Under the Bleachers: A Novel

by K. K. Allen

  My dad pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me. A gold key with m&m engraved on it. It doesn’t look familiar, which means he got it after he left. My throat tightens.

  “Take it,” he prods gently. “It’s a spare for my storage unit down the street. There’s a cabinet where I put every single returned letter that I wrote to you girls. Your mother blocked my email, so snail mail was the only way. I wrote you every single day to tell you how much I loved and missed you, promising I would fight for you for as long as I had to. And I’d always write a separate one to your mother, sending her money and begging her to let me come see you girls.”

  I stare at the key, trying to make sense of his words. “You wrote to us?”

  He nods. “I’m guessing that’s how you girls found my address. Probably from one of the letters addressed to your mom. Every letter I sent to you girls was returned.”

  I clasp the key in my hand, but shake my head. “Dad, this is too much. You still left us.”

  His shoulders fall heavily. “I never thought I’d lose you girls. I knew things were bad between your mother and me, but never in my worst dreams did I think it would come to this. Once I was stripped of my rights, I got a letter from a lawyer saying any correspondence would be seen as harassment. And that was it. When you two came to my door that day, I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe you two knew but wanted to see me anyway. By the time I registered what was really going on, you took off.”

  “Maggie was furious,” I tell him. “I wanted to stay. I wanted to understand. But Daddy, seeing your family like that—”

  It’s my turn to break down. I’m exhausted, and now that I’ve heard his story, I’m reliving it all over again. I can’t imagine ever forgetting that feeling in my chest when I realized he’d moved on without us—with my nurse, of all people.

  I also remember how hopeful he looked when his eyes connected with ours.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for the hurt I caused you girls. I’m so sorry, baby girl.” He reaches out and places a hand on my back, making me break down all over again. Despite the pain, I feel the strength of his touch. It’s comforting. “You’re always on my mind. It doesn’t make up for anything, I know, but you’ve been with me.” He rubs his chest with his fist. “When I saw you at the scrimmage, I wasn’t sure if it was real.”

  “I moved here hoping to run into you.”

  “Zachary mentioned that.” He must see my surprised face. “I’m glad he did. I don’t know if I would have had to courage to do this if I didn’t think you’d consider talking to me.”

  I wonder what else they’ve talked about. Does he know about the relationship Zach and I were building before that awful story flooded the internet?

  I look up and meet his eyes. “I’ve spent close to three years figuring out what I would say when this day came,” I admit. “I never did figure it out.”

  He lets out a small laugh. “I’d say you did just fine.”

  Seeing my dad smile, I’m able to recall some of our better memories. “I still remember what you taught me.” I nod toward the field. “I’ve got a pretty good arm.”

  He laughs. “That’s what Zachary tells me.”

  “You two talk about me a lot.”

  He laughs again, and already some of the tension has lifted between us. “He laid into me pretty good. You have that boy’s heart.”

  As much as I care about Zach, he’s not what I want to talk about right now.

  “And before you say anything, I’m not here because of Zach. I may have needed the push, but not because I didn’t want to see you. I failed you as a father, Monica, and I only ever prayed that you were okay. Happy. Loved. I didn’t want to come along and ruin all that.”

  I wipe another tear from my eye and sigh. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dad. I’m not sure if I’ll ever forget. It will probably hurt every time I remember the nights I cried over you. The recitals you never came to. The graduations you missed.

  “I’ll probably be angry every time I think of that day we came to see you only to find out you’d replaced us. And even though I know there’s more to the story now, that’s probably how I’ll always think of it. You replaced us. You moved on, and I’m just now forcing myself to deal with this. That’s a lot of years to hold onto this kind of pain, and it’s not something you just forget. But I’d like to forgive you. I may have already.”

  He scoots toward me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay if you haven’t, M.”

  The moment he calls me by my nickname, I’m drowning in tears and my heart is full to bursting. I never thought I would hear that name again from his mouth.

  “I know this is a lot today, and if you need time to think about it, that’s okay. But I’d like to see you again. Over coffee, lunch, a game of catch. Just you and me, M. Any time you want. Can we do that?”

  I nod without hesitation. It’s like a dream finally coming true, except I’m not a little girl now. Somehow though, it doesn’t matter. I feel like that little girl when I look at my father, and my chest fills with relief.

  “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  I’ve played against the toughest defenses in the league, taken some pretty hard hits, and had my ego bruised with every fumble and interception. I’ve heard the smack talk, the locker room talk, the media gossip. I’ve seen it all. Heard it all. It’s never meant anything to me, because I know it’s all part of the game. Monica was right when she called me an entertainer. That’s what I get paid for. But in the end, I never expected to be her entertainment.

  Desmond is the one who sent me the link to the first story. He was sniffing around the Wifey Club again when he saw it all: the photos of Monica and me at camp, photos that under any other circumstance would have looked like two people falling in love. Never once had I considered the possibility that Monica was playing me the entire time to get close to her dad. And as hideous as the accusation is, there are too many coincidences to ignore.

  I read the articles, look at all the photos. Am I looking at my beautiful Monica falling just as fast and hard as I was, finally letting her guard down? Or am I looking at a lie?

