Without Chase (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chase

As the plane touched down at JFK and the flight attendant announced, “Welcome to the United States, ladies and gentlemen,” Chase breathed a sigh of relief. It was the first time he had been on American soil since he left for Spain eight months earlier. Sitting next to him was Sergei, and across the aisle from them were the two American players on his team, Chris and Keith. The four of them had been invited to play in an exhibition tournament in Las Vegas for international players. This event would be heavily attended by scouts from the NBA who were looking to find foreign talent, or as in the case of Chris and Keith, American players who weren’t good enough to make the draft right out of college. The tournament was going to take place later in the week---in the meantime, since there were no direct flights from Madrid to Vegas anyway, they decided to extend the layover by a few days to hang out in New York.

Once again, Chase was reminded of the difference in salary between an NBA player and a Euro League one. He could have afforded to go back to the States anytime; for his teammates, an international plane ticket was a luxury. So when the promoters included a business-class ticket as part of their appearance fee, his teammates came up with a way to stretch their travel dollar, and Chase offered to show them around the city.

He wished he still had an apartment in Manhattan. In Las Vegas, everything would be paid for, but until then, they were on their own. They were going to double up in hotel rooms, but nothing decent was less than $300 a night, and the guys were still going to go through a lot of money just eating out and going to clubs. Normally, he would have been comped at clubs, but no owner was going to comp all three of them for drinks. If they had been four recognizable and hot looking girls, then yes, because guys would be coming for weeks afterwards hoping to run into them again. But four dudes? They wouldn’t bring in anyone, and in fact they would be competition for the regulars. So Chase knew everything would be out-of-pocket on this trip.

Keith was a local, having gone to one of the powerhouse Catholic high schools in the area---one of the few prep schools that had shoes customized for the team. He leaned forward as the plane taxied to the gate, eager to be home. Sergei’s eyes were also fixed to the window but for the opposite reason: he had never been to New York and was eager to take it all in.

Some of their excitement dissolved when they got off the plane and found themselves into the crowded chaos of the JFK customs area. Sergei sighed as he realized that he would have to wait in the “non United States citizens” line. Chase nodded towards the line for US citizens. “We’ll see you on the other side, buddy.” “Fucking US rules, man,” Sergei said irritably. “You guys should have open borders like Europe.” “This is not the place to start talking anti-American shit,” Chase cautioned, before he joined Chris and Keith.

After half an hour with very little movement, another plane’s passengers emptied into the terminal, and Chase sensed a ripple of interest from his teammates. He turned and saw a group of five long legged women making their way towards the line. Judging from their uniform: dark glasses, black leather jacket, tight fitting jeans and tissue thin tee-shirts matched to an oversized scarf, he knew they were probably models returning from location. Unlike most people who waited in line solemnly and a little nervously, they spoke in confident voices. After dozens of times going through, they seemed unfazed by the possibility of facing a government agent who could deny them entry into the country, however slight that chance could be. After taking in their good looks, Keith joked, “God Bless America,” and tried to make eye contact with any of them. Then, as Chase was about to turn away, he saw that one of them was Jamie. Before he could decide what to do, she turned and glanced indifferently in their direction. It took her a moment to recognize him: she met his eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking away, then doubled back in surprise.

Finally seeing those blue cat-shaped eyes made Chase forgot all about her reaction on the phone a few weeks earlier. He had wanted just to see her for so long that he strode over without thinking, indifferent to the annoyed glances he was getting from the people in line as they made room for him. “Jamie.” He leaned forward to hug her, but a sudden tensing in her shoulders caused him to step back.

“Hi Chase,” she said quietly. He noticed that her friends conversation had stopped and there was a deafening silence that surrounded him.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He stared back at her friends, who got the hint and pretended to go back to their conversations.

“So, um, you’re back?”

“Yeah, sort of. I’m here with some of my teammates to play in a tournament in Las Vegas. I thought we’d stop for a few days in New York to hangout.”

She gave him a knowing look. “You mean to party?”

