Authors: Layne Harper
I open the lid to the toilet; Colin has done such a good job of putting it down when he’s finished using it. Then, I lift the toilet seat. I start my rationalizing process all over again. I can do this, and no one will know. I know how much better I’ll feel. This is like my reset button. I’ll be able to deal with the media, fans, Jenna, Jenny, our houseguests, my dad, no job, someone in my bathroom ironing my fucking underwear, and all the other turmoil in my life, so much better if I just do this. I can just do it once. Just one time and that’s it. Colin will never find out.
I stare into the toilet bowl water, fantasizing about how good I’ll feel when I’m done. I’ll feel normal and God, that’s all I want. I just want to feel okay again. I’m only going to do it this one time. I’ll never do it again. No one ever has to know.
I hear my phone playing George Strait’s “I Just Want To Dance With You” faintly in the other room. I ignore it for a second. I will it to shut up.
Five seconds pass, and I push myself upright, bolt to the toilet door and unlock it. Then, I unlock the master bathroom doors rushing across the bedroom to my discarded phone making it before it goes to voicemail.
What if Colin knows what I was about to do?
I frantically look around the room half expecting to see security cameras. Rationally, I know that there are no cameras, but Colin’s timing is uncanny. He would be so disappointed in me if he knew just how bad that I’ve gotten.
As soon as I hear Colin say, “Hello beautiful girl.” I burst into tears. They’re wracking sobs that take my breath away. I drop to the ground and curl up in the fetal position.
Colin begins yelling at me. “What’s wrong, Charlie? Talk to me.” I can hear how scared he is, and I don’t want him to be.
I know that I have to calm down enough to reassure him that I’m okay, but I’m not okay. I’m far from fine. In fact, I am a gigantic pile of fucked-upness. “Come home Colin,” I sob. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Two
Colin
Colin McKinney, veteran quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys, has been reportedly working out with a new quarterback coach. Some observers are speculating that it’s to improve the speed with which he releases the ball, thereby giving his receivers a little extra time to get open. Sources close to McKinney are reporting that he’s determined to make this Dallas’s year to win the Super Bowl.
He’s still not spoken about the prescription painkiller abuse allegations that continue to dog him. He looks healthy, and seems to be focused on his career. Still no word when his wedding will take place, but websites are reporting that it will be before the season begins.
We’ve taken a fifteen-minute breather to regroup. Inside the conference room it had gotten heated. I’ve spent the last couple of hours watching the best scouts in the country debate the pros and cons of drafting a hotshot wide receiver out of Georgia Tech. The kid was a phenom in college, but he’d also had some serious brushes with the law. Is he a good gamble? Is he consistent enough to be an impact player? Can the staff keep him from embarrassing the team? Will his off-field behavior be a distraction?
The coaches, team president, vice president, general manager, coordinators and me had acted as casual observers to the debate. I feel like a judge scoring a boxing match. The scouts are bitterly divided over this kid. Finally, I had to step in and break up a fistfight that erupted between two of the scouts. These guys are passionate about what they do. They’d have to be, because it’s got to be one of the worst jobs ever.
The draft is days away. This is arguably the most stressful time for the franchise. A good draft can mean a championship season. A bad draft earns you ridicule in the national media, season ticket sales in the toilet, and a team with not enough talent to make it anywhere except to last place. We have to not only figure out what’s best for Dallas; we also have to try to predict what all the other teams are going to do. We have to have multiple plans in place for trades if our guy gets snapped up early, or if maybe a guy that we didn’t think we could draft happens to still be available. We have to know what we want to do. Fortunately, my job is more to listen to the debates and give my opinion on the players. The math nerds have to run the plethora of scenarios.
I’d used my fifteen-minute break to grab another water bottle, return some emails and texts, and call Charlie. When I hang up with her, there’s not a doubt in my mind that I need to get home and as quickly as possible. She was sobbing. I try to lessen the weight that’s sitting on my chest by kneading it with my fist, but it’s no use.
I’ve already spoken to Jenny this morning and heard that her and Charlie had an argument. Jenny told me that Charlie was going for a run and then hanging out with Brad all day. I’m not sure what’s happened to change that, but Charlie’s upset.