  After the blowup in her cabin, the confrontation at her apartment, and the night that followed, I was certain that no matter what, we would still feel the same about each other. I was ready to give her some time to figure everything out with her father, and then we could have our chance. After months of building something incredible, something I’ve been waiting my whole life for, I was willing to wait.

  I don’t know anymore.

  I’m certain Meredith handed this story to the press, and I can’t say I’m surprised. What I care about is the fact that for the first time since knowing Monica, the puzzle is finally in place, but the picture is all wrong. It’s nothing like I imagined.

  It’s Saturday afternoon and Coach sits in my passenger seat as we pull into the parking lot. I knew she would be here. Both Monica and I learned to use the bleachers to protect ourselves—only I eventually came out of hiding. She’s still there, and no one can change that but her.

  The pull she has on me is still strong. Part of me wants to stay at the field and have a chance to talk to her, but I’m still pissed. She’s made multiple attempts to reach me every day this week, but I can’t even bring myself to read her text messages or call her back. I will when I’m ready. But right now, I need time to think for myself.

  When it comes to Monica Reynolds-Stevens, I’m not sure who’s playing offense or defense anymore.

  I finally hear from Sandra that next Monday. Still no word from Zach, though, and I’ve begun to come to grips with the fact that he may never talk to me again. Now that the secret is out there, he can make up his own mind about me. Unfortunately, his understanding of the situation is filtered through gossip threads and social media, and he probably believes it all. That hurts.

  I enter the private conference room to see that Meredith is already the
re with Sandra, looking annoyed as always. Zach is there too, and my heart gallops at the sight of him. He’s sitting a couple seats away from Sandra, staring down at his phone with his jaw clenched, obviously avoiding eye contact.

  Sandra waves me in, gesturing to the empty chair beside Meredith. I sit, but not before throwing Meredith a glare and moving my chair a few feet away to make a point. I could have just sat one seat over, but that wouldn’t have had the same dramatic flair.

  Sandra clears her throat and I swear there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? Meredith, you’ve been with BelleCurve for what, four years now?”

  Meredith straightens her back and lifts her chin, her eyes filled with confidence. If it wasn’t for the way her fingers are gripping her skirt, I would say she wasn’t nervous one bit. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And you’ve been handling Zach’s account for three?”

  She nods, her eyes darting to Zach and then back to Sandra. “Correct again.”

  Sandra leans back in her chair. “That’s quite a generous amount of time we’ve given you, considering you clearly have no respect for your client or coworkers.”

  Meredith’s jaw goes slack.

  “Tell me, Meredith.” Sandra leans in again so her elbows land casually on the conference table. A concentrated smirk is poised on her face. “Who were your sources for this story? As you know, we keep records of those things so we can protect ourselves from liability issues. So, who were your sources?”

  Meredith shakes her head. “There were eye witnesses at camp.”

  Zach’s head snaps up, and he looks as if he’s about to lunge across the table and strangle her himself. That, I would pay to see. Sandra must see this too, because she gives him a look and shakes her head.

  “Well, sure,” Sandra says. “The photos speak for themselves. It looks like a young couple in love, doesn’t it?”

  I’m still watching Zach, searching for any sign that he doesn’t hate me, but I don’t get one.

  “Hardly a scandal,” Sandra continues. “What about the story?”

  I peek at Meredith out of the corner of my eye.

  “We did our research. After we caught her sneaking out of bed every night, we started to dig. It’s what we do. And we do it well. It wasn’t hard to find out more about our little princess over here. Daughter to an ex-NFL player who left his family to start another. Of course there would be resentment there. And when we learned that Coach Reynolds is her father… Well, the rest was obvious.”

  “So you made assumptions,” Sandra responds, still calm.

  Meredith seems confused for a second, and then she shakes her head. “No. Think about it, Sandra. This little twit—”

  “Don’t call her that,” Zach seethes through clenched teeth.

  Meredith’s face turns beet red, but she continues. “Monica happens to show up in town three years ago and seeks out a job at BelleCurve, where coincidentally Zachary Ryan has hired out for his publicity, and then they start hooking up the moment he takes notice of her. Meanwhile, she’s been scoping him out, learning about him, weaseling her way into his heart. All so that she can get to her dad, for God knows what reason. He obviously doesn’t want her in his life.”

  “That’s enough!” Sandra stands, again leaning over the conference table and peering back at Meredith with disgust.

  Zach turns to look at me, and it’s not a face I ever dreamed I would see directed at me. It’s accusing. He believes I planned this. I will not cry in front of Meredith, but I sure as hell want to right now.

  “I’m sick of your shit, Ms. Greene,” Sandra continues. “Your lack of respect for your coworkers and place of employment is appalling. No one permitted you to run that story. Did it occur to you that your client and the company that signs your checks might just have an issue with your made-up bullshit? Because I certainly have a problem with it.”

  Meredith shakes her head. “It’s my job to run stories that will bring my clients maximum publicity, and that’s exactly what I did.”

