“James, will you try to be a little sensitive?” growled Casey. She was sitting next to me. Lucy was on my other side, but she’d gotten up and wandered off to “explore.”
“I still don’t understand any of this,” said James. “If you’re relaying the conversation right, he basically asked you what he was supposed to tell you, and rather than tell him, you stormed off?”
“First of all,” I said, “I did tell him. I told him I wanted him to acknowledge my feelings.”
“What a girl thing to say.”
“Second of all,” I said, checking behind me to see if Lucy was anywhere nearby. She wasn’t, so I leaned in. “I had new information.” I told them about the memories that had resurfaced, and I told them about what had happened to Lucy.
Casey and James blinked at me.
“Girl,” said Casey.
“I don’t like that Lucy-chick,” said James, cutting his wife off. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she made the whole thing up.”
“James, are you serious!?” Was he victim-blaming?
“Sorry,” said James, shrugging. “She seems like the type who would.”
“Why on earth would Lucy make something like that up?”
“I can think of a number of reasons,” said James, holding up his fingers. “She was jealous.” He put down a finger. “She was in love with Ted.” Another finger. “She was competitive.” Another finger. “She didn’t want you to be happy. Girls are weird, man. In my experience, they do shit like that.”
“I’d believe any of those reasons,” said Casey.
I shook my head. “People don’t just do stuff like that,” I said. “This isn’t a movie.”
“I don’t know,” said Casey, shaking her head. “Girl’s super-wealthy, football-playing ex-boyfriend kisses her out of a coma. This whole situation reads a bit like a romance plot. Why not throw an evil best friend into the mix? Have you talked to Ted about any of this?”
“No. Lucy asked me not to.”
James smirked. “And my point rests.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Lucy came back just then, smelling of smoke. She slumped into the seat next to me and looked over at the scoreboard. “Patriots are getting hammered tonight. What’s wrong with Asshat? He’s playing like shit.”
“Looks like someone fucked with his head,” said James, grinning at the field like the true Patriots hater he was.
I wasn’t about to feel guilty about Ted’s terrible playing. I looked at Lucy, who offered me a consoling smile. I tried to recall anything about Lucy from high school that might corroborate James and Casey’s assumptions that she was jealous or lying.
No. Lucy was my friend. She wouldn’t do that to me.
28
Ted
The game that night was the perfect confluence of shit. I was sluggish from my night drinking, and I’d had a terrible night’s sleep last night. I felt like there was a hole in my chest, and I couldn’t get the feeling to go away. Mac had been right about one thing: the Dolphins were double teaming me, but that wasn’t stopping Dash from throwing the ball at me and then getting angry when someone stripped it away. When I got in his face after a terrible turn-over (a defender all but ripped the ball out of my hands), he’d snarled, “You’re supposed to be fast. Fucking outrun them.”
But I wasn’t able to tonight. Not when I was playing tired, and not when I was playing distracted. Despite storming out on me last night, Erin and her friends had shown up to the game this afternoon. The jumbotron would occasionally land on her, and I kept staring up at the screen, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face. I’d texted her twice today, and she hadn’t texted back. I felt like a huge tool. Not a good feeling.
* * *
At game’s end, I was feeling terrible. Erin had not responded to my texts, I’d gotten reamed out by Dash and by Coach, and I had a message waiting for me from my dad.
I told you. What did I tell you? That girl is nothing but a distraction. She was a distraction in high school, and she’s a distraction now. You looked like a goddamn rookie out there. I’m embarrassed for you. Get your head out of your ass, and get it in the game.
I banged my head against the locker, hard.
“Hey, man. Whatever it is, let is go,” said Burke Tyler, towering over me.
“When I need advice, bro, I’ll ask for it,” I snapped.
Burke held his hands up and started to walk away, but Mac called out from behind us. “Yo, Berserker, stay a moment, man,” said Mac. “Hey, tough game, Schnieder.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder.
“Burke, believe it or not, Schneider here has some lady problems.”
“What. The. Fuck.” I said, whirling on Mac. How dare he share my business with someone else!?
“Relax, man,” said Mac. “Burke’s a genius. Like, a literal genius. He can fix anything. So tell him what’s wrong, and he’ll tell you how to fix it.”
Burke crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Try me,” he said.
“Sorry, fellas,” I snarled. “This isn’t Dr. Phil’s couch. I’m not going there.”
“He and Sleeping Beauty have been knocking boots,” said Mac.
“You are literally asking to be punched in the throat,” I growled.
“They used to date in high school, but she broke up with him. She has amnesia, so couldn’t remember why she broke up with him, but she’s been gradually getting her memory back. So last night, she gets enough of it back to realize that she shouldn’t be dating him. And she walks out of the bar.”
I turned, ready to start shit. I needed to hit something, and I had no problem taking a swing at Ryan’s face.
“What’s the catalyst?” asked Burke before I could act.
I paused. “What?”
“The catalyst. With amnesia, memories return because they’re triggered. So if she had negative memories of your time together, something triggered it. What triggered it?”
