Blurred Lines

by Naughty Aphrodite

  “I wasn’t stressed,” said Lewis, keen to steer the conversation away from his childhood. “I already told you. I was drunk. Two very different things.”

  “And do you find that you often feel more aggressive when you drink?” Rosie asked.

  Lewis made a show of thinking about this. “Nah,” he finally answered. “Just more horny.”

  Rosie raised one eyebrow.

  “No, I’m not trying to be a dick,” he said, waving his hands and putting on his most charming smile. “It’s the truth.”

  Rosie nodded and scribbled in her notepad. “So why did you attack Ms. Rossetti, then? Was your ego hurt that she and her partner rejected your advances? Or are you homophobic?”

  “Pfff, no,” Lewis replied. “Have you seen Ben? I don’t give a shit who people sleep with. I mean, yeah, sure, I’d liked it if they’d come home with me, but, honestly, I don’t remember why I hit her. Judging by the video, I’d say she was just being super annoying and I got fed up.”

  “So you consider a woman telling you that she isn’t interested in your advances to be ‘super annoying’?”

  “Stop twisting my words, doc,” said Lewis. “I’m sure you’ve seen the video. That bitch was all up in my face.”

  “Don’t use that word in my office, Lewis. It’s dehumanizing and your victim was very much human.”

  Lewis caught himself before he spat out another nasty remark, remembering that he was trying to get this woman into bed with him. “Sorry,” he said. “Old habits die hard.”

  Rosie nodded again. “And why do you think it’s a habit of yours to refer to women as ‘bitches’?”

  Lewis was caught off guard. “Uhhhh,” he stuttered. “I dunno. I guess I never really thought about it before.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Kind of a lame reason, huh?”

  Despite herself, Rosie smiled. Turning her head away to hide it, she didn’t see Lewis’s smirk. “Yeah,” she replied, turning back to him, “it is.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here, I guess,” he replied, giving her another charming smile.

  This time, Rosie was unmoved. “Yes, it is,” she agreed. “Now let’s talk about when you’re sober. Do you find yourself getting angry a lot? You’re known for violent outbursts on the diamond – or are you drunk then too?”

  “So you’ve seen me play?” Lewis asked, grinning.

  Rosie shook her head. “Not even once, I’m afraid. But you’re avoiding my questions.”

  “You don’t get distracted easily, do you?” Lewis asked rhetorically. “And no, I’m not drunk when I play. Don’t be ridiculous. I get angry because the umps make stupid calls or because one of my teammates is fucking up. I have reasons.”

  “Do you ever consider not reacting so aggressively to these problems?”

  Lewis shrugged. “It’s a sport. The fans like a little action.”

  “So it’s all for the fans?” Rosie asked doubtfully.

  “No, but they’re certainly not complaining, are they?”

  “So why do you do it, then?”

  “Because I get angry. That’s just who I am. It runs in the family.”

  “Yes,” Rosie agreed, “so you said. Do you think it would make you less of a man if you didn’t react so violently?”

  Lewis laughed, but it sounded a little forced to Rosie. “Trust me, Rosie, I have no doubts about my masculinity.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Rosie replied dryly.

  “What about you, Rosie? Do you doubt my masculinity?” Lewis waggled his eyebrows again.

  Rosie sighed and said very calmly, “There’s more to masculinity than big muscles and a brash attitude, Lewis. As I’m sure you know.”

  Lewis shrugged. “So people say. But I’ve never heard the ladies complain.”

  “Maybe that’s because they’re too afraid of getting slapped if they do,” Rosie shot back.

  Lewis was stung. “Look, I don’t make a habit of beating women,” he replied. “This was the first and only time.”

  Rosie nodded. “A lot of my clients say that,” she told him. “But let’s leave that for now. Why don’t we practice some calming techniques? You have a quick temper, Lewis, and, while that may be fine on the field, it’s getting you into trouble in the real world. I think you need to learn how to control that temper and channel it into your playing rather than your nightlife.”

  Lewis flashed her another winning smile. “Whatever you say, doc. I’m all yours.”

  “And aren’t I a lucky girl,” Rosie replied acerbically.

  Chapter 4

  As the weeks went by, Rosie had to admit that Lewis wasn’t all bad. Yes, he was an asshole, and, yes, he had a fast temper and no control over himself or his desires. But he could also be surprisingly funny and thoughtful. What he wasn’t, however, was making progress. He came every day as required, and he answered her questions and took part in the exercises she gave him, but Rosie had the sneaking suspicion that he was just going through the motions.

  Usually, with her clients, there came a moment of self-awareness, a point where their behaviors – and the consequences of said behaviors - became clear to them and they understood why they needed to change. It might take them a long time to solve their problems, if they ever did, but the will to do so was there. With Lewis, there was no spark, no dawning of comprehension. He just kept answering her questions and nodding along, but he never actually seemed to grasp that there was something wrong with him, that his actions were hurting himself and others. It didn’t help that she had to stay on her guard every second of their appointments together because Lewis was constantly flirting with her.

