The Baller (29 page)

The door to Brody’s suite slammed closed, and for a second, I thought he had gone back inside. But then he was behind me. He put his hand on my hip. “Don’t go. Please. Nothing happened. I swear.”

Thankfully, the elevator car came quickly. I stepped inside and turned to Brody. “I actually believe you. I don’t think anything physical happened between the two of you. That’s not why I need to go.”

“Then why?”

“You need to figure that out on your own.” We stared at each other as the doors slid closed.

I held the tears at bay until I hit the street. Then everything flooded all at once. The sadness. The disappointment. The heartbreak. I gasped for air, leaning against the outside of the hotel, bent over and holding my knees.

Brody must have taken the next elevator down because I saw him running out the door just as I climbed into a cab and sped away.

***

The cab pulled to the curb outside of my apartment building, and then I decided I didn’t want to go home.

“I changed my mind. Can you take me down to Chelsea—One Fifty-Five West Twenty-Second Street?”

“You’re paying the fare from where I picked you up.”

“Of course.” I could have cared less if the fare was five hundred bucks; I just knew I didn’t want to go home. It was almost ten, but Indie wouldn’t care. Staring out the window at the street as we headed back into traffic, I didn’t cry. It was as if my insides were hollowed out and even though I wanted to cry, wanted to get it out of my system, the tears couldn’t fight their way through the vast emptiness to escape.

I walked into Indie’s building in a fog. In the elevator, I stared at the button panel, unable to figure out what I was supposed to do. Luckily, an older gentleman walked in with a small dog on a leash and took charge.

“What floor?”

“Ummm. Seven.” After I had said it, I wasn’t even sure it was the right answer.

The hallway smelled like marijuana, confirming I had gotten off on the right floor. Indie’s neighbor, Devin, was a pothead.

I knocked lightly, and she opened the door without asking who it was. A smile lit her face when she saw me standing there, but it quickly fell. “Oh, honey.” She had no idea what had happened, yet she pulled me into her apartment by wrapping me in a hug. Tears threatened, but they still didn’t come.

“Come on.” She led me into the kitchen and flicked on the light. “Sit.” She pointed to a chair, and I complied. Honestly, I’m glad it was Indie I turned to, because I was so lost, I would have taken orders from a complete stranger.

She opened the cabinets, pulled out bowls and proceeded to scoop two heaping servings of Ben and Jerry’s. Placing one in front of me, she slid me a spoon and then sat across from me. “What happened?”

“Can we talk about something else? I don’t know. The weather? Work? Global warming? Anything else.”

She nodded and shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “I’m thinking about sleeping with Devin.”

“The pothead?”

“He fucks like a jackrabbit.”

I almost cracked a smile. Almost. “How would you know that?”

“We share a bedroom wall.”

“He takes ten minutes to spit out a sentence, he’s always so damn mellow. How is that even possible?”

She shrugged. “You just interrupted a good session. You want to go listen?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

She was quiet for a few minutes. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

I stared into my half-empty bowl. “I really fell for him.”

“I know you did.”

“I put the framed picture of Drew inside my closet.” Saying Drew’s name felt like a tiny fissure in the wall I’d put up over the last hour.

“It was time, honey. Whatever happened with Brody, it was still time.”

I nodded, my shoulders heavy. “That’s the irony of it. I was finally taking steps forward, and he went backwards.”

The first tear fell and then all hell broke loose. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it. I sobbed like I hadn’t in years. The cry felt so monumental—I wasn’t just losing a boyfriend, I was losing Drew all over again, too. My heart had betrayed him for another man, and now I mourned for two losses.

Indie hugged me tight. “Let it all go, honey. Let it all go.”

Delilah

“Could you tell CUM that you need more work done on your laptop?” Indie craned her neck, following the handsome—and very young—IT guy as he walked from my office to the elevator bank.

I flipped open my computer, signed in, and checked that all of my files were intact. They were only updating my virus software, but last time I’d handed my laptop to anyone for maintenance, a week’s worth of research had disappeared. I clicked on the Steel folder and pulled up my itinerary for tomorrow.

“You sure you don’t mind doing this?”

“Are you crazy? I can’t wait.” Indie’s cell phone buzzed. She looked down, smirked, and turned the phone to face me. The screen displayed a cartoon picture of a jackrabbit.

I downloaded last week’s game statistics from the company database as she answered. “Devin, sweetie. Can you do me a favor?”

I half listened to one side of the conversation as Indie asked her neighbor to feed her fish.

“The food? Yes. It’s in my bedroom. The small end table next to the bed.” There was a pause and then, “That would be great. How about if I make you some dinner when I get back to thank you?”

She was smiling like a Cheshire cat when she hung up.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Just being a friendly neighbor and asking Devin to feed my fish.”

“And you keep the fish food in your bedroom drawer?”

She shrugged. “It’s Manhattan. Storage is at a premium.”

I squinted at my all-too-happy friend. “What else is in the drawer?”

She stood. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Did you or did you not just direct Pothead to go into your drawer that contains a vibrator and fish food?”

“No!”

My face called bullshit.

“It doesn’t have a vibrator in it. Moved that to my underwear drawer.”

She walked to my office door. “It has black lace lingerie, fur handcuffs, condoms, and flavored lotion. Leave at ten tomorrow?”

“Yes. And Indie?”

“Hmmm.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

***

I’d barely slept last night. The thought of having to go into the Steel locker room tomorrow and pretend that everything was fine made me feel like vomiting.

