“Fuck yes! Who is she?”
“Well I checked Canopy’s website and there is only one chick on there that can be described as Dr. Smokeshow. Stanzy Sutton.”
My heart drops. I don’t want them knowing about her. I’ve always kept her as my secret, my Stanzy.
“What’s she look like?” Ivy asks. He’s the horniest guy I know now that Blake is married.
“She’s off limits,” I say. I try to sound casual, but it comes out threatening.
“Whoa, Rhodesy. She that hot?”
“Yeah, bro,” Stef confirms. “She’s a fucking ten and a half. No, she’s an eleven.”
“Hotter than my Gigi?” Trey asks, referring to Gigi Hadid who he is madly obsessed with.
“Way hotter,” Stef confirms. “Blonde, smart, and she looks like she works out. Her Instagram is filled with pics of her playing sand volleyball at The Cove. Teeny sports bikini and all.”
“What’s her name?” Ivy asks as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He’s finally fully dressed.
“@stanzyrae” Stef replies. He’s fucking memorized her Instagram profile.
“I’m hitting up her DMs,” Ivy says.
“Fuck. That,” I scoff. “You think I’m going to let you vultures near her?”
“You’re a selfish motherfucker, Rhodes,” Ivy responds.
“When it comes to this chick, one million percent.”
“Alright, who’s ready to eat?” Trey asks sensing my discomfort. He’s a young buck. Just twenty-two, but he’s a good leader. “And by eat, I mean I want some boobs in my face at Chicago Dolls.”
“I’ve heard they have good wings,” I add and get another laugh out of my boys.
“I’m in for both,” Ivy chimes.
“In,” Stef says.
“Yup!” Wise adds.
“Rhodesy?” Trey looks to me.
“Uh, pass.” Strip clubs have never been my thing and they are even less my thing when Stanzy is back in the picture. I still have no idea how I’m going to repair our relationship, but at least she’s talking to me.
Do I want to? Every time I see her my stupid heart flutters and my dick twitches. My body is practically screaming at me, yes! Yes, and don’t fuck it up again. But my head says that she still deserves better.
I’m more deserving now though. I’ve made it in the NFL, I was successful at Cambria, and I proved Rowen wrong. My life goals have all been accomplished except her. Making it right with her. But I fucked other women. Not sure I can forgive myself for that. But I need to try. Stanzy is my person. The one love that engulfs your entire soul.
Snap out of it, Rhodes!
My phone rings, it’s Rollie. I’ll call him back when I’m in the Uber on the way to our hotel. We’re staying one more night in Chicago because it’s already late. We’ll fly out tomorrow morning for Minneapolis. Nights like this, we go out to dinner and the hit up a bar. Some of the single guys hit the strip clubs, some of the married guys too.
I’m sure Rollie wants to break down the Bears game with me. He’s the only one who calls me to talk about football. That says something about my family considering every single one of us was a football prodigy.
“All right fellas, I’m out. Don’t get too close to the goodies on sniffer’s row.”
“Sniffer’s row? You’re kidding, right? VIP, private dancers, and bottle service. Sniffer’s row is for high school kids,” Ivy says with a laugh.
“You and I had a very different high school experience.”
I check my phone. Uber will be in three minutes.
“Either way, enjoy all the expensive ass and titties.” With that I leave the locker room and call Rollie back as I walk to the player entrance to wait for my ride.
“Baby Bro?” Rollie asks. His tone is weird. Normally he’d answer with a tirade of expletives about how much the Vikings fucking suck without me.
“What’s up, Rols?”
“Jess, I got bad news.”
My heart starts racing and my throat goes dry.
“What is it?”
“It’s Mama. She died, Jess.”
And the world stops spinning. Everything around me goes blank and silent. I didn’t hear that right. My mama is only fifty-eight.
“Jess?” Rollie asks. “Jess, are you there?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay, Baby Bro?”
Not even a little, Rollie. I need a drink… or twelve.
