Best Friend’s Sister

by Banks, R. R.

  “You will. I know you will,” he says softly, knowing the relationship hell I’ve been through in my life. “Next time we go out to eat, though, we’re going to demand a young, good looking waiter.”

  “You need to come up with your own plan,” I fire back at him, laughing.

  My brother picks up his glass and takes a sip, looking at me intently over the rim. His eyes sparkle in the light of the candle on the table and his lips are curled upward in a smile. He just sits there, staring at me and says nothing for a long time.

  “What?” I finally break the silence.

  “You know, I’m proud of you, Felicity,” he announces. “I know that Mom and Dad would be proud of you too.”

  A wistful smile touches my lips as a wave of nostalgia rolls over me as I think about our parents. They died just shy of my thirteenth birthday, and I’d been devastated. Peter had just gotten his scholarship and was making plans to head for the east coast to start his college career – and what he’d hoped was going to be the first step on his journey to playing pro football.

  After they died, we went to live with our aunt, though honestly, Peter did more to raise me than she ever did – even from New York. He almost didn’t go, though – arguing that he needed to stay in Seattle and help raise me. I refused to hear it and basically had to kick him out of Washington. And even then, I barely got him to leave. But he called me almost daily, helped me with homework over Skype, and talked to me about everything going on in my life.

  And all things considered, I think it all turned out pretty well. I only wish our parents were around to see us. To be with us. To celebrate our achievements and milestones with us. I know they’d be proud of both of us – although my dad would probably still be giving me trouble about getting a ‘real’ job. He was a blue-collar guy who was practical and pragmatic. He was a person who believed in a hard day’s work and didn’t put a lot of stock in things like the arts.

  Our mother, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She was like – a hippy. She was a free spirit, a bright, shining light who brought a smile to the face of everybody around her. She was a painter and a poet who lived for music and passion. She had mild commercial success as an artist but for her, it was about the act of creation and bringing something beautiful into the world.

  They couldn’t have been more opposite in most every way and yet, their love was undeniable. Our father doted on our mother in every way possible, catering to her every whim and desire. He did everything in his power to make her happy and she did the same. I have no doubt that had that drunk driver not killed them, they would have lived to be old and gray – and as happy at the end as they were at the start – together.

  When it comes to love and romance, I tend to be pretty cynical. I avoid relationships like the plague. It’s partly because I don’t want to be hurt and partly – okay, mostly – because I doubt I’m ever going to find the type of love my parents shared. Not that I’ll ever admit it to anybody, but I want that kind of love, and I don’t think I’m ever going to find it. And I don’t want to settle for less than what I want.

  “I miss them,” I admit. “I miss them a lot.”

  “I still think of them every single day,” Peter shares.

  We both wear the same, sad smile upon our lips as the memories of our folks roll through our minds. I pick up my wine glass.

  “To our parents,” I toast. “They weren’t always perfect, but they always did the best they could.”

  “And they loved us unconditionally,” Peter replies, raising his own glass.

  “Yes, they did.”

  We tap our glasses together and take a drink, each of us letting the waves of love and nostalgia wash over us.

  Knox

  “Come on,” Haley stands up and shouts. “If Marvez can’t seal off the edge, they’re going to be moving the ball on this team all day.”

  I laugh as she retakes her seat, jaw clenched, cartoon-like steam practically billowing out of her ears. She takes the game far more seriously than I do – and I take it pretty seriously. Turning my attention to the play on the field, I cringe as the opposing receiver makes a cut and snags the ball out of the air. He turns quickly, loses the cornerback, and sprints the last thirty yards for a touchdown to put us down by three scores.

  “Son of a bitch. Where was Maynard on that play?” she roars. “I told you not to sign that guy. I told you he was soft in coverage, doesn’t take good angles to the ball, and doesn’t have the speed to match up with fast receivers. Shit.”

  I give her a smile. “I sometimes forget how much you know about football.”

  She shrugs. “One of the benefits of growing up a coach’s daughter,” she explains. “I know more about the game than most guys.”

  “You certainly know more about it than I do.”

  As the gun goes off, mercifully signaling the halftime break, I motion for the waitress to bring us a fresh round of drinks. Haley turns to me and smiles wide, clearly excited by all of this.

  “When you told me you were buying a football team, I have to admit that I was pretty damn stoked, Knox,” she beams. “I mean, of all the crazy shit you do, and all of these businesses you start up when you’re bored, this is by far the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  I laugh and drain the last of my drink, setting the glass down on the table in between us. Haley and I dated for about a year – until we realized we made far better friends than lovers, because she doesn’t exactly swing my way after all. Even now, she pesters me about how I turned her off all men for good. She’s a remarkable woman, and about the only person in this universe I truly trust with everything. Well, her and my buddies from the olden days – the infamous Five Amigos.

  She and I are the best of friends. I’m grateful to her for many, many things – not the least of which is being the one who pushed me to go see my father on his final day all those years ago. For that gift she gave me, I will be thankful to her forever.

