Billionaire's Fake Fiancee

by Eva Luxe

  “Get the doc!” I hear coach shout as he comes up beside me. “Tommy. Tommy! How bad is it? One to ten?”

  “Ten!” I grimace.

  “Shit,” Coach spits, his voice filled with anger. “That son of a bitch! I’ll have his nuts for this!”

  It’s broken. I’m fucked.

  Panic and catastrophe invade my mind. Every horrible scenario plays out like a horror movie in my head. There goes college basketball. There goes the big leagues and the big money. There goes Grace…

  Chapter 20 – Grace

  “Tommy!” I’m squealing, pushing my way down the stands toward the court. My heart’s racing. That was a dirty move by that New Hampshire player, and everyone saw it. He just totally kicked Tommy in the ankle! You can’t do that! He didn’t even attempt to make it look like an accident either. They should ban him from the league and kick him out of school.

  I push past the fans who are all on their feet, some of them looking as concerned as they would if they just heard their mother got sick, but none of them as are worried as me.

  That’s my man out there, I think. It’s amazing how quickly something terrible can clarify things for you. I want Tommy and I want to be his and that’s all there is to it. There is zero confusion inside me when it comes to us, and I can only imagine what he’s going through right now. I need to be there for him.

  Someone spills water, I hope, on my arm as I brush by them toward the court. I hop a handrail and brush past the band and race right out onto the floor toward Tommy.

  “Hey, hey!” A security guard shouts at me from behind me. He starts to chase after me, but I’m at Tommy’s side before he reaches me. “You can’t be here!” He starts to say, but Tommy, despite all the pain he’s in, looks up and sees me and waves the guard off.

  “It’s okay,” he says. The guard backs off and Tommy reaches out his hand to me. My heart swells until my chest feels it’s about to burst, and I feel my eyes well up as I take his hand in mind and squeeze. He squeeze back, hard enough that he almost hurts my hand, and I understand the amount of pain he’s in.

  I know Joey is looking at me, and probably every other member of the team, but I don’t care. Right now the only thing that’s important is being there for Tommy.

  “All right, buddy,” the coach says. “Let’s get you off the court. Here we go.”

  Two guys who look like medics or doctors or something of the sort come up beside Tommy and slide their arms under his and lift him to his feet. He winces in pain and squeezes my hand even tighter. I walk with him as he struggles across the court toward the locker room.

  We pass through the hall and turn into the locker room and the two men set Tommy down on one of the benches. He lays his head back and I kneel down on the floor beside him, my face close to his.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, stroking the side of his face with my hand.

  “You don’t know that,” he says, in a moment of honesty and vulnerability that floors me. I feel myself choking up, but push it back down. Now is not that time for that. I have to be strong for him.

  “Yes, I do,” I reassure him, looking at him with strength in my eyes that I hope will find its way to him. “You’re Tommy Mason. A little kick to the shin can’t stop you.”

  Despite the pain, Tommy has to chuckle. A laugh forces its way out of his lips and he smiles at me. I lean down and kiss his forehead. I can tell the rest of the guys on the team are wondering who the Hell I am but aren’t saying anything.

  “All right, Tommy,” the doctor says, coming up behind me. “Let me have a look at it.”

  The doctor, a fit-looking guy in his late thirties who looks like he played sports in college too, takes Tommy’s leg gently and examines it.

  “This is gonna hurt a bit,” he says. “And I apologize. But hang in there for me. Joey, gimme that ice pack.”

  Joey hands the doc an ice pack. He sets it under Tommy’s ankle and rests it on the bench. Tommy’s hand tightens around mine and I lean closer to him, stroking the back of his head with my hand.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper in his ear.

  The doctor examines Tommy’s ankle, and every time he squeezes, Tommy flinches and tightens his grip on my hand. He’s strong, and it hurts, but I’m not going to let him know that. I’m here for him now, not the other way around.

  “It fucking kills,” Tommy says through gritted teeth.

