Scott
I don’t hate interviews.
Contrary to what had been said about me, I don’t have this innate, burning hatred for the media.
I was a private person; I liked my personal space and everything inside it to be kept inside my bubble.
However, I also recognized that without the media, football wouldn’t be as big of a sport as it was.
The endless game analysis, the detailed play-by-play animations, the constant dueling of commentators on what, who, why the best players and plays were – they all kept football relevant.
So even if I liked to keep to myself, I understood the business of football.
The media was necessary for the league.
It was why as a quarterback, I was required to do two interviews a week to the league’s media partners.
I could skip the interviews, I didn’t care about the fine, but I wouldn’t be setting up a good precedent to my teammates and to my fellow football players.
It was my responsibility as the leader of the Royals to show up with my mug, and right now I had to answer the questions that Jenny Carter, Sports News’ resident football analyst, was going to be asking me.
We were in a small office at TriMedia’s downtown location in Atlanta, a hell of a coincidence if you asked me. I didn’t think that the incident between Dex and I would be blasted all over the news, but it was what all of the sports stations seemed to be airing out this week, ahead of our game against the Falcons.
She’d prepped me with the questions by emailing them to me yesterday, and last night I was reading them while Bridge dozed off on the other side of the phone.
My girlfriend looked serene while she was sleeping, but I could hear the anxiety in her voice, and what she wasn’t telling me showed in her eyes.
Women have come and gone in my life. As long as I’d thrown a football, I’d known that girls liked to be with athletes. I dated lots of girls in high school who only wanted to be with me because I was a quarterback. How did I know they were only with me because I could throw a football?
Because that’s all they ever talked about.
Kara had been different. She rarely talked about football, and aside from her beauty, it was what attracted me to her and what gave me the guts to ask her out even if she was my best friend’s sister.
Kara didn’t mind that girls hung around me, she knew who I was with and that’s why I thought that it would be okay to break up with her time and time again and leave her hanging while I focused all of my attention on football.
I didn’t screw around with other girls, I had too much on my plate and I was actually happy with her.
When we broke up, it left a huge ass dent in my ego, and it also made me realize that I couldn’t take women for granted like that. That even when they said everything was okay, maybe not everything was.
I learned my lessons with Kara, and I didn’t want to make the same mistakes with Bridgette.
Not when she was the woman I could truly see myself being with past my football career. Past all the media hype. Past everything that was being hurled at us right now.
I felt the intrinsic need to protect Bridgette.
I wanted to shield her from the ugly side of fame, especially because I knew of her parents.
I wanted to keep her locked up and never let her out of my sight.
I felt her anger and frustrations last night when she talked about the reporters hanging around Paint Me Mine, the place where she worked part-time to help kids express themselves through painting. She hadn’t said a word to the reporters who followed her everywhere she went, but she’d raised her voice talking about the paparazzi knocking on the door of Paint Me Mine, wanting to get a look inside.
To Bridge, that was the last straw.
I was scared shitless that she was going to break up with me, that she’d finally had it and she was going to tell me to screw off and forget about her.
But my woman wasn’t easily breakable.
She’d been wary of the spotlight before, but now she was fighting back. I’d never forget the night when she wanted me to tell the world about her. I’d wanted to scream and shout to everyone that she was mine and I sorta did. I wanted it to be trickled out to the media slowly, effortlessly, so that the glare would be muted, but Dex had not made it easy on us.
So here I was, trying to change the rhetoric about what happened, play the offense as Coach had called it, so I wouldn’t have to do so much defense.
The green light had come on, communicating to me that we were now live on air.
The interview was being done live so there would be no chance for corrections and edits once the words came out of my mouth.
Jenny’s mouth started moving and her green eyes smiled at me as she gave the introductions, “I’m with Scott Strauss today, the Los Angeles Royals’ most valuable acquisition since their move from St. Louis to Los Angeles.”
I grinned at the camera, my right hand on my right leg, as I tried to diffuse the assortment of energy flowing through me. My agent, Trayton, had coached me this morning on what to wear, a simple dark blue dress shirt and slacks. He said that jeans were too casual, and since the setting was more intimate than the regular post-game interviews, he wanted me to look nicer.
