Superstar

by J Santiago

  “As excited as we are for Amber’s new journey, we are obviously sad to see her go,” Nicky said.

  “Hear, hear,” was called out from around the room.

  “Our resident videographer put together a book of memories, quotes, and pictures for you to take with you.”

  Amber stepped forward and took the book. She opened it to the first page and saw a letter from one of her favorite athletes. Tears threatened, so she shut the book.

  “I’ll look at this later,” she said quickly.

  There were some laughs from around the room.

  “But we also wanted to give you something to remember us by—the real us.”

  “You mean, the us from the war room?” she quipped.

  “Exactly,” Nicky said. He handed her a box, unwrapped. “You know I can’t wrap,” he said.

  She opened it up to find a three-foot mascot of her new school dressed in a State football jersey. She couldn’t help the unabashed laughter. “You guys are crazy. Where am I going to put this?”

  “On Tank’s mantel,” someone said.

  The guffaws from around the room were contagious.

  Amber enjoyed the teasing, knowing it would be a while for her to feel this comfortable in her new environment.

  When she finally said good-bye, she was grateful to Nicky for making her participate. She left him with a big hug and a promise to see him during his vacation in July. He was incredibly stoked to be able to say he actually spent the night in Tank Howard’s house.

  It wasn’t until she was at the door to leave that Steele approached her.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said, gently taking her arm.

  She fought the desire to step on his foot. Letting him lead her out the door, she waited impatiently for him to say what he wanted to say.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Steele started.

  “Oh my God! We’ve been over this. Do you realize that all of your protesting is making you lose two of your closest friends?” she said. She picked up her pace, not wanting to be around Steele anymore.

  “Who? You and Tank?” He laughed. “I think I’ll survive.”

  Amber stopped walking and pulled away from him. “I’m sure you will,” she said cuttingly. “It will just be a fucking lonely existence.”

  If she thought she’d get a rise out of him, she was sorely mistaken.

  Steele merely shrugged. “If I were you, I’d watch your back. Being with Tank means you’re suddenly interesting to a whole lot of people.” With those ominous words, he turned and left.

  Amber watched him walk away, her heart heavy. For two years, they’d been friends. She didn’t understand who he was right now, and she was sorry that the man she’d been close to seemed to have left the building. If she was feeling that way, she could only imagine the hurt Tank was feeling.

  For a brief second, she considered Steele’s parting words. But, as she got into her car and began the drive to Tank, she forgot about Steele and her fears.

  She hurried from the party, intent on getting to Tank’s tonight. The movers had picked her stuff up the morning before and dropped it off. She didn’t want Tank to have to handle all of it by himself.

  The drive went by quickly, so when she pulled into their driveway and hit the preprogrammed button for the garage, she was struck by the fact that she was home. The word slid through her mind, feeling right in a surprising way. She parked and got out of the car to find Tank leaning against the doorframe, backlit by the kitchen light.

  I could get used to this.

  Then, he was moving forward and sweeping her up in his arms, spinning her around in a happy display. All the doubts she’d had eroded under the weight of his certainty.

  “Good to have you home,” he said.

  Even though she knew he’d deliberately chosen the word, it did nothing to diminish the impact of it. And, when they made it upstairs to their bedroom, the sweetness of the moment stayed with her.

  Later, she would think back on this night and remember only the homecoming she’d gotten from Tank. Maybe she should have remembered Steele and his warning.

  July

  Tank settled into the booth, surveying the restaurant. It was one he’d frequented with Madison over the last couple of years, so he didn’t need to peruse the menu. Instead, with nothing to occupy him, he took out his phone and scanned the ESPN headlines, but nothing seemed to jump out at him.

  His mind was on this impromptu meeting with Madison. He hadn’t seen her since she left Tilly’s house the night he was with Amber. They’d exchanged a couple of texts and talked a few times, but the consistent friendship they’d shared had dwindled to check-ins. It happened so naturally that he didn’t really notice. His ability to let go of a friendship that had sustained him over the last few years surprised him. He never thought he and Madison were simply friends out of convenience, but he wondered now if that were the case.

  He glanced up as Madison pulled open the heavy door of the restaurant and waltzed in. She nodded to the hostess while ambling directly to where Tank sat. The casual observer wouldn’t notice the determination hidden underneath the blasé front, but Tank could tell that whatever had prompted this lunch was important.

  He stood when she arrived at the booth, and they shared a brief friendly embrace—one you might lend to a distant cousin you were meeting for the first time, certainly not a friend and former lover. When Madison took a seat, Tank followed.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Tank nodded his greeting.

  She smiled at him. “It’s been a while. It’s good to see you.”

  Returning her smile with one of his own, he leaned back, studying her. “You, too.”

  The waitress arrived with waters. “The usual?” she inquired.

  For the first time since she’d called him, Tank relaxed. The familiar greeting seemed to take the edge out of both of them.

  Madison looked up at the server. “Yes, please. All the way around.”

  The girl nodded and left them alone.