“No, we don’t do that,” he said, putting his hands up in protest. “I was planning on taking them to the MOMA and the Met, then a few Broadway shows. And of course we have to go shopping in the Village,” he added with just the right teenage inflection.

“Really? Which museums are you taking them to in Las Vegas?” Jamie always had a comeback for him. Chase found himself breaking into a big smile. He knew his friends would give him hell for not playing it cool, but he didn’t care.

The line moved forward a little bit, and he knew his time was up. Chase looked towards his friends. “Listen, I better go before I get arrested for cutting the line. It was good seeing you.”

“You too.”

Chase moved upstream until he reached his friends again.

“Niiiccee,” declared Chris. “Models, right? Can we party with them?”

“Yeah! Hey man, have her introduce us to her friends.” Keith joined in.

Chase shook his head. “Not gonna happen, man. You can’t party with your ex without drama,” he said falling back on a truism he knew they would relate to. Half of what he said was a lie---there was nothing he’d love more than to spend the next four days hanging out with Jamie. But he knew they weren’t at the stage of being cool with each other yet.

As it turned out, they ended up coming out of customs at the same time because Chase, Keith and Nick had to wait for Sergei.

“Hey,” one of the models called out as they walked past. “Are you guys stalking us?”

“No, just waiting for my boy over here,” Keith pointed to Sergei.

Seeing the women, Sergei immediately launched into his wide-eyed tourist routine. He came up with a very flimsy connection to one of the Eastern European girls by claiming his mother was from the same area. Within minutes they had exchanged numbers, along with plans for all of them to meet later that night at a club.

Jamie fell into step with Chase. “Your friends are good,” she said, nodding at the animated conversation taking place behind them. He looked at the time on his phone. “Yeah, it usually takes them at least two hours in a new country to find women. Three to find models.” Jamie laughed---and drew the attention of Kara, one of her companions.

“Hey Jamie, you’re coming tonight, right?” she asked. Chase glanced over his shoulder at Keith and gave him a death glare.

“Coming where tonight?” asked a male voice in front of them. Chase turned back around and saw a guy giving Jamie a warm kiss. The sight of another man touching her---and so physically near him, too---turned Chase’s stomach. Luckily, years of not letting other players see they got in his head paid off, and he kept his face blank.

Jamie gently stepped away from her boyfriend. “Hi Adam,” she said, then, “this is… um, Chase.” Adam let go of the arm around Jamie’s waist to shake his hand.

“Chase---hey, nice to meet you.” Chase found himself looking into the friendly, open face of Adam Bixby. With a flicker of a glance, he took everything in about the guy: good looking, tall, a little preppy, and pumped like someone who worked out with weights at the gym.

“Yeah, man, what’s up.” He shook hands, but didn’t feel like being friendly back.

Jamie pulled Adam back towards her. “We ran into Chase and his friends at the customs line,” she said, her high pitched voice a dead giveaway to her nervousness. “And, um, it looks as if he and his friends are going out with Kara and some of her friends later.”

“Oh, did you want to go? We don’t have plans---” as Adam talked, Chase watched Jamie carefully. She’s totally with this guy, he concluded. The way they look at each other when the other one is talking, even the fact that he’s meeting her inside the terminal instead of waiting at the curb like everyone else. He tried to remember if he had ever done that for her.

“No, I’m really tired.” She was looking at Adam now, clearly signaling that she wanted to get out of there. Fast. With a pang, Chase remembered how he and Jamie would celebrate each other’s homecomings: lying in bed for hours, making love and sleeping off their jet lag.

“Well, we better get going,” Jamie broke into his thoughts. She hugged her friends goodbye, then gave him and his teammates a friendly wave before disappearing into the crowd with Adam.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jamie

Adam had a car waiting for them. When they had reached Queens without a word between them, Adam reached over and took Jamie’s hand. “Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” he asked.

Jamie shook her head slowly. “That’s just it---it’s hard to put into words.” She moved closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. “The first thing I want to say, though, is that I’m happy I’m here with you.”