  “With zero integrity and not enough facts for your story to hold up. You’ve broken every possible rule you can break in the powerful position that you’ve been given. It’s unacceptable. You’re fired, Meredith. BelleCurve has a zero-tolerance policy for trash news. Trinity and Gracie are done too. I’ll deliver the news to them myself. You have five minutes until security escorts you out of the building.”

  Did I just get a front row to Meredith’s demise? I would have paid money for this show.

  Meredith stands, eyes blinking between Sandra and Zach, before she finally moves toward the door. Her hand is shaking on the knob when Sandra calls her back. “One second, Meredith. How rude of me.” She looks at me. “Monica, is there anything you’d like to say to your former coworker?”

  Sandra’s a tough act to follow, but hell yeah, I’m taking this opportunity. I stand to face Meredith, getting as close as I can without contracting any of her vile aura. “Go fuck yourself, Meredith.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that.” Her words breathe fire but her body shivers like it’s starved of heat. I almost feel sorry for her.

  Looking to Sandra, I wonder if I crossed the line, but she just shrugs. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  There’s a deep chuckle from Zach. Even in his pissed off state he can appreciate this moment. That’s progress.

  He excuses himself after the show, and as much as I want to chase after him, I know I need to stay to talk to Sandra. Now is not the time to fix my love life.

  It’s just Sandra and me in the conference room now, and she surprises me with an embrace. I’m shaking, and soon I'm crying. It’s relief I’m feeling now, because Sandra believes me. I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto that fear until now. Releasing it feels good, but it doesn’t take away the fact that there are more people involved in this story.

  “Are you going to fire me too?”

  Sandra laughs and rubs my back. “No, sweetie. I treat my staff like the adults they are until they act otherwise. And while I don’t appreciate all the unwanted attention, I know it’s not your fault.”

  She pulls away, holding me at arm’s length while I wipe my eyes. “What about Zach?”

  Sandra sighs. “Like I said, you’re an adult. If you want to go falling in love with my clients, that’s your mess to clean up if it falls apart. As long as you don’t drag this company along for the ride.” She smiles.

  “So I’m not fired?”

  Sandra laughs. “Not unless you want to be.”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Good. Why don’t you take this week off, too? Figure things out for yourself and start fresh on Monday morning. I talked to Rich, and he’ll be fine without you for a few more days.”

  Letting out a ragged sigh, I nod in agreement. “Okay. Thank you, Sandra.”

  Sandra leaves the conference room and I sit in the nearest chair with a thud. The pieces of my life are finally all accounted for, but they’re a scattered mess. I don’t even know where to start. My job seems to be safe, which is one corner piece locked in tight. School starts in a few weeks, so there’s another one. But then there’s my family. And not just my dad. My mom and I have never been the closest, but going six months in between a phone conversation isn’t something that sits well in my heart. And I miss my sister like crazy.

  And then there’s Zach … who happens to walk back into the conference room the moment his name springs to my mind. Is Zach coming back in to talk to me, or Sandra? He just looks at me for a second, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. Then he turns to leave the conference room again.

  I launch myself from my chair and catch him, slipping between him and the door. Our eyes meet. He can choose. Talk to me, or push me aside.

  He stays.

  He’s fuming, but he’s still here. “I can’t talk to you right now, Monica.” The formality crushes me, but I’m not sur
prised.

  “Zach,” I plead. “We need to talk about this.”

  “Now she wants to talk.” He laughs and shakes his head, then clenches his teeth before leaning in without touching me. “For the first time since we met, I don’t want to hear it.” His hands move to my waist to start to move me, so I just start talking.

  “After my sister and I visited my dad, I looked him up. I had his address, so the rest was easy to find. There was so much I wanted to know. Nothing made sense, and my heart was as broken as it could ever get. I thought maybe if I knew everything, I would understand and just get over it. But you know what? I didn’t. I just felt worse.”

  Zach lets go of my waist and moves away from the door to give me space to finish my story. “What did you find?” he asks.

  “He got a job coaching football at the high school in our old neighborhood. I drove to Dallas on the night of the homecoming game. You must have been a senior at the time. I just—wanted to see him again. But I knew I couldn’t sit in the bleachers. I couldn’t do it and risk being seen. My biggest fear was that he’d see me up there and not realize it was me, or worse, he’d see me and go right back to his life as if he hadn’t. I couldn’t handle feeling rejected again.”

  “So you sat under the bleachers.”

  I nod. “I had this dream that I would be brave enough to confront him after the game. That we would have this moment where we’d reunite and cry and everything would be perfect again. That never happened.

  “I saw you play. You were amazing.” I shake my head. This is not helping my case. “You were in the parking lot with my dad and his new family after the game, looking so much a part of it. I knew then that you were important to him. When you went off to college and then got drafted to Seattle, you were hard to ignore in the headlines. But when I moved to Washington it was entirely for my dad, not to get close to you. That’s the part you might have trouble believing, but it’s true. BelleCurve is the number one PR company for Seattle, and working for a creative company intrigued me. You hadn’t even signed on with them when I got hired.” My eyes plead with him, but he turns away. “I tried to stay away from you, Zach, but I just couldn’t anymore.”