  It wasn’t that Rosie minded being hit on - she liked to flirt as much as anyone – but, first of all, he was her patient. Second of all, he was an asshole, and third of all – hell, she didn’t even have a third of all. Those were good enough reasons on their own. It was a pity, really, because sometimes he could be really funny and, instead of being able to just enjoy the joke, she’d have to swallow her laugh and keep her face straight, just to keep him from getting any ideas. Men like Lewis were constantly pushing the boundaries, wanting just a little bit more, and Rosie knew that if he thought he could make her laugh, he would think that he could get her into bed with him as well. And that was definitely not happening.

  But all her efforts went to nothing at the end of their third week together. It was Friday morning and they were nearing the end of their session, practicing the breathing exercises that Rosie hoped would one day help Lewis to control his outbursts.

  “Do these really help people?” Lewis asked as he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, breathing deeply.

  Rosie nodded then realized he couldn’t see her. “They do,” she said. “But the trick is taking them seriously and remembering to do them when you feel yourself getting angry. It’s all well and good to sit around at home doing deep breathing exercises but, if you don’t do them when you need them, then all you’re really getting is a bigger lung capacity.”

  Lewis nodded. “And the last thing I need is more air for yelling at people,” he joked, cracking one eye open.

  Rosie chuckled despite herself. “Too true,” she answered. “Or maybe you could take up opera singing? Because I’m afraid you might be a lost cause when it comes to anger management, Lewis.”

  Her patient opened both eyes, his usually snarky expression suddenly worried. “Don’t say that, Rosie,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I thought I was really making progress.”

  Rosie raised her eyebrows. “You just seem to be going through the paces to me, Lewis.”

  Lewis shook his head. “What? No way, doc. These sessions are really helping me. I swear to God. Sometimes I even do this shit at home,” he said, gesturing to his crossed legs.

  “You do?” Rosie was honestly surprised. “Well, that’s nice to know. But, like I said, you need to do it in the heat of the moment. I bet if you got a few dr
inks in you, you’d be just as wild as ever.”

  “You think so?” It was Lewis’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge, Rosie Suarez. Not to mention a very good reason for us to go out tonight.”

  “Only you would take that as an invitation, Lewis,” Rosie replied, shaking her head. “I’m not about to go out for a drink with a patient. Some of us take our jobs seriously.”

  “Ah, come on, Rosie. Just one drink. Just so that I can show you that I’m not going to become a ravenous beast as soon as I do a tequila shot.”

  “Oh, now we’re doing shots, are we?”

  “So you’ll come?” Lewis grinned at her.

  Rosie eyed him for a long moment before deciding. “I will go out for exactly one drink with you, Lewis, just to prove my point.”

  “Sure, sure, whatever you need to tell yourself,” Lewis winked.

  “This is not a date, Lewis,” Rosie insisted, keeping her voice calm. “Nor does it mean I’m going to sleep with you. I want to be very, very clear about that. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that you’re coming for a drink with me on a Friday night,” Lewis waggled his eyebrows.

  Rosie sighed, already regretting her decision. “If you keep acting like that I’ll change my mind,” she warned him.

  “Okay,” said Lewis, miming zipping up his lips. “I’ll be good.”

  “Ha,” Rosie laughed, unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

  “I’ll pick you up?”

  Rosie shook her head. “I’ll meet you there,” she said. She didn’t want him anywhere near her house. “And I have to be home early.”

  “Sure, sure, okay. And it’s my treat.”

  “Obviously. The only way I’m spending time with you is if I’m paid for it,” she joked.

  “Ouch, doc,” Lewis smiled. “You can be mean, has anyone ever told you that?”

  “It’s tough love,” she replied, making him laugh.

  ***

  Later that night, Rosie was sitting at the bar of an upscale restaurant downtown and feeling very uneasy. She was a confident woman and didn’t often feel like she didn’t belong somewhere but, looking around the dim lounge with its tables dotted here and there with celebrities, she’d never felt more out of place. That, coupled with the prospect of having a drink with Lewis, was giving her stomach pains already. Trying not to let her nervousness show, she crossed her legs in the opposite direction, a nervous habit she’d had all her life.

  “Looking for someone?” the bartender asked, looking down his nose at her. He clearly thought she was here to spot a star, even though it was guest list only.

  Rosie shook her head emphatically. “Waiting for someone,” she replied. “And not of my own free will.”

  The bartender raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’ll be a first here,” he said. “Most people are thrilled to get on the list.”

  “Well, I’m not most people,” Rosie replied.

