Blindsided

by Shey Stahl

  Pulling on the rope, I climb up the stairs to the attic of Oma’s three-story Victorian-style Texas home. I haven’t been up here since before I left for college and I convinced my girlfriend at the time to blow me up here. Worked. It always works for me.

  Ducking under low hanging beams, I’m careful not to step on the heaps of dusty boxes Oma hordes up here and insists are gems. The floor’s scattered with old memories. Out of sight, out of mind, it’s a place where their sentimental value has waned, but their lifespan lives on amongst cobwebs.

  Finding a seat next to the window, I crouch down, my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees. In my pocket, a letter Grant wrote me as to why he left the kids to me. It’s short and to the point.

  Landon, we couldn’t choose Revel. He’s a mess. And Bonner… he’s a fuckin’ kid. It’s you, man. You’ll understand soon enough.

  ~ Grant

  No, “love Grant,” or “sincerely, here’s to fuckin’ up your life.” Just… Grant. Like I’m supposed to be okay with that.

  I think now’s about time I give you another piece to the puzzle of the Slade family. An ancient legend, if you will, that dates back, well, two generations now. Okay, so maybe it’s not ancient, or a legend, but whatever. Might as well be. It’s the curse of the Slade family. It started with our parents twenty years ago on their fourteenth wedding anniversary. Grant was thirteen. My twin sister, Jenna, and I were six, and I hated everything aside from football. God, I was such a pissed-off little fucker back then. Revel was four and Bonner… just a baby at the time. That’s when our parents died in a car accident. Together.

  Now back to Grant Slade. Here’s where the curse part comes in. He died a week ago with his wife Melanie in a car accident. On their fourteenth wedding anniversary. I guess maybe if you’re a Slade, and married, it’s also a warning. Don’t travel together on your goddamn wedding anniversary, let alone on your fourteenth. In fact, maybe get a divorce about that time. Or better yet, don’t get married.

  It’s some fucked-up shit, isn’t it?

  To my left, I notice a framed photograph covered in dust. It’s of my parents and is kind of creepy that I’m sitting here thinking about them and their photo is next to me. Especially since everything else around me is in boxes.

  Dusting it off, I stare at it. I don’t remember them like I should. The memories I have are distant, like a dream you can’t quite decipher the details of, but know you had. It’s funny, I can remember every touchdown pass I threw from peewee all the way up to last season, but I can’t remember what my mother’s touch felt like or what it was like to have a dad teach me how to throw a spiral. And I was taught by the best.

  My dad, Cam Slade, was the greatest NFL quarterback of our time. He played out his entire career right here in Texas with the Cowboys before he was killed. Two months later, he was inducted into the hall of fame.

  He’s been a substantial influence on my life even though he wasn’t here. It’s because of him I became a pro quarterback.

  There’s movement in the corner of the attic, and I jump, afraid there’s a mouse or worse, a fucking snake again. I hate both. It takes a minute before I can see my nephew’s face. I’m surprised to see Adler up here, tucked away in the corner, his mop of hair swept to the side and matted to his temple with sweat. There’s no air-conditioning in the attic and sitting up here feels like you’re in a sauna.

  I’m not surprised to see that even in the darkness of the corner, his glossy eyes glare at me.

  “Hey, kid.” I stand and walk over to him, the floor beneath my feet creaking with each step. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

  He lifts his head. “I can do whatever I want.”

  “Sure ya can.” Not wanting to deal with a bratty kid at the moment, I turn to walk away from him before I piss him off even more, but then I stop. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’ve been where he is, and though he may not think it, the two of us have way more in common than he’ll ever understand. “Why don’t we take a walk.”

  It’s not a question. It’s not meant to be, but he asks, “Why?”

  “Because I think we should talk.”