I inhaled through my nose. That’s it. Apparently, we were doing this. “Her friend from high school came to visit.”
“Got it. Close girl friend?”
“Yeah.”
“You and she not get along?”
“I didn’t like her, no.”
“Then there you go. While you were busy trying to not remind her of how shitty you were in high school, her friend comes and gives her a whole other series of memories. Now, not only does she remember the good times, but you’ve also been lying to her. And you can bet her friend probably jumped all over that.”
“I fucking know what the problem is,” I snarled.
“Ah. So you don’t know what to do about it.” Burke rolled his eyes. “That’s easy. Apologize.”
“Are you fucking serious?! It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it’s not that easy,” said Burke. “But that’s where you start. You apologize, and you mean it, and you fucking pour your heart out and tell her why you didn’t want her to know all that bad shit. Then you tell her anything she wants to know.”
“Fuck that,” I said. “I’m not going to apologize for something I’m not sorry about.”
“See, there’s your problem,” said Burke. “You’re too focused on you. You’re not sorry because you were acting in your own self-interest. What about her best interest?”
I stared at him.
Burke looked bewildered at me and then at Ryan. “Oh boy,” he said. “Maybe there’s no helping this one.”
And without another word, he turned and walked off.
29
Erin
Lucy had a late flight out. After the game, we went out for Chinese food in Cambridge with James and Casey. They left, and we went back to my apartment to pack up.
“So,” said Lucy. “Do you think you’ll talk to Ted again?”
I sighed, flipping through the yearbooks one last time before she put them away. “No,” I said. I didn’t need to be miserable. There were men out there who weren’t Ted and who weren’t Damon. There were men out the
re for whom I would be enough – just as I was. Confident, self-conscious, it didn’t matter.
“I’m about ready to head out,” said Lucy. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
I nodded absently and leaned against the kitchen, car keys in hand. Where had I put my phone?
As if it read my mind, the phone on the counter beside me buzzed. I looked down and saw Damon’s name show up against the screen. Damon? What was he texting for?
Glad the game was fun.
What? I knew I’d been on the jumbotron, but had some of the networks also caught me on camera? I picked up and swiped right, getting past the home screen and into the messages.
Whoa. Shit.
It wasn’t my phone. I hadn’t texted Damon in over a year. Actually, come to think of it, unless my memory was totally messing with me, I’d deleted his number out of my phone after we’d broken up.
I scrolled up to the first message.
9:30 – Hey, it’s Lucy. We met at the bar tonight.
What the hell was going on?
9:32 – Sure, Erin’s friend. I remember.
9:32 – How’s ur night going?
9:40 – Didn’t end up the way I hoped it would. Haha.
9:40 – Maybe I could help with that.
10:30 – Boys and I are hitting up Rattlesnake.
10:31 – What’s the address?
10:42 – 860 Boylston Street.
11:58 – Going to Pats game tomorrow. You going?
2:00 – Watching at a buddy’s house.
7:00 – Too bad you missed the game. It was fun.
8:00 – Glad the game was fun.
I blinked at the screen and read the whole thing again, and then again. And when I heard the bathroom doorknob turn, I dropped her phone on the counter as if it had physically shocked me. What the hell!? What the actual hell?
“All right, let’s get out of here,” Lucy sang, grabbing the suitcase full of all of those memories. Memories she’d brought to help me out because mine were missing, memories I now had back because Lucy had spent 500 dollars on a plane ticket.
And then tried to booty call my married ex-boyfriend.
I didn’t know what to say to her. So I said nothing. I let her moan about starting work again Monday morning after arriving in Colorado so late at night. Every so often, I glanced over at where her breasts rose above the tight neckline of her sweater.
The Lucy I’d known since middle school had played in my backyard when we weren’t invited to slumber parties. She’d eaten lunch under the stairwell with me when eating by ourselves in the lunch room was too awkward. She’d gone hiking in the Rockies with me when I’d come to visit her during college.
We arrived at the airport, and I pulled up to the curb.
“You got quiet on me, lady,” said Lucy, reaching over and pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You all right?”
“Yes,” I lied. “Just… a lot to think about.”
“Well,” said Lucy. “Any time you need another memory, just give me a call. And try to keep that asshole Ted Schneider at arm’s length. You guys don’t really belong together.”
As she got out of the car, I thought about all of the things I might have said to her, and I wondered if I’d find the courage to ever speak to her again.
30
Ted
I sat on my couch until I couldn’t take it any longer. Then I got up, got in my car, and headed north.
I drove onto Storrow Drive and crossed the Charles River over the Mass Ave Bridge. I hit every single stoplight. It was as if someone up there was watching me, demanding I account for my actions and second guess my intentions. By the time I arrived in front of Erin’s apartment, I was a wreck of nerves. It was late. I knew I’d be waking her up.
I parked the car, cursing out loud as another car drove up next to me, prepared to parallel park into the space behind me. I looked over, ready to give the driver a piece of my mind and saw Erin, looking over her shoulder and contemplating her angle.