  He gave her a once over, taking in her slender legs, dark, glossy hair, and tailored yellow dress. “No,” he said, with a growing smile, “I can see that.”

  Rosie chuckled, but her expression abruptly soured as Lewis appeared in the entrance. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered as he caught sight of her and made his way across the room.

  “You’re waiting for him?” the bartender asked incredulously. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t really seem like his type.”

  “That’s because I’m not,” Rosie replied. “Like I said, I’m here under duress.”

  The bartender nodded. “Do you want your drinks extra strong or extra light?” he asked.

  She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she said, “but normal’s fine. It’ll only be one drink.”

  “It’s never just one drink,” said the bartender.

  “You made it,” Lewis grinned at her as he reached the bar.

  “It wasn’t that hard to find,” she replied stiffly.

  “I thought maybe you’d back out at the last minute,” he said.

  Rosie shook her head. “When’s the next time I’ll be on the guest list for this place? Gotta take advantage of that when I can.”

  “Oh, I see. You just came for the ambiance.”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t come for the company,” Rosie shot back, only half joking. Lewis was dressed in a well-fitted, deep green shirt that brought out the green flecks in his hazel eyes and accentuated his muscular shoulders. It suited him and Rosie didn’t like that she liked it. All of which made her grumpy.

  “Ouch, man, you’re gonna give me a complex,” said Lewis, putting a hand on his heart.

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “A few insults from me are hardly going to let all the hot air out of your bloated head, Lewis, don’t worry.”

  The bartender watched this exchange with bated breath, waiting for the baseball star to lose his temper and lash out. To his surprise, Lewis just laughed.

  “Okay, okay, I surrender,” said Lewis, holding up his hands. “What are you having?”

  “G&T,” Rosie replied.

  Lewis wrinkled his nose. “What are you? 90? Gross. One G&T and a rum and coke,” he said to the bartender.

  “The house G&T comes with mint and cucumber,” the bartended told Rosie. “Want to try it? Or would you rather play it safe?”

  Rosie smiled. “Let’s go wild,” she said. “Bring on the vegetables.”

  The bartender nodded. “It’ll be right out.”

  Tired of sharing her with the bartender, Lewis tugged on Rosie’s elbow. “Let’s go grab a table,” he said.

  Rosie nodded, smiling goodbye at the bartender as Lewis led her into one of the darker corners of the bar.

  “You sure it’s dark enough back here?” she joked as they settled into a cozy booth.

  Lewis eyed her. “I can get them to dim the lights a bit more, if you want. But I figured you’d want to be able to admire how good this shirt makes me look,” he replied with a devilish grin.

  Rosie laughed and shook her head. “Like I said: a hopeless case.”

  “Don’t say that,” said Lewis. “I’m really not.”

  “I’ll believe you when you stop hitting on me,” Rosie replied.

  Lewis nodded. “Okay, fine. I can do that.”

  Rosie raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s just…you know you’re really beautiful, though, right?” he asked.

  “I’m also extremely smart, loyal, trilingual, and hilarious,” Rosie shot back.

  Lewis laughed. “Okay, yes. Sorry.” Then he frowned, “Trilingual?”

  Rosie nodded. “Spanish, Portuguese, and English. My dad was from Brazil, and my mom was from Puerto Rico.”

  “Huh,” Lewis looked impressed. “My Nona was from Naples, but I never learned Italian.”

  “That’s usually how it goes.” She almost mentioned that she was teaching Angelo to speak Spanish and Portuguese as well but quickly bit her tongue. The last thing she wanted was Lewis knowing about Angelo. She didn’t want him near her son.

  The bartender brought their drinks and, like in their sessions, they began to banter, throwing barbs back and forth as their conversation wandered from topic to topic. Nobody was more surprised than Rosie when she realized that she was actually enjoying herself. Before she knew it, the bartender was bringing the third round, and she was beginning to feel the alcohol.

  “What time is it?” she asked Lewis as the bartender left them.

  “Just about midnight,” he replied, checking his watch.

  “That late?” Rosie gasped. “Shit, I should really go.”

  Lewis frowned. “Who are you? Cinderella? We just got another round. Sit down and enjoy it, Rosie.” His hand closed around her upper arm, gently tugging her back down.

  “I really should be going,” said Rosie softly. His fingers were soft on the sensitive skin of her inner arm.

  “In a minute,” said Lewis. “When we
’re done these drinks. Just to make sure that three isn’t the lucky number that turns me into a wild man.”

  Rosie smiled at the joke. His hand still hadn’t left her arm and, she realized with a start, their knees were touching under the table. Lewis shifted slightly so that their thighs pressed against one another. Rosie swallowed, looking over at the baseball star, who now seemed very close. “Okay,” she whispered, her eyes on his, “just one more drink.”