Wide Open (20 page)

KURTIS

This game has been brutal. Even with time running out, it feels like it will never end. When it’s over, it will be a game won and lost by field goals. Not a single touchdown has crossed the boards and Andreas is looking a little tired. Understandable considering we’ve had to tap him six times already, asking him to kick outside the thirty each time. We just can’t advance. Their defense is crushing us, keeping us firmly at bay.

Luckily, our defense is doing the same.

Kodiaks 18. Chiefs 18.

Welcome to overtime.

Colt and I go to the fifty yard line with Trey for the coin toss. We win, choosing to receive.

As I line up for the kickoff return, my body screaming for a break, I pass Coach Allen talking excitedly to Ramsey.

“You stay in the end zone, do you hear me?” he demands rapidly. “You do not take the ball out of the end zone. They’ll pummel you. Stay safe. Stay in the backfield.”

“I got it!” Ramsey shouts back angrily. He walks away muttering under his breath.

I lock eyes with Coach. His mouth is a grim line of irritation and it reminds me of the look he used to get watching Duncan Walker play. He can’t stand players that don’t listen. I don’t blame him.

“You ready, baby?” Colt asks, running past me and slapping me on the ass as he goes.

I fall in line behind him, tapping every energy reserve I’ve got. “I’m always ready!”

The return is high. It’s got wings on it, sailing over our heads and into the backfield. But the whistles don’t blow. I glance back over my shoulder just in time to see Ramsey making a dash out of the end zone. He has the ball tucked in tight under his arm, his legs pumping hard and fast. He’s a speed machine, built to run like Tyus, but he doesn’t have the brains to drive it. He gets sideswiped by a Chief. He goes down hard, the ball popping out of his arms.

It’s live.

It’s on the ground.

It’s fifteen yards from our end zone.

I turn on my heel, changing direction. I run for the ball, diving on top of it just as a defensive lineman takes a shot at it. We collide, our helmets connecting hard in a jarring hit that rattles my brain inside my skull. My eyes close instinctively, but my hands are still online. They’ve got the ball and I’m able to curl my body around it before the other guy can get his hands on it.

The whistle blows. The play is dead and we still have possession, but the ball is on the fifteen instead of the twenty-five where it would have been if Ramsey had stayed in the motherfucking end zone like he was told. He just cost us ten yards in a game where we don’t have the luxury of giving up an inch.

Sam puts his hand out for me, offering to help me up. I toss the ball to the nearest ref and take his hand, grunting as I come up off the turf. My neck is screaming, my right shoulder numb down to my elbow. I’m alright, though. Everything will come back to me in a minute when my body gets its bearings again.

“You alright?” Sam asks. “That was a hell of a hit.”

“I’m golden. Where the hell is Ramsey?”

“On the sidelines getting benched.” He takes off running in that direction, the defense clearing the field. “Hopefully Coach is reaming him for that shit.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” I grumble angrily, heading for the huddle.

Sam runs to the sidelines but Coach Allen stops him, sending him back out. He joins us at the huddle where Trey nods a welcome to him. He takes up next to Tyus.

“We’re heavy on wide receivers, aren’t we?” Tyus asks dryly.

Trey ignores his tone. “We’re running Green eighty-nine. Ramsey is having trouble hearing so Sam is stepping in for us as the second wide receiver in the play. On three. Break!”

We run to the line to take the unusual formation for the play. It’s a little bit of a rope a dope move, bringing out two wide receivers, but it’s a good idea considering Tyus is now an option and the Chiefs don’t know anything about Sam. Maybe he can catch, maybe he can’t. Better cover him just to be safe. It spreads the defense out, getting them off my back a little.

The ball is snapped. Tyus runs a few yards beyond the line of scrimmage, drawing coverage. Sam goes up the top and runs about ten yards, then cuts in hard, shaking his defender. Trey is waiting for him, sending a perfect spiral dead into Sam’s waiting hands.

It’s the easiest down we’ve made all day.

After that Colt picks up four yards on a run.

On the second down Trey spots a blitz and calls for a screen. We let the defensive line through, drawing them to Trey who hands off to Colt at the last second. Colt bolts down the side, but they’re ready for him. A linebacker takes him out after just a two yard gain.

We’re third and four when Trey fakes a hand off to Colt. He hesitates, waiting for me to get into position, and thanks to Tyus being back on the field, they’ve got someone to worry about other than me. I’m free from heavy coverage. I cut to the middle of the field in time to catch the pass from Trey and take off running. A linebacker tries to grab me, but I shake him off. Just two seconds later and a little guy, a free safety from the feel of him, latches onto my side, trying to drag me down. But I don’t go easily. I never have. I manage to haul his ass with me for another seven yards, gaining us eighteen total before he trips me up and we tumble down together.

