First Position (9 page)

“Carolina just faxed me an offer,“ Steven said, looking at the document, still warm from the transmission.  He sat behind his messy desk in his home office, surrounded by a laptop, paperwork, and large binders.  Olivia yelled something to him from another room, which he pretended, once again, to ignore.  He adored his wife and knew the son she was carrying was a great blessing, but he’d grown tired of her hormonal outbursts, louder and more frequent as her due date approached.

“Finally, some good news.”

“I didn’t say it was a good offer.  In fact, I think it’s shit.  One year, $1 million.  They gave us a week to decide.”

Olivia continued to yell.  Steven thought it was something about a food craving but couldn’t be sure.  It was time for business.  He didn’t have the energy or patience to ask what she was saying.  He banged his pen against his head and closed his office door with his foot.

“That fucking blows.”  Mason plopped on the bed.

“We still have Seattle.  Maybe they will both want you, and we can get them into a bidding war.”  Steven rambled on about strategy and possible incentives and whether it made sense to pro-rate any bonus he may receive or not, all while shuffling through his binders and comparing Mason’s proposed salary and career statistics with those of other NFL quarterbacks.

Mason traced his fingers along the wrinkles of the hotel bed sheets, as his brother droned on.  The clock was ticking, and Emory would be in the lobby soon.  He wanted to get off the phone, fast.

“Am I boring you, fuck brain?”

“Very much.”

“You have something more important to do?”

“Actually, yeah.”

Steven slammed a binder shut.  “What the hell is that?” 

“I’m meeting Em in a few minutes.”  Mason rose up from the bed and put on some clothes.

Steven sat up straight in his chair.  “Um, meeting Emory is more important that the rest of your career?”

“Yep.” 

“For the love of God.”  Steven shut another binder, as Olivia yelled to him again.  He clenched his fists, shaking them to the heavens.

“I put football in front of Em once, and I’m not about to do it again.”  Mason took a deep breath.  ”You should know that.  I need her back.  That’s most important, not football.  Football would just be a bonus.”

Steven leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen on his desk, knowing his brother was hopeless.  “Are you going to tell her about the offer?”

“No.  I’m going to wait.  I don’t want it getting in the way.   Don’t want her feeling any pressure about it.”

Olivia continued to yell something.  Steven cracked a smile and laughed; it was better than crying.  “Look, dude, Olivia is going crazy, so I’ve got to go.”

“That was her?  I’ve been hearing some strange background noise.  Can’t believe all that was coming out of little Olivia.”

“Yeah, I think it’s the hormones or something.  And I think she needs food.”  Steven stood up from his chair.  “Do what you need to do.  I’m your agent but also your brother.  It’s about time you realized life doesn’t always happen on a football field.”

*
              *              *

Emory’s day passed quickly.  She had a shoot with a young mother pregnant with twins, then slaved in front of her computer to crop and edit her last several sessions.  She hated the technical aspect of her work; her background in the arts, in dance, didn’t translate to computer proficiency.  It was spending time with her little clients that she enjoyed.  She texted Wesley about her meeting with Mason.

She was having second thoughts, worrying about getting involved with a married man, especially one who’d left her before.  She feared Mason wanted nothing more than a good time, for a short time, and she wasn’t prepared to share the secrets she carried.   She also knew he would be in Seattle the next day.
 
I need to shut this down
.
  But her mind was at war with itself.   It felt so good to be with him again, to touch him, to feel his warm, soft lips on hers.

*              *              *

Mason stood in the hotel lobby, watching other guests check in at the front desk.  He saw the hotel bartender, Clive, walking towards the Atrium Bar to begin his shift, and gave him a nod.  Mason sat down in a chair and fidgeted with some hotel brochures to pass the time, then decided it was more appropriate to stand and wait for Emory.  Mason’s breath caught, as he spotted her coming through the glass turnstile doors.  They smiled at each other, and he walked towards her, wrapping his good arm around her, lifting her slightly off the floor, followed by an awkward moment of silence.

Her note said she wanted to talk, but she didn’t seem to have anything to say.  Emory darted her eyes away from him, still embarrassed by their kiss and encounter with Eric.  Mason sensed her discomfort.  “Want to have a drink?”

“Sure.”
 
Don’t let him get you drunk
.
 

He took her hand and led her through the lobby, Emory looking at him curiously, as they walked past the Atrium Bar, continuing on to the elevator bank.

“I thought we were going to the bar for a drink?”  Emory motioned back to the bar and bartender in her rear view.

“There’s a bar in my room.” 

Emory narrowed her eyes at him.
 
He’s not going to make this easy on me
.
 

Waiting for the elevator to arrive, she fidgeted with her hair, and Mason stole a glance back at Clive, who gave him a suggestive smile and thumbs-up.  The bell dinged.  Mason placed his arm on the small of Emory’s back and followed her inside.  As the door closed, Mason gave a final look to Clive, gyrating his old hips in an awkward, circular motion.
 
I hope Emory didn’t see that.

They rode up in silence to the top floor of the hotel.  Mason led her towards his room; he couldn’t help but recall walking with Emory down another hotel corridor many years ago.  This walk was different, but the same excitement and nervousness came with it.

* * *

Steven emerged from his home office, massaging his temples.  The Panthers were playing games; his client and brother was an unfocused mess; and his wife’s pregnancy was pushing him to the limit.  He pulled his thinning hair and walked into the kitchen.  “Honey, are you OK?”

