by Eva Luxe
“That’s great,” I said, and threw back the last of my drink, slamming the glass down on the counter. I had to get the hell out of here. I turned toward the door, slipping through the pop-up crowd that circled the Sharks where they stood at the bar. Thank God for star-struck fans.
I made it all the way to the curb outside before Jacob caught up with me.
“Wait, buddy,” Jacob said. God, I was so not his buddy. “Don’t leave, not yet.”
I turned toward Jacob, not even trying to look happy anymore.
He soldiered on, ignoring the annoyance on my face. “Do you want to come to my practice on Monday? We’re gearing up for the season and it’s getting rough.”
I shook my head. “Honestly? I don’t. Thanks.”
Jacob’s face fell. I’d hurt him. If I cared, I would have felt bad. But I was done watching this man get everything he’d ever wanted, from the glittering career to the woman he loved, all the while, I had ended up alone. And that had been despite an assault charge with a different team. The world should have shunned him but instead, they had fallen in love with him all over again when he’d shown them those baby blue eyes. We used to be friends once but that had been a long time ago.
“Oh, okay,” Jacob said, as he tried to look upbeat, like it didn’t bother him. I knew exactly how that felt.
I flagged a cab that happened by, as if sent by God himself. It stopped beside me, empty. Small miracles. I opened the door and slammed it behind me without saying goodbye to Liam. When the cab pulled off I didn’t look back to see my brother-in-law standing on the curb. I didn’t want to feel sorry for how I was behaving.
Liam had been as much a part of my life as Kina was. He had been like family, long before he actually was. We had dreamed of football together. At school we had been on the same team, a dangerous duo that steamrolled all of our opponents. We both made it to college on a football scholarship and vowed we would make the Sharks team together.
When they had approached Jacob and not me, I’d expected him to turn it down. Together, or not at all, right?
But he hadn’t done that. He’d come to me afterward, telling me he couldn’t turn it down, and that I would have done the same thing. He’d told me he was sorry. It pissed me off because he was right, I would have done the same thing. But it pissed me off even more that he rose to glory without me and I was stuck with a broken dream. I had started drinking alcohol, desperately trying to fill the cracks. For years I had blamed him.
All that was behind me, now. Everything but the jealousy. That, I couldn’t shake.
When I walked into my apartment, flicking on the lights, I was irritated. I had only barely begun to feel tipsy before I’d had to leave. Now, it was still early and I was going to be completely sober in less than half an hour. Here in my apartment, the silence had a rhythm of its own, a reminder that I had amounted to nothing.
I didn’t have anyone special in my life, either, no one I could call and sing my woes to. I’d had someone special, once. She had been everything to me. I had lost her shortly before losing everything else, and no one had come close to replacing her ever since.
So, it would be me, myself, and I tonight.
Fucking fantastic.
The blinking light on my answering machine caught my eye, telling me someone had been looking for me. Probably Louie, before he’d tried my cell. I pushed the recall button and Kina’s voice filled my apartment.
“Hi, Kyle,” she said. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope you’re doing okay, your silence really worries me.” Right. Because a while ago, my silence had meant I was locked up or passed out drunk underneath a park bench. “Call me when you get a chance, okay? I was hoping—” I cut off the message before it ended. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t care what she was hoping. She was a football wife, now. She was happy and in love. She didn’t need me.
And she was only a reminder of everything I’d lost, married to the man that had gotten it all instead. I didn’t need her, either.
I erased the message. She knew I didn’t get arrested anymore, my days of sitting in the drunk tank at the police station were over. When she said she was worried about me it was because I was still alone at twenty-seven. Well, no man died because he didn’t have a woman.
Walking to my bedroom, I collapsed on the bed. I stopped fighting away the darkness and let the depressed feeling swallow me. I wished I had someone I could turn to about this, someone I could share my life with. Someone I could call and vent to when I was as pissed off as I’d been in the cab.
The only woman I’d ever been able to do that with was Maya, a girl I had dated for two years in college, back when my future had still been laid out before me. But I had lost her. It was a damn shame, too. If I’d ever loved anyone, it had been her.
But shit happened, life moved on and I was sure, so had she. It hurt too much to think about still another thing I had lost, so I switched off the thoughts and closed my eyes, focusing on the black behind my eyelids, the darkness in the room, the nothingness inside of me.
Until I drifted off.
Chapter 2
Maya
I was at cheerleading practice— my favorite place to be. Exercise created endorphins and I was addicted to it. I had been active my whole life. There was nothing better than muscle pain after training hard, the feeling of adrenaline in my veins and feeling of being alive.
I had been a cheerleader in school and in college. I had auditioned to be a part of the Florida Sharks Cheerleading Squad and by some miracle, they had accepted me. I’d started training with them last week.
“How are you fitting in?” Dina asked me when we took a water break.
“Oh, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” I said. Dina was the coach who had overseen the auditions. She had insisted they take me.
“You look like you’re managing,” she smiled.
I nodded, “The training is a little more intense than I’m used to these days, but I love a challenge.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dina said, and joined the other coach.
