Playing the Game (37 page)

“Oh? Then you’ve been seeing the wrong woman all this time.” Karen Marie curled her lips allowing only one conclusion.

“I suppose you think you’re the woman to change my mind?” Barry hoped to hell she could.

“Ahem. Do you think you could wait to have this conversation later? Like after we leave and you’re alone at last?” Vicki said, leaning into the conversation.

Karen laughed and flashed Barry a promising smile. But it lacked edge. “Okay. As long as we don’t have to wait too long,” she said.

She didn’t. They ended up having only one more drink before leaving. Barry was anxious to get home and took Karen Marie with him. In the car, he turned the key and turned to her. She sat right next to him in the middle of the front seat. A girl hadn’t done that with him since high school.

“Your place or mine?” He didn’t care if he sounded corny. He only wanted the answer.

“Yours,” she said. Then she snuggled up closer and put her hands in his crotch as he pulled the car out into the street.

“Jesus Christ, Karen. I want to get there in one piece,” Barry said.

“Oh, we’ll get there. You seem tense, like you could use some loosening up.” She continued ‘loosening him up,’ a bit more tentatively.

“Guilty as charged.” He attempted a smile, but wasn’t sure how successful he was. In any case, he let Karen Marie work her magic with her hands. What the hell. Before he knew it, before they ever arrived home, he was relieved of a lot of tension.

When they reached his house they went straight to his bedroom and he took her. The first time fast, but it wasn’t enough. The next time was slower and then she fell asleep. He was left awake. He wished he could fall asleep, if only to escape from thinking about Lindy and … about Roxanne.

“Hell, it can’t be fireworks every time,” he thought aloud. Then he remembered the last time with Roxanne.

Roxanne paced the kitchen floor with a cup of coffee in her hand debating whether or not to call Al. She needed that $750,000 and maybe if they settled the wrongful death civil suit by agreeing to split the proceeds from the house she’d be able to get the money. She didn’t want to have to tell Laura she couldn’t come up with it.

As she paced by the television, she fleetingly thought of turning it on to hear the news, but she thought better of that idea. She’d rather not know. They’d probably had a field day with last night’s police fiasco.

She’d stopped getting the paper since the investigation into Don’s death had reopened. She had no desire to see her name trashed. It was tougher to avoid the news every time she looked at a computer or her iPad. So she’d quit doing that too. Not even her avid curiosity tempted her to read what they were saying. The gist of it eventually seeped in anyway. Al read everything.

The one thing she tried to avoid thinking about was Barry. His behavior was insulting and cruel, even considering the situation, even for him. She knew he was in pain. That’s why he was playing angry when they both knew it was over. Maybe it was easier for him that way. At least she could be grateful that his behavior left her more angry than sad. There would be plenty of time to be sad later.

Checking her Timex, she realized it was already after eight a.m. and she had to decide now. The doorbell rang and Bonnie answered it. Roxanne paused then continued her pacing, thinking how she could put the question to Al without sounding too desperate. She didn’t want the money from Barry, yet she didn’t want to have to turn it down.

She looked up to see Barry standing in the kitchen doorway. The dark waves of his hair still glistened from his morning shower. His blue eyes blazed with challenge. She looked back at him with a matching expression. Then she picked up her pacing again.

“What do you want? Aren’t you taking a big risk being seen here after last night?” She emphasized the sarcasm. She didn’t even look at him. Bonnie walked in behind him.

“Roxanne Monet. Is that any way to talk?” Bonnie scolded.

“He deserves it.” Roxanne stopped pacing and faced him boldly. Everything was showing on her face and she knew it. But she’d warned him the game of pretense was over. And this was what was left. Raw emotion.

He stepped toward her and put his hand out to cup her chin. Bonnie left the room.

“Well?” she asked. He dropped his hand. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a check made out to Children’s Mercy Hospital for $750,000, dated yesterday.

“Happy New Year,” he said. Then he folded his arms and stood before her. She looked at him and back at the check. Then she looked back at his unrelenting smirk. She had the urge to rip the check into pieces again as she waved it precariously in the air. Instead she tossed it on the table.