Two things are going through my mind. One, I hope she is finally at peace. Two, I wonder if I’ll ever know who my real father is now that she’s gone. I don’t know if anyone else knows, shit, I don’t even know if she told my biological father she was pregnant. He may not even know I exist.
“What happened?” I finally ask as I get into the black SUV.
“They think it was a heart attack, but we don’t know for sure yet. She had an open house today and when Catherine couldn’t get ahold of her she swung over to the property and found Mama in the kitchen. She was already dead by the time Catherine got there.”
“Fuck.” FUCK!!!
“Yeah, the medical examiner thinks she died sometime around ten this morning. She didn’t open the house for the showing, so they think she got there and it happened shortly after. Catherine found her around four and called 9-1-1 even though Mama was already gone.”
I look at my watch. 10:26 p.m. I hope Rollie waited to call me because he knew I was at the game.
“How’s everyone else?”
“Not sure. Frankie called me and he was going to call Alice and Eliza. Rence and Ricky know, but I haven’t talked to them.”
No one else in my family bothered to call me. To text me.
“How’s Rowen?”
“I don’t even care. I didn’t call him. He’s going to be lost without Mama. She did everything for that lazy prick.”
“True. He’s alone now. Mama was the only reason any of us stuck around.”
“We miss you. Will you come home now?” Translation: he misses me.
“I’ll come back for Mama’s service. Text me the details when it’s set.”
My call waiting buzzes. It’s Stanzy. What the fuck?
“Hey, Rollie. I got another call coming in I’ve gotta take. Call me later and let me know how everyone is doing and when I need to come back to PBP.”
“Will do, Baby Bro. Sorry to break the news like this.”
“I’m just glad you called.”
I end the call with Rollie and accept the call from Stanzy as I get out of the Uber and head into the hotel lobby.
“Stanz?”
“Oh, Jess,” she sniffles and her breath catches. She’s been crying.
“What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”
Baby? Where did that come from?
“Yeah, I’m fine. My mama just called and told us about Jacqueline. I’m so sorry, Jess. This must be so hard. Do you need anything?”
I pause. She’s here for me. Still reaching out to comfort me when I need someone to just be with me. Suddenly, I feel less like drinking and more like talking to her.
Another realization hits me. I know that I can’t get through my mama’s funeral sober unless Stanzy is by my side. I can’t face Rowen after seven years without her. Even though now I can afford a hotel to get away from him, I want to know she’s at the Sutton’s house and I can sneak through her window if I need to.
“Would you want to come back to Peachberry with me for the funeral? I’d buy the tickets of course, but it would be nice if you were there.”
“Of course,” she replies without hesitation. “But I can buy my own ticket, Jess. Staley and I were going to fly back anyway. Lou too. She’s flying in from Boston.”
That’s right, Mary Lou stayed in Boston after graduation and is working as a buyer for a small, but trendy, boutique called Potpourri. I saw that on her Instagram profile.
“I’ll make the arrangements and text you,” I tell her. “I’m getting into the elevator.”
“Do you want to meet
me tonight? Or do you want to be alone? I just didn’t think you’d want to be alone, but if you do that’s totally fine,” she asks, quietly, almost unsure of herself.
I’d actually love nothing more to be with Stanzy tonight, but we’re still in Chicago. Damn it! She’s finally opening the door and I can’t walk through it.
“I’d love to see you, but we’re still in Chicago.”
“Oh, I thought you guys came home after away games.”
“We do sometimes, but if it’s late they let us stay the night and leave in the morning. Offer still good tomorrow?” I ask as I push the button for the elevator and the doors close.
I hate that I can’t see her tonight. I hate that she finally reached out to me and I have to decline her offer.
My phone buzzes. Incoming FaceTime call from Stanzy. I smile. Only Stanzy.
“Hey,” I say, her bright eyes and a wide smile fill my screen as I exit the elevator. Hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, makeup free, which is the way I think she looks best, wearing a pajama shirt with donuts on it. This is my favorite memory of her. PJs, messy hair, and snuggles. Too bad I’m four hundred miles away.
