Superstar

by J Santiago

  “Shit.”

  She shook her head. “No offense. You and I went into our relationship with our eyes wide open. I have no regrets. I just didn’t really get the difference.”

  “Okay,” Tank said, reassuring her that he wasn’t offended. “But I’m lost here. It sounds like this was not a bad thing.”

  “At first. Then, a couple of weeks after, he called me up, and he handed me the Rowdy Daniels’s story on a silver platter. Wanted me to chase it. He thought there was more to it and that I could uncover something that would cause Amber and you trouble.”

  Tank thought he’d experienced every shitty feeling in the last hour, but somehow, he knew he hadn’t reached the bottom of the despair pit quite yet.

  He took a deep breath and plunged. “Who?”

  “Lamarcus Steele.”

  Tank blinked against the harsh light of truth.

  “He didn’t care about me at all. It was all some twisted shit to get back at you for whatever reason. And I can’t let him near this child.”

  “I’m sorry you’re in this situation,” he said. He laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “I really am. But I can’t help you this way. I refuse to do that to Amber, fake or not.” His tone was harsh, his anger obliterating any sense of sympathetic empathy.

  He saw Madison stiffen right before her eyes narrowed, and he was once again that kid in the tunnel, having his life turned upside down.

  “I’m not asking you,” she replied calmly. “I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice. If you don’t, I’ll make sure Amber knows the truth about her father.”

  “Franco?”

  “No. Her real father.”

  Tank walked to his car in an angry huff. He wanted to peel out of the parking lot, to leave skid marks on the street to match those that Madison had just left in his life. He flung himself into the driver’s seat and turned on the car. It was as far as he got. He sat, paralyzed, unable to come up with the best way to play this.

  Tank remembered the feeling of helplessness. An unreal sense of the series of events. A movie he was watching with twists and turns. A plot so masterfully written that the scene had left him breathless with disbelief. His father’s agent waiting for him in the tunnel with his teammates twenty meters away from him. Leaving Amber in a New York hotel room. Being surrounded by his closest friends and his coaching staff when they discovered the truth about his encounter with his father’s agent. It had taken him almost four years to finally right all the wrongs he’d committed. Then, Madison had pummeled him with the most explosive bits of information to once again push his future happiness just outside his reach.

  He thought about how he could make it all go away, how he could spare Amber. He was seconds away from calling Hawk and engaging all the lawyers Hawk kept on speed dial. If he could think of a way to keep her in the dark, he would. It was like he hadn’t learned his lesson. He would have given anything to push her away and keep her safe from the craziness of his life. Every time they were on the brink of happiness, something would come along to shatter the possibility.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, weighing his options. Then, he grabbed his phone from the console and dialed. The phone rang in his ear, reverberating like a ticking bomb, each ring a countdown to the inevitable.

  On the fourth shrill sound, he finally answered, “Hey. What’s up?”

  “We need to talk. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  Tank didn’t say good-bye. He shut down his phone and dropped it back in the cup holder. He didn’t want to be tempted to call Amber or to answer if she called. He could not talk to her right now.

  He carefully maneuvered his way out of downtown Atlanta. When he made it to the highway, he picked up speed, happy for the unspoken rule of the fast driving required in Atlanta. The monotony of the drive didn’t settle him though. Instead, he felt caged, restless. He had no idea how to have the conversation required of him. He wasn’t sure he could be sane.

  It took him twenty-five minutes to arrive at his destination. He didn’t pull into the driveway though. He stopped a couple of houses away and tried to come up with a plan. As he sat there, breathing deeply, his blood slowed, and the pounding of his pulse calmed.

  The information could be wrong. Madison could have lied. Relief seeped through him.

  He slid the car out of park and continued the rest of the drive.

  He pulled into the driveway, shut off the car, and grabbed his phone in one continuous motion. He pushed open the door and alighted from the car. Stalking to the front of the house, he reached out and rang the bell. He shoved his hand into his pocket to hide the adrenaline shake.

  When the door opened, Tank looked directly at him. “You alone?” he asked.

  Franco tilted his head, his deep brown eyes studying him. Tank could feel the perusal, the scrutiny, and he knew Franco understood the seriousness of the moment. Then, Franco’s whole demeanor changed, and he stepped back. His head dropped, and his hands reached up and scraped through his hair. He shrank right before Tank’s eyes.

  “You know,” Franco said, his words directed toward the ground.

  “Fuck,” Tank muttered.

  Any possibility of Madison’s information being incorrect dissolved.

  Franco’s head came up, and Tank flinched at the look of despair on his coach’s face.

  “How?” Franco asked, his voice a timbre shy of its usual pitch.

  “Madison,” Tank answered.

  Franco nodded and then pulled the door open wider, so Tank could follow him inside. They made their way down the hall and into the formal living room. Franco sank down into one of the two big leather club chairs, and Tank dropped into the love seat across from him. They sat in silence for a while, avoiding any eye contact, each lost in their own private hell.

  Finally, Franco cleared his throat. “It was just never the right time to tell her, and then over the years, it became less and less important. She was mine, damn it!” His voice rose, and his fist pounded ineffectually on the plush leather of the chair. Desolation burned in his eyes.