I wasn’t sure what I thought would happen after I ran out of the Regency four days ago, but it certainly wasn’t what happened.
Nothing.
Nothing had happened. I had never been the kind of girl who wanted to be chased, but some sort of attempt at contact would have made me feel better. It made me wonder if Brody had just gone back into his suite and moved on.

But then I’d seen a picture of him walking into practice the other day. His eyes had been dark and sunken, his head hung down in defeat. Against my better judgment, I called the press photo up on my computer. He looked like he’d singlehandedly just lost the Super Bowl. It was all I could do to stop myself from calling him every time I saw it. And apparently I was into self-inflicted pain—because I had made a point of looking at the photo an awful lot over the last few days.

A piece of me felt guilty for running away from him after he had just laid to rest a woman he cared for deeply. It had been two years since my dad died, and the agony of the loss was still fresh some days. But then I remembered that Brody wasn’t alone. He had
Willow
to console him. I needed to force myself to remember that every time I got the urge to call him. And what if I called, and she answered the phone?

“You ready, Thelma?” Indie popped her head into my office.

“You bet, Louise.”

The drive to Maryland was five hours, although it actually went by quicker than I had expected. Indie was one hell of a road-trip companion. Not only did she stock us up on road-trip essentials—Pringles, trail mix, and Cheez-Its—but she somehow managed to keep my mind off of all things Brody Easton, for at least a few hours of the drive.

Our hotel was near the stadium. The corporate travel office had booked a block of rooms, knowing the city was going to be a madhouse during the days leading up to the first playoff games. I wanted to switch to anywhere the Steel weren’t staying, but the city was booked solid. As we neared the stadium, Indie broached the subject.

“It’s going to be impossible to avoid him. I scouted the nearest ice-cream shops. There’s a Baskin Robbins one block to the east and a Scoops about four blocks to the west.”

“Thanks.” I chuckled.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You have to promise not to get pissed at me.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Okay . . . ”

“You believed Brody that he didn’t cheat on you, but you don’t believe that he is over Willow?”

It didn’t make sense, but for some reason, that
was
what I believed. “Yes.”

“Have you wondered why you believe him about one thing, but not the other?”

Even though I had pretty much done nothing but think about everything that had happened the last few days, if I was being honest, I actually hadn’t questioned why I would trust him about one thing, yet not the other. “I guess it’s because I feel like he can control his desires, but he can’t control his heart.”

“But how do you know his heart still loves her?”

The question seemed ridiculous to me. “He loved her and lost her. Why wouldn’t he still love her?”

Indie reached over and took my hand. “Sweetie. Are you talking about Brody and Willow or are you talking about you and Drew?”

***

Michael and Indie chatted away during dinner. There were six of us from WMBC having a business meeting at the hotel’s steakhouse, although we really hadn’t talked much business at all. I tried in earnest to enjoy myself, but a perpetual state of glum followed me around like a shadow I couldn’t outrun.

“What’s your thinking on it, Delilah?” Marvin Clapman was the head of the station's engineering division. He was one of the few remaining employees who’d been there since the station was founded forty years ago. Having worked his way up from equipment repairman, he was now responsible for everything from the microphones working to the feed making it to the television in the viewer’s living room. And he was staring at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Um, I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”

His eyes narrowed. “The Pro Bowl. Is it better for the station that they keep it during the bi-week between playoffs and the Super Bowl? Or should it come after, so the players from the two teams in the Bowl that were selected can go?”

“Oh. I think it’s better for the station that it stays in the bi-week. People want something to watch during that off week, so the advertising is prime. But it’s better for the players for it to be after.”

Luckily, Aileen Fisher, one of Marvin’s department heads, jumped into the conversation, so I was off the hot seat. I tipped my head back as I downed the last of my wine and looked through the bottom of the glass. There was a commotion near the front of the restaurant. My stomach sank at seeing familiar faces. Familiar
player
faces.

The entire restaurant paused their dinner to watch the hostess seat them. Even if they weren’t famous football players, the sight would still have caused a hush. Six extraordinary large men dressed in suits, one louder than the other. I breathed an enormous sigh of relief at not finding Brody amongst the crowd. Until I saw that the party of six was being seated at a table for eight, with two empty chairs.

If I was distracted before, I was totally useless as I stared at the door, waiting to see who would fill the vacant seats. Indie was sitting diagonally across from me, and her eyes took in my panic.

I knew the minute he walked in the door. I had been looking down at my cell phone in my lap, desperately trying anything to keep distracted, when a faint murmur began. The sound grew as the men made their way into the restaurant. Brody was with the offensive-line coach.

He didn’t see me at first, but I couldn’t look away. He looked sad, tired even, his normally cocky smile nowhere to be found. It opened a crack in me, and I was suddenly nervous that a wave of emotions would smash that crack open wide, and I wouldn’t be able to control myself sitting in the restaurant.

Halfway to his table, he stopped. I watched his eyes roam the room, searching for something. Since the day I’d met Brody, I’d felt him before I could see him. It seemed impossible, so I thought it was just my crazy romantic heart playing tricks on me. But when his eyes landed on mine, I knew I wasn’t crazy. He had felt me in the room and searched for me.

Our gazes locked. The impact of seeing the hurt in his dimmed green eyes was like a direct blow to the chest. I felt as though someone had kicked my chest open with a steel-toed boot and reached in and gripped my heart in their hand.