Linebacker’s Second Chance(26)

I have the itch to pick up a bottle of fine whiskey and start drinking it, but I feel sick when I remember the look on Renata’s face after that party. I feel sicker when I think of the stories that popped up about me in the papers, the things that woman said. A week later, and Renata and Wingate assure me that this news will replace what’s being said about me. They assure me this engagement will get me started in the season, that it’ll eventually get me through the whole thing. It seems an awful length to go to avoid getting fired, but I reckon people have done a lot of stupid shit for that very reason over the course of human history.

The best I can do is go out there with my head held up high. Renata makes it her business to know what’s best for professional athletes, and I have to put my trust in her. “Fine,” I say, looking over to Wingate. “You all win. I don’t want to lose this.”

Wingate nods, and it’s only after he leaves the room that I’m not sure what I’m talking about. Lose what? Is it football I’m thinking about, or is it the woman pulling the strings?

I shake away the thought and pull on my button-down shirt and the expensive jeans that Renata found at the back of my closet. I’m as polished as I ever am, which isn’t saying much.

I paste on a smile, and walk out into the living room, where Kinley Edwards, country star, is waiting. She’s a cute enough girl with long flowing hair and shapely legs. Her face doesn’t have any of the intelligent depth of Renata’s, or the high cheekbones or the deep brown eyes I fell in love with.

But this is all pretend.

I don’t have to fall in love, and looking at Kinley, I know I won’t.

I go up to her and shake her hand.

“Nice to officially meet you, business partner,” I say, shaking her hand.

“Same,” she says with a wink I'm not sure if I like. “Now let’s rock this relationship like nobody’s business.”

After that, things become a blur. There are people starting to arrive, and for once, I fall into the rhythm of behaving like a normal human being, which I suppose is the best thing for my career.

Going through the motions, I remind myself that there are many celebrities who have gone through the same arrangement, and some of them have even built real relationships. I don’t hold out hope for that. But I think of it when I get the creeping feeling that something is wrong, that it I’m going against the natural order of my life.

I’ve had that feeling for the past six years, I realize. I’ve usually just covered it up with booze and more and more women, but tonight I’m feeling it for the first time, trying to understand what it means. I purposefully walk past the open bar, even though my hand is itching to have a full glass in it. I greet the football players and their wives, trying to focus, trying to drive away the dread I feel about this whole damn situation.

There’s the job—a job I love, a job I need. And it’s only sunk in the last week how very little I know about keeping that job. There’s even a message sitting in my voicemail from the owner, Eddie Davidson, telling me how delighted he was about my budding relationship with Kinley Edwards. As an aside, he’d added that he’d be happy to keep me through the season if things went well with Kinley.

A threat. That’s what it was. And like she always has been, Renata is right. Right about Eddie. Right about this plan.

Still, I can’t help looking over at Kinley and wishing she were different. Wishing her blond hair was deep black. Wishing her full lips were stained cherry red. Wishing her skin and eyes were a deep golden brown, that her brain was sharper, that her career was less frivolous and far more focused. Without alcohol surging in my system, it’s clear to me that I’d rather she were Renata.

But Renata wasn’t up for the role. Not after what I did, anyway. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Wingate told me she won’t even walk the hundred yards up to the house for the party.

I don’t blame her. By God, I don’t.

After a spell, I get dragged into a conversation with Kinley and my friend Darius, whose date is conspicuously absent. Kinley throws her hand over my arm, and Darius rolls his eyes slightly in my direction. Despite his read of the situation, the conversation flows easily, and Kinley and I fall into a rhythm, joking and maybe actually enjoying each other’s company.

I turn and walk across the room to refill her wine, and at the door, there’s a shadow. Standing about five foot eight, with deep black hair and a hint of red on her lips. My stomach threatens to drop out of my body altogether, and it takes all of the will power I have to pull myself away and walk back to Kinley.