I’d sent Bridge a picture this morning and she’d given me the thumbs-up emoji. Right now, she was in the lab so she’d see my interview after it aired.
“Thanks for having me here, Jenny.” I’d done a couple of interviews with Jenny. She was the consummate professional and she never strayed off the topic. I’d talked to her before and after interviews to know that she was happily married to the baseball player, Cristo Saxon, so I felt that she also knew the burden of fame when erroneous reports swirled around.
“How are you doing, Scott?” Her smile held enough wattage to power up the city yet she made me feel comfortable.
“I’m actually doing okay, just preparing for Sunday’s game,” I answered. Although I’d been busy deflecting the unwanted media attention, I also had to mentally prepare for Atlanta’s defense, a powerhouse in the NFC South.
“You’ve grown a lot as a player. I remember interviewing you in your rookie year. You had all these amazing stats, twenty-five touchdowns, thirty-eight-hundred and ninety-five passing yards, seventy percent completion rate. Everyone was calling you the second coming of Dan Marino. Now, you’re one of the top three quarterbacks in the league, and you’re barely entering your third year. What’s changed since then?”
“It helps a lot that I have a great coach and a great team. I wouldn’t be able to accomplish much if my O-line wasn’t there to give me space to breathe and my receivers are just amazing,” I breathed in, talking about football was the easy part. I could do it in my sleep. I didn’t memorize my own stats, I didn’t need to fluff my football pads with my ego. I did, however, remember every game, every pass as if they were a movie that played in my head. I’d thrown hundreds of passes and I always wanted to feel the same exhilarating feeling every single time.
Jenny talked more about the Royals’ strategy in the previous games and like any good analyst; she dissected our offense and picked up on the changes in the defense.
“You’re used to blitzes aren’t you?” Her green eyes were giving me enough warning that she was going to bring up the huge elephant in the room.
You couldn’t be a good quarterback if you expected the defense to do the same thing over and over again. Blitzes kept me on my toes. When four or more three hundred pound men were trying to rush over to you to get the ball or force a pass, you’d better be on high alert and function as if they weren’t there.
My agent stated that my results at the combine were one of the highest ever recorded because of my ability to react both in and out of the pocket. I made mechanical moves depending on what I saw, and I could read defense as if they were an open book. Maybe it was the way my brain was wired or how my nerves were aligned, but I didn’t get scared when I saw giants coming at me. Instead I felt more pumped up when I read the defense accurately pre-snap and calmly throw through progressions.
“I guess I am,” I answered Jenny and she gave a light chuckle.
“How about when the blitzes happen in your personal life? Let’s talk about the video with ten million views and growing since this past weekend. What happened?” She’d given me enough time to think about my answer, and while I’d been tight-lipped about the incident when a reporter asked me at an interview after our practice this Wednesday, I knew that now was the time to say something about it. Bridge was getting the brunt of it in L.A. and I wanted to give her back her quiet life, or as quiet as the media would allow her.
“It happened,” I said as I wasn’t going to deny that it did because everyone could see that I wanted to get my hands on my back-up and punch his face in.
“Am I correct to assume that it happened because of the past between your girlfriend and Dex Berger?” She was straight in her line of questioning, no hint of malice like the salacious gossip sites that abounded on the web.
“Yes, they were involved a long time ago, but there’s nothing between them now,” I replied, wishing that I had not put myself in this position in the first place. But Dex had pushed all my buttons, and I didn’t want anyone to question that Bridge was mine.
“Your girlfriend…” Jenny started and I nodded my head, letting her know that it was okay for her to ask about her. “Her name’s Bridgette Cordello?”
My agent showed me the video that was spreading like molasses, and I thought it had started when I was screaming at Dex. I was wrong. The video recording started when Dex was on stage singing like a lost puppy, and he’d called out Bridgette’s full name on it. There was no way we could erase her name and at this point, it was useless. Trayton and I agreed that the best strategy was just to confront it head-on.
“Yes, that’s her name,” I answered, a heavy weight landing on my shoulders. Being a regular Joe had its advantages and right now, what I would give to just have Bridge and my relationship left in peace.
