My head snaps up at hearing his voice. Reality crashes down on me, and I have to pull myself back to the present. His voice is the only one that could steal my breath and make me want to vomit all at the same time.
“What?” I ask. My eyes roam over his features, taking him in. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him and he’s changed. A lot. Dressed in a pair of dark washed, denim jeans and a navy blue buttoned up long sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows. I can tell he’s filled out and in a good way. My eyes drift to the intricate colorful designs snaking their way down his left arm. I can’t help but think how his used-to-be-flawless-skin isn’t so flawless now. His muscles are still there and defined, but not in that overly-dramatic-roided out way. Thank God, because it’s so not attractive. He’s let his hair grow out, which in my opinion is a lot better than the short crew cut he used to keep. Now it’s a good two inches on top, shorter on the sides, and looks like he just rolled out of bed, ran his fingers through it and called it a day. And it’s still just as dark as dark chocolate, you know almost black, but not quite. When my eyes find his I smirk at the fact that he’s wearing a pair of Ray-Bans inside.
“I asked if you were all right.” He repeats himself. My eyes hone in on his lips as they tilt up in what I think is some form of a smile, but then I realize he’s mocking me.
With a shake of my head, I mumble under my breath, “Still a dick.”
“What?”
I glare at him from across my office, and just as I’m about to tell him to fuck off Tammy chimes in. “So, Karmen, Brayden here has his application all filled out for the sports broadcaster position we’re hiring for.” She stares at me with wide eyes from behind him. It’s her way of reminding me to play nice.
Hearing this news just made my day. Not. I lean back in my chair and smile at him, and it only broadens when I see him bristle… with what, I’m not sure. Apprehension maybe? Like he realizes he may not get the job because now I would be the one holding the power over him.
“Well, Mr. Stephens isn’t it nice to see you again, but you can take off the shades, you’re not outside.” My tone is smug, and to say that I’m not loving this would be a lie.
“I wish I could say the same,” he retorts. Slowly, he reaches up and removes his glasses, and I do everything to keep from getting sucked into those stunning green eyes of his like I did when we were in high school. But as quickly as the thought occurs it passes, too.
I wave my hand towards the door. “By all means, please feel free to leave if you don’t want to be here. I have a ton of other applicants that I’m sure would love to fill the position.” It’s a lie. I only have one other applicant, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Brayden’s hands go to his hips, and I watch as his shoulders slump in defeat. “Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs.
A part of me wants to believe he’s sorry, the grown up part of me that is. So instead of summoning my inner bitch I take a deep breath and smile up at him. “Please take a seat,” I offer as I stand from behind my desk.
Walking around the small wooden structure, I reach out for him to hand me his application except he doesn’t move. When I look up, I see his eyes are on me, or at least I think they are. I look around my office to see if maybe some of the old records that hang on the wood-paneled walls are crooked, if there’s clutter on my desk, or the only family photo I have of me and my parents taken back when I was eight is what has caught his attention. But as my eyes find his, I’m certain now more than ever that they’re on me. I look down, checking myself over. There aren’t any coffee stains on my cream-colored blouse. Drops of white out don’t pepper my blue pencil skirt.
“You’ve changed,” he murmurs and my eyes snap to his.
“Yeah, well that normally happens as you grow up,” I reply. “Can I see your application, please?” I ask, dismissing his comment altogether.
He hands over the paperwork before I wave him over to take the seat opposite my desk. I flip through the pages, looking at his recent job history. I roll my eyes when I see he’s only listed his NFL career. Returning to my chair, I look up at him before asking, “What made you choose KBT Radio station?”
Brayden wipes his palms on his pants like he’s nervous, and I have to suppress the giggle that’s trying to work its way free. Brayden, nervous? Now this is something I thought I’d never see. He clears his throat before answering. “As you can see.” He gestures toward the application in my hand. “I have a background in sports, and since I obviously can’t play anymore, I’d like to stick with what I know.”
I nod in understanding. It’s a physical pain one feels at not doing what one loves. My dream is to own a recording studio while his was the NFL. Looks like neither of us are living our dreams. Not that I can play any instruments or carry a tune to save my life, but I can pick out a hit song like a baseball player hitting a home run out of the park. Music is my passion, it’s how I coped with everything that went on in my life while I was in high school. It was how I drowned out the fights my parents had on a continuous basis. It was my escape when people in high school acted like I was their entertainment versus a person with feelings. It was the only thing that I could relate to, my outlet. My pain was spoken through other’s lyrics, lyrics that I felt were written for me.
“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” I offer quietly, and no matter what he put me through my apology is genuine.
He scoffs at my remark, and all I can do is stare at him in complete shock. “Sure you are.” His tone is filled with bitterness and condensation. “I bet you thought karma finally got his ass.”