Three plays later and we’re at the Chief’s forty-four. Fourth down.

It’s too damn far for another field goal. Even fresh, Andreas would be outside his range. We can’t risk it. We have to punt.

I watch helplessly from the sidelines as the defense takes the field. My stomach is turning, my chest heaving from exertion. I’m toast. I’m tapped as much as every guy on this field and still we have to keep fighting. We cannot give up this win.

I cannot take another loss right now.

The punt is high and accurate, and our gunners are able to rush their returner. They keep it out of the end zone, pinning the Chiefs down at their own three yard line. It’s a good position for us. Now we just have to hold them to it.

Three plays later I realize it’s not meant to be. Our defense is just as tired as the offense. They’ve been hammering away all day and when it comes time to shut the Chiefs down, they just don’t have it. Same way we didn’t have what it took to make a touchdown.

Their quarterback drops back. He spots a wide receiver running left on the route. He’s gotten free of his defender and the QB hits him with a monster of a deep pass. He blows out of the backfield, crossing the fifty. Our forty. Our thirty. The defense can’t catch him. He’s loose and running hard.

The twenty.

The ten.

I step forward, uncontrollable rage boiling up from my chest, burning in the back of my throat as I shout, “NO!” at the top of my lungs.

The world doesn’t hear me. It doesn’t care.

He crosses into our end zone.

Touchdown.

We’ve lost.

My chest expands and deflates rapidly, the blood spilling out of it, draining to my extremities. To my fingers and toes that tingle and swell. That ache with the flooded feeling as my heart hammers empty, desperate. Hungry for a feeling I can’t feed it. I have nothing to give. Nothing but the hollow emptiness of loss that echoes in my ears, in my veins, mocking me. Reminding me. Thumping out a rhythm with the tick of the clock as the final seconds run out.

You lose.

You lose.

You lose.

The fans go insane with anger. We’ve let them down. They wanted a win, they demanded a win, and we couldn’t deliver. They feel cheated. They feel sad and sick, and I feel it with them. I commiserate with the masses as we absorb this blow together, exhaling in exhaustion. In defeat.

On the flip side, the Chiefs fans are cheering. They call out insults and excitements. They dance. They sing. They chant.

You lose.

You lose.

You lose.

A sea of faces surrounds me, crashing in waves of emotions that I don’t want to feel. That I can’t begin to process. I want to go home. I want to get in my Challenger and drive away as fast as I can. I need solitude. I need to recover from my loss. From the loss of all of the things I dared to dream of, all the things that were never meant to be mine.

Across the sea I find her. She’s watching me. She’s standing next to Les and the camera. It’s pointed directly at me.

I should be angry about that, but I’m not. I can’t even try to be. I’m anchored by her eyes, tethered to the island of her empathy, and I feel myself begin to float, to rise from the frothing waters as her lips open, exhaling a breath of air I can feel under my skin.

I’m sorry
, she mouths faintly.

My eyes tighten at the edges, my chest filling with air. With her breath.

Thank you,
I mouth back.

The field fills with fans and players. They swarm between us and I lose her, but I can still feel her. I can’t see her but she’s with me. She’s a part of me. The best of me.

And I know then that she was right. That I owe her.

I owe her the worst of me.

HARPER

I’m dead tired. Dragging ass kind of tired. Emotionally drained and physically spent. I’m dreaming of a warm cup of tea and the soothing lavender scent of my sheets. Of a long night’s sleep and a dreamless night. Of peace. That’s all I want. A stolen moment of carefully crafted peace.

But life, as always, has other plans.

The radio cuts out as the hands-free phone system kicks in over my speakers. A shrill ring stabs into my eardrums, surrounding me.

I groan as I answer the call on my steering wheel. “Hey, Sean, what’s up?”

“Derrick’s missing again,” he answers angrily.

I hesitate, not sure I heard him right. “What do you mean ‘again’? He’s gone missing before?”

“Travis didn’t tell you?”

“No, Travis didn’t tell me. What are we talking about?”

Sean sighs. “Dude has gone missing a couple of times. I don’t know for exactly how long this time. The Patriots had a bye week this week so we had three days off, but I tried to call him about what he wants to do at practice tomorrow and he’s not answering. We tried his apartment and there’s no answer. Lights off. Door locked. No one has seen him.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head at no one. “What is his problem?”

“I don’t know, but it’s getting annoying. I know he’s ‘an artist’,” Sean says, his tone dripping in sarcasm, “but there comes a point where you have to get your damn job done, you know?”

“I definitely do.”

“You’re an artist and you don’t pull this on us. And, sorry to say it, but you’re better at this than he is.”

