by Jamie Knight
Here I was sitting here waiting for him. Punctuality was never LaValle’s strong suit. I guess we all have some bad habits. As I bounced my knee impatiently, swollen and ripped up as it was feeling, I was trying not to get angry at the fact that he was late - forty minutes to be exact.
He phoned me from the limo and gave me some excuse about the George Washington Bridge, but I’d heard it a million times.
I just said, “Yeah, get here when you get here, bud.”
As I sat in the watering hole, which for some reason smelled like urine at that moment, I kept my head buried in my phone to stay incognito. I was praying no one would notice me. I didn’t need any hecklers, or even any fans wanting me to sign autographs.
Five minutes later, there it was anyway, though. The bartender who happened to be a newbie recognized me. My temper was close to exploding. This wasn’t the day. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue as he hollered out for all to hear.
“Hey aren’t you Ward? Marvin Ward? Yeah, you play for the Leviathons? Dude, you are legendary. First round is on the house, man. What can I get ya?”
That’s all it took. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, not out of embarrassment but out of pure frustration, which was increased right at that moment as the first fake-tittied princess walked up and tried to hang all over me.
“Yeah, thanks bud. Uh listen, a seat in the back maybe and a scotch – Glenfiddich. Thanks dude. Oh, and I’m waiting for a friend, an important friend.”
The bartender winked at me as if to say, you go, player. I think it was his way of trying to ensure that I could cheat indiscriminately. As if that’s why I wanted a seat in back for my “important” friend.
Distracted, I pushed the Q-tip with tits off me. But then I turned my attention back to the bartender, since his coy cozying up to me was getting under my skin.
“No bud. My pal, Greg is meeting me. He’ll be the guy in the expensive tailored suit, the one that costs more than the whole bar. Got it? Can you direct him back here, along with my scotch?”
I started to walk toward a set of more private tables.
“Yeah anything else you need, Sport, just hit me up. You bet.”
Just as I was about to blow that sorry clambake, Greg showed up with his usual panache. I was a tad aggravated because I had told him I didn’t have a lot of time and that I would have to get home to Kylie, but it wasn’t worth addressing.
He looked like a million dollars, maybe a billion. Even after winning the Super Bowl, even in my nice tailored suit that I only wear to the few upscale events I go to, I have never looked that expensive.
I’m worth a lot now but I was never any good at showing it. I wouldn’t know the right designers or brand name clothing items to wear if they came up and jumped onto my body.
I stood up to give Greg my handshake and he pulled me in a for a big hug and heavy love slam on my shoulder. He still smelled like Drakaar Noir. I guess if it works, don’t mess with it.
“How the hell have you been, Greg? You look amazing. The wife is keeping you fit, huh?”
“Fit and happy. That and eight mile runs every day. Anyway, what are you having? Let me get you a round—”
“No, I uh, can’t stay long. I have to rush home to my daughter, Kylie, after this. I’m good. I have a Scotch. You? What can I get you?”
Just then the coy bartender was all up in our space.
“Sir, can I get you anything? It’s on the house. Since you’re friends with The Man, here, and any friend of his is a friend of mine.”
Man, this young whipper-snapper isn’t going to have a job for very much longer if he keeps buying everyone’s drinks.
“Thanks, yes, I’ll have a Vodka on the rocks with a splash of lime,” Greg said.
And he handed the bartender a fifty. I thought the poor kid’s head was going to fly off his shoulders. First, he met a football hero and then he was tipped fifty bucks on one drink. This was definitely his lucky day.
“Yes, sir. Thank you so much. I’ll bring it right away.”
Once the bartender walked away, I turned back to Greg.
“Kylie is at my house with my dad. You remember the old man? We have a situation with her mother—”
“Candy?”
“Right, I filled you in some. She’s a mess, Greg. I’ve about had it. She’s in rehab now but it’s not going to stick. And it’s not healthy for Kylie.”
