The Keeper

by Jillian Liota

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Friday night rolls around, I’m nearly sick with anxiety. I fought with myself for hours today, talking myself in and out of calling Thomas and canceling. Ultimately, I chose to go with the flow. Going on a normal date like a normal college student is… well, it’s normal. It’s what I should be doing, instead of sneaking around and hiding with my coach, making out on the floor of my apartment and in dark parking lots.

  Charlie has been stomping around the apartment all evening, making her distaste for the entire situation known. Her glares have not gone unnoticed, either.

  “I’m leaving!” She shouts to me from the entry.

  When I come down the stairs, ready for my own date, she’s standing at the door sorting through her clutch. She’s dressed to kill in a classy red cap-sleeved silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Her hair is up in an incredibly complicated twist. I think it’s called a chignon, but the only interesting hairstyle I know is the french braid, so I can’t be sure.

  She looks elegant and understated in her beauty, which isn’t her normal look. She’s much more of a ‘check out my awesome rack’ kind of girl, rather than someone who pays homage to Audrey Hepburn in the fashion department.

  “Charlie,” I breathe. “You look amazing!”

  Her eyes flip up to me and for a brief moment, I think she’s going to say something about how she’s dressed. She looks vulnerable. Breathtakingly beautiful, but nervous. Not the Charlie I know.

  But then her eyes narrow and she scans me up and down. She rolls her eyes and snorts.

  “You couldn’t manage anything other than jeans for Mack, and then you dress like that for this Thomas guy, who you don’t even care about?” She shakes her head and struts towards the door.

  I stand frozen halfway down the stairs in my black dress. The one dress I own that makes me feel beautiful. And Charlie has just made me it clear that the dress is doing nothing to hide my shameful behavior.

  “Have fun on your date,” she mocks. “Try not to rip this guy’s heart out too, would you?”

  The slam of the door startles me even though I knew it was coming. I stay on the stairs for a few minutes, unsure what to do with myself. I just stand there, frozen, Charlie’s words seeping through me.

  It’s a knock on the door that forces me out of my trance, and when I open it, my heart breaks at Thomas standing on my porch with a small bouquet in his hands.

  “RJ, wow,” he says with a sweet smile. “You look… wow, you look beautiful.”

  I must stand there for too long without saying anything, because his smile fades a little bit.

  “You okay?”

  I nod too hard and open the door, indicating that Thomas should come inside. The minute he places a foot across the threshold of my apartment, I put a hand onto his chest to stop him.

  He takes a step back, looking incredibly confused.

  “I’m guessing you’re not okay?”

  When I finally find my voice, I’m surprised about what comes out of it.

  “I’m sorry, Thomas, but I can’t go on a date with you tonight.”

  He shifts slightly on his feet, and my heart clenches as the unsure look on his face.

  “Did you…” he clears his throat, “… did you want to reschedule?”

  There is a very tiny smile on his face and just the right amount of hope in his voice for me to know I’m making the right decision, no matter how my stomach turns over at my choice. I need to call it off now before I risk hurting him further. The last thing I need on my conscience is another wounded heart.

  I shake my head slightly.

  “No.” My words are a whisper, but I know he hears them when that small smile slips away completely. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. You are handsome and smart and charming, and if I wasn’t totally hung up on someone else, I would feel so lucky to be going on a date with you tonight.”

  “But you are hung up on someone else.” I nod and he lets out a breath. “I knew I should have asked sooner. I just couldn’t get up the nerve.”

  He shakes his head a little bit and looks down at his shoes. His shiny shoes, beneath his slacks, which has a collared shirt tucked into it. He’s even wearing a tie, which he reaches up to adjust slightly.

  “There’s not any chance in the future, is there.”

  He doesn’t say it as a question, so I know he already knows the answer. When I shake my head no in confirmation, he nods.

  “Thanks for at least being honest,” he says, taking a step back. “And you really do look beautiful, RJ. I’m sure if the guy you’re hung up on doesn’t figure his shit out quickly, there are loads of guys who would love to be on your arm.”

  If only he knew it was my own fault that I was alone. But I don’t tell him that. Instead I allow him to hand me the bouquet and kiss me lightly on the cheek. Then I wave slightly and close the door on Thomas’ retreating form. I walk slowly into the living room and sit down on the couch, staring at a blank television screen.

  I feel out of control. My emotions. My fears. My decisions. It’s like I never know what I’m going to do or say until right when I do or say it. I’ve never been that person. I’m ‘thoughtful and intentional’ according to Charlie. I’m ‘a future thinker’ according to Jeremy.

  But tonight, I feel like none of those things. I feel lacking in any kind of plan or direction. I keep hurting the people around me.

  And I can’t stand it.

  * * * * *

  The slamming of the door jolts me where I’ve fallen asleep on the couch, and my eyes fly open. I stretch a little bit until I hear a mumbling whisper in the entryway.

  “…such bullshit. Like I don’t know what’s happening. Of all the…”

  Charlie’s mumbled ranting stops with a halt when she sees me sitting on the couch. She raises an eyebrow and glances at her phone.

  “It’s 8:30. Was the date that bad?”