“Aw,” I smile affectionately. “Thanks, Sean.”

“I’m not trying to kiss your ass. I mean it. He sucks.”

I laugh, turning down my street. “I’ll try to get ahold of him. Tell him to get back to work.”

Sean hesitates. “I think you should have Travis do it. I tried to call him but he wasn’t answering.”

“We just finished post-game interviews. He probably left his phone on silent. It’s fine, I’ll call Derrick myself. He’s more likely to answer if it’s me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I think Travis should do it. He’s like his handler, right? Don’t you and Derrick always end up fighting when you talk?”

I sigh tiredly. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just a phone call. It’ll be fine. Hey, tell me when he went missing before. I need ammo when I hit him with the Repeat Offender speech.”

“He disappeared for a day back in September. I don’t remember exactly when.”

I parallel park in front of my building. I take the only open spot. The one directly behind Kurtis’ Blazer. It’s in the same spot it sat the night his windshield was smashed, and suddenly something inside me clicks. My brow furrows as I put the car in PARK. “Early, late, or mid-September?”

“Mid. Definitely. Why?”

I stare straight ahead at the rusted bumper on the Blazer. I don’t want to believe it could be true, but an undeniable, unsilenced-able part of my brain is screaming for me to open my eyes. For me to understand what it’s trying to tell me.

“I think I know where he goes,” I answer thickly.

“Where?”

“Call Travis for me. Keep calling him until you get him. Tell him everything you told me.”

“Harper, what’s happening? You sound freaked.”

“I am,” I answer honestly, a thin line of sweat forming on my back. I look at my building, at the lights on the front stoop. They burn bright and yellow, matched by several windows glowing in a similar color. People are home. People are awake. I’m not alone, I tell myself. I’m not alone. “I don’t know for sure, but I think Derrick has been coming here to L.A.”

“He’s been going home? Why?”

“Call Travis,” I repeat hurriedly. “I have to get some things from my apartment and then I’m going to his. Tell him to meet me there.”

Sean pauses, digesting my strange instructions. “What the hell is going on, Harper?”

“Too much to explain right now, but I need you to take over the Foxborough project for me for now. If Derrick is here, he’s not coming back to work.”

“He’s fired?”

“Definitely.”

“Thank Christ,” Sean mumbles, relieved. “I can’t wait to be rid of this guy.”

I lick my lips, hating they feel so parched. “Me too. Call Travis.”

“I’m on it.”

“Bye, Sean.”

I unhook my phone from the hands-free and bring up my contacts. I type before I can think. Before I know exactly why I do it.

I know what happened to your windshield.

I send the text to Kurtis with my heart in my throat. It’s barely out of my phone and into the ether, and I’m already waiting for his reply. I’m already dreading the endless silence that could follow.

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder as I step out of the car. The night is balmy, sticky. There’s electricity in the air that’s set me on edge. That makes it feel hard to breathe. I’m jingling my keys up out of my bag when I see a shadow cross my path. I freeze, my eyes following it up to the source. To the door.

It doesn’t surprise me to see Derrick standing there. I was expecting it, really. Dreading it, definitely, but expecting it nevertheless. I’m sick of his shadow cast over me, tainting everything I do and think. He’s everywhere. In my work, in my life, in my head. I want him gone and the only way to make that happen is to face him head on.

He looks natural standing in front of my apartment, like I’ve seen it before. Like it’s nothing new. But then I realize it’s not that I’ve seen it, that’s not what makes him look so comfortable there. It’s that he’s been there before, multiple times. Probably more than I know. More than I’d like to know.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him evenly. “Your team is looking for you.”

“Did Sean call you?”

I squeeze my phone hard in my hand. “I just got off the phone with him. He’s pissed. So am I. You shouldn’t be here. You should be working.”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

He grins. “You’re my muse.”

“I’m your muse for filming a football documentary?”

“You’re my muse in everything.”

I rub the back of my hand across my forehead, feeling dizzy. My heart is hammering too hard in my chest. Can he see it? Can he hear it? I’m more afraid than I thought I’d be and suddenly I wish I wasn’t alone with him. I wish I’d told Sean to send Travis to my apartment, not his.

“I saw your face when you got the flowers I gave you,” Derrick continues. He takes a step forward, a smile on his lips. “You looked so happy. So beautiful.”

“Derrick,” I breathe nervously, “you can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

I lift my phone, quickly bringing it to life. My text message to Kurtis is still open. I quickly type a second.

HELP

“Harper,” Derrick barks sharply.

I jolt as I hit SEND.

“You’re not listening.”