“Yeah bud. That’s a quagmire.”
He always used big words.
“Yes, good call – a quagmire. I’d much rather say a clusterfuck, but you bring the class out in me so let’s just put it kindly and call it a quagmire.”
The fidgety bar boy brought Greg’s vodka.
Greg laughed at my “quagmire” comment and raised his glass.
“To clusterfucks!”
I clinked his glass.
“To quagmires. It’s great to see you, bud.”
“You too, friend.”
“Hey, did I tell you about the teacher conference? No, right?”
“No. What? For Kylie?”
“Yeah, so I was called by her teacher because the school wanted to discuss with Candy and me some abhorrent behavior displayed by Kylie.”
“She’s six.”
“I know – and that’s what I said. Listen, I nearly ripped the principal a new asshole but that’s not the point. You’ll never guess who her teacher turned out to be?”
“Well, you’re right. I couldn’t possibly guess. Who?”
“Olivia.”
“Olivia from high school? Your gorgeous, wholesome girl who you were such a dumb ass that you broke up with?”
“Yeah that one. Well, I didn’t break up with her. We mutually parted ways.”
“No way. How was that? That had to be the height of awkward. And might I ask, was she still rocking the sweet brickhouse figure? She was a looker.”
I smiled sort of mischievously, for no other reason than I didn’t know how to answer. But he read a whole bunch into that grin.
“Oh, I see it, Ward; you are into it. Are you about to get it on with her again?”
I barked, “No way. Get your head out of your dick. I’m not that big of a cad. She’s her teacher. Anyway, Olivia is also a Goddamned stick in the mud who has it out for Kylie.”
“Hmm. She must have changed a bit. I can’t imagine her ever having it out for anyone. Are we really talking about sweet Olivia, the girl whose cherry you popped and then left?”
“Oh, come on, stop acting like I broke her heart. She was the one who wanted to explore the world – she went to Paris and shit – she was too good for me. And she’s got a devilish side. She still has it out for me. But she shouldn’t take it out on the kid! Anyway, yes, that Olivia. Although, I admit she looked smokin’ hot. Just as good as she did in high school. Honestly, maybe hotter.”
I told myself to stop thinking about her like that, and then continued talking.
“So, we had this meeting and I felt like a perv. Seriously, I had a bigger panic attack than I knew was possible. All I could think was ‘get me out of here.’ It was so disturbing that I was attracted to my daughter’s teacher and not able to act on it. Also, the principal was giving Sasha a time about her behavior and I was embarrassed because she’s not exactly great nanny material.”
Greg gave me a look.
“Yeah, I know, you’ve tried to talk to me about her before,” I continued, because he had. “This whole thing has me realizing even more how wrong it is for me to keep Sasha employed as Kylie’s nanny. She clearly has some ulterior motive. I need to find another nanny, but that’s easier said than done – you know how many I’ve gone through and how many potential applicants I talked to before I found Sasha. But, anyway, at this point, no. No in answer to your question— I am not banging my daughter’s first grade teacher.”
As if on cue, my cell phone rang. It was Sasha.
She sure knew how to ruin a good time.
Chapter 18
Marvin
What the hell — does Sasha have a chip in my phone?, I thought to myself, as I answered it by saying “Hello?”
“Hello, Marvin, this is Sasha,” she said, even though she knew that I have her number in my cell phone.
I could hear in her voice that she was upset that I was out with a friend, but it was no business of hers. That girl was starting to become downright stalker-ish.
She said, “If you don’t have to be with Kylie then I should not have to be with her.”
She was grating on my last nerve. My father was watching the kid, not her. Yes, he was at our house, but Sasha had no obligation to hang out with them. And she was paid handsomely whenever she did have to watch her. I hated when she acted ungrateful. But I kept my cool.
“You’re right. You don’t have to watch her. You can go home. And tell my dad I’ll be home soon.”
