Salvage

by Tiffany Aleman

  “Hey Brayden,” Tammy greets me from behind her desk as soon as I walk through the door. I haven’t had the chance to remove my baseball cap and sunglasses. Her smile is genuine and I want to ask her why she’s being so nice to me. I know Tammy is Karmen’s best friend. I remember them in high school. Hell, they were practically each other’s shadows. Where one went, the other followed.

  “Hey.” My reply is short because I’m really not sure what to say. It’s not like she and I were ever friends.

  “Are you excited about your first day?” she asks with a wide grin. She’s practically bouncing in her seat from excitement. I wish I could share her enthusiasm.

  Not really. I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk. I cock my head to the side, intently staring at her, and a grin tugs at the corners of my lips when I see her begin to fidget. “I’m not sure. This is all new to me.” The honesty behind my answer surprises even myself.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll do great. Karmen’s really patient.” She waves her hand in the air. “And you already know Doug. So, no worries, right?” She laughs just as the phone rings. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this. Just head on back to Karmen’s office,” she rushes before answering the phone. “KBT Radio,” I hear behind me, her voice fades into the background as I make my way down the hall.

  I reach into my pocket and pop a piece of gum into my mouth just in case brushing my teeth didn’t erase the smell of alcohol on my breath. My eyes wander over the wood paneled walls that are covered in memorabilia. Gold and platinum records by different artists hang framed on the walls. There are pictures of Doug, Karmen, and Tammy with different singers, bands, and even athletes, some even autographed. A twinge of jealousy hits me. I’m from this town and yet not one of my pictures hangs on their walls. Shallow, I know.

  As I come to a stop in front of Karmen’s slightly ajar door, I brace my hands on the doorframe as I try to gather myself. My eyes squeeze shut as I mentally tell myself that I can do this. Gently, I rap my knuckles against the wooden barrier. “Come in,” I hear, and I have to remind myself that this may not be the job of my choice, but at least I have something that will bring in some income.

  “Hey boss,” I say in jest as I push the door open with a hint of a smile on my face. A sharp pain lances through my skull, and it takes everything in me to keep from cringing.

  Karmen smiles at me from behind her desk. Her face and eyes light up and it’s like a punch to the gut. I want to kick my own ass for being a dick to this woman. “Good morning. Please take a seat.” She waves her hand to the chair in front of her desk, and I do as she asks. “So, this week is just going to be basically spent with you and me bouncing ideas off of each other to come up with ideas for your show. We need to come up with a name for you, something catchy. You’ll also be learning all of the equipment in the studio, but Doug will help you in that department. Along with all of that you’ll still need to research stats from current games, stay up-to-date on current events, and make sure you cross check all of your information. There’s a lot more that you’ll need to be aware of….”

  “Karmen. I know the in-and-outs of commentating on games and play-by-plays, okay?”

  She nods and continues on, ticking off everything this week entails. My mind spins with information overload. Honestly, I thought I’d come in, sit in a chair, and talk about sports into a mic. I was wrong. But now a new realization hits me like a truck loaded down with bricks, I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Karmen, and I’m not sure it’s something I can handle.

  “You still with me?” Karmen pulls my attention back to her. With furrowed brows, she stares at me from behind her desk.

  “Yeah,” I answer with a shake of my head.

  “Good.” She smiles. She nods her head for me to come back behind her desk as she rolls her chair to the side making room for me.

  “Seriously?” My tone is full of incredulity as I stare at her blankly. My reaction causes her to laugh out loud.

  “Yes. I don’t bite. I promise. It’s more comfortable for me when I don’t have to sit sideways and stretch all different ways across my desk.”

  My lips lift up into a smirk as I watch her eyes go wide with shock and a pink hue lights up her cheeks. I’m sure she’s re-thinking her comment. All I see now is her bent over this desk, stretched and twisted in all sorts of different ways. My mind thinks about how she doesn’t bite. And she’s right, she may not, but I definitely bite.

  Hard.

  To clear my mind of the pornographic images of Karmen, I ask, “Why don’t you have a conference table?”

  “We’re more of a low budget radio station. Most of our broadcasts are done over the internet, but we seem to be making it. Doug does most of the broadcasting himself, well, until you that is. There are times when concerts are held and we’ll attend the events, but it’s really all up to Doug.”

  “But you’re the manager.”

  “I am, but he prefers that I handle more of the PR aspect and business side of the things.”

  “And the hiring and firing,” I add.

  She laughs. “Yes and the hiring and the firing. So are you ready to get started?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “I promise to go easy on you,” she says.

  What I want to say is ‘what if I like it rough’, but I don’t. I let her have this one.