  My face crumples and I look back down at my hands, willing myself to maintain control of my emotions.

  “I didn’t go.”

  Only a few seconds pass before Charlie is plopped down on the couch next to me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a tight embrace.

  “Did you call him and cancel?”

  I shook my head.

  “I told him there was someone else when he showed up at the door.”

  Even though I can’t see her face, I can feel Charlie’s wince.

  “Ouch.”

  “I know. Not one of my finer moments. I haven’t been having a lot of fine moments recently.”

  Charlie pulls back to look at me and I’m happy to see that her previous bitter death glare is replaced by her normal expression full of care and warmth.

  “But you did the right thing, even if it hurt you both.” She rubs her hands up and down on my upper-arms, attempting to soothe me. “It wouldn’t have been fair of you to go on a date with Thomas when you’re clearly in love with Mack.”

  I scoff.

  “I am not in love with him, Charlie. I’ve known him for two weeks. I just…” I sigh. “He’s just important, that’s all.”

  “So important that you had to stomp on his heart?”

  I let out a breath.

  “He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s already bowing down to the Ronnie Kade altar.”

  Charlie giggles.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I?” I sit back and curl my legs under a pillow. “I told you what Jeremy said. About how he used to, and I quote ‘bang everything in sight.’ It would be only natural for him to go back to that. I mean, he’s gorgeous.”

  “Fuck Jeremy.”

  My eyebrows feel like they’re about to fly off my face in surprise. I’ve never heard Charlie say something like that about my brother.

  “Jeremy is using guilt about his own actions to manipulate the situation in a misguided attempt to protect you. And from Mack, who is basically someone
who used to do what Jeremy is currently doing.”

  Her face is the picture of frustration, and I feel like I’m getting some insight into some of her irritations with Jeremy in the past.

  “Are you going to let another man dictate your life choices? Your dad did it for years, and now you’re letting your brother force you into a situation where you’re either not together, or Mack loses his job and you are a pariah. This isn’t The Scarlet Letter, RJ. You have other options without having to brand yourself with some shameful monogram.”

  “I’m not sure The Scarlet Letter really applies here, but…”

  “Come on, I tried to make a literature reference. I should get mad points for that.”

  I let out a half laugh.

  “Maybe.” I pause. “Maybe I should try to talk to Jeremy again. Get him to see it from my perspective.”

  Charlie shakes her head.

  “I don’t think that’s what you should do. I mean, it’s basically his fault that Mack’s worried about losing his job anyway, right? So you talking to him isn’t going to make that problem go away.”

  My brow furrows.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Charlie’s face blanches, her eyes going wide.

  “Charlie, what do you mean it’s Jeremy’s fault that Mack is worried about his job?”

  “Uhmmm…” Her eyes are burning holes into her hands, her feet, the wall. She is looking anywhere but at me. “I may have overheard something,” she finally says in a mumble.

  I sit forward, the pillow in my lap falling forward.

  “What?”

  “Well,” she twists her fingers in her lap. “Jeremy made a phone call to Mack tonight. I didn’t hear everything, and I don’t know the whole story, but it sounded like Jeremy was following up to make sure you guys weren’t together. Like they had talked before… or something.”

  My mind is reeling. All of the blood in my body has flown to my cheeks and my neck, and I know I am bright red with anger as I sort through the information Charlie has just given to me. I can literally feel myself going from zero to sixty in almost no time at all.

  Suddenly, I’m off the couch and slipping into my shoes, rushing around the living room in a frenzy.

  “What are you doing?” Charlie asks, the nerves in her body clear in the shake of her voice.

  “What do you think I’m doing, Charlie? I’m going to fucking murder my brother.”

  * * * * *

  It takes me almost no time at all to find out that Jeremy and some of ‘the Galaxy hotties’ have snuck out of a team-hosted philanthropic event and are grabbing drinks at Smoggy Tavern, thanks in large part to the fangirl pages that blast updates on their whereabouts. MLS stars don’t get a lot of attention, but the ladies who focus on them sure are dedicated.

  It takes me twenty minutes to make it from Glendale to Downtown LA, a miraculous occurrence on a Friday night when the Lakers are playing. I park in the public parking lot a few blocks down and swallow the frustration at paying the high cost that accompanies convenient parking in Los Angeles.

  By the time I get through the doors of Smoggy Tavern, I’m sure my eyes are blazing in rage, as the doorman doesn’t even bother carding me. I let my eyes scan the dimly lit bar. When I don’t see Jeremy I plow through the crowd to get to The Alley, the outdoor seating area that Smoggy Tavern uses to accommodate smokers and crowds on busier nights.

  As soon as I get outside, I see him sitting with a girl on his lap, laughing at some other guy at his table. They’re wearing suits and look very clean cut and incredibly charming. Good thing I know better.

  I storm quickly over to his table and see the shock on his face when I get close enough to catch his eyes.

  “Rach? What are you…”

  But before he can get a word out, I’ve slapped him across the face.

  Hard.

  The girl on his lap gets up quickly.

  “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” she says quickly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m his sister. You can still make a play for his dick once I’ve left.”