Adam turned her face towards his. “I’m happy you’re here, too,” he told her.

Jamie touched his face before continuing. “But I feel so… sad… seeing Chase. It’s like when I went back to my old high school last year. You know you’ve changed, you know everything’s changed, and you’re glad you aren’t in high school anymore. But when I think about how much simpler life was when I was there… I don’t know, there’s a part of me that wishes everything had stayed the same.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re happy to be here,” Adam said, hurt.

Jamie paused, considering her words carefully. “Can’t I be happy that I am where I am, but sad that I had to leave something behind to get there?” It may have just been jet lag, but she suddenly felt tired and didn’t want to talk anymore. She slouched into the seat and closed her eyes.

“Jamie. Don’t shut me out.” Adam’s voice was unusually sharp. Jamie opened her eyes to look at him with a slight frown. “I’m not. I’m just done talking, that’s all.”

As Adam moved away from her, Jamie found herself losing patience. “I told you I was happy to see you, and I meant it. But it’s like you want something more from me---” she trailed off.

Adam kept his gaze on the window. “You know, I don’t feel like talking anymore either.”

They spent several minutes in angry silence, until a realization came to Jamie so clear that it caused her to blink in surprise:
“he loves you, but he can’t say it. He loves you and he’s afraid he’s going to lose you now that Chase is back. So he’ll pick a fight with you instead.”

The next step was to decide what to do. Jamie glanced over at Adam, at the way his jaw was ever-so-slightly tensed, at the way his eyes were shadowed with sadness, and felt a lump in her throat. This man, who had been so patient with her as she mended her broken heart---was now in danger of having his heart broken himself. When she realized that hurting him would be like hurting herself, she knew. She felt the same way.

“Adam---” she reached for him and that’s all it took. They collided into each other’s arms, lips caressing, hands touching and pulling each other closer. “I’m sorry, baby” he whispered to her after they stopped for breath. “I know what you were trying to tell me.”

“I want to be with you, OK?” She laughed at how good it felt to say it.

Adam smiled and kissed her hand. “And I want to be with you.” He looked into her eyes. “Tell me it’s over, Jamie.”

Jamie looked confidently back at him. “It’s over.”

With those two words, Adam answered with three of his own:”I love you.”

Jamie kissed him, then said what she had only said to one other man. “I love you too.”

He pulled her closer, throwing her legs over his lap. Jamie sighed, smelling the crisp, citrus scent of his soap on his neck. “Happy?” he asked.

“Very.” she answered back. Despite herself, Jamie thought of Chase. They were finally in the same city, but at that moment he seemed farthest away from her than he had ever been.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chase

The sick feeling at the pit of his stomach didn’t go away even after Jamie and her boyfriend had driven off in their town car. As the others’ conversation swirled around him, Chase was able to figure out that they were all going to share a limo to take them into Manhattan. Even though the last thing he wanted was to have some of Jamie’s friends watching him---he just knew they would call her and tell her how he acted---he was also glad that his teammates were already distracted.

“Man, it’s good to be home,” exclaimed Keith at the club later that night. They were joined by a few of the athletes Chase hung out with when he lived in New York. Less than a year had passed, but one of them had already been cut from his team, and another had suffered a season ending injury and was worried about being traded. As they questioned him about playing overseas, Chase realized some of them had come less out of friendship, and more for business. He didn’t resent them for it---it was hard to face down the long road of being just another guy working a nine-to-five when you had lived the NBA or NFL lifestyle. Looking at them and seeing the fear in their eyes, Chase felt even more grateful that he was being given another chance. And the process would begin in Vegas.

The exhibition game in Las Vegas was important because this would be the first time many of the scouts would see him in person since the suspension. Even in an era of HDTV and games broadcast globally, basketball front offices still believed in the importance of actually seeing a player in person. Like hunters tracking prey, they would watch for subtle signs to determine a player’s weakness and thin them from the rest of the herd. Does a player back down against a more aggressive player by leaning ever so slightly away? Or does he front up and enjoy the impact? Does he stare down a teammate who took a shot for himself instead of passing it to him? Is he hustling back after time outs, or is he trying to catch his breath?