“Pretty name for a beautiful woman.” Jenny’s expression softened and I knew that she was on my side. “Her mother’s name is Bettina and her brother is rugby’s second son, Bishop Cordello?”
“They are.” I didn’t want to say more. “And yes my girlfriend’s a gorgeous woman.”
Jenny’s eyes lit up with curiosity, “How did you two meet?”
“We met when I was still in college,” I said, my feet itching to stand up and my hands straining to throw a football. I didn’t hate interviews, but I hated taking my personal laundry out for the whole world to see. “Right now, she’s really busy with school and she doesn’t need the extra stress of the media following her around which is why I’m hoping that talking to you will lessen the attention on her.”
Jenny’s left brow rose and her face gave me a stilted look, “You do know that her being your girlfriend will just fuel the hunger of the public’s interest in her, right? And now that there’s a video of you fighting with Dex because of her, everyone wants to know everything about the three of you…”
I pictured the paparazzi clamoring for shots of Bridgette and hordes of faceless reporters wanting her statement, and I had the urge to just hit something. Dex hadn’t made it easy on us, he had interviews about how he and Bridge were ill-fated lovers and up until a day ago, he was still yacking to my teammates about how he wanted her back.
“If the paparazzi left her alone, I promise that I will answer every question about us,” I breathed out my answer. “I’ve never been the guy to talk about my personal relationships, but if that’s what it’s going to take, then you and every reporter in the world can ask me questions about her and I’d never say no comment.”
It was a stretch, but after more than two years of being in the NFL, I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
“Anything?” Jenny’s other brows rose to greet her hairline. She didn’t look like she believed me. I’d never answered personal questions before and I never wanted to, but it was the only way I thought of that could retract the attention from my girlfriend.
“Ask away,” I said, almost daring her. I stretched my back on the seat, alleviating the tension rising up all over my body.
“Does her brother approve of your relationship?” Her question wasn’t on Bridge, but with Bishop being quite a popular rugby player, I wasn’t surprised that she was asking me about him.
“You’d have to ask him, but the last time I saw him, he was happy for his sister and I.” Bishop had actually texted me what he thought of the media two days ago. It was filled with expletives and for a guy who didn’t curse much, that said a lot. He also asked me to protect his sister at all times, so I called him. I wanted him to know that Bridge was my priority and that I’d do everything I could so she didn’t deal with the fallout.
She was affected by the fallout, undoubtedly, but as much as I could, I wanted to shield her from the masses.
Jenny’s voice was appeasing, “She sounds like she means a lot to you.”
“Yes.” No hesitation on my part.
“What about Dex? How is your relationship with him? How is it going to affect your games?” She was just asking what everyone wanted to know.
“I’m just trying to win games. My focus will always be on football. As for he and I, Bridgette has informed him that whatever they had in the past is in the past. I have nothing to say about what happened between them. What’s important to me is that she’s with me now and that she loves me.” There was no sugarcoating my statement. The truth would come out. Always. The damage had been done. Now we were just trying to mend the mess and prevent it from creating a bigger hole.
My teammates had been perceptive about the tension between Dex and I, but after two years, they must know that I didn’t react without a cause, so in practice, we all did our jobs.
Coach had sat Dex and I down for a chat. I didn’t say much while Dex did all the talking. He spouted off the same bullshit as always; that he was going to work on himself and that he just wanted to say his piece to Bridgette. I shrugged my shoulders at his words. All I said was that we had to work as a team and if we couldn’t do that, then maybe Coach should think about re-organizing the team.
I never liked to bring my status as the Royals’ prized player to the table, but I knew that Berger wouldn’t listen to me if I didn’t pull rank. I always gave someone the benefit of the doubt, and I wanted to ensure that we worked together as a team. It wasn’t my choice that I had Berger as a back-up. And I for sure didn’t have an inkling that one day, I’d fall in love with his ex-girlfriend.
But it was what it was and I had to make it work.
He was my back-up and he would remain as one until he got a better deal somewhere else.
I put him in his place by telling the Coach that maybe Castle would be better as a second stringer and that shut Berger up.
