Superstar

by J Santiago

  Then, he took off at a fast clip, over the remaining real estate between where they’d stopped and where they were supposed to meet Keira and Tilly. Amber laughed the whole way. Tank stopped abruptly. She pushed up by setting her hands on his ass and lifting her body. But, apparently, Tank had no intention of putting her down because his hand clamped down on her thigh, holding her in place.

  “Whatcha got there?” she heard Tilly say.

  “A smart girl with a smart mouth,” Tank responded.

  Amber could hear the laughter in his voice, and while she wanted to be annoyed by his response and his refusal to let her go, she found herself grinning instead. Feeling a little mischievous, she let her hands slide down and around his muscular butt. Tank inhaled sharply, but it didn’t stop her from then pulling up his shirt and jacket and nipping the spot right above where his jeans hung on him. She did it hard enough to make him react, but she got nothing. So, she gently bit him again and then soothed the spot with an open-mouthed kiss. Tank’s hands landed on her hips, and he pulled her down from his shoulder. He turned her around in front of him and pulled her back against him, his fingers squeezing her hips.

  “You are so going to pay for that later,” he whispered in her ear before releasing her so that she could hug their friends.

  She practically ran to Tilly and threw her arms around him. “Hey!” she said enthusiastically. When he released her, she looked around for Keira. “Where’s my girl?”

  Tilly’s smile dropped from his face, and everything about him looked defeated. “Sunday. Church with her parents.”

  “Oh,” she answered, but she couldn’t mask the confusion in her voice. “What’s going on, Tilly?”

  He turned and made his way to a picnic table, sitting heavily. Tank and Amber followed, taking seats across from him.

  “I wish I had an answer for you. Her parents are being crazy, and she’s getting sucked into it because of the wedding.” He paused, but Amber knew he had more to say. “Before we decided to get married, she was all, ‘Fuck them and their small-minded bullshit.’ But, as soon as I asked her to marry me, she’s been giving into them on everything. We should have just eloped,” he finished on a sigh. Amber was about to respond when Tilly started talking again, “You know she’s the only white girl I’ve ever dated?”

  Tank and Amber said, “Really?” at the same time.

  Tank nudged her with his leg under the table, but she resisted looking at him.

  “I was never interested in white girls. Then, I met her, and it just didn’t matter, ya know? You just love who you love.”

  Amber’s eyes welled with tears, but she fought valiantly to hold it back. So many things about his statement hit her that she didn’t like. Tilly sounded hopeless and resigned, not at all his jovial self. And, right at this moment, she didn’t want to acknowledge that the heart wanted what it wanted, regardless of the obstacles and regrets.

  She thought about Keira last night, and once again, she knew she’d been a shitty friend. Keira had needed her last night, and she’d been all about herself. She glanced over at Tank, who was studying Tilly.

  Amber looked down at her watch. “Hey, if I’m going to go see the As, I probably need to leave now.”

  Tank turned to her, completely confused by her on-the-fly help-Tilly plan. “Okay,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

  She gave him a quick wink before she explained to Tilly, “Since we won’t be able to make it to Nona’s tonight, I’m going to see Franco, Molly, and the As one more time before we head out. We figured you could get Tank to me later. Does that work for you?”

  “What were you going to do if Keira came?” Tilly asked, totally onto her.

  “Bring her with me,” she said, her tone calling into question his sanity.

  He smiled knowingly. “Right, Sunshine.”

  Tank stood, and Amber followed.

  He fished his keys out of his pocket, and when he handed them to her, he leaned down and said, “I owe you one.”

  She smiled at him, gave him a quick kiss, and took off, leaving the best friends alone.

  The sound of Amber’s phone alarm blaring was a sort of rude punctuation mark at the end of her weekend. Bleary-eyed, Amber swiped her finger across the face of her phone and rolled over, burying her head in her pillow.

  She vaguely remembered slowly coming awake in the car last night when Tank pulled into her driveway. He’d helped her inside, given her a chaste kiss, and then left. Her disappointment caused by his absence stayed buried in her chest, a dull little cut reminding her of the fleeting nature of her time with Tank over the weekend.

  But she could hide under her covers for only so long. With an inelegant grunt, she threw the covers off and huffed it to the shower, hoping a long, busy day could stay all the insecurities and questions, like a last meal before a lethal injection.

  When she pulled into her spot in the parking lot of Ayers less than an hour later, Amber was pleasantly surprised to find she’d beaten Whitey to the office. As petty as it seemed, a little smile curved her mouth. She’d take a victory, no matter how small.

  Finding her way to her office, she mentally reviewed the week. With the spring game and visits, both official and unofficial, the coaches’ clinic, and the game-day management, it promised to be busy. The eventful week spread out in front of her, a tasty buffet of oblivion and denial. She could work Tank Howard out of her system. Really, what the hell had she been thinking when she took a trip to Tank La-La Land this weekend? She could not allow herself to fall for him again.

  Sitting at her desk, she turned on her computer and began organizing her tasks for the day. She tried like hell to get lost in her list, but everything was prepped and ready. Her first year, she’d experimented; her second year, she’d perfected. Now, she merely played all the parts she knew by heart. Sighing, she dropped her head to her desk.