Chase would be under a microscope. He needed to show everyone that he still had it, and he was worth every penny Steve Green was going to negotiate for.

He was going to get another chance in basketball, but not with the girl he loved. “
So much for standing by me
,” he thought bitterly. There were no more excuses he could make for her. She knew the truth of why he had to leave her, but she didn’t want to start over with him. She was with a new guy now, and she seemed happy with him. Why should she give that up?
Everything happens for a reason
, he told himself.
You can’t do anything about what happened in the past, but you’d better take care of your future
Which meant that right now, he had to prove himself to a bunch of men wielding clipboards.

The accommodations in Vegas were an improvement from their hotel in Manhattan. He and his teammates went from sharing a standard room in a typical chain hotel---to their own suite on the Strip.

Sergei knocked on his door within ten minutes of their arrival. Pushing his way into Chase’s room, he announced, “what the hell, this is like fucking amazing, dude!” Chase grinned at his sincere attempt at American-slang. “You got a suite, too?” he asked.

In response, Sergei raced his hands in triumph. “Ha! My view is better.”

“What the fuck is it with you Europeans and the view?” Chase said, remembering his first day in Madrid. “But anyway, you’re wrong. What can be better than looking out on the Strip? Wait till it gets dark.”

“What’s better?” Sergei asked dramatically. “What’s better than your view of the street---”

“The STRIP,” Chase corrected him. “Not STREET.”

“What’s better than your view of the Strip,” Sergei continued, “is my view of the fucking pool! What am I, I’m a fucking middle aged tourist? I don’t need to see lights from the STRIP when I can see tits and ass.”

Chase shrugged. “Yeah, alright, if you think all there is to do with tits and ass is look at them through a glass window.” He put both hands on the glass and started panting.

Sergei gave him a playful push. “Who got laid in New York, you fucker? Huh? It wasn’t the great Chase---” Their scuffle was interrupted by a banging on the door. They opened it to Keith and Nick, already dressed for the pool in shorts and flip flops.

“Jesus, I can hear you two playing grab-ass from next door.” Keith told them as he walked in, looking around. Chase sighed and gestured across the room. One thing about athletes that never changed was their competitiveness. Whether it was a pair of sneakers or a free room in Las Vegas, they were driven to always prove they had the best. “Go ahead, take a look around, make sure my room isn’t better than yours. “ He nodded at Sergei. “Serge thinks his is better because he has a pool view.”

“Who gives a fuck, my room has a hot tub.” Keith said. Seeing Sergei’s crestfallen look, he changed the subject and told them both, “come on man, put on your pool stuff. Let’s go make some new friends.”

Ten minutes later they were settled into lounge chairs in the VIP section of the pool. It had its own private, smaller pool, which overlooked the larger, public one. A DJ was blasting music, and hordes of semi-naked bodies danced in the water, on the deck; anywhere there was room. But everyone’s eyes was turned up, towards the VIP section. Chase recognized a few TV actors, some rappers, and a few of their fellow athletes among them.

“Ma-aan, this here’s the real baller lifestyle!” Keith said, waving down to a few women who caught his eye. Sergei joined him at the rail, and before long the two of them had left to mingle. Chris stayed behind, studying the scouting reports on the other players on his tablet. Well aware that he didn’t have the size of Sergei, the quickness of Keith or the athleticism of Chase, Chris succeeded by being the smartest guy on the court.

Chase gave his buddy an approving nod, then stretched out on the lounge and yawned.
“You look like a great big cat doing that,” a distinctively feminine voice told him. Chase looked over at a petite brunette sipping her cocktail suggestively. He recognized her as the singer of one of the most popular songs on the radio. He couldn’t remember her name, but he could definitely hear the song in his head. It didn’t matter. Chase leaned over and extended his hand. “I’m Chase,” he said. “Who are you?”