As if sensing me, she turned. I knew she couldn’t see me. Not through the Mercedes’ tinted windows. After a moment, Erin reversed, edging expertly into the small space. I wondered, absently, whether she’d gotten a new car, or if the Mazda was a rental from the insurance company.
As soon as I heard her engine turn off, I got out.
“Oh.” She stepped out of her car and stopped, looking at me. “Ah. How long have you been here?”
She looked startled and slightly distracted. Where was she coming back from this late? That cop’s house? My stomach churned at the thought.
“I just got here,” I said.
“I…I had to drop Lucy off at the airport,” she said as if she felt she had to explain herself. “I’m sorry, I’m…” She shook her head as if clearing it and then took a deep breath.
“I can appreciate that this is a bit stalkerish,” I said, waving my hand at the car. “But you weren’t answering my texts, and I… I thought we needed to talk.”
To my surprise, Erin was nodding. “Do you want to come up?” she asked. And then she shook her head, taking it back.
“It’s okay,” I said ruefully. “I don’t think you’re inviting me up to fuck. I just want to talk. I want to…” Come on, Ted. Say it. “I want to apologize.”
Erin blinked at me, clearly not expecting that. “Okay,” she said, and headed toward her door.
Okay? Just like that? She’d been so mad the other night. Part of me wanted to sigh with relief, but I didn’t dare count my chickens before they hatched.
Inside Erin’s apartment, she headed straight for the couch, sat down, and put her head in her hands.
I stared at her. What was going on? Something wasn’t right, and this time, I wasn’t so sure I was to blame.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
Erin shook her head. “I’m so sick of not knowing,” she said, lifting her head and fixing me with a heartbroken stare. “I’m so sick of only half-remembering. Of being taken by surprise by people I should be able to trust.”
Despite being upset, her voice was quiet and resigned. Goddamn. What the hell had happened? I went over and sat down on the couch, feeling, for the first time, pretty shitty about not telling her the whole truth about us.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the whole truth…”
“Did you ever try to sleep with Lucy?” Erin interrupted, picking her head up.
I withdrew my hand, disgust rolling through me at the thought. No. Never. Lucy Sharpe had slept with at least three of my teammates. She’d tried hard enough to get me to notice her on occasion. But no.
“Never,” I said, shaking my head.
“Lucy said you did.”
“She said what!?” Disbelief shot through me, stunning me for a moment. Then, rage followed hotly on its heels. “No. I never did. Not ever.”
“She said you were drunk. Said it happened at Aaron Klepper’s party.”
“Aaron Klepper’s party? When?” I asked, reaching back in my memory. Fuck, that kid had had so many parties!
“Apparently, I couldn’t go. I was working. And you cornered Lucy and tried to force yourself on her at one of his parties during the spring of our senior year.”
Right around the time she’d broken up with me.
“That fucking bitch….”
“Ted.” I looked at Erin, who was looking at me, wide-eyed. “Could it have happened? Could you have been drunk and not remembered it?”
“No,” I said. “I lived on the other side of town from Aaron Klepper, and whenever I drove, I drove my Dad’s Cadillac. You remember? The Escalade? I used to drive you around in it all the time.”
Erin nodded.
“I would never have driven my Dad’s car drunk. And he knew that. So whenever I went out, I had to drive myself so he’d know I wasn’t drinking.” I stood and began pacing her living room; I had too much energy in me. I wanted to destroy something. Was that the reason she’d broken up with me? “There
wasn’t a single party in high school where I drank enough to not drive that car back home.”
Erin shook her head. “Why would Lucy lie to me all those years ago? Why would she lie to me now?”
“Because she’s a psychopath,” I snarled.
“Ted, please. I can’t handle you right now like this.” That was a fact. She looked like she was about to cry. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
“Was that the reason you broke up with me in high school?” I asked a minute later when I felt more in control. “Because Lucy told you I’d tried to cheat on you with her?”
Erin shrugged helplessly.
“Erin,” I said, shaking my head and sinking back onto the couch. “I know you probably don’t remember this now, but how could you believe her? How could you believe I’d ever cheat on you with Lucy Sharpe?”
Erin threw her hands up and sat back in the chair, gripping its arms. She looked exhausted. “It was easy enough,” she said. “You were constantly seeking validation from other women. You derived all of your self-worth from what people like Michelle Kelly and Amy Weeks thought of you. You were so keen to get me in bed, and I wouldn’t sleep with you. And whenever I asked you why you liked me, you never could answer. Why wouldn’t I believe you’d try to sleep with Lucy? She was an easy lay.”
I closed my eyes, so appalled I didn’t even know how to respond.
“Well,” I said after a moment. “Now you know the truth. I never tried to cheat on you with Lucy. Yes, I liked to be admired. I still like it. Give me a roaring crowd and a 20-year old coed wearing my jersey. I derive value from that. But I’m not a cheater.”
Erin stared at the carpet.
“So, can we forget about all of this?” I asked, hopeful. “Can we forget about Lucy Sharpe and all that dumb-ass history that you can’t even remember anyway? The past is the past, Erin. Can’t we leave it there?”
Erin shook her head.
Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set Page 60
