Rebecca’s mouth puckered into a smug pout. “Tabatha Lawson. Your sister.”
I looked at her and then took the phone. A tiny mole sat top left corner of Tabatha’s mouth, same position as Taj’s. “How old is she?” I should’ve known her age, and I overlooked the twinge that rippled through my neck muscles.
“Tabby’s six. And she asks about you, too. She tells all her friends you’re her brother. Not many believe her.” Reproach displaced Rebecca’s smugness, and for a minute, I felt like the younger version of my dad. The ugly in a person I didn’t want to amount to, but on the crooked track to becoming.
I speculated what types of conversations Rebecca and my dad shared, because she was completely aware of the barrel she had me over and we both knew it.
I gave her back the cell phone. “And she knows about Taj?”
“Wants to see him more than she does you. Hand on my heart, Julian’s only ever said good things about both of you, so don’t look too surprised that we’ve grown up thinking of you as a magical, optical illusion. We watched your college football games on TV. When your dad went to the Chicago Draft, we watched that at home, too. We all supported you, Julian, whatever you might think.”
“Then why not just call, or text, or… I don’t know. Anything.” Leaving the suitcase, I walked by Rebecca to sit on the sectional. I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. If anything was to be resolved in my life, uniting two halves of a broken family wasn’t supposed to be it.
Rebecca pushed down the handle of her case and perched on top of it, crossing her arms as she borderline glared at me. “Why didn’t you? You didn’t want us, you hated us.”
I pinched my nose harder. “I never spoke to you.”
“My point in case. You never spoke to us, and you made it evident we weren’t to speak to you, either.”
“You’ve got your family, I’ve got mine.”
Rebecca’s glossed lips formed a pinched line as I opened my eyes, reminding me of when Taj would regularly take a hissy-fit. “Except Tabby is your family.” She threw up her hands. “Fine, you can do without me. Whatever, I’ll go home and never bother you again. But are you really okay with turning your back on a sister who could one day need you? Could need Taj. She has one male figure in her life and you’re in a position to give her three. Your blood runs in her veins. Does that mean nothing to you?”
Before the picture… it meant nothing. Now I’ve seen her? I’m undecided. But indecision’s bad enough. Indecision meant Rebecca wouldn’t simply be walking out of here, leaving me to pack and mentally and physically prepare for my next game. Indecision meant I needed a good reason not to think over what Rebecca was asking of me.
“Julian?”
I looked up with an exaggerated sigh.
“I’ll go, just please don’t forget about her. Tabby’s the sweetest kid, and she looks just like you and Taj. Don’t take her family away from her, she doesn’t deserve that.”
Rebecca snatched her jacket from the couch, striding to the door in her tight trousers and narrow heels, her outfit packing the same amount of attitude she was born with.
How bad had I been in my life to deserve today?
“You can stay.” Before she’d opened the door, I’d settled back on the sectional, dragging my hands down my face in torment of my decision. “But you’re dog-sitting while I’m in California,” I said, laying down a reason and an excuse to keep her here. “You can manage a couple days here on your own? I can’t bring you with me.”
Rebecca’s mouth opened in an incredulous, gaping hole, progressively tightening into a veracious smile. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already am,” I muttered to the ceiling.
Standing out on the balcony, I leaned my lower back against the glass rail and dialed my mom’s cell. Salt, aromatic fried spices and a good time soaked the evening air.
I craned my neck to look behind me and down at the road. Rebecca crossed the street in brisk strides, making a late run to the bodega to pick up deodorant that she forgot to pack.
Two guys mooching along the sidewalk, sharing a liquor bottle and a paper bag, paused to holler at her. Ten stories below, I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I gathered the general idea when Tweedle Dee grabbed his crotch over his loose jeans.
My mom picked up and I turned and straightened. “Hi,” she said breezily.
I cut straight to the point. “Why? Why would you send her here?”
“Why is it every time we speak on the phone, you’re so rude? Is it too much to ask you to say hello?”