Well, I did kind of think that, but it’s not something I’m going to voice at this moment. A brain injury is nothing to wish upon someone.
“Poor, rich boy right?” he asks humorlessly. “Finally got what was coming to him. You don’t have to rub it in my face, okay?”
“I…I wasn’t,” I stammer, completely taken aback. “Honestly, I am sorry for what happened to you.”
Brayden leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest and stares at me, his eyes narrowing into slits. It’s like he’s trying to determine if I’m making fun of him or being sincere. “Why are you being nice to me?” he asks after we sit in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes.
I heave a deep breath before answering him. “It’s not about being nice, Brayden. I’m a person who can show someone else compassion. No matter how awful you were to me in high school, I genuinely do feel bad that you didn’t get to live out your dream.”
She can’t be fucking serious right now? I thought she’d rub my failure in my face. Instead, she’s offering me support. Her apologies. When in all reality I should be the one apologizing. I may not have been the bully to perform the acts, but I did stand by when everything happened and did nothing. Instead, I sat there and watched everything happen and had to pretend that it never bothered me. Unfortunately for her, I didn’t have the balls to stand up and do the right thing.
But that was then and this is now.
When I woke up this morning, I had no idea Karmen was who I’d be interviewing with. When I ran into Doug over at Killian’s, one of the better bars in town, he told me about the sports broadcaster position, and I thought ‘fuck yeah, this is perfect’.
Ever since I returned back to my parents’ house things have been tough, but it’s not anything I’m not used to. I walk on eggshells and try to keep out of my dad’s way. I know this is temporary, but I never imagined I’d live under their roof again. My mom goes about her own business, drinking her wine and playing the role of the dutiful wife. My dad bitches about the fact that I can’t play football anymore. It’s not like I begged for the concussion that would ruin my career. My old man reminds me daily how I’m a fucking joke, a piss poor excuse for a man because I couldn’t toughen through a head injury. My mom, on the other hand, she turns a blind eye to it all. She’d rather drink herself into oblivion. I don’t know why I thought things would be different. It�
�s just like the day I packed my stuff up, left for college, and never looked back.
Some things never change.
Now, I’m fucking nervous as I sit here in front of Karmen. The outcome of this interview determines if I can move out on my own again. To think that I had a million dollar condo out in San Francisco not even a year ago, and now I live back with my parents; maybe I am a fucking joke. Right here, right now, Karmen holds my fate in her hands, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
My head tilts to one side. I stare at her and think to myself that she’s fucking hot now. When she strolled toward me to take my application, I gawked at the way her skirt hugged her hips nicely. I took in the way her full rack stretched the middle of her shirt. My jaw almost hit the floor when I saw the way her heels drew my eyes to her toned legs. Her once dull brown hair now shines with vibrancy, like spun silk.
I’m taken back to the ugly duckling in high school that I treated like shit. It makes me feel like an ass. Besides my life being awful at home, I had everything else handed to me on a silver platter. Well, everything but my scholarship. I worked my ass off for the free ride I received. Not once did I ever stop to think that maybe Karmen’s life wasn’t as simple as mine. I knew she was poor by the clothes she wore. She’d show up to school in a ratty jacket, holes everywhere, stuffing seeping out of the ripped seams that did nothing to keep her warm. I felt bad for her. Sometimes I felt obligated when in the middle of winter, with snow and ice on the ground, she’d show up to school in flip-flops, to buy her proper attire. I never did, though. It was obvious her parents didn’t give a damn that she wore shoes that weren’t worth a damn or clothes that served their purpose and fit properly. No matter how bad I felt for her I’d shove the feeling away and in its place jealousy would take hold. I wasn’t jealous that she was poor and everyone made fun of her. I was jealous because despite those things she was still a straight A student who didn’t hide her gorgeous smile from her one and only friend Tammy. She never ran away from her problems. She faced them head on. Karmen didn’t hide behind a mask like I did. She didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t or fake who she truly was to make herself feel better. She flourished. She survived. While every day, I struggled to keep my head above water, to keep the facade going. I played the part of the spoiled rich kid that everyone knew me to be with no worries, no problems.
“Well, thank you for the sentiment,” I offer as I straighten up in my chair. Karmen leans forward, sets my application on her desk as she looks at me intently. For some reason, I feel like I’m being scrutinized, and I wonder what the hell she’s thinking. “Look,” she finally says. “Knowing what you’ve been through…”
“How do you know what I’ve been through?” I ask with more bite in my tone than I intended to use as I stare back at her. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re right, I don’t. You’re the one piece of my life that I wanted to forget, but as successful as you’ve been, you’re always there. If I didn’t hear about it, then I had to see it on TV, in magazines. You were everywhere.” She shakes her head and I start to feel like crap when I see tears well up in her eyes. “You were like a cancer that wouldn’t go away. Brayden, you watched your friends’ torment me for years, for no reason at all, except what was it you said?” She taps her finger against her chin as she looks up at the ceiling. “Because I existed.” She uses her fingers to quote my words as she looks back at me. I cringe at the memory. “You and your friends single handedly ruined high school for me. But here I sit, willing to give you a job even though you’re acting like an ass, all because I believe in second chances. And right now, I’m assuming you need one. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here,” she states with an eyebrow raised, daring me to argue her assumption.
