Superstar

by J Santiago

  She watched his mad dash with a look of confusion.

  Cocking her head, she studied him. She stepped forward and then thought better of it. She shuffled to the side and leaned against the back of the outdoor sofa.

  “I was with Franco and Molly all day. Their reactions to me showing up in your car were different than I’d thought.”

  Tank smirked. “I’m sure Franco is cleaning his shotgun as we speak.”

  Amber smiled. “Nah. Their biggest concern…” She paused. “That’s probably not the right word. But they thought that you and Madison were the real deal. And I guess it’s just hard for everyone to think you could switch gears so quickly.” She looked away from him, but he waited because he knew there was more. “And, while I didn’t want that to bother me, it did.”

  Tank’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll come back to Madison, but why didn’t you want it to bother you?”

  “Because I’m not ready for this to be more than just sex between us.”

  “Ah,” Tank sighed as he tried to fight the hurt he experienced at her words. “Well, that explains the kitchen blow job.”

  He shook his head. Really, how could he be hurt by their earlier sexual encounter? It had been hot as hell, and there weren’t many better places to be than in her mouth.

  “Jesus, you act like you didn’t get anything out of it. If you were so offended, why didn’t you stop me?”

  Tank barked out a laugh. “Stop you from blowing me? Really? Have you seen you and what you can do with your mouth?”

  Amber’s laughter split the night air, and the tension between them faded away. Tank watched her laughing with a weird sense of pride for putting such a carefree smile on her face. He wanted to see her like that all the time. He captured it in his mind, this piece of Amber he knew she rarely showed the world, and here, she let him get glimpses.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly.

  She smirked at him. “You sure you can handle being close to me?” she teased.

  He tried to fight the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. She could be so cute sometimes.

  “Oh, yeah,” he answered, looking her up and down, devouring her. “I can handle it, you, anytime.”

  Like a fish caught on a line, he reeled her in. She sauntered toward him, the playful smile still lighting her face. She stepped right between his legs, and his hands immediately sought her hips, but he didn’t pull her closer.

  He kept some distance between them, so he could see her face while he said what he should have said from the beginning, “I need for you to listen to me.” He didn’t proceed, instead waiting.

  When she understood what he wanted, she nodded her head.

  “There was no switching gears. From the outside, maybe I can understand what Franco’s saying. But all anyone has seen between Madison and me is friendship.” He held up his hand at her attempted protest. “Yes, we had a sexual relationship. But it was just easier than being involved with anyone else. Madison has known I’ve been in love with you since she saw us stumble out of that damn closet at the wedding. She didn’t require anything more from me. And maybe that makes me an asshole for taking what was offered, but I can assure you that Madison knew exactly what we had. It’s why she left tonight. She doesn’t want to mess this up for me. She understands how much I want this”—he waved his hand back and forth between them—“you.” He ran his fingers along her jaw and kissed her quick. He pulled back from the kiss before the temptation to lose himself in her became too much to fight.

  “So, what happened earlier…” He paused. He got stuck here because he knew he was going to sound like a whiny little boy, but he didn’t want to keep anything from her.

  She gave him a saucy smile.

  “You can do that anytime you want,” he stated.

  She gave him what he wanted when she laughed at his declaration.

  Then, he sobered. “But not like that. Not chasing something cheap between us because this is all so much more than sex.”

  She looked away. He panicked, scrambling, like he would in the pocket on a missed block. But, when her brown eyes locked back on him, it wasn’t distance he saw. Questions and fears lurked there, things he could understand and hope to assuage. Immediately, he thought of their shared memory of his betrayal, and he knew another moment of indecision. He pulled her close, and when she came easily, relief coursed through him. His hands moved from her hips and up her back, and he cradled the nape of her neck with both of them, his thumbs teasing the skin along her jaw.

  As much as it pained him, he needed to take this slow, build her trust. It was the only way.

  “More than anything, I want you to trust me. But I know trust takes time—under normal circumstances. So, let’s just take this slow and see where it goes.”

  It was so hard to put the brakes on what he wanted with her. But pushing too hard was like trying to come back from an injury too fast. It’d only lead to more pain and more time recovering. He didn’t want to be sidelined forever. And he was more than willing to do the work, to build up all the muscles around the injury, to nurture it.

  “I can do that,” she agreed with something like a rueful smile.

  “And I need for you to level with me. If I’m moving too fast or pushing too hard, you have to tell me.” He continued to caress her jaw, but he never pulled his eyes from hers.

  “I can do that, too.”

  “But, most importantly, if you really feel the need to blow me, I’ll take one for the team. I promise.”

  They both laughed.

  Then, abruptly, Amber dropped her head onto his shoulder, like a tired toddler cuddling up for the night. He held her, one hand digging into her hair and the other on her lower back. Her exhaustion showed in the lines of her body and the slow tug of her weight on his. He scooped her up. Carrying her, he made his way inside and shut the loft door with the push of a button. He walked to the elevator and waited for the door to open.

  “Would you mind coming to brunch with a friend of mine?” Tank asked as he walked into the elevator.