“Hello,” I restarted. “Now what have I done to you that you’ve sent Rebecca out here? You’re gonna need to tell me what’s going on in your head, because I thought you and me shared the same level of understanding.”
“What do you want me to tell you? Rebecca reached out and I responded. What happened between me and your dad shouldn’t be your issue, or his children’s—”
“She isn’t his child.”
“She isn’t, but—”
“No, Mom. I didn’t call to talk about them. I called to find out why you turned on me. Talk about picking your moments. It’s the middle of the season, what forced you to put this shit on me now?”
“It was…” The line fizzled with white noise. “… three or four months ago I spoke with Rebecca. I’m sorry if that upsets you. But you kept telling me to move on, and now I’m passing on the same to you.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up.”
“Wait! Is she there now? In your apartment?”
I couldn’t tell if that was giddiness in Mom’s voice or just a need to know if her interference had played out how she’d scripted it.
“Yes, she’s fucking here. Thanks to you. She shows at my door, no warning, no invite, and she’s brought this huge suitcase with her.” I looked back out onto the street.
“Don’t you swear at me, Julian Lawson!” There was the woman who was behind this shitshow. “I’m sorry if the timing’s off, but I never told her to do any of those things. I suggested she write you or call you, not spring herself on you cross-country.”
Rebecca’s blonde head and leather and lace strapped body emerged from the bodega’s brightly-lit doorway, a white plastic bag in her hand.
“She’s on her way back from the store, but I could have done without this bomb.” My mom knew nothing of the latest fiasco with Angel, I had to remind myself of that.
“I’m sorry, Julian. I was trying to help, and I screwed up. Please don’t send the village people after me. Did Rebecca tell you about Tabatha? Or have you taped her mouth shut?”
I smirked, puffing out a dying breath of laughter. “I’ve seen Tabatha.”
“She looks so much like Taj. Don’t you think so? The resemblance is scary.” The wistful note infiltrating my mom’s voice broke down the sinew in my grudge. I wasn’t too sold on her wanting me to move on. She was bringing my dad’s life into ours. If she was taking us anywhere, it was backward. Merging the past with the present.
“Yeah,” I said. I heard the apartment door close and Dog race across the floor. A second after, Rebecca cut across the living room rug, heading for the balcony. “Tabatha’s the only reason Rebecca’s even still here. This isn’t for me, Mom. Rebecca hasn’t been shown the door because I won’t dictate Taj’s life. But if my dad is the next person to show up here—”
She scoffed. “I would never do that to you. Besides, he’s too pig-headed to ask.”
Rebecca pulled open the glass door.
“She’s here. I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and sat in on of the lounge chairs. Rebecca sat in the one next to mine, dropping her grocery bag onto small, round table between us. She took Dog’s paws in her hands, drawing them up onto her thighs. His big body followed, and she cradled the furry beast like he was a five-pound newborn.
I watched the ocean, the palm trees and the swirl of moon and streetlight. All of it reminiscent of Angel. I hadn’t let
myself think of her as much as I’d have liked. If I didn’t have a game to prepare for, I’d have happily allowed our fight to consume me. Blind rage stopped me from fixating on the abortion. A secret termination that involved my would-be baby with the woman I thought for sure I’d make my wife.
If I hacked through the rage and gave where I was at the slightest hesitation of feeling, my brain short-circuited from the powerlessness I was straddled with.
I physically shook my head, chasing away the reminder. Rebecca’s eyes were strategic lasers scorching the side of my head.
“Dog ran away from my girlfriend yesterday, so be careful with him and never let him off his leash. He’s a pup, but he’s strong. You don’t need to take him too far when you go out. Far enough he can take a shit and stretch his legs. You’ve got my phone number?”
I turned my head and looked at Rebecca.
“I have your number.”
Even though you didn’t use it.
“Call me if you need to, doesn’t matter the reason. Only time I won’t answer is during my meetings and the game.”