  “I don’t. You don’t want us, we get it.” It’s at the use of we that I realize he’s up here with the rest of his siblings. Five pairs of eyes find mine. Some curious, some angry, but every single one of them holds sadness I’m familiar with. Their world has been turned upside down. Irrevocably. It’ll never ever be the same again. But kids are incredibly resilient. They can adapt, grow, forgive, love… they’re powerful. Way more powerful than we give them credit for. And though I want to run away from the sudden responsibility, it’s not in my nature to do so. I don’t want any part of this fucking life. I didn’t want kids. Ever. But sometimes, the life you never had planned finds you anyway.

  Clearing my throat, I take a seat across from them. I don’t even know their names or ages, other than Adler and Braylee. Only because they were very adamant to inform me that Adler is older by a whole minute. He came out first.

  I look to the oldest girl, same auburn hair, wavy and tied back, tears streaming down her face as she holds a little one in her hands. Another girl. To her right, another younger girl, but older than the one on her lap. Braylee and Adler are sitting next to one another.

  Five kids. One boy, four girls. The complete opposite of my siblings. Jenna, my twin sister, had been the only girl. Yeah, it’s past tense, but I’m not about to delve into that bullshit at the moment. Just know, the Slade family has a lot of fucking tragedy in its history and we’re all a little fucked up because of it.

  “How old are you guys?” I motion to the three I’ve yet to officially meet.

  The oldest regards me with a look that screams you’re a goddamn idiot and we know it. “I’m Marley. I’m thirteen.” She kisses the top of the baby’s hair. “This is Nalani, we call her Lani, and she just turned two.”

  “I’m Haisley. I five.”

  “I’m five. Not I five,” Braylee corrects her grammar.

  She stares up at her sister, her brow furrowed in annoyance. “That what I said.”

  Braylee rolls her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

  Anger flushes the five-year-old’s cheeks. “Yes. I. Did.”

  Arguments break out between all of them, and I have to physically separate Braylee and Haisley. I’m gathering they don’t get along. There’s even hair pulling. Shit’s unreal and exactly what I’d expect from girls.

  I don’t know how, but I get them all out of the attic with me and downstairs where we sit on the front porch. They all take off in different directions, aside from Adler, who stares at me with curiosity. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

  I snort, trying to make a plan in my head. “I know what I’m doing.” Lies. All Lies. Training camp starts next week for the NFL season. I have no idea how I’m going to make all this work.

  “Sure you do. You’re a professional football player and live in a one-bedroom condo in Seattle,” he points out. “Be honest. The last thing you wanted was five kids.”

  He certainly knows a hell of a lot more about me than I do about him, but I know a thing or two about kids, whether I like them or not. Never show weakness is the number one rule. They’ll tear you up.

  “Are you scared?”

  I tilt my head. “I am now, thanks, dude.”

  Adler snorts, shaking his head. “Now who’s the pussy?”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’ll be ten in two months.”

  I crack a smile. “Also known as nine.”

  He shrugs and steps off the porch, his hands in the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. “Age is relative.”

  I’m not going to tell the others, but I think he might already be my favorite.

  Now what the fuck do I do with them? Take them back to my one-bedroom condo in Seattle? They’ve lived in Dallas their entire life. But I can’t stay here with them. I have a job and life to get back to. Well, at least a job; my lifesty
le I’d become accustomed to is gone forever.

  Ember finds me, her gaze sympathetic. She hands me my cell phone back. I pocket it. “Seriously, this is bullshit. Maybe I should call Revel and tell him he has five kids.”

  Ember shakes her head. “He’s touring in Germany at the moment and, more than likely, doesn’t even remember the day of the week.”

  She has a point. He didn’t even show up for the funeral. So Revel’s out, and Bonner, the youngest Slade brother… he’s a fuckin’ shitshow and newly married. “Bonner?”

  “I think his wife is a porn star.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Ember shrugs. “Not sure.”

  That really does leave me being Grant’s only option. “It’s like I’m being punished for not being a fuck up.”

  “Or maybe you’re the one he trusted with them. Maybe he saw more than an NFL superstar.”

  I glance over at Ember, her jet-black hair blowing in the late summer wind. Her cheeks are flushed from the humidity, her eyes blazing blue. “Do you? Do you honestly think I can do this? I can’t even book a fucking plane ticket without you. How am I going to take care of four kids?”