  “Thank God for the waitress,” Madison exclaimed, her straightforward manner returning instantly. “Shit, for a couple of seconds there, I felt like I didn’t even know you.”

  Tank grinned. “Sorry.”

  Madison waved him off. “It was me, too. I didn’t think it would be so weird to see you.” The tension drained away from her, and Tank could see her visibly relax. “I’m nervous about what I have to tell you, and I just locked up.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever heard you admit anything like that.”

  “I know. And you’d better keep it to yourself.” She winked at him, and just like that, they were back to normal.

  They chatted for a few minutes, catching up on the gaps of the last few months. Standard information was exchanged, stuff you could garner from a text message, information lacking tone and feeling. Madison was biding her time, and Tank was content to let her, knowing that whatever she had to say was going to change things.

  The waitress deposited their food, and Tank watched as Madison tracked her movements away from the table. Then, Madison’s gaze swung back to him. She leaned forward, like a conspirator, while Tank fought his desire to lean away from her.

  “I just finished working on a story,” she began.

  Tank eyed her coolly as a bubble of unease began to percolate in his belly. She’d paused, and Tank realized she was waiting for him to acknowledge her statement. He nodded with trepidation, the green light she sought from him painful to concede.

  “I decided to leave the sideline-reporting gig. There’s a new sports news show called The Shot Clock. It’s like 60 Minutes for sports.”

  “That’s great,” Tank said, knowing she’d wanted her career to go in that direction. “I’m happy for you.”

  This wasn’t grudgingly bestowed.

  “Do you get to choose the stories, or are they given to you?”

  This was something else she’d wanted—the ability to pick what she reported. She woul
d have settled if the show was the right fit, but if she were writing her dream, she would have penned editorial discretion.

  Madison shifted in her chair, and Tank noted the movement. She was nervous. She looked away from him for a split second. Tank’s right hand nervously curled around the bottom of the seat, something to ground him.

  “Both,” she finally managed. “The first story started out as mine. I was chasing a lead. But, when the lead seemed pointless, I tried to bail.”

  “Tried?”

  Madison didn’t answer him.

  “Why do I get the feeling this story has something to do with me?” he finally asked.

  “Not you per se,” she said.

  Tank rubbed his hand over his face, his frustration apparent, his patience gone. “Madison, just say what you came here to say. This is getting old, fast.”

  “Are the rumors about you and Amber true?”

  Tank leaned back in the booth, answering some need to put distance between them. “I didn’t realize there were any rumors.”

  Madison rolled her eyes. Some time ago, that expression had made him laugh because it was so unlike her polished facade. Today, it made him want to sneer.

  “Are you living together?” she asked.

  Tank studied her. “Is this on the record?”

  Never in their relationship had he asked her that. He probably should have protected himself. But Madison was on his side, not out for a story or an inside scoop on his life. He didn’t feel like that right now. Some sliminess crept between them, making him long for a shower.

  “Touché.” It was a murmur before Madison glanced away from him again.

  Done with the bullshit, Tank rose, pulled out his wallet, and threw three twenties on the table. “I’m out.”

  “Sit down, Tank,” Madison quietly demanded.

  The tone of her voice freaked him out.

  He wanted to keep walking but found himself planting his ass back in the booth. He dropped his elbows on the table and leaned slightly forward, more menacing than intimate. He kept his voice controlled, but he was done with the games. “I have no idea what is going on, but my patience is at an end. So, lay it out for me, so I can get the fuck out of here.”

  The guileless expression he’d admired through the lens of a television screen suddenly seemed more threatening than anything he could imagine hearing.

  “I’ve been investigating the death of Rowdy Daniels.” Something must have shown on his face because her lips curved up into a merciless smile. “Yeah, I thought that name might mean something to you.”

  She toyed with the silverware on the table while keeping her eyes locked on him, and Tank’s anxiety spiraled. Madison didn’t normally fidget.

  “I guess you already knew about the accident.”

  Tank continued to peer at her, hoping his face lacked expression. He’d never mentioned the accident. In fact, even after getting caught in the closet with Amber, he and Madison never broached the subject of his past relationship. Amber’s disfiguring accident that left her ex-boyfriend dead was not up for discussion.

  “After the police refused to press charges, the Daniels family looked into a civil suit. Wrongful death or something like that. They were convinced she was drunk, and that was what caused the accident. But the tox screens all came back negative.”

  Tank had known most of this. As she spoke, he found himself curious about what had sent Madison off to chase this particular story.

  “The family subpoenaed her medical records. What they found there made them back off entirely. It was truly an accident. No malicious intent, no alcohol or drugs involved.”

  Tank tried very hard to maintain his disinterest, as if he had known all of this information already. But he couldn’t hide the surprise or curiosity over what would make Rowdy’s family stop their pursuit of blame. He knew Madison noted his surprise because her eyes flashed with triumph. She knew something Tank didn’t, and that made her happy and smug.

  “You don’t know, huh?”