As much as it pains me to swallow my pride and not tell her to take this job and shove it, she’s right, and I have no grounds to argue on. I know the right thing to do is apologize to her for everything, but I can’t. I didn’t stand by and watch everyone else be cruel to her because she existed, even though I’d said just that. It was because she was the one thing I couldn’t have. Karmen was the poor girl, the one from the other side of the tracks. In my world, she was taboo. My family was rich. I was the All-American boy next door. She didn’t fit into my life. She was the polar opposite of me and I fucking hated it. I hated that I couldn’t express how much I liked her. It had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with that she was nice, even when she was trying to go unnoticed. I envied her and she didn’t even know it. It’s better that she never knows the truth. She needs to believe I’m the asshole she’s always thought me to be.
I scrub my hands down my face before admitting the only thing I can, “You’re right.”
Her eyes go wide at my admission. A hint of a smile plays on her plump lips. “How did that taste coming out of your mouth?” she chuckles.
“Like shit,” I answer honestly through a grin of my own.
She laughs out loud, and I stare at her in wonder. I’d be a damn liar if I didn’t think that seeing her smile directed at something I said makes me want to be a better man.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
I’m a man tainted by my own vices. Vices that run so deep, I’m not sure I’ll ever be free.
“Look,” Karmen states, pulling my attention back to her. “I know you have a background in sports as does the rest of the world. As much as I’d like to conduct an interview with you, I just don’t think it’s necessary…”
“Please. I need this job. Don’t hold me…” I interject only to be cut off by her speaking over me.
“You’ve got the position if you want it. You know what you’re talking about, that I’m sure of. Of course, you’ll have a ninety-day probationary period, and I’m sure Doug can teach you how to work all of the equipment.”
“Really?” I ask, completely dumbfounded. “But?” I coax because I feel it coming.
She shakes her head and smiles at me. “There is no but. You’ll have to submit to a drug test and a background check. If it all checks out, you’re good to go.” Karmen reaches into a drawer on the side of her desk and sets a stack of papers in front of her. She slides them over to me. “You’ll need to fill all of these out. The sooner, the better. We’d like for you to start no later than next Monday.”
“Four days,” I say mostly to myself, but she hears me.
“Well, it’s more like two since the drug testing site isn’t open on the weekends. This isn’t a problem is it?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“No.” I shake my head. Drugs aren’t my problem. Alcohol is my toxin of choice. Not that that’s any of her business.
“All right then, I think we’re done here.” Karmen pushes her chair back and stands, I follow suit. “Welcome to the family.”
She sticks her small hand out toward me and I take it in mine. “Thank you.”
“My direct line is on that paperwork, please call me if you need anything,” she offers, slipping her hand from my grasp.
I nod once before turning on my heel to leave. Just as I hit the threshold of her office, her voice stops me once more. “Brayden?”
I look back at her over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
She opens her mouth to say something but closes it as she shakes her head. “When you’ve filled out all the paperwork.” She nods gesturing to the papers in my hand. “You can just drop them off with Tammy up front.”
My eyes search her face. I can tell that wasn’t what she planned to say. And as bad as I’d like to ask her what it was that she really had on her mind, I think better of it. Instead, I nod. “Sounds good.”
By the time I make it to my car, I’m practically in a sprint. I couldn’t get the hell out of there fast enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came running after me to tell me that it was all one big fucking joke. That she’d finally settled the score. But even while my thoughts run that course, a part of me knows she wouldn’t do something so vindictive.
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As I settle in my car, my phone rings. I reach in my pocket and dig it out. I look to see it’s Drew, a guy I’ve known my whole life. “What’s up?” I answer and put it on speakerphone, leaving the phone on my lap as I back out of the parking lot.
“How did it go?” he asks. Last night, I told him about the interview while we were playing pool. He’ll get a kick out of this.
“I got the job if that’s what you’re asking, but you’ll never fucking guess who my interview was with.”
“Who?”
“Karmen Butler.”
“No shit.” He laughs. “And you still got the job?” he asks like he can’t believe it either.
“I know.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised she hired your ass.”
“Me too. Especially after what we put her through in high school.”
“I know,” he sighs. “We were pretty fucked up. Remember when you ironed on the phrase, ‘I just got my period’ onto the back of one of those tank tops that all the girls were wearing back then?”
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