He's The Goal

by Faith M Troyer

  I hear Bianca making a racket from in the kitchen, and I sigh angrily, thinking she better as fuck not be breaking anything in there because I’ll have to hear about it later.

  Having to explain this later to Vada would go something like: Bianca went batshit crazy, destroying the kitchen because she assumed I had feelings for you.

  That would be an awkward conversation to have with someone who can barely tolerate me in the first place and one that I’d like to avoid at all cost!

  More loud banging comes from the kitchen, and now I’m just fucking livid with her erratic, childish behavior. Poor Chester comes running, tearing ass out down the hall from the kitchen, and hides under the couch. What the hell is Bianca doing in there?

  I round the corner, and my jaw drops open in shock. Half a dozen of Vada’s fine china, which once belonged to her granny, is now a shattered mess around Bianca’s feet.

  “Oops,” B says with a mock apology.

  Her eyes are wide with rage, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides and stomps on the already smashed pieces with her foot, damn near turning them into powder.

  I yank Bianca away from the debris, half-enraged that she would even do this, but like a fool, I am concerned that she’ll cut her foot off even if she’s wearing shoes.

  She thrashes in my tight grip as I hold her around the waist, and my throat feels thick with emotion. I’ve never seen Bianca become this hysterical before, and it’s scaring the shit out of me. Her breathing is irregular as she chokes on her sobs.

  “Let me go, Maxwell.”

  “You need to relax, Bianca. You’re going to get hurt.”

  “Too late for that, asshole.” Her words slice my heart, and I hate that I’m doing this to her, but I can’t keep doing this to either of us.

  Bianca thrashes wildly, like an animal caught in a trap, bucking against my large chest, trying to headbutt and kick me so I’ll give in and set her free. But B is in no condition to leave right now, let alone drive home. I hope I don’t give her the wrong idea; I intend to make sure she calms down and leaves somewhat sane. She struggles for a little longer but eventually relaxes against my chest, breathing heavily.

  “You’re slowly killing me, Maxwell. I know you don’t love me, and that tears me apart inside. I see the way you looked at Vada tonight after I kissed you, and it was like you were saying ‘sorry.’ Are you sorry that we ever started this? Because I’m not! The heart wants what it wants, you know?”

  I breathe a heavy sigh of guilt and frustration and rest my chin on the crown of her head. We stand there in silence for a few beats until my phone rings from my back pocket. I reach my hand around Bianca’s waist and pull away. I see it’s Vada calling, and my heart skips a beat.

  “Vada,” I say quietly and feel Bianca’s energy alter from a steady calm back to an incredibly furious storm.

  “Max?” It’s Monica. I’m using Vada’s phone.”

  An uneasy feeling of dread suddenly overwhelms me. Has something happened to Vada? Does she need my help? I could have just blown the whistle on tonight, told Bianca to forget it, and accompanied the girls to the club. No one is going to fuck with a six-foot-something beast who's protecting what he truly wants.

  I walk away from Bianca, trying to make sense of the phone call. Monica can talk a mile a minute and is practically screaming over the music to make sure that I can hear her.

  “Please come, Max! I need your help! I tried calling the cab service, but it’s Saturday night, so no one is picking up, and Vada is already drunk off her ass. This behavior is so unlike her. She can barely stand, but that’s not stopping her from dirty dancing with just about every guy here. I can’t keep them off of her, and their sleazy friends are trying to distract me so they can try and nail her.”

  Nail her? Oh, hell, no. We’re not going there because I’ll kill any son-of-a-bitch who tries. I can feel Bianca’s eyes on my back as I listen to Monica’s plea.

  “I’ll be there soon. Please stay safe. Keep Vada out of the way of any of those assholes, or you may have to bail me out of jail later.”

  Monica laughs softly and sighs with relief. I hang up the phone, shoving it in my back pocket, and when I turn around, I see Bianca is gone. I check the front door to see it’s still hanging open. She didn’t even bother to close it.

