Second and Short

by Michel Prince

  “Who said I’m only half naked?” he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

  “In that case,” she teased. “Who said I’m fully dressed?”

  “The games we play,” he laughed.

  They talked for about an hour before stories of his day, family and past began slipping into her world. Every part of her wanted to share her life with him, but she couldn’t. Not unless this weekend went through without a hiccup. If she felt she could fly, then she could take another step and maybe start again with Dalton. He was protective, not possessive and she wasn’t a teenager misreading the rollercoaster of emotions Hector went through on a daily basis as his Latin blood pushed him to the edge with love. Love didn’t make it so you can’t be outside of their sight for a moment. Although she wished she was curled up in Dalton’s arms every night, she didn’t feel lost without him there. He still functioned and didn’t make her feel bad for not being by his side when they hung up at night.

  After clicking off, Willeen wanted something she hadn’t for years. A stiff drink. Opening her cupboards, she dug hoping she’d be able to find something. Instead she came up empty. Not that she was surprised. This was the same cabin her father dried out in. Even if Stan had used it for other people over the years he wouldn’t let a Fire cross the threshold with a drop of liquor in the walls. Snatching her keys, she headed to the Dry Dock. It would be late enough that the daytime regulars would be gone.

  “Hey Trap,” she said as she saddled up to the bar. “Can I get a beer with a whiskey back?”

  “And you would be?” her childhood friend teased as he poured a shot and unscrewed the top of a Miller High Life. “It’s coming to me. Summertime, skinny dipping…”

  “Never happened, cannot prove it.”

  “I heard you were back. Even thought I saw you a time or two in the grocery store.”

  “And yet I didn’t say hi.”

  “You been helping Stan with the cabins.”

  “Guilty.”

  “That’s not all she’s been doing,” the slurred words came from the end of the bar. “S-she-sh-e-shes been stealing my business.”

  Willeen closed her eyes and went for the shot first. Hard thumps told of Randy’s approach as he stumbled his way down to her. “Hey Randy.”

  “Oh, you know I exist.”

  “It’s not stealing your jobs if you don’t respond to the pages.”

  “You know what you’ve been doing.” Randy spread his arms wide and called out to the whole bar, which thankfully tonight only had a handful of people. “My little sister is too good to see me since she’s been home. Haven’t you?” He got right up against her face. “You think you’re better than me because your mama isn’t native. She has an education. She’s not some stupid, fat native. Let me tell you something sistah’ they hate black girls around her more than the natives. You know what else little sister, take my fucking business, I still get my check every fucking month.”

  “I’m happy for you,” she said and took a swig of her beer. Trap was watching for a signal from her but she could handle her brother. Her father beat him for the first few years of his life until he left and sobered up. Then they would come back for a few weeks in the summer as if that made up for being ignored the other fifty weeks of the year. At one time, she and Randy exchanged phone calls, but that ended when she got in junior high and his drinking had him calling at two in the morning plowed. “I’m glad your life got back on track.”

  “Are you really? How’s dad…” his finger wagged at her. “Oh wait, I heard he died. I suppose your mom is on to another family to break apart.”

  “Here’s hoping,” Willeen said as she held her beer up. “I could totally use another brother.”

  Randy slapped at the bottle and it smashed against the back of the bar.

  “Okay Randy, you’re cut off,” Trap ordered and flipped his bar rag on his shoulder before walking around the bar.

  “What, my money not as good as the fucking princess there?” Randy’s arms were spread wide again and Willeen wondered if her brother would ever be sober enough to talk to. “No, I have a black card. What do you have Silly Willie?”

  “He’ll make you more money Trap,” Willie said as she stood and slapped a ten on the bar.

  “You tip better,” Trap said still backing Randy out of the bar.

  “I’m good. This is his place. He’s right, I don’t belong.”

  “Why, because he owns it?” Trap asked. “That doesn’t mean I can’t still kick his ass out.”