  I stand up and walk to the large window that overlooks the field. The vantage point from the owner’s luxury box is absolutely perfect. I watch the halftime entertainment out there – it’s our cheer squad and a marching band from one of the local schools. I open the windows and let the sounds and smells of the stadium waft in. There’s a pretty healthy and very enthusiastic crowd out there – they love their Seattle Reign.

  I picked the name because I thought it was a clever play on words, since the region is famous for the amount of rainfall it gets every year. But I also liked the allusion to royalty – my team will be kings of this league. As long as we get new cornerbacks and somebody who can seal the edge like Haley says, that is.

  When a couple of spring pro football leagues came into existence, I knew I needed to get in on it. I played back in prep school but wasn’t good enough to play in college. But I still have a passion for the game. And since I can’t play, I figured owning a team was the next best thing, so I jumped on the opportunity. It’s not like I can’t afford it.

  It’s not the same as being on the field and sharing that camaraderie the guys share in a locker room. But at least it keeps me around a game I love. Honestly, I don’t know a damn thing about running a franchise – from the business side of things, anyway. I’d always thought I had a decent eye for football talent and could contribute to building my franchise from that direction.

  To compensate for my lack of knowledge about the financials of a sports franchise, I’ve hired some really outstanding people to do that for me. But Haley is showing me that I’m not nearly as good at scouting players as I think I am. Thanks to a lot of the guys I picked up, our first game isn’t off to a great start – but it’s just the first game, and there’s still time to turn it around.

  No, this isn’t the NFL and who knows if the league is viable long-term – the NFL sucks up a lot of the oxygen and no upstart league has yet to be able to compete. But I like the business model of this league and had the money to invest, so they gave me a franchise. Which is pretty go
ddamn cool.

  “You need to get in Haddock’s ear,” she refers to our head coach. “You need to tell him to sit Maynard and put Anders in.”

  “Think so?” I question. “Anders doesn’t have a great first step and he doesn’t jam real well off the line.”

  “Yeah but he’s got great closing speed and fantastic length,” she corrects me. “He can high-point the ball better than most of the receivers out there.”

  I thought I knew the game pretty well, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious to me that Haley knows more about it every day than I’m ever going to know. She’s sharp as a tack and knows the game inside and out. Like she said, it’s the benefit of growing up a coach’s daughter.

  The waitress drops off our drinks and departs. Haley picks up her glass and leans back in her seat, grinning at me.

  “What?”

  Haley shakes her head. “I’m just wondering what it’s like to be you,” she muses. “To just do whatever you want to do. To indulge your every notion and whim.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you do whatever the hell you want to do. You have no idea what you really want to do with your life so you do – everything,” she laughs.

  “Not everything,” I argue.

  She scoffs. “You thought owning a ski resort in Colorado would be fun, so you bought one.”

  “Free skiing every season,” I tip her a wink.

  “You thought opening a beachside resort in Cabo would be fun, so you did that.”

  “You can’t tell me that place isn’t fun.”

  “You thought being a private investigator would be fun, so you got your license and started a company –”

  I flash her a grin. “And I was right – it is fun. A lot of fun,” I defend myself. “There are some seriously twisted people out there.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Be that as it may, you see the pattern here, don’t you?”

  “I see the pattern you’re trying to create.”

  “Oh, the pattern is very real, mister,” she goes on. “You get bored easily and don’t have a fixed career path. So, you just do whatever strikes your fancy.”

  The band is finishing their performance on the field as halftime starts to wrap up. I motion to the waitress to bring us one more round then turn back to Haley.

  “It’s not like I just fly into things all half-cocked with my eyes closed, you know,” I admonish her. “I have certain concrete criteria I consider before I even begin to do the legwork on something.”

  She arches an eyebrow at me. “Oh? And what are these magic criteria?”

  “Three things,” I start. “First, it has to be something that intrigues me.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Second, it has to be profitable,” I go on. “I’m not in the business of giving money away.”

  She laughs. “Fair enough. And the third?”

  “Well it has to be fun, of course.”

  “Oh, of course,” she agrees.

  “You know I don’t do things without thinking. I’m not just jumping into things blindly,” I inform her. “Believe it or not, I do my homework before I do anything.”

  “I believe you. I know how thorough you are when you sink your teeth into something,” she tells me, eyeballing me skeptically. “I just question your process between point A and point B.”

  “Well, that process is allowing us to enjoy a game from the luxury of our very own box.”

  Haley raises her glass. “This is very true. And cheers to that.”

  I toast her in return, and we drain our glasses as the waitress drops off a fresh round on the table between our seats. Haley is still laughing, clearly still amused. She’s always teased me about being a spoiled, pampered rich boy doing nothing with my life but screwing off. It may not look like it from the outside but between my charitable foundations and my less – social – business ventures like the resorts in Colorado and Cabo, I think I do some good in this world.