“We’re not dating,” I remind him nervously, lowering my phone. “We’re not romantic. We never were and we never will be. That’s why you can’t say things like that. They make me uncomfortable. ”

He scowls, the light above him casting harsh shadows across his face, deepening the displeasure of the expression. “I’ve apologized so many times. I explained to you what really happened. How are you still angry at me?”

“I’m not angry, but I’m not interested either. I don’t ever want to revisit where we were headed.”

“You still don’t get it. You don’t understand what I was trying to do.”

“I understand and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it.”

“No, you were scared because you didn’t get it.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

“I can when you’re lying to yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“I think you are.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“No.”

His tone makes me shiver. It makes me sick, and I hope to God Kurtis gets my message. I hope he’s listening. I don’t live that far from the stadium and when I left tonight his car was still there. He could be here in minutes if he meant it.

I look at Derrick, not sure what to say to him. What to do. He’s not hearing me. He’s not listening, and I wonder what’s different about tonight. The other times he was here – and I’m absolutely positive that he’s been here at least once – he didn’t show himself. He didn’t talk to me. He was happy to stay at a distance. So what’s changed?

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. I fight the urge to look at it. I know Derrick won’t like it, and I’m not looking to piss him off right now. I wish I could read it, though. I would feel less alone. I wish someone, anyone, was here right now, because as proud as I am, as strong as I like to be, I feel real fear looking into Derrick’s eyes. I always do when I see him and I hate myself for all the times I’ve forced myself to forget that.

I need to remember this moment. I need to never let it happen again.

I take a step back from him, shifting my keys in my hand. “I’m going to go get some dinner,” I tell him calmly. “I’ll be gone an hour. When I get back, you need to be gone and I don’t want you to come here again. Do you understand me?”

“With who?”

“I don’t want you to come here with anyone. Ever.”

He reclaims the step I’ve taken, closing in on me slowly. “No, I mean who are you getting dinner with? That football player? The meat suit?”

“He’s not a—“

“What do you even have to talk about with a Neanderthal like that? Or is it not about talking? Is it all about sex?”

I bristle angrily. “It’s not your business.
I
am not your business. Your work is. The project is, and after it’s done we need to go our separate ways. Professionally and personally.”

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes in shadow. The light on the porch is at his back. I can’t read his face, but I can decipher his tone easily enough. He’s sad. “I don’t like that.”

“I don’t care. It’s how it’s going to be. And you’re going to leave now and never come back to my apartment.”

“No.”

I flinch. “Stop saying that.”

He takes a step closer. “No.”

He’s in the lamplight now. His eyes are focused acutely on me. Bright and intense in a way that’s unnerving. Shining with tears that I don’t understand.

“You never listen to me,” he tells me quietly. “That’s the problem with us. You don’t let me explain things to you. You never pay attention to what I want.”

“What do you want, Derrick?”

“You,” he answers as though it’s obvious, and I guess it is. It’s too intense, it’s a little psychotic, but it is obvious. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.

“I hear you and I understand that, but I don’t feel the same way. You have to respect that.”

“Why? You’re not respecting how I feel.”

“We’re not going to happen. It’s time to deal with that and move on. That’s why I’m letting you go. It’s going to be good for you. You’ll find someone else, someone who wants you as much as you want them.”

“I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.”

“And that’s probably for the best, because this isn’t healthy. This is bordering on stalking and it’s scaring me.”

He recoils slightly, like I slapped him. “You’re scared of me?”

“I’m scared of this situation right now.”

“I’d never hurt you, Harper.”

I swallow hard. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“You see, this is what I’m talking about,” he snaps irritably. “You don’t listen and you can’t let anything go.”

“Obviously neither can you.”

The roar of an engine rips through the night, tearing through the tension between us. The sound severs a tie that’s held me helpless, and I stumble back a step, grateful for the ground I’ve regained. Derrick doesn’t try to take it back.

“You should go,” I warn him severely. “This is your last chance to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me.”

“I tried. We’re never going to agree on this, and if you don’t leave now, you’ll have to talk to him about it, and that’s not going to go well for you.”

His expression is ardent, cold steel in his eyes. “I’m not afraid of him. I’ll fight for you if that’s what you want.”

I sigh at the sound of tires squealing on asphalt. He’s almost here. He’s coming to save me and it doesn’t make me feel small the way I imagined it would. I’m surprised at how powerful it makes me feel. How solid and centered. How sad for the fool in front of me.

“You should have left when you had the chance, Derrick,” I tell him slowly. “Now you’re in a fuckload of trouble.”

He scowls at me, moving to step forward. To rush me.

He stops dead in his tracks when headlights cut across the lawn between us. They level him in their sights. Pin him down and make him their prey as the brilliant green body of the Challenger effortlessly jumps the curb and comes to an angry halt on the grass.