“If I weren’t so desperate for this money for the fund-raising campaign I’d enjoy telling you to go to hell,” she said with her hands on her hips, mustering as much attitude as she had left in her.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And I thought you were through playing games, Roxy?” He stepped closer.

He was right. Her face heated. Could she go on with the charade of being angry with him when it was herself that she blamed? Could she afford not to? Could she finally face the real pain, the unrelenting sadness?

She had no choice. The tears fell. She took a deep breath. Letting him see her hurt was one thing, but she would not be hysterical. She loved him. She couldn’t have him.

That was that.

Until he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. He kissed her. She let him do it just this one last time. He held her tight. The hunger, the anger, the caring, the hurt, the need, the desire, she felt it all in the unrelenting press of his mouth to hers. In herself and in him. She felt gloriously dizzy with emotion.

After he kissed her, it was more difficult to keep his game face in place, but he had no choice. He looked at the clock. He had to leave.

“Leaving?” There was no accusation or pleading in her voice, only recognition of an already accepted conclusion. She was composed, but far from the cool woman she once played. This woman was harder to leave, with her proud, pain-filled eyes.

“I have to go. I have to see Lindy today, talk to her. Then there’s a shoot-around at noon.” He wouldn’t have come unless he knew he couldn’t stay.

“You shouldn’t have bothered to come.” She turned from him and walked to the window overlooking the deck. He couldn’t stand it.

“I didn’t want to leave it like this between us, Rox.” He spoke without thinking. When she turned back to look at him, he felt vulnerable. That wasn’t what he wanted either.

“What do you want, Barry?” she asked with her unblinking wide eyes.

“I don’t know. I want you. I want Lindy. I want basketball. I want it all.” He sucked in his gut ready for a blow. He must be crazy.

“Can you handle it all?” She asked the question he’d been claiming to know the answer to all along. It was still true.

“No. Damn it to hell. I can’t fucking handle it all. But it’s there anyway, isn’t it? It’s fucking life, isn’t it? Do we really get to choose what we can handle or not?” He grabbed her by the shoulders again and penetrated her eyes with his. He saw his reflection and knew she could see everything inside him.

“Everyone makes their choices. One way or another.” She sounded resigned. She pulled away from his grasp and he could see clearly what her choice was going to be. She didn’t want a piece of Barry Dennis. He’d known all along it would be all or nothing with her. She would not be playing any more games with him.

He stepped back and turned away, willing himself to cool off, to calm down. “I have to go.”

“Then leave. I didn’t ask you to come here.” Her voice was surprisingly angry.

“I’m sorry you won’t be able to see Lindy anymore.” The words came from nowhere, but he meant them. He saw her flinch, but then fury creased her brow and lit her eyes.

“She doesn’t want to see me, you God damned fool. She wants you. YOU. And all you do is talk about stepping up as if you have all the time in the world to talk yourself into being a real parent. Which is what you should have been all along instead of some mildly interested half-assed ‘uncle’ type.”

“What the…”

“You had a father? Remember? Remember how interested he was in you? How he devoted himself to you? Your daughter deserves the same and it’s time you stopped playing games with her. All you ever do is play games. You’ve done nothing all your life but play games as if that was all there was to life. Life is not a fucking game, Barry. Not with me and most importantly not with your daughter.”

“Who the hell are you to talk?” He couldn’t let her get away with this. She was no better.

“I’m a woman who was once a girl like Lindy with a dead mother and an asshole father who was absent in every way that it counted.” She stood with hands on her hips within touching distance and her face glowing pink with rage.

He felt like there was a black tumor in his gut rising to his throat. Dizziness crept in from the sides of his mind, threatening to shut down his thinking. But he stared at her and thought about Roxanne as a little girl. He pictured Lindy. When he spoke his voice felt rusty and hollow.

“It’s about your father isn’t it? He’s why you …do everything you do.” He almost accused her of not trusting men. But that was too simple for what she was about.