  The kitchen is a fucking mess, and with an irritated sigh from Bianca’s display of brattishness, I quickly clean it up. Even though Vada’s three sheets to the fucking wind at this point, she’ll be hungover tomorrow, and having to tell her what Bianca did will completely break her heart. After my ultra quick cleaning, I take a deep breath and head out.

  I see no sign of Bianca’s car in the brightly lit parking lot with a sigh of relief.

  I blame both her and myself because I knew what I was getting into tonight when I asked her to come over this afternoon.

  Foolishly, I just ignored the signs.

  Max

  As I drive to the club, my heart is hammering against my ribcage, and I hope I’m not too late. Just the thought of some asshole taking advantage of Vada enrages me, and I grip the leather steering wheel with both hands. Swallowing hard, I roll my neck from side to side and continue to focus on the road. I’ll be no help to her or Monica if I’m in a rollover accident on the highway. I’ve been driving for the past ten minutes, trying to obey the speed limit, but I need to get to Vada. It is overwhelming.

  I come to a red light and curse under my breath. I mess with the radio dials on the dashboard when my cell phone chimes with a text. I glance in the morning and see it’s still red.

  Monica:

  Hey Max. I’ve got Vada sitting in the fancy VIP section of the club that came with the tickets. She’s exhausted but is trying to drink some water right now. I let a bouncer know the situation, and he’s standing guard. I’m sure she’s not the only drunk girl in the club right now, but I’m grateful for his help. See you soon.

  A loud honk comes from behind my Audi, and I realize I’m still sitting at a green light. I toss my phone to the passenger’s seat and speed off, but feel a sense of relief flood my veins. I don’t have an extra VIP ticket on hand. I have to get to Vada as soon as possible. I need to make sure she and Monica get home safely. A few minutes later, my GPS alerts me that I have arrived at my destination as I pull up to Night Beats.

  Damn, this place is ginormous, and a long line of people are still standing outside, who I guess to be the ‘non VIP’ people, as the party rages on inside. I don’t feel like I’m dressed for a nightclub right now, not for one as fancy as this one seems to be. The women who are still waiting in line are beautiful and dressed to kill. The men look like fucking GQ models with their striking good looks and expensive tailored suits, but they’re still standing outside waiting to get in. Valet parking is available, and a dark-haired man dressed in a pressed white dress shirt, red silk tie, and black slacks comes to my driver’s side door as I climb out of the car. He must recognize me because he shakes my hand and smiles from ear to ear.

  “Maxwell Vahn! It’s so good to meet you, man. I’m a big fan of the Leopards.”

  “I don’t have a VIP ticket,” I say quickly, not meaning to cut him off and feeling like a jerk.

  It’s cool when fans come up and ask for autographs or recognize me outside of the arena. Still, my main focus is getting a very drunk and vulnerable Vada the hell out of that club and away from any vultures who will be soon again circling her like prey.

  “Don’t worry about that, man. You’re covered,” the valet guy says and leads me to an impressive VIP entrance in the back as I hand him my keys so he can park my car. I’m not a “high profile” celebrity in general, mainly just around Miami, but it has its perks.

  A large muscular ebony-skinned man in a black suit stands near the door with his hands folded neatly in front of him, raises a brow at the valet guy as we come through, and I’m impressed at the sheer size of this place. The base pumps through the entire club, surging the lifeblood thr
ough the dark wooden floors like a heartbeat.

  The bouncer looks down at me, yes, down. He’s even more extensive than I am, and it’s a little scary. He smiles and stamps my hand with a purple VIP and hands me a black pass on a lanyard.

  “You’re the goalie from the Leopards? The AHL team?”

  I nod and shake his enormous hand, swallowing hard. This man could eat me for breakfast and still be hungry. He’s gargantuan; he's about six-foot-eleven and a solid 300 pounds! His arms alone are the size of my thighs.

  “My wife thinks you're hot,” he says with a deep laugh and opens the door that separates us from the main club floor.

  I smile awkwardly and nod in his direction as I head inside. Hazy purple smoke drifts over the floor as I walk in. The walls are stark white but are painted with bright colored laser lights from the ceiling and keep in time to the music's beat coming from the DJ booth. It’s a little trippy but so mesmerizing. The thick crowd of attendees dances under a giant gold disco ball as it spins around overhead.