  I am such an idiot. The heat from my blush still burns my cheeks. I am so damn embarrassed. That came out all wrong. What in the hell is wrong with me? If I wouldn’t look crazy, I’d bang my head on this desk right now. And by the smirk on his face, which is weird, by the way, to see directed at me, let’s me know his mind has gone in a totally different direction. A dirty one. “I’m so sorry, by the way,” I rush out. “What I said earlier, it came out all wrong. I meant…”

  “I know what you meant,” he interrupts. Before sitting down, he carries his chair around my desk. “You meant that you’re not going to punch me in the face for what I used to put you through.”

  He’s deflecting from my comment only moments ago. Thank God. I roll my chair a little to the right. There should be distance between us. Yes, distance is good. I stare at him intently. “As tempting as that would be, no, I won’t punch you in the face. I’m not a vindictive person.”

  “No, you’re not. But I do remember a time when you slapped me in the face. You remember, the last day of our senior year.” He reaches up and rubs his left cheek, his lips tugging up in a grin.

  As much as I’d like to crawl into a hole and die right now, I can’t. I’m a little blown away that he still remembers. “To be honest, I’m surprised you remember that,” I say, shocked.

  “Yeah. Well, you’re the only chick that has ever had the balls to slap me.” He shrugs then looks at the papers scattered across my desk.

  We grow silent for a few minutes before I finally peek at him out of the corners of my eyes. “Well, you deserved it,” I reply softly.

  The slight narrowing of his eyes catches my attention. I wonder what’s going through his mind. “I know I did.” He nods as he turns to look at me. “Look,” he sighs. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for not sticking up for you when we were younger. It wasn’t right, and you didn’t deserve what we put you through.”

  My jaw is agape, probably lying on the floor somewhere. I know my eyes must be about to pop out of their sockets. He’s just apologized, and I am completely flabbergasted. It’s official, Hell must have frozen over. Then another thought strikes me, and I look around my office. My eyes roam over the cheap décor, to the corners, I lift up the picture off my desk and examine it.

  “What are you doing?” Brayden asks, amused.

  I set the picture back down, stand up, and feel around the outer layer of the computer monitor. “I’m checking for cameras.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this has to be some kind of joke. You’ve never apologized for what you all did to me. And trust me when I say” –I look at him pointed
ly— “there’s no way you’d ever apologize to me,” I answer truthfully. “So this apology has to be some kind of joke or have you hired a hidden camera show? Something.” I plop back down in my chair, never taking my eyes off of him. The thought alone makes me bristle with anger. It’s been nine years since we’ve graduated. Why come back here to just make my life Hell? Did he not accomplish that task while we were kids?

  Brayden’s eyes grow cold, his hands clench into fists, and I can feel the tension radiate off of him as he stares at me. I meet his stare dead on. My anger matches his. I’m not backing down this time. I’m not the same girl I was in high school. The timid, spineless, always reaping the receiving end of everyone elses bullshit girl anymore. I’ve learned a lot in the years since I’ve left and returned to this place. No, I don’t look for fights or confrontation, but I don’t back down either. I stand my ground and hold my head up high. I’m proud of who I’ve become, the woman I’ve blossomed into. I’m not perfect. I have my faults, but so does everyone else.

  “You know, I can understand why you’d think I’d do something like that.” Brayden breathes deep through his nose before blowing it out in a steady, slow exhale. “I’ve grown up. I’m just trying to move on with my life, make something of myself. Whether you believe it or not, my apology is genuine. I’m trying to make amends, but if you aren’t willing to see that then maybe I shouldn’t be working here.” He pushes his chair back, stands, and begins to walk out of my office.

  For a moment, I’m stunned. Brayden working here was not my idea. And though I was completely blindsided by him interviewing for the position, I knew my back was against the wall. One of the things I love about working here is that Doug isn’t a quitter. If he wants something, he’ll work his ass off for it. When Brayden showed up for the interview, I knew the whole scenario had Doug written all over it. Doug wouldn’t have passed on the opportunity to have an ex-NFL star commentating sports in his radio station. I knew as soon as Tammy said Brayden was here for an interview, it wouldn’t have mattered what I thought. Doug would have overruled me. The interview was Brayden going through the motions, making sure it looked good on paper.

  “I’m sorry,” the words slip out, catching him at the threshold of my door. “I never meant to offend you, Brayden. You have to see why I’d think something like that. You know, considering the past you and I share.” He looks back at me over his shoulder. I shake my head, close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m just… I’m sorry. Okay?” I look back at him and I can tell he’s calmed down a bit. “Please come back?”

  He looks at me for a second before reclaiming his seat. As he leans back in his chair, one muscled arm propped on the armrest, he reaches up with his other hand and rubs the back of his neck. “Can we start over?” he asks.

  I’m not exactly sure what he means by ‘starting over’. Does he mean today or completely? Let bygones be bygones? Erase the past? Either way, starting over sounds really good. I shrug and nod in agreement. He sticks his hand out towards me. I lean forward to accept the gesture. Callouses rub against my smooth palm and I grin at the contrast. “I’m Brayden Stephens. I like beer, wings, football, and pool,” he says. I fall back in my chair and explode in laughter. My cheeks ache, my stomach groans in protest, and my lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, but with all of that, I laugh even harder. “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  “Is that all there is to you?” My laughter has died down now, and I’ve finally caught my breath. I wipe the stray tears that I didn’t even know were rolling down my cheeks.