  “It’ll be okay,” I tell him. “You’ll be fine.”

  I really don’t know what else to say, but every time I hurt myself as a child, my mom would give me constant reassurance and even if I didn’t believe her, it helped to hear it. So that’s what I’m doing now for Tommy.

  The doctor runs his hands up Tommy’s ankle, feels the joint, his calf, his foot.

  “Any pain in the foot?” He asks. Tommy shakes his head.

  “Just – the ankle,” he manages to say. The doctor keeps feeling around. The tension in the locker room is palpable. The rest of the team must be freaking out, especially the coach. Their star player is injured, possibly with a break, and definitely out for the rest of the game. Things are suddenly not so certain.

  “Well,” the doctor says, dropping his hands and placing another ice pack on Tommy’s ankle. “You’ll need an x-ray, but I’m not feeling any obvious breaks. Probably a bad sprain.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Joey says with a deep exhale of breath.

  But Tommy doesn’t relax. His face is twisted in pain.

  “See?” I whisper in his ear. “I told you.”

  “Goddamn it!” Tommy gasps, putting a hand to his forehead. “That son of a bitch. It’s fucking broken, I know it.”

  “Don’t say that!” I plead with him.

  “I’m gonna break his fucking nose,” Joey growls, slamming a fist into his palm.

  “No, you goddamn well are not!” The coach corrects him. “You hear me? None of you are going to come back on that bastard. I don’t care if he calls your mom a slut when you see him at a frat party! I don’t need any more of my boys off the court. I even catch wind of one of you talking shit to that kid and you’re gonna be doing sprints until your feet fall off. Understand!?”

  The entire room goes quiet and I look around to see the whole team standing there like a group of sons that have just been scolded by their father.

  “I’m done,” Tommy groans. “I fucking know it. I’m done—”

  “Shhh!” I say, caressing his face with my hand. “Don’t talk like that! You are not done! It’s just a sprain—”

  “You don’t know that,” Tommy protests. “If it’s broken – and I need surgery? I’m fucked!”

  “Don’t worry about that right now,” I tell him. “It’s going to be all right.”

  I can see the pain on his face and a vulnerability I’ve never seen, nor did I expect to. And somehow it draws me in even more. He’s such a presence. Tommy Mason, the basketball stud, and yet here he is letting himself be completely open with me in a moment of complete lack of control.

  “All right, let’s get you up,” the doctor says. “And to the hospital. Guys, can you give him a hand?”

  The doctor motions to Joey and Brant. They come right over and slide their arms under Tommy’s and help him to his feet. He winces with pain, doesn’t put any pressure on his ankle.

  “Can I do anything?” I ask him. He shakes his head. “Call me, okay?”

  He nods and does his best to smile as the guys help him away. All I can do is watch him go. I wish there was something I could do for him, but this is out of my control. All I can do is hope.

  In my heart I know Tommy will be okay. But does he know it?

  Chapter 21 – Tommy

  I’m fucked, I think as the van hits a bump on the road on the way to the hospital.

  One dickhead that couldn’t guard me decides to hit me with the most flagrant of fouls, and my career is over. If my ankle is broken, and I need surgery, then that’s that.

  I heard of a guy who played fo
r UCONN back when I was in middle school. I think his name was Pete Jenkinson, and he injured his ankle. Bad break and ended up tearing a tendon in the process. He had surgery and was back playing the next year, but he was never the same.

  His jump was off, he wasn’t as quick on his feet, and when you play forward, that’s pretty damn important. The fans rallied behind him, as did the coach and his whole team, but he was over. The whole season was a wash – an embarrassment. And he knew it. You could just see it in his face when he was on the court. He knew it was done, yet he went out there and gave it his best. But it wasn’t enough.

  And as we make our way across town to the hospital, that’s all I can think about. It’s the only image in my mind: Pete McMann’s face, that first game back after his surgery, as he realized his game was never going to be the same.

