and the music grew a little louder.

  The man pushed off the wall, but I didn’t back up. He nearly collided with my chest. Let him. Give me one solitary reason to knock him out.

  He had to look up when he spoke because I was taller. “I don’t threaten. I merely give warnings.”

  I drew my fist back.

  “Rome!” Braeden shouted from behind. He rushed up behind me, and the man smiled.

  “Think about it,” he said.

  And then he just walked away. Right out the exit and into the night.

  Braeden turned to me. “What the fuck was that about?”

  I stared after him. “I don’t know…”

  Finally, I glanced at my friend. “But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rimmel

  Romeo was on edge.

  It wasn’t anything he said. It was what he didn’t say.

  When he and Braeden came back in the ballroom, both of them seemed distracted and sort of pissed off. But by the time they made it to the table, they were all smiles again.

  I questioned Romeo about the man. He told me it was one of the reporters who interviewed him for a story, and I’d been right; he just wanted to say hi. I must not have seemed totally convinced, and Romeo finally admitted he’d wanted to talk football and when Romeo refused, things got heated.

  Braeden backed up the story.

  Notice I said story. Something inside me just wouldn’t let me believe it was truth.

  Still, I let it go. The last thing I was going to do was make an issue out of something in the middle of a crowded room.

  The rest of the event went by in a blur. I couldn’t believe the response the shelter was getting, and I caught Michelle crying in the bathroom more than once because she was so happy.

  By the end of the night, I was exhausted but also proud. Even through everything, Valerie and I managed to work together and put on an amazing event.

  When the cleaning crew entered to start breaking down everything, I thought I might faint from relief. Maybe it was the exhaustion that caused me to do what I did.

  Or maybe I did it because it was the right thing.

  I thanked Valerie. It was a sincere thank you, and not on behalf of the shelter or Michelle. It was on behalf of myself. Even after our relationship basically went to hell in a hand basket, she still helped. She still honored her commitment.

  Valerie didn’t appear surprised that I would thank her. But she did seem touched at the true gratefulness behind my words.

  It wasn’t until Romeo and I were alone that I really started to think again about what happened earlier that night.

  “Romeo?” I asked as I hung up my gown in his closet.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Are you telling me everything about earlier?”

  He answered my question with one of his own. “Have you seen that man, the reporter, around before tonight?”

  “No.” I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Think about it, Rim.” He rubbed a hand over his head. “School, the shelter, on the street… anywhere.”

  “No I haven’t.” I turned around. “What’s this about?”

  Did Romeo think that guy was stalking us?

  He shortened the distance between us and caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Nothing. I just don’t want those reporters bothering you. Some of them can be relentless.”

  In the bathroom, I washed off my makeup and took down my hair. The only thing I was wearing was an old T-shirt of Romeo’s, and I was surprised when he didn’t come in the bathroom to “brush his teeth” while I was getting ready for bed.

  Brush his teeth = stare at my butt while I bent over the sink to wash my face.

  When I was done with my routine, I clicked off the light and stepped into the bedroom. He was typing something on his phone, and
then I heard the little sound for a text message being sent.

  “Who ya talking to?” I walked over to where he was sitting on the side of the bed.

  “Who cares?” he asked and tossed the phone down beside him before reaching for me.

  I climbed into his lap and he kissed me, but then he pulled back and pressed my head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around me.

  An odd feeling of foreboding passed through me.

  I peeked down at his still illuminated phone screen.

  …her dad

  Those were the only two words I caught before the screen went dark.

  “Hey,” he whispered. I lifted my head. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kissed me softly, slowly and deep.

  I forgot all about the words on his phone and what they could mean and gave in to the way he tasted and felt. We made love just like he kissed.

  Slow.

  Thorough.

  Deep.

  The emotion that swirled about the room was so intense it was at times hard to breathe.

  When at last I lay curled up in his arms, the text came back to haunt me. He’d been texting Braeden. Whose father was he talking about?

  Mine?

  And why now? Why tonight?

  I thought about the reporter and how something seemed to weigh on the man beside me.

  I don’t know how long I lay there going through endless possibilities, but in the end, I just didn’t know.

  I didn’t like not knowing.

  I liked to be informed.

  While I wasn’t one hundred percent sure Romeo had been texting about me and my father, I was willing to bet on it.

  Carefully, I climbed out of bed and padded into the other room. My bag lay on the floor by the couch where I’d dropped it when we came in.

  I reached inside and my hand closed around the file folder I kept there. I carried it to the couch and flipped on a small lamp on the table beside me. Murphy leapt onto the cushions and curled up in my lap.

  I took comfort in his warm, reassuring body as I opened to the first page inside.

  And then I started to read.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Romeo

  I reached for her and she wasn’t there.

  The mattress beside me was empty. The sheets on her side had long gone cold.

  I sat up and looked toward the bathroom, but the door was open and the room was dark. I glanced at the clock. It was early, but the sun was up.

  After tossing off the covers and pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, I went in search of my girl. I found her at the living room window, looking out into the yard.

  Her back was turned, but the tension that radiated off her body indicated something was wrong. When I reached her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me. Her fingers gripped the mug of coffee in her hand so tight they were colorless.

  I followed her gaze out the window to the partially snow-covered ground.

  She was staring at the pool.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” I whispered.

  “My mother didn’t drown.”

  Suddenly, my insides felt like the ground outside. Frozen, cold and hard. I knew just by the air in the room, by the way she stood, and waking up to find her gone, whatever was wrong wasn’t good.