I kept my thoughts about her craziness lately to myself. I thought it better that way. I had a couple drinks in me and I figured I may say something very fucking untoward that I couldn’t retract later.
With my jaw clenched, I kept silent. But I very much wanted to expound on the fact that Sasha was becoming a royal pain in my ass.
Still, it wouldn’t reflect well on me in front of Greg. He’d told me countless times that Sasha was bad news and that I should get rid of her. I knew I was stupid not to listen, but he didn’t know how hard it was to find childcare.
Plus, I was already mildly embarrassed at my apparent failures in all areas of my life, especially in comparison to Greg’s stellar career and his glowing marriage to Princess Grace or whatever her name was. I could never remember – Alexis or something – I didn’t know.
He kept her tucked away in a safe somewhere in New England. I didn’t know if he was afraid to bring her into public because he thought every guy would hit on her, or what.
“I gotta go,” I told him, finishing the rest of my drink. “Daddy duties call.”
“No problem, man,” Greg said, standing up to give me a hug. “I know I missed good times with you being late to get here. It was nice talking to you. Try not to bang your daughter’s teacher. Or, hey, maybe you should get with her – since she was good for you.”
Whatever, I thought, knowing how he liked to dispense life advice. I had to admit he was right, though. Olivia had been good for me and I had never managed to find anyone like her ever since I let her go.
At home, Kylie looked like a little angel. She had fallen asleep in my old Letterman jacket. I guess my dad had been showing her my trophies. He said she tried so hard to wait up for me but couldn’t make it.
I kissed her on the cheek and lifted her rag doll little body up, to take her off to bed. Sometimes I did feel guilty. Sometimes, but I could only be responsible for so much.
“I love you, monkey. Daddy loves you.”
As I stared at her hot little sweaty face, so peaceful in slumber, I knew I wasn’t doing this well. I wasn’t the father I’d always wanted to be. I wasn’t. But, overwhelmed by it all, I thought, Man how could you be? Who taught you? Who taught you, huh?
Just then I heard my dad letting himself out, as if in answer to my question.
I couldn’t think about it anymore. Between Sasha who driving me crazy and Candy the pill popper, it was too much. I couldn’t contain it any more. I kissed little Kylie, one more time and hopped in the shower. A hot shower would wash all this shit away – hopefully.
The water washed nothing away. As the rain from the faucet cascaded over my body and I closed my eyes, all I could see was Olivia. The first time she laid back on that hotel bed and let me take her, her breasts were so taut. She had goosebumps all over her ivory skin.
I had slipped it in so carefully and she took my whole cock. It was the perfect fantasy come true. The good girl, looking at me with such pain mixed with unbridled pleasure. The cute school-girl fantasy that only I was living in.
Now I was right back there. Pounding hard on her tight pussy as she winced and then somehow came like a wild slut. I could smell her again. I lathered up my hand with soap and stroked my cock. It was so hard – just the thought of her did that to me. I couldn’t jerk off hard enough.
The truth is, I was beginning to think I’d never be able to forget about her. She would always haunt my dreams, my fantasies – and now, my daughter’s real-life classroom. I slipped my hand over the wet head, up and down and leaned up against the granite shower and came like I was with Olivia all over again.
I stepped out of the shower feeling mad at myself for not being able to get Olivia out of my head. I always thought I was fucking over her, but then I always realized I wasn’t.
Maybe I knew there was still a connection with Olivia. And that no one had ever done it for me like she had. Or perhaps I knew I had feelings… or could it be that I just wanted Olivia one last time?
I slipped into bed, and as I did, my phone rang, and Sasha’s name came up on it again.
Fuck.
Thinking she had forgotten to tell me something important pertaining to Kylie, I answered.
“Hey Marvin, I’m sorry I was a bit high strung earlier,” she said, and that was when I realized she had just called to chat. “I felt bad that you lost your game. I was just trying to think of what could help you get back on top.”