  I’m Tommy Mason. Who am I if I’m not the star of the team? If I’m not that college ballplayer on his way to the pros, then I don’t know the answer to that question. My hands clench into fists, my fingernails dig into my palm as I try not to focus on the throbbing pain coursing up my calf from my ankle. The ice packs wrapped around the joint feel like they’re barely doing anything.

  My whole life is the team. My friends are on the team. The girls like me because I’m the star of the team. My entire future is the game of basketball. What will Grace think of me?

  Here I am, this basketball stud, big man on campus – I meet her, we hit it off, she comes to my game, and then I get fucking injured and I’m out? What’s she going to think?

  Right now, I’d trade all the money I’d make in the pros, all the cars, the houses, the TV appearances and interviews – I’d trade all that away to make sure Grace still likes me when all this is over. It’s all I can think about.

  She was so sweet to me while I was lying there in the locker room, back to the bench, feeling like my entire world had just shattered in front of me. That’s the kind of girl you can bring with you through the rest of your life. None of the bimbos I’ve been with would ever know what the fuck to say at a time like that.

  And what if she’s wrong? What if my ankle is broken? What if I’ve torn a tendon and need surgery? What if it’s even worse? I’ve had sprains before when I was young, and this doesn’t feel like that. Sometimes sprains can be even worse than a simple break and take a longer time to recover. There’s just no way to know.

  “You’ll be all right, buddy,” Joey says from beside me, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “And that kid will get some payback. Believe me. I don’t care what coach says.”

  I try to force a laugh and say something, but all I can do is fake a smile and nod. I can’t even open my eyes. I want to scream.

  Fuck!

  “All right, we’re there,” I hear the doctor say as the van pulls up at the hospital. I open my eyes as coach slides open the door and Joey and Brant pile out.

  “Here ya go,” Brant says, grabbing my arm. How fucking humiliating. Joey grabs my other arm and I manage to slide out of the seat and onto the sidewalk. A nurse comes my way with a wheelchair and I feel my guts twist.

  “Get that fucking thing away from me!”

  She stops dead in her tracks and gives coach a look. But he just nods to her and she turns around and heads back inside. No fucking way I’m letting them get me in one of those and start wheeling me around. I’m not a cripple!

  I let the guys help me through the sliding doors of the emergency room and straight through into the back. Someone must have called them and let them know I was coming. Thankfully there are not a lot of people here and I get to go straight in. They lead me into a small room with a bed and I take a seat.

  “It’ll be all right, champ,” Coach tells me with a firm pat on the back.

  After a few minutes, a doctor steps into the room. He’s a big guy and looks like he might have been an athlete at one time. He reaches out and gives me a firm handshake.

  “Tommy Mason. Dr. Parker,” he tells me with a reassuring smile. “Sorry to see you here.”

  “Sorry to be here,” I reply with a grimace.

  “Well, we’re not gonna make you wait long,” he replies. “Got the x-ray set right up for you. Let’s get you down there now and see how things are looking.”

  “All right,” I manage to say as the guys help me on my feet again. We make our way down the hall to the x-ray room and I slide myself onto the table beneath the machine. The x-ray tech moves this huge white arm over my leg and a light with an X on it projects over my ankle.

  “Okay, we’re gonna get a few shots now, Tommy,” Dr. Parker tells me. “I’ll meet you back in the room to go over them.”

  I give him the thumbs up as he leaves the room. The x-ray tech hands me one of those big lead-lined vests to put on then heads behind a wall to push the button. The x-ray machine whirrs and clicks and she comes back around to the table.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m just going to adjust your leg a bit,” she tells me. I grit my teeth as she moves my ankle slightly and then heads back behind the wall. The machine clicks again and she comes back.

  “Okay, that’s it,” she tells me. “I’ll get your friends.”

  She steps out and calls Joey and Brant back into the room. They help me out and back down to my room. I feel like a fucking invalid. This is ridiculous. I can’t even believe I’m here, the entire fate of the rest of my career riding on how those x-rays come out.