  Tank understood. But that didn’t make any of this okay.

  “You cannot tell me this without her here. I do not want to know any more than I do without her knowing.” His voice was both adamant and pleading.

  He could not absolve Franco, and Tank knew he would want to forgive Franco, for a thousand reasons. Amber would hate this. She would absolutely loathe knowing that Madison had known this secret about her, and she’d had no idea. Madison’s involvement would burn almost as much as the truth was going to burn. And Tank wanted to be able to tell her truthfully that he didn’t know this before her. He wanted to go through this with her. If he could give her this one thing, it would be that he was there for her, not for any other reason.

  “Call her,” Tank said. “Call her, and tell her to come here.”

  Franco nodded and stood, leaving the room, presumably for his cell phone.

  Tank couldn’t relax. Every muscle in his body was rigid with a toxic combination of regret, fear, and sorrow. If he’d stayed away from her, she wouldn’t be here—in a place where the one truth in her life was about to be exposed as a lie. Madison wouldn’t have bothered her. Steele would still be her friend. No one would have been interested in this story.

  How was he going to explain to Amber that this was entirely his fault?

  “They’re just finishing at work.” Franco’s breath stuttered out of him. “Molly and Amber will be here soon,” Franco said from the doorway.

  “Okay,” Tank answered, thankful for the slight reprieve.

  For a little while longer, all was right in Amber’s world.

  Tank heard the door chime, like a final buzzer in a game when the two-minute drill had lasted two minutes and five seconds.

  Time’s up.

  The chatter was loud as Molly and Amber entered.

  “Mike?” Molly said, obviously looking for direction.

  “In here,” he re
sponded.

  He’d moderated his tone, Tank could tell, as he tried to disguise the trepidation permeating the room. They wouldn’t know until they walked in.

  Just one more small deception.

  “Hey,” Molly greeted as she walked into the room with Amber trailing.

  “Hi,” Amber said.

  He heard the happiness in her voice when she saw him sitting there.

  She walked directly to him, at the same time asking, “What are you doing here?”

  He pulled her onto his lap when she reached him, and he kissed her hungrily, not caring at all that Molly and Franco were seven feet away from him.

  Tank’s hands engulfed Amber’s chin, and he desperately shoved his tongue into her mouth. She held back for a split second, and then she gave into the kiss. Whether she sensed his anxiety or was truly happy to see him, he’d never know. For the moment, he let himself get lost in her. He relearned the caverns of her mouth and memorized the taste, fearing she’d never let him explore her plush mouth again. She finally pulled away. When their eyes met, he saw the confusion there.

  “Happy to see me?” she quipped as she rested her forehead against his.

  “You have no idea,” he whispered. Then, because he needed her to know, because he was done with holding back from her, he said, “I love you.”

  She stiffened against him and pulled away, so she could study him. “Okay,” she said quietly.

  His hands found her hips, and he shifted her, so she was still on his lap, but she could see Franco and Molly, too. She turned her head, looking over at her father and his wife.

  Then, she turned back to Tank. “What’s going on?”

  “Amber,” Franco said, “I need to tell you something.”

  Her eyes searched Tank’s, and his fingers dug into her side.

  “I got you,” he whispered.

  Amber’s nostrils flared. He sensed her uncertainty.

  She inhaled deeply and then looked back to Franco. “Okay,” she said.

  Franco’s hand reached involuntarily for Molly’s, and she grabbed it. Molly’s gaze snapped to Tank’s, and he saw the moment Molly understood something was seriously wrong. Her eyes widened, and she visibly stiffened.

  “You know I had another sister,” Franco began.

  Amber nodded. “Yeah, Angela. She died when you were seventeen.”

  Franco took a fortifying breath. “Right. Well, we were Irish twins. She was ten and a half months older than me. Growing up, we were inseparable. Each other’s confidants, champions, whatevers. If either of us needed, the other responded. Until she went to high school, and I was still in eighth grade. Then, she met Tim. And they became inseparable. One of those puppy-love stories.” Franco paused and looked away, like he was looking into the past. “He was a good guy. I loved him for my sister. Even when he got her pregnant when I was sixteen.”

  Amber’s whole body stiffened, like she knew the punch line.

  “Wait!” Amber held up her hand in the universal sign for stop. “You’re not my father?” she asked, her voice raspy and halting, like shattered glass with sharp pieces.

  “In every sense but biologically, I. Am. Your. Father!”

  Tank could see Franco holding himself back from going to Amber. He could tell Franco wanted to snatch her up and hold on to her. But he didn’t move. So, Tank held tight, holding all the pieces of her together, until she tried to stand. Then, as much as he wanted and needed to keep her with him, he sensed her need to get away. He pulled her in and held her close, trying to convey all the things he was feeling. Then, he let her go.

  She stood abruptly. “You knew?” she said to Molly.

  Molly shook her head, her expression as surprised as Amber’s.

  Then, Amber turned to Tank. “You knew?”

  “Only that. And just today.”

  She began to shake her head from side to side, like she could dislodge the truth. “What the absolute fuck?” she muttered.