One hand facetiously smothered Dog’s mouth when his tongue reached out to lick the underside of Rebecca’s jaw. “Where is your girlfriend?”
Not happening.
Evading the strike of privacy, I took Rebecca to the ground-floor guestroom where I’d earlier stored her suitcase. When I put my name down on this place, the bedroom adjoining mine on the other side of the master bathroom hadn’t bothered me. It was the second nicest room in the house, but Rebecca barging into my room anytime, day or night, guaranteed her a spot in the smaller bedroom downstairs.
Panting at the door, strolling from the double bed and back to me, Dog finally decided on his usual hangout, his unease just short of keeping him here. Rebecca kneeled in front of him, scrubbing under his ears with two hands. “This room and your house are beautiful. Thanks again for letting me stay. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow, but we can talk when you get home.” Blue eyes glanced up at me, probing for agreement.
“Sure.” I hooked a finger under Dog’s collar, exhorting him from his lavish petting. Since bringing him to live with me, he’d been spoiled by his fair share of women. A canine version of rags to riches.
“’Night, Julian.” Rebecca’s maundering was just audible. Quiet enough that I brushed it off and took myself to bed.
An hour of lying down with no sleep, I made my way downstairs and tapped a knuckle against Rebecca’s closed door.
Her answer floated from the other side of the without delay. “Come in.”
I pushed the door open enough to fit my body into the narrow space. “Get whatever you want while you’re here. I know I never said that, but… well, just use stuff when you want or need to. The bathroom or kitchen…there’s plenty of food.”
With the sheet clutched to her chest, bathed in a pale strip of moonlight, Rebecca smiled wide enough for it to appear noticeable. “Thank you.”
I nodded. That was all I wanted to say. “Okay.”
Ankles strapped with fresh tape, I laced my cleats and sat on the stool pulled up to my locker with my earbuds in and too much on my mind. It needed clearing out and fast. Rolling my shoulders to take the strain out of my muscles—particularly the right side—I closed my eyes and scrolled through this afternoon’s plays. The images wouldn’t run clear and I went out to the field to stretch and warm-up alone.
I wasn’t the only starter who preferred to do things solo. Most guys got game ready on their own, leaving the one or two rowdy guys pumped on adrenaline to bounce off the walls with each other. I was all for motivation, but after the downtime. I couldn’t think and scream at the same time. That wasn’t my game or style of play. Rewinding all the way back to high school and then college, I was never the loudest guy in the room, despite the faulty assumptions.
Once the individual pass-rush drills were underway, my stride regathered its pace and I eased back into my professional zone throwing an endless stream of footballs to my linesmen. Tyler, QB coach, handed off football after football and I sent each skin sailing through the air, pinning down my stride and timing. Music thumped throughout the Memorial Coliseum, the noise from the crowd a steady, roaring hum in the background. It was surprising what you couldn’t hear when you were on the field.
But she was here. In the stands behind our bench with one of her girlfriends from college. I’d landed one candid look directly into her honey-brown eyes and jogged the other way. Facing her could take a seat until after the game. To maintain my focus, I’d need to maintain my distance. Not intentionally to be a dickhead, but to guarantee my name on next week’s roster.
Without trying, Angel had the power to ruin that.
Wrapping up the offense against defense plays, Angela tried to catch my eye from the sideline during a water break before the team huddle, and I gave her my other cold shoulder. She’d know Dog hadn’t been booked into Doggy Day Care, and quite frankly, my ears were closed to whatever she was hustling on the spot to say. Her position on my list of shit to handle didn’t even make the bottom cut.
H ayden sipped her soda through the plastic straw in her takeout cup, her side glances becoming swifter and more rapid. “Have I missed something?” she said after a long slurp, her cynical gaze sticking this time around.
I could barely look her in the face. “Most of the game, because you’re constantly staring at me.”
“Funny, since Julian’s looked at you once.”
“I’m not what’s important for the next forty minutes.”