“Hi. I just thought you needed to see a friendly face tonight.”
“Hey, Jess!” a female voice shouts from the background. Stanzy moves the phone and I see Staley lounging on a recliner.
“Hi, Staley,” I reply and wave into the phone. “Thanks for calling, Stanz. What’re you guys doing?”
“We were going to watch the latest episode of The Bachelor we have on DVR and dine on delicious take-out.”
I walk into my hotel room and collapse on the bed. “What did you get?”
“We got Taki. It’s been our tradition to do this every Sunday. It’s our only day off during the week usually,” she says.
Taki is a sushi restaurant near the U of M campus. I’ve eaten there before and it’s pretty good.
“Taki is good, but you should let me take you to Sugar Fish sometime. It’s my favorite in the Twin Cities.”
“That sounds great, Jess. Aren’t you going out with your teammates? Maybe that could help take your mind off everything.”
“Nah, I don’t really feel like it.”
I’d rather talk to you as long as you’ll let me. My mind is never off of you anyway.
“Well,” she pauses as if she doesn’t want to ask.
“Well…” I prompt.
“You could order room service and we can have dinner together?”
“Genius idea as always. I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay,” she says with a smile and ends the call.
I order a cheeseburger, fries, a salad and a Coke from room service. I’m not even going to put anything from the minibar in it. I want a clear mind when I’m talking to Stanzy tonight.
Quickly, I change into a t-shirt and shorts before calling her back.
“Hi again,” I say as her face pops onto my screen. I lay on my stomach on the bed. My phone is propped up on my pillow so it’s almost like we’re face to face.
“Hi, did you get food?”
“I did. It should be here in twenty.”
She nods. She’s in what looks like a bedroom now.
“Aren’t you eating?” I ask.
“I’m going to wait for you. Staley is eating now and watching the show without me.”
“You can go if you need to. I don’t want to ruin your one night together.” Please say no.
“Nah. She can catch me up later. It’s not that big of a deal. So, how are you holding up?” she asks.
Thank God.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I pause to let her think about it again. When she doesn’t say anything I answer her question. “I’m good. I wasn’t close to my family, you know that.”
“I know, but Jacqueline was your mama, Jess. It still hurts and you don’t have to pretend with me.”
I know that. I’ve never had to be anything other than me with her. The me that I actually liked.
“I know, it’s just I’m fine. I don’t have much to say about it. I haven’t talked to her seven years, Stanz.”
“For real?”
“The night I left was it. I lost everything that night.”
“Jess, come on,” she whispers.
“Let’s save the depressing shit for another night.”
She nods, but I can see her eyes glistening in the light. Fuck. I don’t want her upset and crying.
Clearing her throat, she says, “So, other than the injury you’ve been tearing it up on the football field since high school.” Thankfully changing the subject. She always knows when to push and when to lay off.
“It’s been a ride,” I confirm.
We spend the next hour talking about the Vikings, the draft, and my time at Cambria. She dines on sushi and I scarf down my cheeseburger during our conversation.
She listens as I ramble on and on. It feels good to talk about myself for a change. I’m usually the one listening and doling out advice I have no business giving. While I’m usually the center of attention, I’m rarely one to talk about myself.
Stanzy yawns. It’s after midnight and I’m sure she needs to work tomorrow.
“Time for bed.”
She nods. “I’m coming over tomorrow after work.”
“Okay,” I reply and my heart skips a beat. I can’t wait to see her in the flesh.
“Text me your address, I’ll be there around seven.”
I laugh because this is typical Stanzy. Trying to mother me until I feel better, just like when we were kids.
✽✽✽
I don’t have rehab today because it was a travel day, so I wait impatiently all fucking day for seven o’clock and Stanzy to arrive.
I lift upper body at the gym in my house which kills an hour. A Jacuzzi to relax? Fail. I re-watch some game tape from before I was hurt to see what I can improve on, answer some emails, sign a box of pictures for the Vikings that will be used as promotional items, and watch the fucking clock like it’s a bomb that’s about to explode.