  “Amber,” Franco pleaded. He stood, too. He moved toward Amber, and she backed away. “I need for you to listen to me.”

  “No!”

  Tank wanted to go to her, but she was a wounded animal, and her need for space overshadowed his need to hold her.

  Franco stopped a couple of feet from her. “From the day you were born, I was there with them. Nona was supportive, too. You were probably the most loved baby ever born.”

  The last statement stopped everything. The whole room experienced a collective sign of tenderness. Even Amber’s gaze softened.

  “What happened to them?” Amber asked.

  “Car accident,” Franco said quietly.

  “What happened?” Amber breathed as her eyes widened.

  He cleared his throat, his agitation and discomfiture somehow greater. “Tim lost control of the car. They spun and came to rest in some trees. Died on impact.” He stopped talking, but the pregnant pause meant more was coming. “You were in the backseat. Complete unscathed.”

  Amber’s intake of air into her lungs reverberated around the room. Her hand came up to her mouth, smothering a scream, a moan, a question. Tank would never know.

  “She had named me guardian. We lived with Nona while I was in college. And, when I graduated, I adopted you. You know all the rest. You know I took care of you. Everything else, you know is the truth.”

  “The truth?” she spit. “Whose fucking truth?”

  Tank knew Franco wanted to respond, to reassure her, but he finally understood he needed to let her have a moment to get this all out.

  “Why are you telling me this now? You’ve had years to tell me. All this time, this is why you’ve downplayed having a daughter. So, why the fuck is this coming up now?”

  Franco’s eyes darted to Tank, and Tank’s heart dropped. Amber’s wild eyes followed Franco’s gaze and locked on Tank. It was like he was in the hotel room again, laying his heart on the line.

  “What does this have to do with you?”

  “Madison was—”

  “Are you shitting me?” she said, cutting him off, her voice an octave higher than normal. “Madison Shepard knows about this? Fuck! What the fuck?”

  He didn’t want to tell her. He wanted to take it all away and protect her from all of it. But he knew he couldn’t hold back even though he was going to completely shatter her world.

  “Steele gave Madison some leads on Rowdy Daniels.”

  Amber flinched, and Tank hated himself even more.

  “She was following the leads, and she figured it all out.”

  “So, this is a story for your fuck buddy?”

  This time, Tank flinched. “Amber,” he said tenderly, the word a caress, like the way he’d whisper her name before he buried himself inside her. He saw the thread of understanding, the way her body responded to his tone. She relaxed for a moment, and he took advantage. “She’s not going to use this in her story. She’s using it to keep me from saying that the child she’s pregnant with isn’t mine.”

  The dulled edges she’d shown seconds before hardened into razor-sharp borders. “She’s pregnant?”

  Tank nodded.

  “Who’s the father?”

  He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Steele.”

  “How do you know it’s not yours?” she asked.

  “I don’t.” Everything drained out of her then. “But the timing isn’t right. She doesn’t think it’s mine, and I don’t either.”

  Amber scanned the room. She took in the three of them—searching for an ally, he thought. He saw the moment she decided she couldn’t trust any of them.

  “I gotta go. Don’t…” She shook her head and started toward the door. “Don’t you dare—any of you—don’t you dare come after me.”

  Then, she ran.

  And no one followed.

  Amber had nowhere to go. For the first time since she’d moved in with Tank, she regretted it. The desire to curl up in Tank’s plush bed overwhelmed her. The smooth weigh
t of his cotton sheets, his cushioned comforter, Tank’s hard body butted up against hers—it all beckoned her. She wanted the safety of his house. As she drove, it struck her that, in her head, she was suddenly referring to the house as his and not theirs. She traversed the roads from Franco’s in a daze, wishing for an escape from all the truths they’d thrown at her.

  Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel. She tried to remember anything Franco had ever said to her about her mother. Did he tell her that her mother had left her with him and split? Had she ever asked? Did she make it up in her head? It was all so confusing because she couldn’t recall ever having a conversation about her mother. She’d just accepted that Franco was her father. She’d never even missed having a woman to guide her.

  Nothing exonerated him in her mind.

  She couldn’t think. She had to get somewhere to think. Grabbing her purse, she reached inside for her phone. Without considering anything else, Amber called Keira.

  “Hey,” came the happy newlywed voice through the line. “How are you?”

  Amber didn’t even bother with a greeting. “I need to talk to Madison. Text me her contact information,” she demanded.

  She heard Keira say something before she disconnected, and the phone’s home screen reappeared. Then, she waited as she drove aimlessly on the back roads through the outskirts of Atlanta. She didn’t have a destination in mind, but after an hour of wandering, she wasn’t totally surprised when she found herself on the road in front of Tank’s loft. Her choked laughter sounded in the car as she let herself acknowledge her desire to be there with him.

  She didn’t have any reason to be angry with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if Madison were pregnant, it had happened before her. And, if Steele had sent Madison down this path, how could she be angry with Tank?

  She pulled the wheel sharply left and skidded into the driveway. She pushed the button in her car, the one Tank had programmed, that let her into the garage. She parked, and relief seeped into her bones, calming her.

  Home.