  “Know what?” He tried to shrug it off, stem the wound so that the circling shark might lose interest and look elsewhere.

  “What caused the crash.”

  He shrugged. “Nah. They’re called accidents for a reason, right?”

  Madison chuckled, an all-knowing sound, one he imagined a defensive end might release right before he pounded Tank into the ground.

  Madison leaned back this time, relaxing against the plush cushion of the booth. “It was a medical emergency actually,” she said, her seemingly innocuous attitude cloaking the obvious excitement and anticipation rushing through her.

  Her eyes glittered, and Tank belatedly realized this was like foreplay to her. All of the cues were there, and the cauldron of bile threatened to spew up from his stomach.

  “You’ve heard of an ectopic pregnancy?”

  Tank swallowed audibly and nodded. He knew where this was going, and all he could think about was that Amber had been pregnant with someone else’s child.

  “Sometimes, there are no symptoms at all. I’m not sure if she had any issues prior, but apparently, that night her fallopian tube burst. They think she experienced extreme dizziness or fainted. That’s how they ended up wrapped around the tree. The doctors had to perform emergency surgery to remove the tube in addition to operating on all of her other injuries.” This time, it was Madison who shrugged.

  Tank didn’t even attempt to hold back the, “Fuck,” that flew out of his mouth.

  “I figured you didn’t know,” she said matter-of-factly, like she’d just told him the sky was blue. “Sad really. The chance of her ever getting pregnant again, pretty slim.” She paused briefly, letting her conclusion hang in the air between them, before she said, “Anyway, that made it particularly difficult for his family to pursue any suit.”

  “So, end of story,” Tank managed to say.

  Madison smirked. “Absolutely not. It’s a great story. I mean, obviously heartbreaking but sensational all the same. We are going to use it to announce the Ronald “Rowdy” Daniels IV Memorial Scholarship that his family is endowing.”

  “Right,” Tank muttered.

  He wanted to hit something. The asshole who’d messed with Amber’s head was going to get immortalized with a scholarship.

  Perfect.

  And his ex-friend-with-benefits was reporting it.

  Even better.

  He studied her across the table, itching to leave but knowing he needed to stay seated, that there was more to come. Madison hadn’t disguised her ambition, nor had she hidden her killer instinct. Nothing about this moment should have come as a surprise for him. Yet, leveled at him, her dreams of journalistic stardom looked harrowing.

  “What else?” he finally asked.

  “You’re assuming there’s more?”

  “Isn’t there?”

  “Yes,” she answered demurely, appearing nervous again.

  Whatever came next was worse, he gathered. But he was confused by the change in her demeanor—shark to guppy in five seconds flat. About her story, Madison was fierce. He wasn’t going to be allowed to interfere or sway her, and he didn’t see a reason to try. While Amber might be uncomfortable with the retelling of her worst nightmare, she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she would get through it. But whatever else Madison had left to share, it made her uncomfortable, and that made Tank constricted, the tentacles of worry and fear squeezing him.

  “I’m sorry,” Madison said, meeting his gaze.

  “For what? The story?”

  “No. I’m not sorry about that. That is going to be money.” She sighed. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to tell you. I know this is shitty timing, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to in order to keep things good for you.”

  “Madison,” he groaned.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said in a rush. “I’m almost one hundred percent certain it isn’t yours, but that one night…”

  She looked away, and Tank remembered that night of the en
gagement party in the foyer of his house. He sat still, a statue of himself, unable to move or talk.

  “But, soon after that, I was with someone else, and the timing…” She shifted in her seat. “The timing works in his favor, not yours.” She waved her hand. “That’s probably the wrong word to use—favor—but you know what I mean.”

  “Madison,” Tank said, trying to infuse his tone with patience, “why are you telling me this if you’re so sure it isn’t my child?”

  “I don’t want the other guy to know.”

  Tank couldn’t help it; his tells showing—a heaving breath, rubbing his head. All the implications ran through his mind. Madison didn’t want the other guy to know. Everyone would assume the baby was his. She wasn’t going to tell anyone that the child didn’t belong to Tank. Amber would think Tank was the father.

  “Madison, please. You have to know, this will not go over well for me.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry, but I’m asking you to help me here.”

  “Help you? At the expense of my relationship with Amber? Are you high?”

  She snorted. “I definitely won’t be getting high anytime soon.”

  “Fuck!” Tank muttered.

  “I know. I still can’t believe I got myself into this situation.”

  Tank didn’t know what to do with the frustration, anger, and disbelief coursing through him. That Madison was asking him to do this when she knew what Amber meant to him didn’t make any sense.

  “Madison, you owe me a better explanation. What the hell is going on?”

  She looked away from him, trying to hide the fact that her eyes were welling with unshed tears. “At first, I thought it was genuine. He whisked me out of town, and we spent a couple of weeks away from everything and everybody. I believed him when he said he’d been biding his time, waiting for me to be free. It was nice—to be the person someone was waiting on instead of the filler.”