Since he’d been traded to the Royals because of his endless partying during his time with the Vikings and off-the-field antics such as airing out his extreme sport activities during the off-season, he’d wanted the media to change their perception of him. He wasn’t going to do it at the cost of my relationship with Bridge.
“Have you met her mother?” Jenny asked, and I caught the eye of her producer, signaling that she had a few seconds to wrap it up.
“No I haven’t.” I’d seen Bettina Cordello on TV. When I was browsing for sports channels, sometimes she’d be on a shopping channel or a regular station. I never really paused to hear what she was saying; I just knew that Bridge looked a lot like her mom.
“She sounds like a really special girl. What’s the best thing about her?” Jenny nodded to her producer while her eyes were on me.
This time, I turned my gaze away from Jenny and looked at the camera. “Her smile. When she smiles at me, everything else fades to black.”
“You can’t give them the edge, Scott.” Trayton, my agent, said over the phone. He’d been with me since I graduated from college and he had steered me in the right direction on and off the field. I wouldn’t have the endorsement deals that I have if it wasn’t for his savvy business acumen.
I listened to him talk about the cons of letting the media ask me everything about my relationship with Bridge, but it was done.
I’d made the statement and I was going to follow through with it.
When he was done telling me for the third time that I should have returned the focus back on football, I capitulated, “I hear you, T. I just want them to stay away from her. As much as possible I want to give her the college life that she had before the media learned about our relationship.”
“That ship sailed the minute you wanted to throat punch your back-up.” If it was possible to see a sneer over the phone, I had no doubt that it was the look he was sporting right now. “You have to keep it cool.”
I kept it cool. I had not lost my cool even when Dex was throwing bullshit at me in the locker room and even on the field during games. “I had to say something to him. Bridge is mine, she’s not ever going back to that shitbag.”
In the years that he’d known me, I’d never been as emotional as I was now, especially over a girl.
“Alright, I got it. Whenever a reporter asks you about her, if you can, try to bring it back to football. If not then say something short. Don’t explain. And just don’t answer questions about Berger. No matter what he’s still your teammate and until then, you just have to keep being the bigger man that you are.”
That I could do. “Got it.”
“How is Bridgette doing?” His question was why I liked Trayton. He was ruthless in his business deals, but he also cared about the human being, the emotions that encompassed the athlete, the life away from sports.
“She’s actually doing okay. I know she’s stressed out about all the attention on her, but she’s a trooper. She hasn’t really let them bother her too much. The only thing that she was concerned about was that there were photographers around Paint Me Mine. She wants them away from the kids.” Even in times of distress, Bridge cared about other people. That was one of the qualities that endeared her to me. She was considerate and kind, and always thought of other people before herself.
“I’ll send out an email to my contacts. They can’t come near the kids. I’ll have my lawyer check in on that, that’s gotta be a violation of a California law or something,” Trayton replied. He had two kids of his own, so he understood my sentiment that the kids needed to be protected, away from the prying eyes of the cameras.
“Thanks T,” I said as I drank the protein shake I’d stuck in the blender along with my daily mix of greens and proceeded to walk towards the sofa. Dillon, my roommate when we traveled, was still out at a meeting with Coach. After practice, I met with Coach and we didn’t talk about my personal drama anymore. He asked if I was ready and I said yes and that was the end of it.
Tomorrow’s game was a big deal.
All of our games were big deals, but tomorrow was the first time I’d be taking the field after the now infamous karaoke video incident came out.
All eyes would be on how I played, and I was pretty sure cameras would be zooming in on my interactions with Dex.
We practiced together, but Berger, for the first time since he became a Royal, didn’t spout shit during practice.
He was quiet and it was the best thing.
I had no time to ruminate on why he was acting like a decent person, so I just ran the plays with my teammates, talked strategies, and did my job.
Trayton had put me on hold and now that I could hear buzzing on his end, his voice picked up, “Is Bridgette going with you to the Royals’ Read and Learn Ball?”
