by J Santiago
Tank shook his head. “We never really dated.”
“But everyone thinks that,” Nicky kept on. “So, wait, you don’t date. But you mess around, right? Please tell me you mess around.”
Amber watched in fascination as Tank squirmed in his seat. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his head. She almost laughed at his discomfort. She looked to Steele to share in Tank’s embarrassment, but Steele’s face was a hardened mask of pure annoyance.
Tank stared Amber in the eye when he responded, “We did. For a while. But we don’t anymore.”
A big smile spread over Nicky’s face. “Dude, I wish I could claim that.”
Tank shook his head and then diverted his attention back to the game.
“I’m gonna head out,” Steele said, standing.
“Yeah, I should probably go, too. Do you need any help with cleaning up?” Tank asked before he stood.
“Uh, no. I’ve got it.”
Nicky looked around the room, seemingly confused by the turn of events. “All right, guess that’s my cue.”
Amber almost laughed at him. He’d gotten the cue to leave but obviously missed the one about the very uncomfortable topic of Madison Shepard.
They moved out in single-file order with Amber following, eager for some solitude to think about all the craziness she’d heard in the last few minutes. She said good-bye to them and closed the door. Leaning against it, she shut her eyes and played back all she’d learned in the last half hour.
Steele had been responsible for Tank and Madison knowing each other. Tank and Madison were over, but Steele hadn’t necessarily bought Tank’s declaration. And Steele had seemed awfully pissed about all the Tank and Madison talk. That made her wonder why Steele had tried to kiss her all of a sudden.
Did he really want her, or was he just trying to thwart Tank? Or was Steele trying to forget that he had a thing for Madison Shepard?
Because what Amber had seen on Steele’s face looked a lot like jealousy.
April
Amber wanted to stay away from the presentation but found she couldn’t. She hadn’t been invited or informed about the content of Tank’s talk, and she found she couldn’t control her interest in it or his ability to speak. She wanted to know what he was going to say and how the players were going to react.
The auditorium had a control room, much like you’d expect for a theater production, with windows looking out and more knobs and buttons than a recording studio. Amber quietly entered the room and was surprised to see Steele sitting in one of the rolling chairs, completely focused on the podium at the front of the room. She suspected he was curious, too. She sat without a word.
Tank stood in the center of the presentation area. Dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, he exuded confidence. She’d missed the beginning, but he held their attention captive. From her vantage point, she could see that each player’s eyes were glued to the front of the room. There was no playing with phones or lolling heads.
Point for Tank.
“I’m going to solely focus on men’s violence against women, but don’t think for one minute that it doesn’t go both ways or that there aren’t other forms of sexual assault that aren’t just as important. But in here”—he waved his hand between himself and the players sitting around him—“it’s about us football players and who we are when we step off the field.” He paused and made eye contact with a number of the men in front of him.
“We play a violent sport. You’re here because you hit hard”—he looked into the eyes of one of their defensive backs—“or you can take a hit”—eye contact with their quarterback—“or because, when you step onto the field, you become a beast. How many of you have ever watched Looney Tunes?” He acknowledged some of the hands around the room. He clicked the button on the remote in his hand, and the screen behind him illuminated. “Ralph E. Wolf and Sam Sheepdog. Take a look.”
A clip of the cartoon played, and she immediately related to the characters clocking in for work and spending the day trying to outwit and best each other. She smiled. Clever.
A couple of laughs sounded from around the room.
When it ended, Tank began again, “I want you to remember this clip. We’ll come back to it.” He paused and moved closer to them. “How many of you have heard the phrase, No means no?”
Almost every hand in the place went up.
“How many of you believe it?”
Again, hands went up.
“Awesome. I’m going to run through some scenarios with you, and I want you to tell me if, in these instances, no means no.” He walked closer to them, his face completely serious. “It’s just us here. No coaches, no administrators. No judgment. This only works if you’re honest with yourself.”
Then, he walked them through easy scenarios, which they responded to. There were some arguments, some honest answers, and some not-so-honest answers. Amber watched from above, feeling slightly guilty for spying, but she couldn’t make herself leave. It was too important. What he was talking about, the lessons he was imparting—she didn’t want to miss it.
“All right, this one’s hard. You’re with a girl, both of you naked, in bed. Condom is on. You are seconds away from penetration. She says no.”
“That’s bullshit, man.”
Tank smiled and shrugged in acknowledgment. “Okay. But what do you do?”
“If the fish is in the fryer, you can’t take it out.”
Tank nodded. “I get you. But she said no.”
“How are you supposed to stop when you are that close? Some things ain’t possible.”
“That ever happened to you?”
Tank nodded. “Yes, it has.”
“What’d you do?”
“I stopped.”
“Bet your hand got a workout.”
Tank smiled ruefully. “Maybe.”
“Seriously, you stopped? What happened?”
“I told her she had to leave.” His response got some chuckles.
“For real?”
