I like Garrett, but he’s also young. Impulsive. He’s already gotten charged with a drunk and disorderly during the season and almost punched a photographer outside a hotel in Portland before Walker grabbed him. I know exactly who Garrett is because I used to be him. He’s a hotshot, with too much money for his own good and no idea how the vices of the world will turn against him. No one can tell him shit because he thinks he already knows it.
I hope that with my friendship and a little gentle guidance, I can help show him the error of his ways. Not because I think I’m better than him or that I’m all that changed from who I used to be. But because I don’t want to watch this guy screw his life up the way I did mine.
“Are your parents coming up for the games this week?”
The Pistons won the wild card game and are now in round one of the playoffs.
“Naw. Mama and Daddy have never been on a plane. Even though I keep telling them I’ll spring for a private jet, they won’t leave our small little town.”
Something in his voice sounds awfully close to disappointment, or maybe anger, but I don’t push.
“They’ll make it here sometime. You have a ton of seasons left in you, that’s for sure.”
“You coming to the game? I need you to do another kick-ass ‘get to know the player’ interview. That shit killed on my Instagram, got so many likes when I posted it.”
“Glad to know my hard work can be used to gain you social media DMs.” I roll my eyes.
“The Instagram THOTs were all over it.” His grin is so cocky, I have to chuckle.
“You really shouldn’t call them that.” I may only be a few years older than him, and have a checkered past with women, but I do respect each one of them.
He points a fry in my direction. “When a chick sends you a fully nude photo of herself, right off the bat, on a social media app no less, then she’s a THOT. I even get these girls coming in my messages.”
“Doing what?” I figure he didn’t finish the sentence.
“No, literally, coming. I’ve gotten multiple videos of THOTs full on playing with their pussies, coming in videos just for me.”
I nearly choke on my Dr. Pepper. “Are you fucking serious?”
Of course, I’m no stranger to sexting, porn, or even making a few raunchy tapes with a willing partner. But that just seems insane. These girls don’t even know him.
He shakes his head. “Dead ass. That’s why I’m never settling down, Sin. Too many options, too much temptation. There is enough Garrett to go around, and I’m spreading it for as long as these THOTs will have me.”
“Stop referring to yourself in third person.” I have to laugh at it. “And come on, you’re never going to settle down? At some point, you’ll find a girl who is worth it.”
“Says the eternal bachelor.” He raises an eyebrow at me.
I guess he has a point. But he doesn’t know all of the shit that’s currently on my plate and eating me alive from the inside.
The talk I had with Colleen keeps echoing around my head. It’s been three days since she gave me the advice and a week since Frankie and I had our last talk. Well, it was more like a dressing down of me, in particular. I want so badly to reach out, to talk to her, to explain more, and get a grasp on how she’s feeling and how the baby is doing.
But she laid out the rules. She would be the one to make the next move. I have to wait, trying not to pull my hair out or drive all over creation to find her and dig myself a deeper hole when it comes to her good graces.
At the end of the day, I did meet the one woman who makes me want to give up all women. And at the end of the day, I’m the one who fucked it up. Now, that woman doesn’t want me.
I’m hoping that, in time, she comes around. By some miracle, I hope she comes around.
Sometimes you just have to give things time. Like sobriety, like recovery.
Every time I leave Hudson’s, I’m struck by the fact that just about two years ago, I left here and almost killed myself. My memories of the car accident are shaky at best; that’s what brain trauma and a week-long coma will do to you. But I remember the pain afterward. I remember the EMTs dragging me from the car, the crunching of metal as the jaws of life shredded my BMW in two.
We finish up our meal, pay the bill, and move to leave the bar. All of those memories stare me in the face now, of that night so many nights ago.
“You okay, brother?” Garrett slaps me on the back as I stand staring at the front door of Hudson’s.
Of course, he has no idea why I’m pausing. Maybe someday, I’ll tell him the story. But not tonight.
“I’m good. You need a ride?” He had two whiskeys.
“Hell no. If it’s not four whiskeys, it’s practically water.” He laughs my offer off, but I hope he’s okay.
Maybe I’m just over-sensitive to drinking now, to people getting drunk around me. Maybe it’s because I’m at Hudson’s. Whatever it is, my heart fills with anxiety as I watch him walk to his car.
And my heart beats even faster as I get into mine, buckle my seatbelt, and check all of my mirrors three times over.
The moment I park in my driveway at home, I let my white knuckles off the wheel and thank the universe for delivering me safely. I’ve learned in the last two years that some things are in my control, but most things are out of it.
It seems that with Frankie, I have to let go of the reins and hope I get where I’m supposed to be going.
23
Frankie
“Noelle, come on. Pop is waiting for us.”
I hear a woman’s voice echo down the hall as I come out of the weight room.
It’s been a successful day. I had a training session of my own with Seth and the nutrition staff, where they worked with us on how to advise players on their meal plans paired with their workouts. Then I met with the pitching coaches to go over where they thought their players needed more muscle or agility.
And now, I’m headed home early to put my feet up, watch Jeopardy, and dive into the homemade bacon macaroni and cheese I whipped up last night. The little ranch house on one of the winding side streets in downtown Packton isn’t my apartment back in Florida, but it’s cute. I miss the sea outside my window, but the cozy fireplace is a nice touch.
The promotion is likely permanent, but it doesn’t mean this end of the season isn’t a test. If I don’t do well, they could send me back down to the minors. Or get rid of me altogether. Which is why I’m just renting up here. I’ll know by the end of this season if it’s solidified, and there is still the problem of having half my furniture still in transit from my Florida apartment. When they called me up to the big leagues, it was rather sudden, and I didn’t have time to pack everything.
If I’m still in Pennsylvania by March, I’ll buy a house. My new salary affords it. Something for me and baby boy that is quaint, with a nursery with lots of natural light and a backyard he can learn to run in. The idea brings a smile to my face.
My belly leads the way, protruding even more from my body than when I arrived in Packton just weeks ago. I have my twenty-week anatomy scan coming up. That was another fiasco, having to change my ob-gyn halfway through my pregnancy, but I think I found a good one. Being a Pistons employee comes with benefits, like dropping a few names and getting an appointment with the best doctor in town. It’s not something I’d typically do, but I’d do anything for this kid already, and giving him the best care possible is top of the list.