Hayden pressed her elbows to the railing, oversized black sunglasses and lilac hair overtaking my view. “Cut the crap, Rivera.”
I leaned back on my heel, my scalp burning under the blazing afternoon sun. It was so hot today. The crackling embers of heat called for a cloud. Just one. Or some of Santa Monica’s famous heavy fog to descend on The Coliseum and blot out the faux pas that was my life.
Hayden got in my face, the football game merely a rotational backdrop to her front and center aggression. “Angel, what have I so conveniently missed? Your boyfriend, who you never get to see, is in your hometown and neither of you could look less pleased about it. If you could, spare my intelligence. Graduating college is right there on my list of shit to achieve.”
“Hayden,” I warned. Up until now, I’d been relaxed. Tolerant. “Please, leave it.”
She reared back, heavily made-up eyes rounding from shock and too much beer before the game. Her cup lowered to the metal railing strung with NFL banners, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut and my emotions sealed. “Are you guys okay?”
“Sure we are.”
“Hold the phone. Which Angel’s on the line here? Obviously, something’s up, and obviously you don’t want to tell me. Fine, it’s your shit to handle. No need to hit me over the head twice. But he’s not being real subtle about it. Not as subtle and convincing as you, anyway.” Hayden rolled her eyes and dropped into her seat like gravity no longer existed.
“And why are you pissed?”
“Am I not your friend?” Fake eyelashes curled up to the harsh slash of her brows. “Do you not trust me?”
I leaned over to peer into her cup. Her hand snapped back to her chest, clear soda sloshing over the front of her skin-tight Rams jersey. “How much beer have you had?” I asked.
“Okay, whatever. Don’t tell me what’s wrong. But I’m not imagining this, am I?”
Since meeting Hayden that first day in study hall and finding out we were both Sociology undergrads, she’d never done anything to prove I couldn’t trust her or depend on her. We were far from a mirror and its reflection, but we had an understanding and a strong friendship. She didn’t pussy foot around me and tell me things I wanted to hear, then discuss what she really thought behind my back. At least, I didn’t think she did that. It wasn’t Hayden’s style to gossip and bitch. She was upfront and brutal at times.
But I was hurting her now, by keeping a secret big enough she might
never call me her friend again. I could be honest about Julian, though. It wasn’t like he was being conservative. His resentment coasted from the field to the overflowing stands, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and saw myself in TMZ’s headlines. Julian wasn’t making it that difficult to connect the dots and come up with a glowing conclusion.
I sat in my seat. “One day I’m in Miami, and the next I’m back here. Julian could love me or hate me, and I’d be none the wiser. He doesn’t call or text.” I glanced at Hayden beside me, who appeared to understand nothing of what I was saying. Didn’t make much sense to me, either. “I don’t even know if we’re still together anymore. I don’t know if I’ll hear from him tomorrow, next week…”
“So? You call him.”
Retelling only part of the story made explaining more complicated. Brought more questions.
“We just aren’t in a good place. It was always a possibility, long distance not working out. You get one small stress and it’s blown up into something beyond control. We both want the best, but what we want and what’s happening aren’t the same anymore.”
“Are you splitting up? It sounds like you’re splitting up.” Hayden looked dramatically distraught. “Did he cheat on you?”
I wished that was it. “No. Not that I know of. But I doubt he’d have time for another woman even if he wanted one.”
Hayden took a swig of her soda. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. Fuck, if you two can’t last, what hope do I have of keeping a guy?”
“Every hope. You’re beautiful, intelligent. You can be funny when you aren’t being so goddamn scary.” I laughed, wrapping my arms around my sullen friend in firm reassurance that I needed as much as she did. “And when you find someone you really want, you’ll keep him.” I nudged the underside of her jaw with my fist. “Chin up, eh?”
“Clip me on the jaw again and I’ll break your wrist, Rivera.”
Losing Seven (Falling for Seven Book 2) Page 18