  She barely lifted her head from his shoulder when she responded, “Not at all.”

  Tank dropped a kiss on her jaw as the elevator dropped to the second floor. He took her to his bedroom and set her down on the bed. He sat next to her, and they smiled at each other, some new understanding blossoming between them.

  “You mind stopping at my grandmother’s near Kensington on the way home tomorrow?” she asked. It came out confident, but her eyes spoke of her nervousness.

  “Did you just invite me to Sunday dinner? With Franco? And the As?”

  She smiled sleepily. “You remember Sunday dinner?”

  He wanted to say that he remembered everything, but he was done pushing for the night. “Yeah, I remember something about it.”

  “So, yes?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  He stood up, and Amber reached out, grabbing his hand, stopping him from moving away. He looked at her questioningly.

  “I have to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

  He almost sighed his frustration but stopped himself. “I will always tell you the truth.”

  “Truth was never a problem with us,” she said. Before he could respond, she asked, “What’s your nickname?”

  He smiled and hated that he’d promised to answer. “You’re going to laugh.”

  She shrugged but smiled.

  “Five.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. It’s not your number, so what’s that about?”

  This time, he did sigh. “It’s short for Five-Star General.”

  She managed to just hold back her laughter. “Because?”

  “I’m always barking out orders on the field.”

  And, when she laughed, he didn’t care that it was at his expense. He just started the countdown until he could make her do it again.

  Tank pulled the Range Rover into a spot right along Piedmont Avenue, about fifty steps from The
Flying Biscuit Café—their brunch destination. Amber tried not to roll her eyes at his luck. When she teased him about it, he merely smirked. Tank exited the car and was opening her door by the time she reached down to get her purse. Linking hands, they darted across the street and made their way inside.

  “So, who are we meeting?” Amber asked as they weaved through the crowd of patrons waiting for a seat.

  Tank turned to her and grinned, his dimples winking at her. “The minion.”

  Amber cocked her head, studying him, attempting to figure out what he was talking about. He’d pulled on a flat-billed Atlanta Braves hat right before they left the house. With his gray hoodie, jeans, and Nikes, he looked like an overdeveloped kid. He was absolutely adorable, and Amber hated that he rocked every look—the superstar athlete, the dressed up mentor, the casual Sunday brunchgoer. Did any role look bad on him?

  “Minion?”

  “Remember the guy who worked out with me my last year? Who drove your car to my place? The guy who prompted you to school me on the people you called minions?”

  Amber laughed. At the time, she’d been a little arrogant and maybe a little self-righteous when she spouted off about what she considered the minions who hung around college football programs. “Wow! Do you have to remember everything?” she asked flippantly.

  “Trust me when I say, I tried really hard to forget. I just never really mastered it.”

  Their eyes locked while the conversations and chaos around them faded to the background. The exchange had been light, but suddenly, everything about it was deep.

  “Can I help you?” the hostess asked, breaking the intensity of their stare.

  Amber and Tank turned to her. The girl looked back and forth between them, obviously aware she was interrupting a moment. Amber observed as the girl’s eyes widened with recognition when her gaze rested on Tank. But she didn’t say anything to alert anyone around them.

  “We’re meeting someone,” Tank answered. He glanced around the restaurant.

  “There’s a guy around the corner, waiting for his party. Do you want to take a look?”

  Tank nodded and reached again for Amber’s hand. “Thanks,” he said as he pulled Amber past the stand.

  They made their way through the restaurant. The place was packed with people, and they had to shimmy to fit through some of the tighter areas.

  “That’s him,” Tank commented. He pulled Amber in front of him and guided her to the table.

  Ryan stood, greeting Tank with both warmth and familiarity. They embraced with the one-armed man hug, giving Amber an opportunity to study Ryan. If Tank hadn’t explained who he was, Amber never would have made the connection. She’d seen him from about fifty yards away once and through the window of Tank’s car another time. A slightly built dude, his obvious confidence gave him an appearance of being bigger. He had dark hair and light-blue eyes that seemed razor sharp even though they hadn’t focused on her. He seemed to take everything in at once. And, when his gaze shifted her way, she knew he recognized her.

  “Ryan Shields, this is Amber Johnson.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Amber said, reaching out a hand while she noted a look that resembled satisfaction on Ryan’s face.

  “Nice to see you again, Amber,” he returned.

  Then, he laughed and winked at Tank. Tank flashed an embarrassed smile at his friend and shook his head.

  “Shut up,” Tank said softly to Ryan as they all sat down.

  The waitress was on them immediately, and Amber wondered if the hostess had spread the word about a celebrity in their midst. They ordered coffee, but Amber needed to peruse the menu. As she did that, Ryan and Tank caught up on each other’s lives. She heard bits and pieces of the conversation, enough to know that they kept in pretty good contact with each other. She thought perhaps she was being vetted and wasn’t sure how she felt about that. The waitress delivered their coffee and took their orders.

  Tank pulled Amber into the conversation as soon as the girl stepped away from their table. “Ryan’s a scout for Tennessee. I thought it’d be cool for the two of you to meet.”