  I just like to have fun and enjoy my life on top of it all. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

  “We’ve only got so many days on this rock, Haley. I want to make the most of them,” I say. “And besides, it’s not like you didn’t grow up with money. As best as I recall, you live a pretty comfortable lifestyle yourself.”

  She laughs and gives me the finger. “The key word there is ‘comfortable’. I’m not going to lie, my family did pretty well,” she shoots back. “But it’s not like I have the money to buy a football franchise just because I get the urge one day.”

  “Touché.”

  I take my seat again as my team kicks off to start the second half. I grimace as I watch the opposing team’s kick returner slice his way through my return team, taking the ball back across the midfield line. The way their offense – and my defense – have been playing, they’ll be able to cover that in just a couple of plays and put us down by four touchdowns.

  Haley sighs dramatically. “You need a new special teams’ coach. This unit is just embarrassing.”

  “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list of things we need.”

  We talk about the team for the rest of the game. More specifically, we talk about how poorly the team is playing. And even more specifically, Haley does most of the talking, telling me why each and every player I picked up fails on every level. The positives of the roster I put together are few and far between – and I can’t say a whole lot given the 51-7 beatdown I just watched my team absorb.

  As we watch the disappointed fans filing out of the stadium, Haley and I sit back in our seats sipping our drinks. The silence between us is comfortable – the kind that only comes from a long, enjoyable friendship between two people.

  “You need a woman, Knox,” she announces. “A good woman.”

  I laugh. “So, you’ve picked apart all of my team’s failings already, so now you’re moving on to my personal failings?”

  She flashes me a grin and gestures at the departing crowd. “Looks like we’ve got some time to kill.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I’m not picking on you, Knox. I’m really not.”

  “Oh, it just seems that way, huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I grin and take a long swallow from my glass. Every so often, Haley likes to get on me about my dating habits. Now and then, she’ll even try to set me up with one of her friends. She’s had a girlfriend for the last few months and is blissfully happy. And because she’s walking on clouds every single day, she feels compelled to spread that joy.

  “I just want to see you happy with somebody, Knox,” she pushes. “And I don’t think your one or two-day flings are going to make you happy in the long run.”

  I shrug. “They make me happy enough for that day or two.”

  She punches me playfully in the shoulder. “Such a pig.”

  “Oink oink.”

  “I’m serious, Knox. I think having a good woman in your life will help settle your mind and spirit,” she continues. “I think it will fill that hole inside of you.”

  “Oh, I have a hole inside of me now?” I laugh. “Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Winston.”

  We laugh together, but her words remind me of a conversation I had a long time ago. It was at a party the night I graduated from college actually. I don’t remember most of the conversation or who it was with. As best I remember, it was somebody I was either dating – or trying to screw, knowing me. But what stands out in my mind as clear as day were those exact words – I have a hole inside of me.

  I remember laughing at the time she said it all those years back, but with Haley saying the same thing now, I’m not laughing quite as loud. I like to think I’m a pretty self-aware guy and know myself inside and out. But is it possible they’re seeing something in me I’m not seeing in myself?

  As much as I hate to admit it – maybe. I suppose it’s possible.

  “Come on, Haley. You know I don’t do relationships,” I explain. “It’s w
hy we didn’t work.”

  A sharp bark of laughter erupted from her throat. “That was pretty low on the list of reasons we didn’t work, Knox.”

  I give her a wry grin. “Fair point.”

  I haven’t been in what I would consider a serious relationship since Haley and I broke up years ago, and frankly, I haven’t really been looking for one. Emotional entanglements rarely fail to get messy, and I try to avoid those sorts of complications in my life. They drag me down and I’m trying to live my best life here – one free of the negative emotion’s relationships can bring with them.

  Maybe that makes me cynical. Maybe it makes me an asshole. Either way, I’m not interested in anything more than enjoyment and pleasure in the short term – and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

  “I just want to see you happy, Knox.”

  “And you don’t think I can be happy flying solo?”

  She arches an eyebrow at me. “I think you can be happier sharing your life with somebody,” she urges. “Don’t you ever get lonely? Don’t you ever want to come home to somebody, tell them about your day? Don’t you want to go to sleep next to somebody knowing they’ll be there when you wake up? Don’t you want that deeper, more intimate connection with somebody? The kind that lasts more than a day or two, I mean.”

  I give her a smile and look away. I won’t lie – sometimes I get a little lonely. Sometimes, when I come home to that big empty place, I feel a little melancholy. But it’s easy to ignore and so I do. Honestly, I don’t see myself ever getting serious with anybody. It’s just not in my nature.

  Haley reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good guy and I want to see you happy. I just want the best for you.”

  My smile is tight and feels a little wooden on my face. I don’t really know what to say. Not everybody is cut out to be in a relationship. And I guess I’m one of those people.

  “I know you do, Haley. And I appreciate it.”