I sipped my water and watched some of the other cheerleaders chatting in groups. They weren’t even breaking a sweat while I sat on the bench, dripping and breathing hard. I would get there, I promised myself.
I knew I would.
The squad was amazing. I wasn’t exactly a part of it yet, I felt like a bit of an outsider, but that would change. In time, we would be a team the way I had been at school and at college.
In college, I had studied Sports Science. I had wanted a career in sports even after I was too old to be a cheerleader, although that wouldn’t be for quite a few years. I’d worked hard and played hard and loved hard. I had lived the dream in college and I was doing the same, now.
“Alright, ladies, time’s up,” Dina called, and we walked onto the field again. My legs felt like jelly and I was still breathing hard; the short water break hadn’t exactly been enough to recover.
“Let’s look at lifts,” Dina said. I was grateful. I was one of the cheerleaders being lifted, not doing the lifting. Thank God. My arms felt like spaghetti and I might have dropped someone.
When training was over, I fished my phone out of my bag and checked it. Sara had been looking for me even though she knew what time my practice ended.
“What’s up?” I asked when I returned her call.
“We’re tackling the box room,” she said.
I groaned, “I can’t unpack, today. I’m dying after training.”
“Muscle up, honey,” Sara said. “See it as a post-workout bonus.”
I laughed.
“I’ll throw in a bottle of wine.”
“Oh, you know just how to win me over,” I said, laughing and ending the call.
Sara and I had been friends since high school. She was like a sister to me. Even though we were practically joined at the hip, we were polar opposites in so many ways.
I had long dark hair. She had a blonde pixie cut. My eyes were a
deep chocolate brown, hers were a sparkling green. I had a natural tan where Sara was white as a ghost.
We came from very different backgrounds. I had grown up with the knowledge that I had to work my ass off for anything I wanted in life, where Sara was a trust-fund-baby who had everything fall in her lap. That didn’t stop us. Sara was a snob, but I was outspoken, and we were at each other as much as we loved each other.
It worked for us.
We had moved to a beach condo a few weeks ago. Sara had bought it, a cash deal, of course, and I was rooming with her because where else would I go? She’d asked me to move in with her with that very line. We had been roommates since college, so of course, I agreed.
We had only unpacked the most important boxes since the move, and still had a whole room full of unopened boxes that we fondly referred to as the box room. Well, today that was going to change, apparently.
“I’m back,” I said, when I got home. “I need to shower, I’m drenched.”
“You smell like it, too,” Sara said, coming into the room. She wore faded designer jeans and a crop top that showed off her flat stomach. She pinched her nose. I stuck out my tongue at her and we laughed.
When I was done showering I joined Sara in the box room.
“I think we need to do the ornaments, first,” Sara said, standing with her hands on her hips.
“I vote for unpacking the wine glasses first,” I said. Sara agreed and opened the box with the wine glasses and whiskey tumblers, things we hadn’t needed until now. We poured two glasses of wine, carried two boxes to the living room and started working.
“You’re in a sad career when it comes to male talent,” Sara said, unpacking photo frames. “Being surrounded by women all day isn’t good for your psyche. Trust me, I know.”
Sara worked at a law firm that represented battered women, so they were all women in the office.
“It’s not like I’m dying to meet a man,” I said. “I have my career to focus on.”
“Only you would make a career of jumping around and shaking your pompoms as hard as you shake your ass,” Sara said.
I laughed, “Only you would make a career out of arguing.”
“Touché,” she said, clinking her glass against mine. “Seriously Maya, you need a man,” she added.
I shook my head. “For what? One broken heart is enough, thank you very much.”
“Come on, it’s part of life. If I had stopped after my heart got broken I wouldn’t have met Charlie.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think you’ll get your heart broken if you end it with Charlie. You never get your heart broken.”
“That’s because getting attached is overrated,” Sara said.
I shook my head. There was no arguing with Sara. Her logic was backward but it worked for her. It didn’t work for me. I got attached when I was in a relationship, I took love seriously and when it was ripped way, it hurt.
I had dated a guy in college for almost two years and breaking it off with him had stung like a bitch. I wasn’t looking for something like that again unless the guy was worth my while. And so far, none the guys I’d met had been worth any of my time.
My phone rang. I got up and found it in my bag, looking at the caller ID.
“God, not again,” I wailed.
“Who is it?” Sara asked.
“Guess.”
Sara looked irritated. “There’s only one person that gets that reaction from you. God, I’m getting sick of him.”
“You and me both,” I said. I watched the phone ring until my voicemail picked up the call. There was no way I was answering it.
Two years ago, when I had thought I would brave the dating scene again, I had gone on a date with a guy named Tyler. He had been sweet but a little overbearing, so I’d told him I wasn’t interested in a second date.
I’d figured that mainly, I wasn’t over my ex, and hadn’t been ready to plunge back into the dating scene— not that I ever really would be, it turned out, because to this day I still really hadn’t found myself able to go on dates. But also, no matter the reason, I just knew Tyler wasn’t my type. Unfortunately, he had decided I was exactly his type and he wouldn’t leave me alone. Ever.