“I… appreciate that, I guess…” I told her, which was completely untrue. “But we have to think about what’s best for Kylie, not what’s best for me.”
“I know,” she said. “But Kylie is always acting up and saying she wants her mom, so maybe that’s what’s best for Kylie, too?”
This was beginning to seem like she wanted to get rid of Kylie and get me all to herself. But I tried not to think of her in such a negative light. She at least had the decency to be kind and patient with Kylie, to help her with school assignments and things like riding her bike – that was a lot more than other nannies I’d tried in the past had done.
“Sasha, you know I have to go to court regarding Kylie. You know that, right?”
“Yes, you mentioned it.”
“Yeah, and my lawyer called yesterday and said that summons are going to go out, for people to testify about my character. I gave your name; you’ll be able to do that, right?”
I was having second thoughts about listing her. I didn’t want her to act crazy on the stand, or to say something that could hurt my chances, if she was going to be going on like this about how Kylie should go with Candy.
At the same time, I didn’t want to piss her off too much, or she might turn on me and purposefully say something to hurt me. It was a precarious position.
“Sure, Marvin. Whatever you need,” Sasha purred. “You know I’m your girl.”
I had been about to remind her that it’s not a paid position. Sometimes she acted like everything was about money – I was paying her handsomely to watch Kylie, and I knew that she didn’t have many other options in terms of a job, since she was uneducated and not exactly intelligent.
But now I saw that she was all about impressing me. Hopefully she would still feel that way when the court date came. If I could just put up with her until then, everything would be fine. Then I could get a new nanny for Kylie. Or, with the way my football career had been going lately, I might have free time to take care of Kylie on my own by then.
“Thanks,” I told Sasha.
All of a sudden, while I was still on the phone with Sasha, Kylie stormed in.
“Daddy, I wet the bed. I’m sorry.”
“Oh fuck, it just gets better. I told you she has been having a lot of issues lately,” Sasha barked.
“It happens,” I snapped back at her.
Then I turned to my daughter.
“Awe Kylie, did Grandpa let you drink a lot of juice before bed time?”
Kylie nodded and began to cry and stood there for what seemed like an endless eternity, with tears running down her face. I wasn’t sure what to do.
All I knew at that moment was that my muscles
were fatigued from practice, I was angry at Candy, and I was upset at the trash talking nanny who couldn’t seem to leave me alone. If I had my way at that moment, I’d have gone right to sleep but Kylie was bellowing – not loud enough to cover up Sasha’s harping on the other end of the phone line, but loud.
“Alright. Alright. It’s okay, honey. It’s no big thing, Kylie. Daddy’s getting up. Stop crying. But honey, you know you shouldn’t drink all that juice before bed.”
As I got up and swooped her up, I could feel her night gown, drenched. I winced and that didn’t go over well. Kylie began to scream for her mother.
“Mommmmy! I want mommy. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, Daddy.”
She was smacking me against my shoulder while I carried her like a sack of potatoes and walked her to her room.
“Awe come on. It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t hate me.”
And she let out a scream that cut me, not only in my eardrums but in my soul.
“I hate you. I hate you.”
I set her down and looked her in the face and tried to push her unruly hair out of her eyes.
“Stop it. It’s okay. Kylie. I love you.”
But she wasn’t stopping. It was full-on tantrum time. As I changed the sheets, Kylie screamed and threw things in her bedroom. I lifted her nightgown off and put her in an old T-shirt, which she promptly ripped off.
“No! I hate you.”
Finally, I put her into the bed even though she was fighting me on it.
“Good night,” I told her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry that I was upset. It wasn’t your fault – Daddy just has a lot on his mind. I love you.”
She wasn’t having any of it. She kept crying for a good hour after that.
I felt fucking heartbroken. She reminded me every minute of my life what a rotten father I was.
I had never wanted that. My dad was rotten. I wanted to be better. But the truth is, I wasn’t.
I realized that Sasha was still on the phone, listening to all of this.