Olivia sat at the kitchen table, eating ice cream out of the carton with one hand, twirling the natural curls of her red hair with the other.  “I’m better now,” she said, digging out a huge scoop.

To everyone who saw her, Olivia had maintained her petite frame, but she thought her pregnancy had turned her into a beached whale.  Steven assured her she had not -- not even close -- but she didn’t believe him.  Her hormones wouldn’t allow it.

“Is there anything you need?”

“Not anymore.”

Steven massaged his temples again.  “Do we have any aspirin?”

“I don’t know,” she said, licking the spoon.

“What was all the yelling about?  I was working.”

She held the spoon in the air, then shrugged.  “I don’t remember.”

Steven walked to the refrigerator and reached for a beer.  It was mid-afternoon, but drinking seemed the best and only thing to do.

“Get me some whipped cream out of there!”

Steven grabbed a beer and whipped cream and walked to the table.  “I just talked to Mason.”  Steven placed the whipped cream in front of her and sat down.  He popped the top of his can and stroked her back.  “He’s caught back up with Emory.” 

Olivia put down her spoon.  “Oh my God!  Good for him.”

“Yeah.”  He took a swig.

“From everything I’ve heard about her, she sounds terrific.  I hope things work out this time.”  She sprayed whipped cream all over the ice cream still inside the carton.  Steven watched her curiously, then took a long swig.  “I’m just glad that he’s done with that whore Alexis.”

“Jesus, Olivia!  Don’t hold back.”

“I never do.”

* * *

Emory looked around Mason’s hotel room.  It was no ordinary room; it was bigger than Emory’s apartment.  The bedroom was separate from the main living area, with a pool table and full dining set, and also a wet bar.  A massive flat screen television hung over the fireplace.  The bathroom was bigger than her bedroom.

“The Panthers went all out for my visit.”

Emory made her way to the balcony, looking down at the pool and surrounding gardens below, the Charlotte skyline and Bank of America Stadium in the distance.  Mason watched her intently from inside, as he had done before in another hotel room, her curves just as magnificent.  Emory, too, remembered the first room, closing her eyes and biting her lip.
 
I need to get control of myself
.
  She opened her eyes, startled Mason had come up beside her.

He slid his arm around her waist and leaned his forehead onto hers.  “It was the best weekend of my life.”

How the hell did he know what I was thinking
?
  She took a deep breath to compose herself.  “Me, too.  But that was a long time ago.”

Mason crouched down to look into her eyes.  “We can have all that back.  We can make it right.” 

“That’s your busted arm and broken marriage talking.”  Emory walked back inside, and Mason followed behind.

“Is that what you think?  I’m not looking for a rebound here, Em.”  He grabbed her arm gently, hoping she would stop and listen.

“Rebound?”  Emory spun around, pushing hard on his chest with both hands.  “You married your last rebound!”

Mason took a step back.
 
So this is what she wanted to talk about
.
He braced himself, knowing full well he deserved what was coming.

Emory had waited six years for this moment.  “You married her, Mason!  Alexis of all people!  That slut from your bullshit team parties.  You married her!  Do you know what that did to me?  To see her gloating around campus, with her huge tits, flashing that ring.  You fucking married her!”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.  “It was a mistake.”

“You’re damn right!”  She walked to the pool table and picked up the cue ball.  “You wanted me to give up my dreams and follow you around the NFL like a good little wife, just smiling silently beside her man.  You didn’t even try to meet me half way.  You just gave up and fucking walked away.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I heard that already.  Shut the hell up!”  Emory held the ball in her hand, shaking.  “You were the only man I ever loved!  You have no idea what I went through after you left me!  You have no fucking idea!” 

Mason took a step towards her.  “I’m here.  Tell me.” 

“There’s no point now!”  Emory slammed the cue ball on the pool table.  “It’s over.  It’s been over.” 

Mason came towards her, but she walked away.  “Not the way I see it.  You feel it, too.  I’m not giving up no matter how long it takes.”

She glared at him.  “I will not be your rebound.  I am not some easy piece of ass for you to use to ease your broken heart!  I wil
l
no
t
be that.”  

He shook his head, shocked she thought that was his intention.  “Em, you know that’s not. . . .”

“Until two days ago, you hadn’t even seen me or called me for years.  Now you’re in for the long haul?”

“I am.  It’s how I feel.”  He looked down.  “I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

Emory pulled off her shirt, dropping it to the floor, exposing her red lace bra.  “Oh, this isn’t what you want?”  She strutted towards him, unbuttoning her pants.  ”You don’t want to fuck me right here, right now?”

Mason had never seen Emory like this.  She was acting crazy.  He stepped backwards until he hit the pool table behind him.
 
If I say no, then I’m rejecting her, and if I say yes, then she thinks this is just about sex.  Shit!  I can’t win here
.
  She continued her approach, cornering him with only one good arm, hiking her right leg onto the pool table, pushing her body into his.  Mason closed his eyes, wanting her, but didn’t dare look at or touch her.

Emory sensed his resistance.  “You don’t want to?”  She lowered her leg, then grabbed him, feeling he was erect. 

Jesus Christ, is she trying to kill me
?
 

“It seems your body knows exactly what you want.”  She rubbed him up and down.

Mason knew this wasn’t right -- that Emory was just trying to prove he was only after sex.  “Em?”  He placed his hand on her cheek.  “Of course, I want you.  I want you every which way.  But not like this.  And it’s not the only thing I want.” 

Emory brushed his hand aside and slowly slid off her pants, exposing her lace hip-hugger panties.

“Holy shit!”   Mason scanned her half-naked body.