The Read and Learn Ball was a charity event that the Royals held to increase children’s literacy. The Royals’ president and his wife, Candice and Matthew Ball, didn’t have children of their own, but most of their charities revolved around kids. They were good people, and it was an added benefit that I worked under their ownership.
“Shit, I forgot about that.” We were playing in Mexico during that week and it was only a half a day’s rest when we arrived back in the US before the charity event and it just slipped my mind. “I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Ask her before I cancel with Divine.” Trayton had a list of models and celebrities that he paired me up with for charity events. He called it good exposure for me and my partner.
I’d hooked up with two of my ‘partners’ before, but they were onboard with the idea that as the night ended, so did our short-term agreement.
“Divine? As in Divine Porter?” Anyone who watched movies would recognize her. She was a blonde stunner who was Hollywood’s It Girl at the moment.
“None other,” Trayton replied with a laugh. “You sure you wanna tell your girlfriend that you’re taking her instead of Divine?”
“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend would rather I take Divine than her,” I chuckled. Bridge would tell me to go ahead and have fun with Hollywood’s A-lister and take selfies with her. She was cool like that. “Unfortunately for Bridge, I’d rather take her than any actress or model.”
Trayton cut in, “You really like this girl. I’ve never heard you this way…all sappy and weird.”
“Ha. Of course I like her.” People could argue that it was too soon for me to know that Bridge was the one, but from the moment we got together, I knew deep in my bones that she was worthy of my affection and my love. “She’s the woman I wanna win three Super Bowl rings for.”
“Just three?” Trayton laughed. It was nice to hear my agent find humor right now. He’d been through a heck of a week, what with having me as a client and I’d heard that two of his major clients were also undergoing media firestorms due to rumors of PED use.
“We’ll start with three,” I said as I stretched out on the sofa and channel surfed. I eyed the watch on my left wrist and figured out that it was four in L.A. Bridge would be coming out of her class and maybe I could catch her at a good time.
I ended the call with Trayton and rang Bridge’s phone.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hey babe,” I said as I heard noise in the background, then her soft voice filled the airwave.
“Hold on, Mike’s helping me with my books.”
Mike? Who the hell was Mike?
I picked up on a guy’s voice, “Where do you want them? Damn these are heavy. How were you planning to lug them across campus?”
I heard Bridge laugh and from thousands of miles away, I found myself missing her. I was repeating the lame excuse, ‘long distance sucks’ in my head, but in truth, it really did.
“I’ll be glad to help you out anytime, okay?” Mike, the guy who was obviously carrying however many books Bridge had, said, and it made me clench my teeth.
He was helping her and I was here, sitting my ass on a couch, waiting for a few stolen minutes with her.
He was there, watching her smile, as I lounged here, staring at the muted TV.
How long was she going to stick with me with the distance between us, not to mention the ongoing drama of the media’s attention on us?
She was young, beautiful, smart, and she could have anyone she wanted; why would she keep my sorry ass around when even on a good day, during the season, she could only be with me for hours that were numbered?
I wasn’t immune to the fact that women wanted to be with me because of my status. Because I was the hot shot athlete. Because I had millions in my bank account. I’d heard them and seen these women at parties, clubs, signings, and even way back when I was in high school – they wanted me because I was popular.
But what they didn’t know was that my lifestyle wasn’t conducive for a relationship.
Case in point: My girlfriend was in college and she needed help with carrying her books, but some other guy was doing the job for me.
If I had a regular job, I might not be able to walk with her from class to class, but at least I’d be in bed with her every night.
I wasn’t an insecure guy, but when reality came at you and made you face the harshness of it, I didn’t care how much of an ego you had, the fact that there were things out of your control brought you down a peg or two.
“Scott? You still there?” Bridge’s sweet voice permeated through my cellphone, and all I wanted to do was hug her and sink my face into her hair that always smelled like flowers. With everything that was happening around us, I just wanted to be in the same space with her. Plain and simple.
“Babe?” She rarely called me babe or baby, and it melted the wall of insecurity building inside of me.
“I’m here,” I said, clearing my voice. “Mike took care of everything for you?”
It was asshole-y of me, but with Bridge, I didn’t hold back.