  She heard the outer door of the suite open and sat up, rolling her chair closer to the computer, pretending to be engrossed in something on the screen. She heard Nicky before she saw him, and the relief for the distraction of her friend was immediate. He bounded into her office, like Tigger in a grown man’s body.

  “What’s up, celebrity?” he said jovially, his voice loud in the silence around her.

  She smiled before his greeting penetrated. Her brow furrowed. “Celebrity?” she questioned.

  “Why didn’t ya tell me you and my man Tank were a thing?” He dropped into the chair in front of her desk. There was no censure in his voice. Rather, he looked a little fascinated with the turn of events.

  Amber shook her head at him, still confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you are gonna date this dude, you have to set up some Google Alerts.”

  “Nicky,” she teased, “please tell me you don’t have Google Alerts for Tank Howard.” Her tone was light, playful, but her stomach seized with nerves.

  Nicky actually blushed while Amber tried not to sputter with laughter.

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Just Google him and look at the images,” Nicky said.

  “No,” she said indignantly. Amber had spent the last three years of her life not cyberstalking Tank. She refused to start now.

  “Fine,” Nicky agreed before pulling out his phone.

  Before she could stop him or shield her eyes, he stood and pushed the phone in her face. She had a crazy flashback of the last time someone had shoved a phone in her face and asked her to look at a picture. When Franco discovered the picture of Tank and Amber in an intimate embrace, her little world had been rocked. Shaking off the memory, she reluctantly glanced at the picture in front of her. It was like a celebrity-sighting picture in a popular magazine, the one where anyone with a phone had caught a celebrity doing everyday things, like grocery shopping—or in Tank’s case, dodging across a street on the way to brunch. Even with his Braves hat firmly in place, you could see who he was. His hand was clasped in Amber’s, and they were both smiling, probably lau
ghing at her comment about parking. The people in the photo enthralled her. Even though they weren’t looking at each other, the connection between them was as obvious as the identical smiles on their faces. Thankfully, the picture was on her left side, so you couldn’t see her scars.

  She dragged her eyes away from the photo and looked up at Nicky with a shrug. “We were grabbing brunch.”

  “Uh-huh. Did you see the caption?”

  Rolling her eyes, she responded with a firm, “No.”

  “I’ll read it to ya. Did the Shepard—that’s with a capital S—lose its sheep?” Nicky wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Get it? Shepard? Sheep?” Then, he laughed.

  And Amber wanted to throw up. Gathering herself, she shrugged again, going for nonchalance. “That’s the stupidest caption I’ve ever heard.”

  “Yep. So stupid, it’s funny.” Nicky leaned back in his seat. “So, wanna talk about it?”

  “No, I don’t.” She glanced at her computer, clicking on her calendar. “And I have a meeting in ten that I need to get ready for.”

  The joking, carefree Nicky disappeared right before her eyes, and she was suddenly gazing into the very focused eyes of her friend. Here, with that look, she could see how intimidating he must be on the field.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on with you two, but just be careful.”

  Touched by his concern but unwilling to acknowledge a need for it, she grabbed her tablet from her desk and stood. “There’s no reason for you to worry about me.” She waited for him to stand, and they walked together out of the office suite. “You know me well enough to know, I can handle Tank Howard,” she quipped.

  Maybe it was the confidence with which she delivered the line or her unflappable attitude about the picture, but she knew she’d played it right when the shroud of serious Nicky lifted.

  “You can handle anything, tough girl,” he said, holding out his fist.

  She bumped fists with him, their hands pulling back and spreading, a well-choreographed explosion of a handshake. With a mutual wink at each other, they made their way to the war room. As they walked, Amber’s mood lightened. Her momentary shock and anger over the picture faded. She was in her safe place, and her worries over Tank could be buried under the person she was when she entered her domain. Most of the coaches were already seated, and she took her place at Whitey’s right side. Across from her, Steele sat, engrossed in a discussion with Stone, the defensive coordinator.

  “Let’s get started,” Whitey bellowed over the chatter in the room. “I hope everyone enjoyed their weekend off.”

  There were some murmurs around the table, quietly spoken platitudes of thanks for a surprise break.

  Whitey waved them off. “I want to review some film first. While most of you were lazing around this weekend, one member of our staff was working overtime to get some hands-on training with one of football’s greats.”

  As everyone looked to the screen, a chuckle rumbled from somewhere in the room. Amber turned to the sound, and when she looked back, the picture Nicky had shoved in her face flashed on the screen. It was followed by a series of pictures of Tank throwing her over his shoulder and sprinting through the park. The whole room erupted in laughter, and Amber’s face flooded with heat. Someone banged on the table in hilarity, and Nicky literally fell out of his chair. She’d never been so mortified.

  She spun in her chair to glare at Whitey, but he had his head thrown back, obviously proud of his introduction to today’s prank. She gave up and shook her head, laughing in spite of her total embarrassment. She’d worked with most of the men in this room for the last three years, so she made sure to show no fear. There was no way she could let them think she couldn’t handle their ribbing, or they’d amp it up, like sharks circling blood in the water.