  Amber couldn’t figure out Tank’s angle, but she could tell he was up to something. Amber turned her attention to Ryan as Tank explained her intricate scouting system for young players. Ryan managed to split his attention between Amber and Tank, listening to Tank pontificate about what she did and shrewdly observing Amber’s reaction to everything Tank was saying. Amber fought hard to mask her wonder at Tank’s explanations. She didn’t realize how much he’d gleaned from sitting in the film room with her on those two occasions. And, while his detailed delineation was impressive, the pride she heard in his voice caught her completely off guard.

  Their food was delivered, and still, they talked about players. Amber relaxed into the conversation, comfortable with the company and the topic. Ryan’s insightful questions about the youngest kids she’d scouted proved to her that he knew what he was talking about. So, when Tank redirected the topic, she didn’t notice. Instead, she found herself sharing her opinions about the upcoming draft with Ryan, something she wouldn’t have normally done because she wasn’t quite as secure in her evaluation of NFL talent. They easily agreed on the first-round draft picks, and it wasn’t until their plates were being cleared that she understood what was happening.

  “It’s not the top guys that are hard to pick out, right? I mean, everyone gets to see them week in and week out. It’s the diamonds in the rough that set you apart as a scout and organization,” she theorized.

  “That’s true,” Ryan agreed. “Finding the guy who no one is looking for is often what makes good teams great.”

  Amber nodded along with his statement.

  “So, who are your diamonds this year?” he slipped in.

  “That’s easy. Michael Chambers, Austin Redding, and Harriman Perry.”

  “Really? Why?” Ryan prompted.

  “Chambers is undersized, for sure. But he’s quick and smart. Check his stats. The number of tackles he’s accumulated cannot be a fluke.” She’d been sitting back in the chair, but now, she moved forward, placed her elbows on the freshly cleared table, and earnestly leaned in. “Redding is just patient. Here’s a kid who didn’t get an opportunity to start for three long years. Comes in as a senior, is the team captain, and picks up some key interceptions. He’s a tad slow, but sometimes, you can overlook that. And Iman, physically, he’s a beast. He’s grown since he got to college, so he’s six-five with a shocking wingspan, and his hands…” She gave an appreciative sigh. “His hands are sticky. You put that ball in his vicinity, and he’s coming down with it.”

  Ryan smiled wide. Then, he looked at Tank and winked. “Should have known Franco’s daughter would know what she was talking about.”

  Amber deliberately rammed her shoulder into Tank’s arm as they strolled away from The Flying Biscuit Café and into Piedmont Park.

  “You think you’re so smart,” she remarked, withholding the smile she wanted to share with him.

  Tank grinned. “Nah. I was supposed to hook up with Ryan anyway. Just saw an opportunity.”

  “I had no idea you were such a manipulator.”

  Tank gasped, as if in horror. Feigning hurt, he said, “Manipulator?”

  Amber rolled her eyes. Tank threw his arm around her shoulder, pulled her closer to him, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug she could feel. “Who knows if it will do any good? But Ryan knows a lot of people. Thought it might be worth a shot since Iman’s agent sucks.”

  Amber couldn’t help the warmth seeping through her. He could have sent her flowers every day for a year, and it wouldn’t have affected her as much as him trying to help Iman. She was always impressed with the way Tank treated his friends. Even on his worst days and his best, riding high on being Tank Howard, he was always a bit of a sweetheart to his boys. It was both endearing and annoying, as trying to maintain any type of objectivity kept getti
ng churned up in his wake.

  “Where are Tilly and Keira meeting us?”

  “Over by the baseball fields.”

  They ambled along, not in any hurry. It was a perfect April day with a crisp blue sky, a light breeze, and a slight chill in the air. The park was busy with Sunday activities. They skirted a game of Ultimate Frisbee, weaved around intimate family picnics, and laughed at a little boy trying hard to ride a bike.

  “Keira all right?” Tank asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

  Amber slowed her pace to a crawl and thought about his question. “I don’t think so. I’m worried actually.”

  “Did she say something last night?”

  “No, and that’s the problem. When I asked how things were going with her parents, she basically avoided it. So, I left it alone.”

  “What’s up with that?” he asked, the frustration evident in his voice.

  They stopped walking, and Tank’s arm dropped from around her shoulder. He grabbed her hand, seemingly needing to touch her.

  Amber looked away from him. “I know, right? It’s 2017, people! They are really against the whole relationship. You’d think, after three years of Keira and Tilly being together, that her parents would have accepted it and moved on.” She squeezed Tank’s hand before her gaze found his again. “It’s crazy. Her parents are like my parents, and to find out that they are racist bigots is really difficult to take in. How do I still respect them and love them when one of their fundamental beliefs is so different than mine and so abhorrent?”

  Tank’s eyes flashed with anger, and the moment between them got really heavy.

  “Dictionary?” she quipped in an attempt to lighten things up.

  Tank laughed. Then, he bent down, dug his shoulder into her hip, and lifted her off the ground. He smacked her lightly on the ass as her head cascaded down his back, landing right next to his butt. “You’re such a little shit,” he teased.