“Oh stop it, you loon. He was helping me bring my luggage of books. My advisor asked me to look for historical research and most of the ancient astronomers’ works like Eudoxus and Eratosthenes aren’t in the databases. I literally have to page through their books so I can find what I’m looking for.” She was rattling off scientists that I’d never heard of, and I found my cock hardening in my workout shorts.
“He’s there and I’m here,” I said, not caring if I sounded like a stubborn fool.
“He’s also my classmate and you’re my boyfriend. What’s your point?” Her voice was stern and if I was within spanking distance, I had no doubt that she would be spanking my ass and slapping my arm for being ridiculous.
“I just miss you is all. I wish I was there helping you out instead of another college dude who just wants to be in your pants.” My jaw flexed as the words came out. Bridge underestimated her beauty. She thought guys just wanted to be friends with her. Yeah sure, with her vagina. I was crude, but I was also being realistic.
“First of all, I don’t wear pants. I wear jeans, so you’re wrong on that account already.” She was scolding the anxiety out of me, and I couldn’t help but grin. She was a feisty little thing. “Second, every guy who’s watching football tomorrow wants to be you, so what is your problem?”
I let out a loud laugh and my mouth was still twitching when I said, “I’m just being a jealous boyfriend.”
“I’ll smack the jealousy out of you.” She returned and it was quite amazing to listen to her. Bridge was shy, and even when we first met she wouldn’t look me in the eye. It took a while for her to warm up to someone, but once she did, she showed her sassy, fiery side and I loved it.
Her voice was calm, “I saw the interview…thank you for saying everything that you said. You didn’t have to. I can protect myself, Scott. I know you’re worried about me, but I’m not a helpless girl.”
“You’re far from helpless, babe, but I just want the laser beam off of you. I want you to be left alone.” The hardness in my voice could cut a knife. “We’re in this together and if they’re coming at you, I want them to know that I got your back and I’d rather they just come at me.”
“I asked Mom to help me out with this. She’s more experienced with the media.” I knew how hard it was for her to ask for help from her mother, but we’d talked about it and I’d listened to her as she arrived at the conclusion that she was going to use her mother’s expertise on how to spin her involvement with me and Dex.
So far, there hadn’t been any defamatory news about Bridge and although it couldn’t be helped, I breathed a sigh of relief. The media could be unkind, and they were especially rowdy to women who got between two well-known athletes, like in our situation. Whatever her mother was doing, it was working in our favor.
Bridge was being portrayed as a college student who fell in love with me, and that her past with Dex was becoming insignificant by the second.
The fact that she was the daughter of America’s queen of beauty products made the press cautious of any story that they printed about her. Her mother’s company invested in a lot of advertising, and if that was the angle that Bettina was working on to paint Bridge in a good light, then it was working.
They couldn’t label her as a gold digger because Bridge had a fortune of her own.
They couldn’t label her as a player because Bridge had made it clear in the video that she loved me.
The mere fact that Trayton, my agent, had said nothing about Bridge’s reputation was proof that my woman’s honor was intact. They couldn’t dig dirt on her because she was clean. Someone contacted Trayton about Bridge’s time with Dr. Fortez, that they were going to release something about her treatment, and with the way I thundered over the phone, Trayton knew that he had to put a stop to that. Bridge had divulged to me that at an early age she went to special schools because her brain worked in a different way, that she processed information way too fast and it affected her speech, and Dr. Fortez helped her enter the mainstream schools when she was older.
If there was one person who understood how the brain could be a tricky liability, it would be me.
I hadn’t had the chance to tell her about my seizure-filled past, but one day I would.
She was still talking to me about her day and I got lost in her voice, only she had the ability to mesmerize me.
“Scott, you’re still listening, right? Or am I talking to air?” She was huffy and it was cute. I could picture her mouth in a pout and her nose wrinkling from annoyance.
“I’m here, babe. I just got lost in your melodic voice,” I said in defense. I usually got lost in football scenarios when I talked to someone on the phone, but Bridge always had my full attention.
“What did I say last?” She said, trying to test me.
“You said that if the stars align, you’d be able to find research that would back up your theory about how the planets maintain life form,” I repeated what she’d said seconds ago.