  Whitey rolled his chair back up to the table, signaling an end to the joking. Like middle school boys exclaiming over a fart, it took some time for all the snickers to die down.

  “All right, let’s get back on task,” Whitey announced. “Amber, walk us through the week, please.”

  She made quick announcements having learned her coaches had short attention spans for administrative bullshit. She reminded them that everything was scheduled into their phones, as were automated prompts so that they’d know exactly where to be. Then, she turned the meeting back over to Whitey, and they began to actually review film.

  Amber tried to stay in it, to listen to what was happening around her, but her head was all over the place. Nicky’s unexpected concern this morning, Tank’s abandonment the night before, Keira’s issue with her parents. She couldn’t focus on any one thing in particular as thoughts flitted circuitously.

  Her phone vibrated with a text. Looking down, she saw it was from Tank. Unlocking her phone, she clicked on her Messages app.

  Tank: Can I see you later?

  She didn’t respond.

  The Sunshine in her wanted to tell him he could have stayed with her last night. He’d basically unloaded her from the car and split. She was really confused but tired, too, so she slipped into bed and tried to forget how disappointed she was that he hadn’t wanted to stay with her.

  She contemplated answering him with a text that said, I have to wash my hair.

  While she was figuring out how to respond, her phone vibrated with a second text.

  Tank: We need to talk.

  Little tentacles of unease danced up her spine. They did need to talk. She’d been hoping they were going to talk last night because he’d given her a lot to think about over the weekend. But, with Tank, everything had to happen on his timeline. Like him showing up here in his off-season—when it was convenient for him.

  For the last three years, everything Amber had done, every action and decision, she’d handled on her own—when the time was right for her. She knew there would come a time, if she wanted to have what Franco and Molly had, when she’d have to learn to compromise and think about the needs and wants of someone other than herself. And she could admit, even as her ire began to prickle at Tank’s text, that she had enjoyed herself this weekend.

  Her life and Tank’s were seamlessly sewn together in so many ways. They shared friends and interests. But, even if she could forgive him everything and truly trust him, how would their lives come together? She had a life and job here; he had a life and job there. And, although they were similar, their jobs made their lives completely incompatible.

  She lifted her head from her phone, unsure of her next step. Steele sat across from her, studying her. Their gazes met, and his narrowed. He looked at her with some odd combination of pity and anger. Her phone buzzed again. Pulling her eyes away from Steele, she looked down, wondering what Tank had texted this time.

  But the text was from Steele.

  Lamarcus: He’s going to hurt you again.

  She almost laughed, wondering how long a text took to be delivered when you were sitting five feet away from the sender. She didn’t have any assurances for Steele, and she didn’t need to give him any. So far, Tank hadn’t hurt her, but in the last couple of weeks, Steele had with his attitude and complete withdrawal from their friendship. So, she answered him as honestly as she could.

  Amber: Maybe.

  As she sent her text, another came in.

  Tank: Please.

  She could deny an arrogant Tank. She could deny a bossy Tank. But a pleading Tank? Yeah, there was no way she could deny him.

  Amber: Working late. My house at 9.

  Tank folded the last of his clothes and tucked them into his overflowing suitcase. No matter where he traveled or for what purpose, his travel bag always seemed overwhelmed on the way home, like his clothes had overindulged during the trip and put on some weight. He closed it and then pulled the second zipper open, providing him the additional room he needed to shut it.

  He did a final lap around the house, looking for any evidence he’d been there. There were no abandoned chargers or papers strewed about. The place looked unlived-in and clean. H
e’d come here, knowing he had a limited amount of time, but the end date had come sooner than he expected, giving credence to the old adage, Time flies when you’re having fun.

  He wasn’t sure where he’d be spending the night tonight, but he hoped it wasn’t in this rental property. Grabbing the suitcase, he hauled it outside and put it in the back of the Range Rover.

  He checked the time on his phone as he got into the car and smiled when he remembered Amber’s snarky instructions to meet her at nine o’clock. He could almost picture her exasperated face and hear her aggravated sigh when she’d finally responded. He was minimally shocked she hadn’t hit him with some stupid excuse about washing her hair or cleaning her carpets to get out of seeing him. He would have deserved it.

  If he’d had a plan in mind for yesterday, it had veered completely off script. They were supposed to have brunch and hang out with their best friends, and then he was supposed to meet the whole Franco crew. He was pretty excited about the prospect. Amber leaving him in the park so that he could console Tilly both annoyed and touched him. And Tilly needed it. Just an afternoon of hanging out, shooting pool, and watching basketball did wonders. Tilly didn’t say much, but Tank could tell that his friend was worried.

  When he’d finally met up with Amber again, the ride back was quiet. She was exhausted from entertaining the twins, and she’d had a couple of beers with Franco and Molly. So, after driving about ten miles, her head lolled against the window, and she was out. They needed to talk, but he didn’t mind the reprieve.

  Leaving her by herself last night hadn’t been planned either. But he knew they needed to discuss his impending departure and what that meant. Letting her sleep alone was the ultimate sacrifice though. He didn’t know how many opportunities he was going to get to share her bed, and ducking one of them was like passing on a winning lottery ticket.