Eight minutes after seven the doorbell finally rings. When I open the door Stanzy is standing on my steps with a paper grocery bag and a gallon of milk.
I shake my head and smile. She’s wearing a long, black puffy Patagonia winter coat that extends past her knees, a knit purple scarf that matches her purple and white polka dot mittens and white hat. Her cheeks are pink from the December air. There’s a hint of shine on her lips and it makes me wonder if she still uses the watermelon flavor LipSmacker.
She looks up at me as she slips off her winter boots, off course she didn’t tie them. She never tied her shoes. If they had to be tied, she would do it once but loose enough so she could slip them on and off easily. Her hazel eyes are swirling with the green and gold, and as much as I hate those colors because of the Green Bay Packers, they are my favorite colors at the moment.
She hands me the bag and the milk so she can remove her winter gear. She’s wearing a maroon Gopher hoodie, black yoga pants that show off her fuck me ass, and weird fluffy socks. Her blonde hair has light brown undertones now and is pulled into a ponytail, accentuating her flawlessly perfect peach skin, long neck and high cheekbones. She still has a bit of a baby face. It’s uncanny how it can look so sharp yet soft at the same time.
Her beauty is understated, yet it shines bright.
“Preheat the oven, Jess. I brought wings,” she says as she grabs the groceries back and brushes past me leaving a lilac scented trail in her wake.
That explains the milk. Buffalo wings and milk are my favorite combination of food and drink. I’m pretty sure she’s the only person in the world that knows that about me.
I take a minute to inhale her fresh fragrance. Maybe the scent won’t fade once she leaves.
“Wow, this place is nice,” she says as she starts unpacking her bag on my kitchen island. Espresso cabinets, a white island, white and gold marble countertops, recessed lighting, crown molding, double oven and s
tate-of-art appliances. It’s a chef’s wet dream.
I live in Bliss Lake, one of the richest suburbs of Minneapolis and home to several professional athletes and their families. It’s a safe city which is why I chose it.
This house is way too big for me right now with six bedrooms and five bathrooms, but someday my family will live here with me.
“Make yourself at home,” I jest as I sit down on a stool across from where she is unloading. The ease at which she moves around my house is soothing. I’ve missed the comfort level I used to have with her. “What’s in the bag?”
“Oh you know, just a little happy food.” She smiles a genuine smile. “Hot wings, ranch and blue cheese of course, celery, carrots, and…” she pauses. She brought ranch and blue cheese because she knows I would not touch blue cheese with someone else’s tongue. Gross. Stanzy loves it with Buffalo wings, but she always bought, or ordered, ranch for me.
“And?”
She grins. “Guess.”
I think for a minute before it dawns on me. “You didn’t!” I practically shout and grab for the bag. I peek inside to find graham crackers, Hershey’s chocolate bars, Reece’s peanut butter cups and marshmallows.
“I did.”
“You’re my favorite person in the entire world.” I say it before I can catch myself. I pang of guilt and sadness sweep through me thinking about the memories we could have made if I wasn’t an epic failure.
Microwave S’mores were our go-to snack at Stanzy’s house. We weren’t old enough to start a fire, so we improvised. Stanzy always opted for plain milk chocolate while I liked mine with the peanut butter cups.
The oven beeps indicating it is preheated.
“Where are your baking sheets?”
“Well,” I pause and scan the kitchen.
“You don’t even know, do you?” she asks with a laugh.
“I have a chef who pre-makes my meals.” I shrug. “I just microwave everything he packs in my fridge.”
“Oh, Mr. Big Shot, with a private chef,” she jabs, but it’s lighthearted.
After minute of digging around through my kitchen cabinets she finds what she needs and puts the wings in the oven.
Washing the celery and carrots in the sink, she begins chopping, after searching for another couple of minutes to find a cutting board of course. Luckily, the knives are on the counter so she didn’t have to search too hard to find those.
Completion (Cambria University Series Book 3) Page 22