He kept track of my life, where I was, and who I was with. He was one step short of a restraining order, which was the only reason I hadn’t gotten one against him. If I had been able to, I would have done it in a wink.
“Are you going to listen to it?” Sara asked, when my phone beeped with a new voice message.
I sighed, “I don’t want to hear what he has to say, but if I don’t listen to it I’m not going to know what he’s doing this time. I have to know what he’s up to.”
Sara shrugged. She couldn’t argue with me. The old adage rang true: know your enemies.
I dialed the number for the voice mailbox and listened.
“Why did you move, Maya?” he asked.
That was it. It was a short message, but it gave me the chills. I saved the voice message in case I had to use it as evidence against him, then sat down next to Sara again. I had abandoned the box I was unpacking.
“What did he say?” Sara asked.
I sighed. “He asked why we moved.”
“How the hell does he know this? Did you post it on Facebook?”
I shook my head. I had stopped broadcasting my life on Facebook, keeping my contact details and location private. I didn’t ‘check-in’ when I went to restaurants with friends, I didn’t post photos until the next day. I tried everything to throw Tyler off my scent.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m starting to think the guy put a tracker on me or something.”
Sara downed the last of her wine. “This is bullshit. If I see him, he’ll be sorry he’s following you around.”
But that was the problem. We never saw him. He was like a ghost, knowing what went on in my life but never showing his face. If he had, I would have faced him ages ago.
“What are you doing to do about it?” Sara asked.
“I don’t know. There’s not much I can do. I went to the police, but you know what they said.”
“That you can’t get a restraining order because he’s not physically harassing you, I know. He’s never doing anything to hurt you. But it’s horrible, anyway.”
“I don’t know how to get rid of him,” I said.
“Well, first you have to change your number. Again.”
I groaned. “God, that is such a hassle, and it’s not that simple. I have to change it everywhere, with the banks, and all my various accounts, not to mention my friends and my job.”
“I know,” Sara said. “But it’s better than a happily ever after with Tyler.”
I had to agree with her. I wanted nothing to do with him. He had seemed nice when we had gone out on our one little date. He wasn’t a knight in shining armor by a long shot but I hadn’t disliked him.
I sure disliked him now, though.
“I don’t think anything would get him off your case unless you were permanently unavailable,” Sara said, sitting back against the couch.
“Like what, marriage?”
Sara shrugged.
“Who am I going to get married to? I’m not even dating.”
“That’s a problem. You see? It’s just another reason for you to get a man.”
I laughed. “I’m pretty happy single for now. You’re a serial dater, so I know you don’t get it, but I have no intention of finding some guy for the sake of getting rid of my stalker. No matter how enticing that sounds. Before you know it, I have another stalker on my hands.”
We sat in silence for a while.
“You have to look at the positive side,” Sara said, when she finished the second glass of wine.
“There’s a bright side to this?”
“Always. Silver lining, you know? It means you’re a total bomb. Sexy and sassy and all that. Because someone wants you that badly.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Sara. I’m afraid it doesn’t as mu
ch mean I’m hot as it means that Tyler is a little psychotic.”
Sara rolled her eyes, “I was complimenting you.”
I laughed again. “And I appreciate it. But I’m so sick of this shit. I just want to be able to live my life without having to be so damn careful. Things are going really well for me right now, I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
“You can’t win them all,” Sara said, tipping her empty glass at me.
“Such sound advice,” I said dryly.
“Hey, what are friends for?” Sara asked, a big grin on her face.
Chapter 3
Kyle
When I opened my eyes on Sunday morning, my head pounded like grenades were going off in my skull. I turned my face into the mattress and groaned, but the pounding didn’t go away. I realized after a while that it wasn’t only a roaring headache, someone was actually pounding on my front door.
Dammit. I was not in the mood to play nice. I just wanted to turn over and sleep. Maybe for a whole year. If I stayed in bed, whoever it was would catch a hint.
I had no idea who it could be. I didn’t get many visitors— surprise or expected. Ever since my breakup years ago, I kept to myself. I couldn’t fucking find it within me to be interested in seriously pursuing a woman. I just wanted to be left alone by the world.
I closed my eyes, but the constant thumping didn’t stop and it only made my headache worse. I had to get up and stop whoever was out there from knocking so incessantly if I wanted to survive.
“Coming,” I called out and rolled off the bed. I groaned, clawing my head. It ached and throbbed and the light that came through curtains I had been too drunk to draw last night stung my eyes. I had stayed in last night and drank a full bottle of whiskey all by myself. I regretted it now that I had a cottonmouth and I felt like a drill bit was forcing its way into my brain.
I pulled a shirt over my head and shorts over my boxers, so I didn’t look like I’d rolled straight out of bed. In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face so that I didn’t look as horrific as I felt. I looked at the toilet, wondering if it was safe to walk to the front door without hugging the toilet and emptying the contents of my stomach, first.