Tank rubbed his hand over his head, and then his face got serious. “I was already in. So, when she said no, I thought I was hearing things. Like maybe my roommate had the TV on some crime show, and that measly no had come in through the thin walls. I remember my eyes opening real wide. I looked down at her.
“She was crying. ‘No. I said, no.’
“So, I stopped, pulled out, and rolled over on the bed. I thought, Shit, I hope she said that after I was in and not before. I wasn’t sure, so I asked her. She got hysterical and told me she was sorry but that she shouldn’t be there with me. I’m not going to lie. I was kind of an asshole to her, but she left.
“And I was scared for a couple of days. I didn’t know if she was going to go to the police or the university or a boyfriend or her parents. I consoled myself with knowing I’d responded the moment I heard her, but I gotta tell you, I was nervous that it was going to blow up in my face. Thankfully, I never saw her again.”
His last statement garnered some snickers. But no one spoke.
Tank looked up to the ceiling, like he needed strength or something. Then, he looked back to his audience. “If you’re ever tempted to hurt a woman, pretend it’s someone you love. Your mother, sister, grandmother, aunt, former teacher. If you hate your mother because she walked out on you, think about any woman in your life who has treated you well. Think about how you would feel if a man used his strength against a woman you cared about.”
The room remained quiet.
Tank seemed to be gearing up for something big, and as Amber watched him, she silently offered him her fortitude.
“About a year after that incident, I was dating a girl. She’d had a boyfriend for a while, long before we met. Things started to go bad. She knew she had to get out, but he was a football player, and everyone on campus thought he was a good guy. But he was toying with her, making her doubt herself, alienating her from her friends and family. She’d had enough. One night, he wanted to have sex with her, a
nd she told him no. She fought him, but let’s face it, a hundred-twenty-pound woman is no match for anyone in this room. So, he took what he wanted because he figured it was his right. They were a couple; they’d had sex lots of times. But, this time, she didn’t want it. Is that rape?”
A pin could have dropped in the room, and everyone would have heard it.
A flush of shame crept up Amber’s body, and her sense of exposure amplified.
Why was he bringing that up? Why was he talking about her experience?
She held herself rigid. She was afraid, if she moved, then Steele would know how much this was affecting her, and she didn’t want him to know about her past. She’d only ever told Tank about what had happened that night. A shiver ran up her spine, and her hands quaked, tremors making them unsteady. She sensed Steele turn and look at her, but she didn’t have the guts to return his stare. She remained facing forward, hoping he wouldn’t make a connection.
“It is rape. And, when she told me her story, two things happened to me. I was overwhelmed by the trust she had in me. For a woman to live through that and then relive it, sharing it with someone, takes a crazy amount of courage. More courage than it takes for us to walk onto a field, knowing we are going to get hit by big men.”
There were some chuckles, and Tank smiled, flashing his dimples.
“According to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network, two of three sexual assaults are never reported. Think about that for a moment. And then think about someone you know surviving that and feeling safe enough to talk about it.” He let that statement hover in the room.
“The other thing that happened when she told me was that I was so thankful I’d stopped when I heard that whispered no. I don’t ever want anyone to feel powerless and violated.” Tank turned and moved back a little, giving them some space from his formidable presence.
He paused, and Amber took comfort in the silence of the room. His deliberate break allowed her to collect herself, her thoughts, her memories, her fears.
“All right, why did I show you that cartoon?”
She’d forgotten about it. Apparently, everyone in the room had forgotten about it. The student-athletes looked around at each other.
“Crickets,” he joked. “Need to watch it again?”
“Yeah.”
Tank cued it up and replayed it.
When it ended, he stood in front of them and said one word, “Why?”
“What happens at the office stays at the office,” someone yelled out.
Tank chuckled. “Close enough.”
Jamal stood, and Amber felt her heart squeeze. She didn’t play favorites, but if she did, he would reap the benefits.
“When we play football, we have to be aggressive. But we should leave it on the field. When we walk off the field or clock out, we need to leave the aggression and power behind us.”
Tank nodded his approval. “Being a man is hard. Being a good man is harder. I’m asking you to be great men. To take the opportunity afforded to you because of your ability and to use it in a positive manner. People are watching, children are watching, your mama is watching. Make them proud.”
It didn’t call for applause, but how else could they respond to such a powerful presentation? So they clapped. They’d been moved, and she could feel it, even in the protected box far away from the action.
When the assembly broke up, it did so slowly. The student-athletes trickled out with some staying behind to talk to Tank. Amber and Steele remained above, still caught in the trap of his words.
Suddenly, in the dark, Steele grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She shrugged, unwilling to speak, afraid of the fragile hold she had on her emotions. What she was feeling wasn’t fair, and she knew it. The tentacles of betrayal snaked out from her heart, crushing the life out of the fragile trust building between her and Tank.
“I never knew what made him want to do these speeches. I should have guessed.”
Amber’s head whipped around in his direction. “Speeches?” she croaked, her voice rough with feeling.
Steele tightened his grasp on her hand again, probably all too aware of the state of her feelings. “Yeah. He does a couple of them a year at different schools.”