  “Randy, why would you buy a bar?” Willeen asked. She knew it was his, but alcohol had destroyed more than their father. Generations of Fires had been doused by the evil spirit. Her father told her that when he caught her with a beer in high school. Since then, she kept her drinking to a minimum and never even got to the point of getting a buzz.

  “Because then I can never be told to stop,” he stated in an almost sober tone. “Unlike you, I’ve been told my whole life no. How about you learn what it’s like? Trap you serve my sister another drop—wait you even talk to her and you’ll be fired.”

  “How about I close up early then?” Trap threatened.

  “Don’t, it’s not worth it. If nothing else my brother showed me why I rarely drink.”

  “Get her a bottle of the good stuff,” Randy snapped. “You can put it on my tab. Why? Because I own the fucking place. You want to drink? Drink it all, it won’t make the hurt go away. Trust me.”

  Randy went back to his stool at the end of the bar and began banging on the top of the bar.

  “Get me another fucking beer Trap.”

  Roller coasters. She’d been riding them her whole life. It was time to get off and Dalton could be her last chance. When she got back to her cabin, she laid in bed and stared up at the ceiling. Flipping her phone in her fingers, she breathed in deep and hit her video chat.

  “If you were trying to catch me in the shower you’re too late babe,” Dalton’s deep voice filled her bedroom. His hair was slicked back and showed he had recently been in the shower. “You okay?”

  Her finger traced along his beard. The cold smooth screen didn’t stop her from imagining the bristles that were rough on the edges, but still soft.

  “I love you.”

  “There is something seriously wrong about him,” Bart Tomlinson said as he smacked Yeltsvinick’s arm. “I mean look at him.”

  “I am,” Dmitri growled. “There is something very wrong with him.”

  Dalton kept his mouth shut as he kept pace on the treadmill. His feet pounding in rhythm with the rock song that he needed to turn up to block out the line. When Troy Vasser walked up, Dalton hit the volume button. It wasn’t until Vic Gilbert, the right guard got in line did he yank out his ear buds. Something about having over twelve hundred pounds of football teammates staring at you to make you slow up and decide something had to be settled.

  “I didn’t put the lighter fluid in Dmitri’s sports drink,” Dalton said hoping to illicit a few looks. It didn’t happen. Instead, they all stood with their arms crossed staring at him. “What? Is my thong on backwards or something? You all decide to switch teams and you want me to be your first? If so that’s a lot of cock to get on your first time, but hell, I’m always there for a teammate.”

  “I heard a girl had your jersey on in the family suite,” Bart said.

  “Your mom likes her men big,” Dalton said as he hit cool down and dropped down to a light jog.

  “My wife said she sat the whole time with Dani and Rachel,” Troy said. “Could explain the way he’s acting?”

  “Does it explain why you still can’t bench what I can? Because as far as I know that’s all we need to worry about on Monday.”

  “And he’s been helping out Myron,” Vic added as if the four of them were observing Dalton in some science experiment.

  “Are you girls done? Have I not been giving you enough attention?”

  “Dalton,” Carter Washington called from across the room.


  “Agent time,” Dalton said. “How about you guys figure out when you all became gossiping bitches and get back to me?”

  Dalton got off the treadmill and grabbed a towel from the stack to wipe off his face. Right behind him was Mr. Cuemark, the owner and a middle aged Hispanic man Dalton hadn’t met before.

  “Dalton, good to see you,” Carter said shaking his hand. “Mr. Cuemark and I have been spending the better part of an hour discussing your transformation.”

  “Transformation?”

  “The kid’s charity, you’re doing that tomorrow right?”

  “Yep, I’ll be going around the wards, taking pictures. I had thought about bringing some of those mutants, but they’re a bit disturbed right now.”

  “Will you be bringing your woman?” the Hispanic man asked.

  “My woman?” Dalton questioned unsure how this man could know anything about Willie. “I’m not—I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s it,” Bart said as if he’d solved the Cuban Missile Crisis then he slapped Dalton’s shoulder. “He’s been tamed by the pussy.”