  The words I’m spitting out of my mouth are laced with every ounce of the frustration that has boiled along the edges of my skin as I drove here. Jeremy’s head jerks back in surprise at what I’ve said, the red mark on his face becoming more apparent as the girl quickly slips away.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What the hell am I doing? How about, what the hell are you doing?” He just continues to stare at me. “Did you threaten Mack’s job?”

  My words come out incredulous, and I’m almost hopeful that he will deny them. I’d rather be wrong and feel like an asshole for slapping my brother.

  But Jeremy’s brow furrows in frustration, and I instantly know I’m not wrong.

  “So that prick decided to tell you instead of doing the right thing and ending it?”

  I lean in towards Jeremy, my entire body vibrating with unchecked emotions.

  “No, you son-of-a-bitch. Charlie told me.”

  His eyes widen, just slightly. My voice is low to keep any neighboring tables from overhearing, but loud of enough for Jeremy.

  “Can you imagine what it was like to learn that my brother threatened a man with his livelihood in an attempt to manipulate a situation in a way that serves himself? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be me? To know that the one person I trusted to have my back, no matter what, has stolen away the small piece of happiness that I’ve tried to carve out for myself?”

  Jeremy rolls his eyes, effectively throwing gasoline on my fire.

  “I think you’re being a little over-the-top here, Rach. Small piece of happiness? Come on. That’s so dramatic. The guy’s a douche.”

  “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” I reply. “And I am letting you know right now, Jeremy. I will never forgive you for this. Manipulation, cruel words, apparently reveling in my distress.” I shake my head at him. “Sounds like a page right out of the Frank Jameson playbook.”

  Jeremy’s face loses a little bit of color at those words, and for a moment I think he’s come to his senses. But then I see the resolve in his eyes. He stands quickly, grabbing my arm and leading me towards the door leading back inside Smoggy Tavern.

  “If my words and actions don’t have any impact on you, maybe something a little more visual will do the trick.”

  I can barely hear him over the loud voices and laughter as he drags me further into the throngs of people surrounding the bar. When he stops suddenly, I almost plow right into his back.

  “What are you doing, Jeremy?” I shout.

  He steps out of my way and when I look at him, he points to my right.

  When I turn to look, I allow my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim lighting that impacted my vision the first time I walked in. When I can finally see, I wish I couldn’t. Because what I see decimates me.

  Behind a roped off VIP section is a separate dance floor. It’s fairly full, but not overflowing. Right in the middle is Mack. And wrapped around him like a vine is Ronnie Kade. Their movements are so sexual that I literally can’t believe what’s happening just a few feet away and in the eyes of the general public.

  Their mouths are locked together in what looks to be a deep, passionate kiss that never ends. Ronnie’s leg is wrapped around Mack’s hip, which he is gripping roughly with one hand. They’re grinding into each other in time with the music, his other hand squeezing her ass over her very, very short green strapless dress.

  I’m rooted like a tree to the spot, staring at them. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s almost like I need to sear this visual into my brain.

  When Ronnie lowers her leg and breaks their kiss, she turns in Mack’s arms and begins rubbing her ass against the front of him. One large hand grips her hip, the other splays on her stomach. I can see Mack close his eyes and lean his head back, biting his lip in ecstasy as they continue what is obv
iously a rousing bout of foreplay on the dance floor.

  It’s a face almost identical to the one he made when we were together in front of the Recreation Centre. And seeing him just a few days later with Ronnie… well, I’ve never felt more like a cheap slut then while watching them together.

  “I wanted you to see what he’s really like,” Jeremy’s voice cuts through the fog I was in. “You wouldn’t listen to me, but this is the guy he’s always been. You deserve better, Rach.”

  I turn sharply away from Mack and Ronnie and stare at Jeremy. Tears fill my eyes as we just look at each other. Finally, I simply turn away from him and walk out of Smoggy Tavern, back to my car in the overpriced lot, and drive away.

  The visual of Mack and Ronnie stays with me even once I’m back in my bed, and I’m wishing I could rewind the past few weeks and start over.

  * * * * *

  To say I don’t want to be at practice today is an understatement. My feet are sluggish, my hands are slow, and I feel like bursting into tears every time I catch sight of Mack on the sidelines as we complete rapid three-on-three drills.

  What should bolster my flagging energy is Mack’s appearance. He looks a little bit nauseous and a lot exhausted, and has been defaulting to Coach Johnson’s lead all morning.

  But in reality, I can’t feel good that Mack looks so bad. Because his appearance and lack of focus is simply a reminder that he spent the night with Ronnie. I spend the entire practice fighting off images of the two of them twisted up in a sweaty mess in what are likely 1000 thread count sheets on Ronnie’s round, rotating bed surrounded by mirrors.

  Okay, so I doubt any of that’s true, but it helps just a little to pretend she’s a bad porn star instead of what she really is.

  Gorgeous.

  Perfect.

  The literal antithesis to my average and awkward self.

  As the morning progresses, my upset mood sways back and forth between sadness and anger. At one point, I attempt apathy and disinterest, but fail. And unfortunately, for both me and for Mack, as practice wraps up, it stays firmly planted in anger that unleashes itself when I find myself in the doorway of Mack’s office.