  I focus my search on finding the VIP section, but the mystical purple fog from the smoke machine fills the entire club, acting as a veil and obstructing my vision. I squint a few times, blinking, and see a roped-off section of the club and breathe a sigh of relief.

  I head across the club, my fingers itching to be able to touch Vada and make sure she’s okay. I feel like I’m living in the “Twilight Zone” because she was driving me crazy last week, and now I’m acting as her knight in shining armor.

  When I reach the roped-off area of the VIP section, my heart plummets to my feet as I expect to see Monica and Vada waiting for me, but there’s no sign of either of them. A few people sit on a long, leather upholstered sofa, and a waiter fills their champagne flute with some very expensive looking bubbly. A dark-haired woman wearing a tight black dress eyes me seductively above the rim of her glass as she takes a long drink.

  “ Hey there, are you Maxwell Vahn? The goalie for the Miami Leopards?” the man sitting beside her asks me curiously as she continues to stare at me.

  Vada must be changing me for the better because I probably would have asked this girl for her number, regardless if this man is with her. I doubt things would ever go anywhere between Vada and me because we struggle to be nice to each other daily as it is, but there’s something about her that makes me want to be better.

  Unfortunately, I still don’t know how to be with or treat women with how they deserve to be since Josie left me. I’ve decided not to dedicate myself to anyone and be a free agent, but that can be pretty lonely. Vada says I sleep around because ‘I don’t value myself.’ What the hell does she know? She’s not a fucking psychologist.

  But she’s right. I have a hard time seeing myself as valued.

  I sleep around like it’s a game, but I don’t cheat! And it’s not like I ever raised my hand to a woman or even my voice. I’m not an abusive prick like my father was. I’d be damn ashamed if I were.

  I just don’t know how to commit to one woman since the only woman I ever loved decided to tell me I was no longer worth her time or energy five years ago.

  I eye the woman sitting next to him, and she’s very sexy. Her raven hair is wavy and sitting over one shapely shoulder. Her high cheekbones dusted with pink blush; her full seductive lips painted with ruby red lipstick. Her dress’s low plunging neckline shows off her “assets” beautifully, and my head swims with lust.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I say, shouting above the music, trying to tear my eyes away from the mystery woman’s chest.

  He smiles and motions for me to come forward. I show the bouncer my black laminated pass, and he unhooks the metal clasp from the shiny metal hook, allowing me to pass through. No walls surround the VIP section, but soft white curtains envelop us, and the area feels more cozy and intimate. This woman is truly stunning and keeps making eyes at me as the man I assume is her boyfriend and continues to chat me up about the upcoming season.

  I don’t have time to have a casual conversation when Vada is around here somewhere, and she needs my help. I’m grateful that Monica is with her, at least, but I’m still worried.

  “I’m sorry, man, but I’m looking for someone who was just sitting here not too long ago. Have you seen her?” I ask as I scroll through my photo gallery on my phone and pull up a recent photo of Vada from her social media account.

  The man raises a brow, and as he takes my phone and studies the picture, but shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry. We just sat down a few minutes before you got here, and no one was sitting here.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?” the woman asks in a sultry tone of voice and places her hand on my thigh.

  “No, she’s a friend of mine. My roommate. She’s a little under the weather; had too much to drink tonight, and I’m her D.D.”

  “Awe, you’re such a sweetheart, looking out for her well-being like that.” I swallow hard as she continues to rub my leg with her palm.

  My heart flies to my throat, and I think I might choke on it. My eyes shoot to the guy as he raises his glass high in the air for another refill.

  Are you fucking kidding me? Is he just going to sit there and let her grope me?

  Not that I’m complaining, but I’m afraid this guy might want to wipe the floor with me. She looks at him, nodding her head in approval, and then turns her attention back to me.

  The man finally looks at me and says, “I promised my wife she could have one hall pass a year, and she decided you were it. She’s a big fan of your team.”

  Hall Pass? Holy shit.