“No. It’s about your father. He trained you to be single-minded in your pursuit of the Holy Grail. ‘To be the Best’ to a fault.” She paused and looked at him as if he might be too battered an opponent to take another punch at before continuing. “But let me ask you—do you think if he were alive he would mind after all if you devoted yourself to your daughter? Ask yourself that.”

He would have responded. If the dizziness didn’t take over again.

She walked from the room and disappeared before he could say anything more. Not that he knew what else to say. He knew he didn’t want to leave her like this. But she was right. And he had to leave.

“Shit.” He stood for a minute feeling raw, staring at the shining ceramic kitchen floor. He looked at his shaking hand half expecting it to be bloody too, before raking it through his hair to steady himself. Then he finally moved to go.

“You still here?” He turned to see Bonnie walking into the kitchen from where Roxanne had disappeared. He gave her a quick smile he didn’t feel.

“Have some coffee with me.” She poured some in a cup.

“No thanks. I was on my way out. I have to go.” He moved toward the back door.

“So I heard,” she said. He wondered how much she’d heard.

“You did? Then tell her for me I’ll be back.” He nodded at the older woman. With his legs barely functional, he walked out the door.

As he gripped the stick shift of his Porsche winding through streets of Marblehead, he was thankful that he’d taken the sports car. Manipulating the five speed stick gave him something to concentrate on. He didn’t want to think about Roxanne’s question, so he thought about why he’d said he’d be back. He didn’t know, but he felt a lot better having said it.

He shouldn’t go back.

He would.

Chapter 19

“LINDY, ANGEL, I’ll be going to the west coast for a couple of weeks,” Barry said.

“I know. Roxanne gave me a Celtics schedule. She told me all about it.”

“She did, eh? Did she tell you how tough it’s going to be to win out there? Especially knowing you’re back here?” He didn’t want to sound anxious, but he felt it. Roxanne had done a number on him that morning. Or maybe he did it to himself. For the first time, he felt unsure about leaving Lindy. He felt unsure about whether he should play basketball rather than stay by his little girl’s side. The stabbing pain of his decision had sharpened with each minute since his talk with Roxanne. No matter that he reminded himself of Dr. Oki’s insistence that her surgery could wait and he wouldn’t miss anything with his road trip.

Lindy giggled. The sound relieved some of his tension and he took a deep breath.

“When I get back you have to have another operation. A big one this time. But Dr. Oki thinks it will be your last one.” He didn’t know how to act. Should he should be serious or upbeat? What kind of thing was this to talk about with a little girl, anyway?

She sighed and it spoke volumes.

“Okay. No more talk of this stuff. You do your best to stay as healthy as you can and have as much fun as you can. Too bad my games will be on late at night so you won’t be able to watch them,” he kidded.

“Oh yes I can! Roxanne said she’d DVR them for me.”

“She did, did she? When exactly did she tell you this, angel?” He tried to sound casual.

“Oh, that’s right. It was supposed to be a secret that she came to visit me. But it’s all right if you know the secret, Daddy.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell.” He stood and looked around the room. How could he? Roxanne was their champion. He shouldn’t be feeling this resentment right now. Then again, sometime, not too far into the future, Roxanne would have to let go of Lindy and he’d be on his own.

“Daddy, when can I come home?”

“Soon. Very soon.”

“I’ll be living at your house all the time now? Not going back to Mommy’s and Paul’s? What about my room? My pink bear?” Her voice cracked. A teardrop spilled before she swiped her hands across her eyes.

“Angel, honey, you can bring your bear and all your things to my—our house. And you can go visit Paul any time you want.” He took a deep breath. “But Mommy doesn’t live there anymore and she never will. Remember, she lives in heaven now.” He steeled himself against the soulful look she gave him. “But she lives in your memory and in your heart, too, angel. You can keep her there forever.” He moved toward her and gave her what comfort he could through the plastic. He knew he couldn’t remove it every time she cried. And now she sobbed. Like he wished he could.

It wasn’t until he got to the shoot-around, barely in enough time to dress, that he saw the pictures on the front page of the Boston newspaper. Barry had barely stepped through the gym door when both reporters and teammates assaulted him. He grabbed one of the papers being waved in his direction.