Whatever is going on, I need to leave, and my coaches are not going to be pleased.
I attempt to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down before I walk back in the large conference room and make the announcement. However, the weight on my chest prevents those deep breaths from happening. “I’ve got an emergency at home. Hopefully, I’ll be back in an hour. If not, I’ll let you know.”
“What? Did the pool waterfall flood the movie room?” one of the scouts quips. I’ve heard that he’d fought hard to draft me. I’ve always tried to be nice to him, but right now, I could beat his face in.
I smile and say, “Somethin’ like that.”
The offensive coordinator flashes me a concerned look. I shrug my shoulders and say, “I’m not sure what happened, but I need to go.”
Everyone in this room knows about the prescription painkiller abuse allegations that are sticking to me. They all watched the Allison Katz interview, and got a glimpse of what my private life looks like. I’ve tried hard to keep my personal shit away from football, but on that fateful Thursday that the interview aired, the lines blurred. I don’t want my coaches to see my panic. I hope that I covered well. They’ve got to have confidence that I’m keeping my shit together.
I climb into the Escalade that Charlie bought for me with a sense of dread. My jaw is clenched so tight that it begins to ache. I reach up and rub my chin hoping to relax the muscles. It’s no use. Charlie said we need to talk. No one needs to talk about good things. She’d have said, “Guess what Colin, I got the shit settled with my dad.” Okay. So, she wouldn’t have said it like that, but something along those lines.
Of course, when I need to get home quickly every road hazard possible happens. Someone loses a tire a few a cars of ahead of me. I hit every red light. The idiot driver in front of me tries to pay cash going through the pass-only line on the tollway. At some point, I consider beating the shit out of him, but then I realize that it’ll just take me longer to get home if I do.
Once I’m in our neighborhood I relax just a little, but the weight on my chest is still preventing a deep breath. At least I’m almost home. I wave at the security guard and ignore the photographers as I drive through the gate.
I keep telling myself that, whatever this is, we can get through it. I can’t let her leave me a second time.
I have to park on the street because my driveway is too full of cars. That’s probably not a good sign. I walk to the back gate and unlock it. Six guys and two bikini-clad girls greet me as I enter. Two of the guys, I’m letting crash at my place. They’re older players, like, in their late twenties, who are hoping to make the practice team, and then work their way up to the roster. They’re good guys who just need a chance. I haven’t got a clue who the other four guys are, or the women.
They try to stop me to introduce themselves, but I blow past them. I need to find Charlie. I’ll deal with them later.
When I walk into my kitchen, Brad is fixing lunch on my stove for two of the security guys. They all acknowledge me, and I note how whipped security looks. They seriously look like they’ve worked out to the point of exhaustion. Their shirts have huge sweat stains, and their hair is matted to their foreheads. I wonder if their appearance has anything to do with Charlie.
I decide to stop by Jenny’s office, and see if she knows anything more about why Charlie is upset. As I get closer to Jenny’s office, I hear a laugh that I’d know anywhere. Jenna Sanchez is in my home. No wonder Charlie is pissed.
I open Jenny’s office door. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl.
Jenna smiles at me. “I believe that I still have a few of my things here. I just happened to be in town, and Jenny said that it was a good time to come by. Your fiancée—” She spat the word out, like it was acid. “—was supposed to be gone all day. It’s not my fault that she’s home.”
“Get your shit, and leave. I told you that I never want to see you again. Go enjoy your new home, Mercedes, and fucking education, compliments of me. And, may I remind you, that you’ve signed an NDA. If you ever breathe a word about us again, I’ll sell your house. List your car on Craig’s List for a hundred dollars, and then I’ll sue your ass. I expect you gone in five minutes, or I’ll have security remove you.”
Jenna throws her head back and laughs at me. I’ve never in my life wanted to hit a woman before, but dammit, Jenna makes it sound like a great fucking idea.
“Colin, you’re a pussy. A big fat vagina. That girl has made you the butt of everyone’s jokes. I watched you on TV, getting defended by her. Does she keep your balls in a jar next to her side of your very comfortable king-sized bed?”