“What?” She didn’t try to hide the surprise in her response.
Relief and confusion coursed through her, a churning rapid of emotions bubbling over. Knowing this was something he did consistently somehow made it better, which didn’t necessarily make any sense to her. But knowing he hadn’t regurgitated her story here for some selfish end steadied her somewhat.
She had so many questions for Tank. Yesterday, she hadn’t thought there was any reason to ask questions whose answers she wasn’t sure she could handle. But, today, right now, curiosity burned through her, leaving behind a wasteland of unknowns she could no longer live with.
“He’s been doing this since he started in the league,” Steele explained.
“You’ve seen it?”
“Nah. First time. And I’m not sure I need a repeat,” he joked.
“No,” she responded, unknowingly shaking her head. “Once is enough.”
“He wouldn’t have wanted you to see this.”
“No. I’m sure he wouldn’t have.”
Tank always took his time exiting after this presentation. Someone always wanted to talk, sometimes argue and sometimes explain. He’d learned early on to take his time with packing up to give these young men an opportunity to get something off their chests if they needed to. He’d become Pandora with a side of priest as he lifted the top on a shitstorm of an issue and then hung around for the splatter. He wasn’t good at doling out advice, but he’d found he was good at listening, and often, that was what was needed.
Tonight, he hung around for longer than he’d anticipated, mostly because he’d gotten into a discussion with Jamal Jeffries.
By the time Tank made his way toward the exit doors, it was well past ten o’clock.
Checking his phone on his way out of Ayers had become something of a habit. He noted a message from his mother and Tilly—two phone calls he needed to return. There was a missed call from Madison, but she hadn’t left a message, so he figured it was nothing important.
He pulled his keys from his pants pocket and clicked the unlock button. As he went to throw his bag in the car, he saw Amber’s car sitting in its usual spot. A prickle of unease crept up his spine. He didn’t consider himself an intuitive guy, especially when it came to Amber Johnson, but seeing her car here so late concerned him.
Over the last few weeks, he’d learned her routines, and he was surprised by the predictability of her schedule. Shutting the car door, he turned back toward the building. If she was still here, something was up. It could have been work, but for some reason, he doubted that. He hoped like hell she hadn’t seen his presentation or heard about the content. He didn’t think her knowledge of it would bode well for him.
He checked her office, and when the Operations unit was shut up tight, he made his way toward the meeting room. He knew she spent a lot of time there during the day and figured, if it was work-related, a good chance existed that he’d find her there. When he found it empty, he sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out his phone. Some sixth sense told him not to text Steele, so the inquiry went to Nicky.
Tank: If Amber’s at work but not in her office or the conference room, where would she be?
Nicky: Is this a trick question? LOL.
Tank: No. Really.
Nicky: Film room. Second floor.
Nicky’s response had been instantaneous; he didn’t even have to think about it.
So, Tank took the stairs down to the second floor and picked his way through the halls, looking for the film room. After a series of locked doors, he finally tugged on a knob that turned. He stepped into a room dimly lit with small overhead lights. The telltale glow of a couple of computer screens illuminated Amber.
Purple Beats was wrapped aro
und the back of her head, and glasses he didn’t know she needed sat low on the bridge of her nose. Her bangs were pushed to the side, the rest of her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, leaving the scar on display. The now natural set of her face left her mouth pulled on the right in a slight frown. Absorbed in whatever she was doing, she didn’t even look up at him as he leaned against the door, studying her. Her eyes flicked back and forth on the screen. She looked like she’d worked a seventeen-hour day, and Tank was fairly certain he’d never seen her look more beautiful.
What is it about this girl?
He didn’t want to startle her, but he found he wanted her undivided attention focused on him. He could almost hear her response to his thought. She’d laugh and tell him that his ego demanded everyone’s attention. But he knew, the only attention he craved like an addict was hers.
Unable to take the obscurity any longer, he shoved away from the wall and stepped forward so that he stood in the slice of open space between the computer screens. The shadow he cast forced her to look up.
The shock he’d expected to see on her face was absent, replaced with an unfamiliar glint he couldn’t name.
She sat back in her chair and pulled the headphones from her ears, dropping them around her neck. “Hey.”
Tank nodded and looked down to the screens in front of her. “What are you still doing here?”
“Scouting,” she said.
Then, she glanced away from him. He couldn’t get a read on her expression, but he detected something like embarrassment.
“That part of your job?” Tank continued to loom over her.
Smiling, she shook her head. “No, it’s not. Just something I like to do.”
Tank was sure his confusion was evident. He wanted to push her to continue, but he waited for her to decide what she was willing to share. He couldn’t contain his nosiness, so he tried to steal a look at what she was watching. A play was frozen, paused in the middle of unfolding. He took in the scene, noting a hole in the defensive line. It was small enough to discourage most offensive players but big enough to tiptoe through to split the defense. He didn’t know how the play would unfold, but he knew what he would do if he were on the field.