  “Five.”

  “What?”

  “There are five kids.”

  Sighing, I throw my hands up. “See? I can’t even remember how many kids there are.”

  Rolling her eyes, Ember turns her back on me and mumbles, “You’re being dramatic,” as she walks away. “I’m going to call the airlines and arrange our flights back home.”

  I’ll admit, I have been known to be dramatic a time or two, but goddamn it, I think this calls for dramatics. Much like Lou did earlier, I watch Ember walk inside the house, my eyes focused on her ass. Even though it’s an amazing ass, sadly it doesn’t take away the knots in my stomach.

  I step down off the last stair onto the cobblestone path leading to the well-maintained front yard of the Valkema Estate I grew up on. I can’t say I miss this place. I’ve found myself in the shady northwest and its gray sky.

  “Are you taking us to Seattle with you?” a tiny voice asks. It’s the little one… the one who pulled her sister’s hair. I think her name is Haley… or wait… it’s Haisley, right?

  I nod to her question, unsure how to reply.

  Curiosity marks her eyes, but there’s sadness too. “Does it rain there?”

  Again, I nod. “Yeah, most of the time.”

  “Are you nice?”

  “Not usually.”

  Her shoulders slump. “Shit.”

  My thoughts too, kid.

  Now do you understand when I say your life can change in the blink of an eye? Go ahead, blink again, and I assure you, nothing will ever be the same as it was a second ago.

  Offside – A player is offside when any part of his body is in the neutral zone or beyond the free kick line before the ball is put in play, resulting in a five-yard penalty.

  I used to be a tattoo artist.

  Needles. Blood. Sweaty bodies… I hate it all. Give me a blank canvas, a set of oil paints, and I’m where I want to be in life. But none of that paid the bills.

  I don’t remember much before the age of ten, but I used to be a runaway. I lived in my friend Cat’s closet for a year before her mom found me and my Twinkie wrappers. She decided I’d been staying long enough and let me sleep on the couch. I lived with her until I turned eighteen.

  I used to have a family, but then family for me only meant lies, tragedy, broken promises, and an aunt who only wanted the money from a trust fund.

  I used to sit beside a bed and hold my brother’s hand while his entire body filled with cancer. I held him until his body couldn’t take it and finally let go. Then, and only then, did I let his hand go. There are some things you can’t quite remember about your childhood, but then again, there are some you’ll never forget.

  I used to think being with a man meant you gave to them.

  I used to think sex meant giving your body but not your heart. You can’t give something that’s not yours to give. My heart, it’s saturated like a photo, the tones and shadows taken too far.

  I used to give myself to everyone who didn’t deserve me because I thought that’s what you did. You give to others. Love is silly. It’s for fairy tales and romantic comedy movies that take reality and distort its being.

  And then I met Landon Slade one rainy fall night. He walked into my life and never left. Actually, he refused to because that night, I had just lost my brother and he told me nobody can be alone when they’re sad.

  I thought I knew what Landon wanted the moment I laid eyes on him. Guys came inside the tattoo shop I worked at in Seattle all the time, but Landon, he was different from the start. Of course I knew exactly who he was, but even though he was an NFL quarterback with a 6-0 record leading the league in passing yards just starting his rookie season, it had nothing to do with his clout in the city. Men have a thing for female tattoo artists. It’s like they think because we’re drawing stories on their body, we’re gonna offer you some sort of happy ending at the end. As if I’m a BOGO. Buy one tattoo and get laid for free. News flash, it’s not. I’ve never slept with a customer. Well, that’s kind of a lie. What if they became a customer after I fucked them? It’s not the same, right?

  Never mind. Don’t answer that. Anyway, men, they came in there looking for sex because every man loves a woman covered in tattoos. Okay, maybe not all of them, but the majority do, whether they want to admit it or not. They think I’m a freak in the bed because of the ink on my skin. Strangely, that’s accurate, but whatever.