  “And you are not going around sick children.” Dalton crossed his arms. “I’m sorry about him.”

  “No reason,” the man replied. “We’ve all at one time met a woman like that. Yours is very beautiful.”

  “Mine? I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “Hector Molina, I’m part of the exploratory committee looking at bringing a team to Las Vegas.”

  “We’re moving?” Vic asked.

  “Not on my watch,” Mr. Cuemark said. “Grizzlies are part of Chicago. Mr. Molina is just checking out teams. Seeing what works. Since the whole city is invested in our program he wants to know how to do that.”

  “Loyalty,” Dalton said. “Winning doesn’t hurt. Las Vegas doesn’t have a big native population, do they? People that were born and raised there.”

  “We have more than you’d expect, but yes we have quite a few transient people that come to make money and leave disheartened.”

  “But you do have money.” Dalton relaxed a bit even though this interloper made him feel uneasy. Something about his comment concerning Willie made him feel violated somehow. Willie likes her privacy. Demanded it even and yet this man seemed to know who she was.

  “That we do, and money is power.”

  Dalton watched the slick man with his hair quaffed and his thousand plus dollar suit and couldn’t help wanting to get away. He seemed a bit too sure of himself and what he commanded in the world. No amount of money is going to save you from an ass whooping. His father’s words echoed through his mind. The families that felt they deserved more because they were better. They were rich and that meant in the world they somehow had status and were to be respected. How the rich prick treated Dalton’s sister Celeste didn’t stop him from walking with a limp for three years.

  “But this beauty,” the man said bringing Dalton back to the conversation. “I happened to catch the rough cuts from GOGS.”

  “Your woman signed up for GOGS,” Bart said as he covered his mouth and burst in to laughter.

  “I have no one on GOGS,” Dalton felt his defenses go up. “What makes your dumb asses think she was my woman?”

  “She wore your jersey,” Hector explained. “Would a stranger wear that?”

  “Many do,” Dalton replied smugly as he tried to push aside the vision of Willie in his jersey and a pair of socks. “Hey Dmitri, was your mom visiting?”

  “Funny man,” the thick necked center called back. “No matter what you say, I’m not callin’ you daddy.”

  “I saw the fight between the women.” Hector crossed his arms. “Your woman seemed a bit tame.”

  “I don’t like them tame, couldn’t have been anyone I know. Not even Dmitri’s mama, she’s one hot piece of—”

  “Dalton,” Dmitri warned. “Have some respect.”

  “She’s one smoking hot piece of ass.”

  “Better.”

  “Then she’s available.” Hector’s egotistical smile was in need of being punched off. “I might need to track down that producer to get her information.”

  Red dropped like a clear curtain over Dalton’s eyes. His jaw clenched and he could feel it ticking. “Carter, is there anything you need from me?”

  “Yeah, can we talk?”

  They walked to one of the private physical therapy rooms and Dalton sat up on the long exam table. His feet still rested on the floor, but at least he was sitting. The lactic acid was beginning to build up in his thighs and he could feel the burn.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You’ve been making strides, especially in the last two games. Coach Tricket has noticed a change in your demeanor.”

  “Okay.” Dalton crossed his arms and tried to not look out the open door to Hector who had stepped back and let Mr. Cuemark take the lead as they went through the weight room.

  “I was hoping a woman was the reason for the change.”

  “Playing a role was your idea. I’ve been myself since you asked for the switch.”

  “You say that now, but you played it really well.”

  “Was my position really in jeopardy?”

  “They can blame a few losses on you.”

  Dalton’s stomach tightened. “They can blame losses on a lot of factors.”

  “You’ve been drawing attention to yourself. You’re not in a position to do that.”

  “You put me in that position,” Dalton raged. “You told me I wasn’t allowed to show who I really am. I was too soft for the NFL. You’re making me wonder why I pay you.”

  “Because I got you a contract extension.”

  “You what?”

  “That’s right, you will have five years guaranteed.” Carter beamed. “You know how hard it is to get five years on a thirty-year old?”