  But this…

  This was something that went beyond that.

  I brushed the hair back away from her face and tightened my arms around her, offering some kind of shelter from the storm raging inside.

  “You read the file.”

  Her head bobbed up and down. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  I closed my eyes. I guess the false sense of security I tried to belay last night hadn’t been received.

  Fuck. I was sick of this. Of her sheltering me. Of me sheltering her. I was sick of people coming at us, the past threatening our future.

  “I—”

  She made a noise to cut me off. “I know, Romeo. Just let me get this out.”

  I was afraid her mug was going to shatter and slice her hands. I pried it away and set it aside. The second I wrapped my arms back around her, she covered my arms with her hands.

  “They lied to me.”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone. My dad, my grandparents. The police. It seems everyone knew what was in that file but me.”

  “What’s in the file, Rim?”

  “According to the coroner’s report, my mother was dead before she hit the pool. There was no water in her lungs to suggest she drowned. She died from blunt force trauma to the head. They say the hit likely killed her instantly.”

  The catch in her voice made my throat constrict.

  “I keep sitting here thinking I’m glad.” Her words were tortured, like she felt guilty for her own feelings. “All these years I’d thought she suffered. I thought she’d fallen, hit her head, and slipped into the water. I thought she knew what was happening. The nightmares, Romeo, the nightmares that haunted me, water claiming her life, the burning sensation in her lungs, the way the world started to blur out inch by inch…”

  I made a noise in the back of my throat. My God, she tortured herself with these thoughts? It was unbearable to hear once, let alone have it on repeat in the back of her mind.

  “I’m glad she died instantly. I’m glad it was over before it began. It means she didn’t suffer.”

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person, baby. It makes you compassionate.”

  “That isn’t all the file said,” she intoned. Her voice was alarming, flat. “Her death wasn’t ruled an accident. That’s what I’d been told. It’s still marked as unresolved.”

  “What? Why?” I asked, even though a sick, knowing feeling wrapped around my heart and started to squeeze.

  My mother was right.

  “Apparently, the police launched a full-on investigation. They questioned everyone, including my father. It’s on record that when she died, we were in fact in heavy debt. I think there was suspicion that my father killed her himself, but they didn’t have any evidence to support an arrest. My mother didn’t have any life insurance. Her death didn’t solve any financial hardships. In fact, it only posed more. Her memorial service and the need for childcare all would cost more money that my father simply didn’t have.”

  “Did they report on why the family was so in debt?”

  I lifted a hand and swiped a tear off her cheek. “They said it was gross mismanagement of funds coupled with a slow construction season.”

  I didn’t say anything, so she continued. “Plus, my dad had an alibi for the approximate time of death. He was at work. His entire crew and the clients he was working for were with him that day. There was no way he was home to do it.”

  “That’s a good thing.” I squeezed her. It meant her father wasn’t what my mother implied.

  “But it still wasn’t ruled an accident. According to the report, the trauma was caused by blunt force, the kind that couldn’t happen from slipping and hitting her head.”

  “So they think she was murdered?”

  “They don’t know. They couldn’t find any evidence to support the theory beyond her head injury. My mother was well loved. Everyone they interviewed only said good things.”

  “Maybe it was a home invasion,” I suggested.

  “Nothing was taken from the house and there were no signs of a struggle. There was no suspicious DNA on her body. No fibers, hair, or skin. Of course, because she was in the pool, it could have been washed away.”

  “And they checked out your father?” How far had they dug around? What about his supposed gambling problem? Wouldn’t that raise a red flag?

  “He was the main suspect for months. They questioned him at length. All those times I thought he had to work late, all the nights I spent with Gran… he was at the police station, being questioned and accused.”

  “But he didn’t do it. They let him go.”

  “And my mother is dead and no one knows why
.” Rimmel turned in the circle of my arms and looked up at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red. Her lower lip was swollen from where she chewed it. “Why didn’t they tell me this? Why did they lie to me all these years?”

  “The same reason I didn’t tell you the truth about that reporter last night. The same reason you kept me away from my phone the night of the big game. They were protecting you.”

  “But it’s my right to know!”

  “I agree. But you were eleven. You were devastated and likely in shock from the way you found her. Why fill your head with theories and suspicion? It would have only confused you more.”

  She buried her head against my chest and cried.

  I held her and stared out at the pool. I wondered if we’d ever know what really happened to her mom.

  When she’d gotten out most of her tears, she pulled back. “I’m not eleven anymore, and I can handle the truth.”

  I smiled. “You’re one tough cookie.”

  “I’m gonna call my dad. I’m gonna make him tell me in his words what really happened.”

  I nodded.

  “But first, you need to tell me about last night.”

  I pulled back and ran a hand through my hair. “That was the guy who was outside the house a while back, the guy who said he was with the Maryland Tribune.”

  She frowned. “Why was he there?”

  “He threatened me,” I said point blank. “He threatened us.”

  No way was I going to say it was really just her he threatened. Besides, any threat against her was a threat against me.

  “What!”

  “I’m pretty sure he left that article on my windshield at the courthouse. I think he’s been watching us.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because he knew shit, Rim. He knew how much I’m getting paid to play.”

  “But you kept that confidential.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I saw your text last night. The one to Braeden. The one that said ‘her father.’ Were you talking about me? What does my father have to do with this?”

  I exhaled in frustration. The last thing I wanted to do was cast more doubt over her father, especially after everything she just read in the file. But the truth was the truth.