  Brayden shrugs before replying, “I’m a guy. We’re pretty simple creatures.”

  Levi Rhodes, my first boyfriend, first love, first lover, first everything back in college was as simple as simple could get. Hand the man a Xbox controller and he was content. Ultimately, I didn’t want content with him or anyone else. I wanted someone who paid attention to me, who held me at night. I wanted someone who’d fight with me only to have mad, passionate, makeup sex. I wanted an easygoing laid back person who could make me laugh but knew when to be serious. I wanted the whole damn package and wasn’t going to settle until I found it.

  “I’m Karmen Butler.” I reach up and tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I love anything Italian, cheap wine, and comedy movies.”

  “That’s it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

  I laugh. “No. See, I’m a woman and we’re very complex in nature. I’d explain further, but I’d hate to run you off the job. You seem like you’d be a good addition to the team.”

  Brayden stares at me. His stare is intense, and to see him look at me like that is confusing. My insides bristle, and I force myself to look away. The energy in the room feels different. Charged. The silence between us is awkward, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I glance over at the rating report that sits on top of my desk and divert the subject. Reaching for the document, I pick it up and hand him a copy. “So…uh… we should get started.”

  Football was my world, and I loved everything there was to love about my job. I loved the way fresh paint that had just been laid mixed with the smell of fresh cut grass on the field. I loved being in the locker room with all of my teammates, friends—brothers. The camaraderie that comes with being part of a team made me feel whole. I loved slipping on my shoulder pads and my team jersey. I loved the sounds of cheers and screams coming from the fans in the stadium. But more than all of that I loved being out on the field, my domain, the ruler of my kingdom, my hands gripping the pigskin ball.

  After my last concussion, the one to end my career, I did everything I could to distance myself from the world I no longer belonged to. I turned down job offers with ESPN, local news stations, endorsement deals—all of it. Now a year later, I know I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. Even with all of my connections, I couldn’t use them to get me back into the big time. I didn’t deserve to ask for those kinds of favors when I cut everyone out of my life.

  But now, I’m starting over.

  I’m working my way up, even if it means working for a low budget radio station where my pay is pennies compared to what I used to make. In hindsight, it’s a job that does pay, but more than that, I’m getting the chance to reconnect with a part of myself I thought I’d let go of.

  The past few weeks have been pretty great in comparison to what I thought it was going to be like. Karmen still tries to avoid me, and I can’t blame her. Her reasons are valid. You can’t come back from what we’ve been through overnight. She’s not rude or condescending. She gives me my space and lets me do my thing with my show and gives me praise when it’s due. She really is a damn good manager. But I still don’t feel like a part of the team. Karmen laughs and jokes with Tammy and Doug. If she runs into me in the hallway, she’ll mutter a hello and go her own way. If I try to engage her in conversation, she keeps it short and to the point.

  I look at my watch and see it’s past nine as I pass her office. Light creeps out from the crack under her door. I’ve noticed Tammy’s usually gone by five in the evening. She and her boyfriend live closer to Atlanta so she tries to beat the traffic. When she told me that I wanted to laugh because we’re talking about Atlanta, traffic is a bitch no matter what time of day.

  Doug relieved me of the studio so he could take over his nighttime broadcast thirty minutes ago. I caught up on some correspondence and did a little research for my show tomorrow. I shouldn’t knock on her door and ask how she’s doing. I should keep on walking, straight to my car. But seeing as it’s after nine at night, and knowing she doesn’t stay here normally past six, I want to make sure everything is okay.

  My fist pauses centimeters from the door in hesitation before it knocks against the wood.

  Her voice is muffled as she answers, “Come in.”

  I crack the door and stick my head in. “How do you know I wasn’t some kidnapper, it’s after nine at night. You just let anyone come in your office this late?” I hope she can hear the jovialness in my tone.


  She looks up at me, props her elbow on her desk, and rest her chin in her hand. In her other hand she teeter-totters a pen between her fingers. “Depends, are you a kidnapper?” She smirks.

  “I could be,” I retort.

  “I’m a fighter. You wouldn’t be able to take me easily.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. It wouldn’t be any fun if you just lied there and let me take you.”

  My dick begins to stir in my pants from the image that Karmen is drawing out for me. Forcing women isn’t my thing, but images of Karmen wild in bed, giving as good as she gets, fucking turns me on. My eyes lock onto her hooded ones, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Is she thinking about me in the same manner I am her?

  She blinks and shakes her head. “So what’s up?” she smiles.

  “I was…” I clear my throat. “I was wondering if everything’s all right. I know you don’t typically stay here this late.”