“Wow, you’re really listening,” her voice was awed.
I sniggered, “Don’t you know, babe. You always have my full attention...especially when you’re wearing those purple panties and matching sparkling bra.”
She giggled and it was a wondrous sound, “It was a one-time deal, Scott.”
She’d worn the purple number for me, blaming her roommate for her extravagant lingerie purchase, and ever since, I had a very different opinion on purple.
When she did the shimmy and danced around my cock, I swore I thought my dick would fall off if I couldn’t get inside of her that second.
While distance might be a huge barrier right now, all the time I spent with her was precious and we made it worthwhile.
Our Facetime calls were abundant, but they never came close to matching the need we had for each other.
The insecurity that hovered over me at the beginning of the call was being chipped away at a rapid pace because I heard the sincerity in her voice when she talked and laughed with me.
We couldn’t change our circumstances, but we were working with it and that was what mattered.
I let her finish chatting about her research when she asked me, “How about you, Ice Man? You ready for tomorrow’s game?”
“Always ready.” I’d been watching so much film that I had to use Visine to wet my eyes. The Falcons had a good defense and they would undoubtedly be trying to sack me play after play. Their defensive backs could make necessary adjustments against the pass rush and they created enough disruption at the line of scrimmage. If my O-line didn’t bring their A-game tomorrow, we would be putty to their hands.
“I’ll be watching the game.” She was excited and I loved hearing it from her. She wasn’t into sports. Even if her brother was a sports guy, Bridge didn’t care much for it. She hated the violence that was present in football. I argued that rugby was way more violent than football, but that still made her squeamish. Knowing that she was going to be watching my game was added incentive for me to win.
“I’ll throw five touchdowns for you,” I said in a confident voice. I never came into a game hoping that I could throw less than five. It was a mindset that I had since high school. Any time I could throw the ball, I would. Many times I passed it depending on what I read on the defense, but my favorite would be always throwing those long passes.
“I’d love to see that.” There she was. My woman. She didn’t say I couldn’t do it. She didn’t even voice out any doubts. She just believed that I would. “Ugh. I gotta go, babe.”
“Okay.” I said, then remembering what Trayton and I talked about earlier, I asked, “Bridge, can you attend an event with me? It’s going to be the Friday after we arrive from our game in Mexico.”
It would be the first time she’d be on a red carpet black tie event with me and I couldn’t wait to ask her.
“Who am I booting out of your arms now?” She questioned with a hint of amusement in her voice. The last time I had to attend a suit-and-tie dinner, a European model was in my arms. Bridge couldn’t go because she had a late class and it was early on in our relationship where she was trying to figure out if she wanted to be seen out in public with me.
See my dilemma right there?
Women wanted to be seen with me. Tucked in my arms.
Not Bridge.
Her hesitation to be with me was largely because of her affliction against the spotlight.
If that didn’t make her any more special than she already was, it just made me want to earn her trust more and made me want to fight for her more.
“Divine Porter,” I said nonchalantly, kicking an invisible lint under the rug where my feet were.
“What? You’re trading Divine Porter for me?” She was laughing wholeheartedly now and I joined her. I loved her ability to see humor in the absurdity and it was refreshing to be with someone who didn’t care about fame and social status the way other women did.
“Don’t you know, babe, I’d trade any woman for you. Just to hold you and be with you.” The laughter had died down and my voice carried the hope that my heart had been holding onto. The last week had been difficult. Insecurities and distance poisoned my sanity, but the thought of being with Bridge was the vestige that my hope resided in.
“Awww…I’ll rearrange my schedule. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet because I don’t have my calendar with me, but who can resist you when you’re being so sweet?” She said, her voice like a caress over the phone.
“Thanks babe.” I said, “It means a lot to me. Love you.”
A few beats of silence greeted me over the air, but I could hear her sighing.
“I love you, too, Ice Man.”
Those words were filled with so much emotion that I knew I’d never get tired of hearing them.
And in the moments where I questioned how she could stay with me, those were the elixir that I hung on to.
They filled me with the hope that yes, we’d be okay.
That we would be just fine.