Jenna stands up and brushes past me as she walks out of Jenny’s office. As she does, she grabs my dick. “Nope, they’re still there.”
I grit my teeth, “Fucking non-disclosure agreement, Jenna. Remember that. Nothing will make me happier than taking everything away from you.”
I watch her walk out my front door, wondering why the hell I slept with her in the first place. She was a bitch in high school and she’s an even a bigger bitch now. I really should have just jerked off.
I walk back into Jenny’s office. “Have Jenna removed from the approved list at the guard station. Notify Aiden that she showed up, and ask him to send her a reminder copy of the NDA that she signed. And what’s with the pool party?”
Jenny gives me her best shrug, and replies, “Who knows? It’s Tuesday. Isn’t that good enough reason for a pool party?”
I roll my eyes. “Charlie’s upset. Ask everyone to get lost for a couple of hours.”
“Security and Brad?”
“Security, yes. Ask Brad to hang around for a little while. I may need him.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Do you mind taking a long lunch? Hell, go get your nails done, or your hair dyed back to a normal color. Whatever. It’s on me,” I say with a shrug.
Jenny laughs and says, “Get Caroline straightened out. She’s becoming a real bitch to be around.”
Jenny’s words should piss me off. Instead, I just nod my head. I’ve noticed it also. This isn’t the first time Charlie has been upset, and I guess today is the day that we’re going to deal with it. As long as she isn’t leaving me, we can figure it out. I’ve told her this, over and over again. As long as we’re both committed to this working, we’re going to be fine. I just can’t fucking lose her again. Just the thought adds more weight to my chest.
I know that she’s in the bedroom. That’s where she always is. I’ve got a twelve thousand square foot house, and she lives in two thousand square feet of it. I turn the doorknob, and it’s locked. That scares me more than her phone call. She’s never locked me out of the bedroom.
I knock on the door a little more forcefully than I intend. “Charlie, it’s me. Open the door.” I can hear my heart beating in my chest, and my stomach feels like it’s full of battery acid. I need to see her, more than I need to breathe right now.
I wait a couple of seconds and then hear the click of the door unlocking. I quickly throw it open, getting visual confirmation that she’s okay.
The best I can say for her is that she’s alive. Her skin is grey, and her hair is in a ratted mess. But what scares me the most is her lavender eyes have dulled to a lifeless shade of nothingness. I’ve seen this look before – the day that she told me about her acceptance to Harvard. The flashback to that memory punches me in the gut.
She walks over to the sitting area in our room and curls on the couch. Next to her is her phone and iPad. Her robe is loosely tied around her waist, but it’s not providing her any modesty. But even my dick doesn’t get hard when I see her like this.
My girl is hurting, and I’m scared shitless. My mind starts racing with ideas of how I can fix this. I have to make whatever it is better. I can’t lose her again. It’s not that I don’t want to lose her; I mean I can’t physically fucking let her walk away again. I will not let her. I’ll follow her. Hell, if she’s kicking me out, I’ll sleep on the couch until we fix this. I’m never going to feel like I did when she left me the first time. Nope. Never again.
I kneel down in front of her, and brush the loose strands of hair out of her face. One stubborn strand keeps covering her dull lavender eyes, so I tuck it behind her ear. I place my hands reassuringly on her arms. When she doesn’t brush them off, I take it as a good sign.
“I’m here, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. I’ll fix it. I promise.” I hope that she hears in my voice just how serious I am. I will move heaven and earth to make her happy.
In a resolved, quiet tone she says, “I’m not leaving you. But I’m asking you to come with me, or at least make some changes.”
“Come where, sweetheart? Where do you want me to go?” I’m alarmed. I mean, I know that she hates my house, but we don’t have too many options when it comes to a secure place to live.
“Away from here. Away from all the people that use your house like it’s a country club. Away from Jenny and Jenna, who know you better than I do. Away from Alice, who washes and irons my thong panties. Mostly, just away from the press, and the fans, and the constant gossip about us. We don’t have to leave Dallas. We can just rent an apartment in a secure building. You can come here every day if you want. I’m not asking you to give up your home. I just need my own space, Colin. I need some structure back in my life.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, and her voice is still very quiet.