  “Yes, I do. Salary? Seeing how I need to sign off on your mad skills.”

  “Three point eight a year.”

  Dalton stared at him dumbfounded. Carter more than doubled his salary. Getting to stay in Chicago and the contract would see him to the finish of his career.

  Slapping his hands together, Carter shot off his mouth. “So, tell me you gonna cup the balls this time.” Carter got a little too boastful when he scored. Although they were practically the same age, his agent had his pulse on the social media world Dalton avoided like a plague.

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch, Miami had been sniffing around, with this deal they want you. I can probably add a few thousand more per year.”

  “I’m not moving.”

  “Yeah, because Miami Beach is nothing compared to the Miracle Mile.” Carter paused and put his hands together at his lips. “The girl is yours. Please say it’s so.”

  “Why?”

  “The reformed beast. Beauty and the beast. The tamed grizzly.” Carter’s hand spun over his head. “I’m just spit balling here. I’m sure Dani can come up with something better. You are still seeing her right?”

  “Yes, and I’m not switching from one fucked up brand to another.”

  “You’ve pulled in some serious money from your jersey sales over the years. Those drop off, your annual income will too.” Carter shifted his position. “What do you think of commercial work? How do you feel about dogs?”

  Carter ran his mouth about a few companies that had reached out for some of his clients. Dalton tried to process all the opportunities without over thinking the Las Vegas investor. By the time he hit the room to review film, Dalton had reasoned out it was jealousy pure and simple. Stupid, ignorant and childish. When he looked down at his phone, he’d received a text from Willie and it was all he needed to come back to reality.

  I love you. Today, tomorrow and always.

  Chapter Six

  The week seemed to drag on, but by the time Stan dropped Willeen at the front door of the airport, her nerves made everything be in hyper speed. The pre-boarding pass Dalton mailed to her let her glide t
hrough security even though she still had to swipe her ID. Part of her was waiting for Hector’s men to swoop in like in a movie. Instead, she was pointed to security and the line was blissfully short. Once through, she felt safer then before. There was no way Hector’s men could get through with a weapon and that was the only way she would be pulled away. Dalton’s response to being told she loved him had tears falling from her eyes.

  “’Bout damn time. You took my man card the first day. As much as I wanted to say it first I had to keep at least one of my balls.”

  “So what you’re saying is…” she trailed off with her finger spinning.

  “I love you today, tomorrow and always.”

  The few hours he had free they spoke. Danika’s warning about the players not having a free minute played out every day when she tried to find him only to reach voicemail. He’d recount his day and if she were a betting woman, she would be placing money on the Grizzlies for sure. It was strange what happened on tape that told so much. Dalton had been playing long enough he knew what to look for. Although Willeen didn’t understand everything he said he broke it down enough she had an idea.

  His happiest comments came along with his recounting of the children’s hospital he visited. Not only had he been able to present a check from the foundation he was a part of, but he spent an hour building a castle with a little girl out of Legos.

  “We’ll be arriving in Denver in a few minutes here folks,” the pilot’s voice woke Willie from her short nap. Opening the window visor, she looked out at the mountains with the snow capping them. “Looks like a beautiful sixty-seven degrees here.”

  Taking off her plush coat, she shook her head about the prepping Dalton had made to her. “It doesn’t really snow in Denver. If it does it doesn’t last long. The mountains are cold, not the city. And drink water. Drink it like you’re in a desert because you are technically. The last thing I want is my baby having altitude sickness.”

  In just a sweatshirt, jeans and carrying a bottle of water she de-boarded the plane. Her nerves were once again heightened as she walked with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her heartbeat skipped and stuttered as she clung to the bar in the tram. It sped along while the mayor thanked you for visiting the city over a recording. Beeping and alerting the riders to upcoming stops as they cut through tunnels and yet Willeen was petrified as it told of the last stop. Her eyes stayed locked on the security officers as she walked out and saw Rachel Bishop waiting with a pair of gourmet coffee cups in her hands.