  As I take a seat back on the bed in my room, I realize I’ve never been so nervous in my life. Not for a game, not the first time I was with a girl, not when it’s thirty seconds left on the clock and we’re down by five. Nothing shakes me, but right now I’m freaking the fuck out.

  All I can see is Dr. Parker coming back into the room, a sad smile on his face as he gives me the bad news. What will I do then? Sit on the sidelines for the rest of the season? And then what?

  I’m not a straight-A student – not even close. It’s not like I’m just going to switch majors to science or something and start doing research. Sports is my thing. Basketball is who I am. If I can’t do that, what can I do?

  I’ve never been a pessimist. I’m the kind of guy who sees an obstacle and wants to crush it. But this is something that is completely out of my hands. With Grace, there was an obstacle I was determined to overcome. She was shy, timid, afraid and had no idea who I was. But I set my sights on her and I didn’t let up until I got her.

  But what am I supposed to do about a broken fucking ankle? Just make up my mind that it doesn’t hurt and the bone isn’t broken? That isn’t something you can just will away.

  I sit with the boys in silence for what seems like forever, but as I glance back up at the clock on the wall I realize it’s only been a few minutes. I hear someone coming down the hall and feel my whole body go tense as Dr. Parker walks into the room. He’s got a smile on his face, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad news.

  He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

  “Well!?” I blurt out.

  Chapter 22 – Grace

  When I think about the look on Tommy’s face as he lay there on the locker room bench, my heart cries out for him. I wish there was more I could have done for him. Seeing him like that – I just wasn’t prepared. But I did my best.

  When I saw him from the stands, when that guy from the other team kicked him, I just couldn’t believe it. It was so blatant. He just straight up kicked him and didn’t even try to hide it. There is no way you could even attempt to say it was an accident. He deserves to be banned from the game forever, doing something like that to another player.

  I know Tommy has to be freaking out inside, no matter how stoic he looks on the outside. Basketball is his entire life and he must be terrified of the idea that he might not be able to play again.

  But I don’t believe that will happen. Maybe I’m just being naïve again, but I really do believe Tommy will be back on his feet in no time. He’s just one of those men that seems indestructible. Some asshole on the other team kicking h
im in the ankle isn’t enough to keep him down.

  A meteor could streak down from space going a million miles an hour and crash off Tommy’s chest and shatter into dust and he’d be back next week to win the game.

  He will be back. I know it.

  But now, sitting back in my dorm, constantly checking my phone, I’m probably feeling just as anxious as he is.

  I imagine he’s at the hospital now, either getting his ankle x-rayed or getting the results back. I would imagine Tommy Mason gets some priority so I should be hearing soon.

  Just as I’m checking my phone for the forty-fifth time, the door opens and Shannon tromps in and dumps her bag on the floor like she just had the worst class ever.

  “Fuck. Chemistry!” She groans, collapsing onto my bed. “If I have to balance another chemical equation…”

  She looks over at me with a sigh, but immediately can tell that something’s going on with me. I look away, thinking maybe that will do something to avoid the incoming conversation, but nope.

  “What is it?!” She asks me. My lips twist as I realize I have no idea how to even begin having this discussion. So much has happened, and there’s no way she’s going to approve of any of it.

  “Well…” I start. Maybe I’ll sort of dip my toes into the conversation before getting into the deep waters. “Tommy got hurt during the game. Maybe broke his ankle.”

  “Uh huh,” Shannon says slowly. “And…?”

  “And…” I reply, just as slowly. “We’re sort of…a thing…kind of maybe…”

  “Ugh,” Shannon reacts instantly, slouching back on the bed. She claps a hand over her forehead and groans. “Grace, Grace, Grace, Grace, Grace.”

  “Stop it!” I protest, leaning forward in my chair. “He’s nice! He really is!”

  “That’s what they all say at first,” Shannon groans. “You didn’t bang him yet, did you?”