  My face is flushing with both embarrassment and excitement, though I’m too distracted by Vada’s disappearance for reciprocation. First, I let Bianca go, and then I rebuke this insanely hot woman that picked me as her celebrity lay. What has Vada done to me?

  I look over her head for a quick second, and who do I fucking see? Finally, Vada and Monica. They’re being escorted back to VIP by a large man in a black suit, who I assume to be a bouncer. I stand up, gently pushing the woman’s hand from coming dangerously close to my crotch, and yell out to Vada.

  “Hey, baby! I'm right here!” I say excitedly, cupping my hands around my mouth.

  I find the word ‘baby’ leaving my mouth, referring to Vada. I’ve called her ‘baby’ in the past to get her goat, but I secretly loved saying it to her and hoped one day I’d be able to say it for real. Monica turns her head in my direction and smiles in relief. Vada’s arm drapes over her shoulder, but she continues to dance to the catchy techno beat that blasts over the speakers overhead.

  “I thought you said she wasn’t your girlfriend,” the woman says as she looks up at me, pouting and crossing her arms.

  Shaking the man’s hand, wishing him a good rest of the evening, I completely ignore his wife as I make use of my long legs and climb over the velvet rope, not even waiting for the bouncer. I feel like someone dumped an ice-cold bucket of reality over my head, like earlier tonight with Bianca, and this reminds me why I had to end things with her in the first place.

  I need a real woman, someone who doesn't throw a fit if things don’t always go their way. Vada’s sweet, understanding, and headstrong, and she fights for what she wants and doesn’t expect life to hand it to her on a silver platter. However, tonight, Vada is showing me a different side to herself. I’m not judging. She’s a big girl, and if she wants to drink, that’s her business.

  I’ve never actually seen her drunk, and it’s kind of amusing. I fight a low chuckle as she sloppily kisses Monica’s cheek, still shaking her cute ass to the droning beat of the music.

  “Let’s get you two home, huh?” Grinning, I stand beside Monica, where I get a good look at Vada.

  She gazes up at me and stops dancing; her eyes look empty and a little lost. They’ve lost that trademark “Vada sparkle,” and my heart tightens with pain. She was so happy a minute ago. Did I do something to upset her? Vada leans into Monica, facing away from me, and we all wade through the heavy crowd of people on the dan
ce floor to the back exit. This night is officially coming to a close, and I can’t wait.

  I keep my mouth shut but fight the urge to ask Vada what’s wrong. I can’t stand it when someone is upset with me. I mean, sure, I know I piss her off, but she always razzes me back and has no problem putting me in my place. Tonight, she just looks defeated. Vada won’t even look at me as I try to help her into the back seat.

  Monica and Vada sit in the backseat as I drive as carefully as possible because I know she’s sobering up, and puking is something I want to avoid. I wish she’d let me take care of her, but I can’t even get close at this point. I sneak a peek at her in the rearview mirror, and I see that Vada has tucked her chin against Monica’s shoulder, and her eyes are squeezed shut. She must be in pain. She’ll need some water, a sports drink of some kind, and aspirin STAT.

  Vada makes me want to be a better person. She makes me want to please her, take care of her, and make sure she never wants for anything. Tonight didn’t end up the way I thought it would at all. I envisioned a wobbly-legged Vada flinging herself into my arms, all giggly and happy from the alcohol, and I’d take her back to the apartment and tuck her in for a good night’s rest.

  I come to a slowing stop once I pull into Monica’s driveway and the automatic child safety locks make a soft clicking sound as she slowly opens the door. Vada leans into her side, whispering something before hugging her goodbye. I throw up a hand and wave as I watch Monica walk up the porch stairs, and I wait until she’s safely inside.

  As I pull away, I instantly feel weird and wish the silence between us wasn’t so awkward. I clear my throat and fiddle with the radio dial, and come to a soft rock station. “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton flows through the speakers and my heart dances. I’d never admitted it, but this is one of my favorite songs. I don’t want anyone to believe that I’m capable of being someone who can be faithful and isn’t only interested in the afterparties and available women. It’s a lifestyle that I’ve become accustomed to.