  When Landon came in that night with his friends, I thought he was the same. Your typical professional athlete looking for a good time with the freak in the sheets while he diddles the model in public. Little did I know he’d change my life over the next few days and we would become inseparable. I can’t even explain how it happened, but if you ever spent any amount of time around him, you’d understand how goddamn intoxicating he is to be around. He affects everyone around him. Harper, his PR, smokes because of him. Chad, his agent, drinks because of him, and his manager, Elliot, he’s a ruthless fuck because of Landon’s bullshit. And me? I don’t sleep at night. Not only am I a night owl, Landon’s an early riser so I get maybe four hours a night. So coupled with being sleep deprived, I have anxiety, no life outside him, and a coffee addiction.

  And now, after five years, still sleep deprived, I find myself sitting next to him on a plane with five kids and no idea what’s going to happen next. I mean, fucking look at him sitting there with a baby on his lap. Nalani fell asleep not long after we got through security and refuses to let go of him. I admit, seeing a man of his size holding a sleeping child is enough to make you want to scream “Put a baby in me!” Seriously, I think my ovaries are throbbing in anticipation. Though I had an extremely shitty childhood, I’ve always wanted kids. Maybe to prove to the world parents didn’t always leave. Some stick around and give a shit about their children.

  Landon nudges my arm, our elbows bumping. I’m just about to grumble at him for taking the armrest again when he gives a nod to a man boarding the plane and adjusts Nalani in his arms to cradle her closer to his chest.

  Fuck, don’t look at the baby in his arms. Don’t look at him! #ovaryexplosion “Did you ever do a tattoo like that on anyone?”

  Trying to be discrete in my examination of him, I notice a man with his head shaved and a skull tattooed on his scalp. “Yeah.”

  “That’s bizarre.”

  “That’s boring compared to the shit I used to do.”

  “What’s the weirdest tattoo you ever gave someone?”

  “I once did a turtle.”

  He laughs, his eyes on Nalani as he adjusts the blanket he placed over her. “How is a turtle the most bizarre tattoo you’ve ever done?”

  “It’s where I did it.”

  Landon raises his eyebrows, waiting.

  “Give up?”

  He nods.

  “The tur
tle’s back spanned across the dude’s lower stomach and the legs on his hip and upper thigh. Now can you guess where the head was?”

  Landon’s face turns white. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

  “Who cares if it hurt him. I had to sit there for six hours cradling a cock and added eyes to his mushroom. Wasn’t exactly the highlight of my career.”

  “The highlight was meeting me.”

  And there’s the cocky ass I know so well. I bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh, yes, it was truly a dream come true the day you came into my life.”

  He pushes my face away with his hand, sighing heavily. “I’m going to go ahead and take your sarcasm as love.” I do love you, more than you’ll ever know. His eyes drop and though his tone holds one meaning, his expression, the guarded way he finds interest in his phone, tells me what he doesn’t want to see on my face when he says, “And at least I got you away from Percy.”

  Got me away from Percy? Landon thinks he rescued me from a life I didn’t want. I don’t exactly see it that way. Percy owned the tattoo shop I worked at since I was sixteen. At first, Percy was nothing more than a man who gave me a job. And then, not long after I turned eighteen, he became more. A man who in many ways taught me how to use my art as a weapon and my body as a toy, but only for him. It certainly wasn’t love, but he did teach me a lot about what I didn’t want in life. We were a complicated chaos of blurred lines and, eventually, I had to walk out of his tattoo parlor and his life. Sometimes you have to walk away to become more than you were standing still.

  Behind us, I can hear the kids arguing over what they want to eat and Adler poking Haisley in the arm and telling her repeatedly, “I’m not touching you.”

  Landon twists in his seat, careful of Nalani still sleeping. I love the way he cradles her head in his hand to keep it from hitting the arm rest. “Dude, knock it off. You piss her off and I’m going to make her sit on your lap the entire flight back.”

  “Sure ya are.” I can’t see Adler’s face, but his words hold amusement.