Just Rules (16 page)

“We can’t do this, Kev,” I whisper when he steps back to breathe.

“Why?”

“Up until a month ago, we hated each other.”

“I never hated you,” he looks at me in a way that makes it impossible for me to doubt him.

I can’t breathe.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I tell him.

He bends down again and gives me another kiss to show me that I’m the one who is not making sense.

“I can’t do this, Kev. Go, please,” I add, and I feel my lip tremble.

He backs off and looks at me worried. I know he wants to hug me and I see that it hurts him to hold back.

He leaves without saying anything.

When I return to our seats, Parker is waiting with two glasses of champagne. I try to go along with the conversation, but my eyes keep returning to where Kev’s seat is. The bell that announces the end of the intermission sounds and the audience goes back to their seats.

Everyone except Kev.

Twelfth rule of American football:

Once a play is finished (typically it’s finished when a player carrying the ball is tackled or when a pass is unsuccessful) the game stops and the same process is repeated from the yard line where it stopped.

He hadn’t seen her in two weeks, at least not in person anyway. He tortured himself every night by turning on the T.V. just when Susana appeared on the screen. She seemed to have lost weight and had bags under her eyes, but he still thought she was incredibly beautiful. Mac justified those ten minutes of daily torture saying that that way he would surely get bored of her, although at the moment this tactic didn’t seem to be working.

He dedicated those two weeks to going to the gym and to working on his project: The Best Play. Staying busy didn’t make him stop thinking about Susana, but at least this way he went to bed tired and with the feeling of having some degree of control over his life.

Besides, The Best Play required all of his attention.

Mac, like Tim, came from a wealthy family. His father, Robert MacMurray, was the director of a bank that had belonged to his family for generations. And his mother, Meredith, came from a long line of Texas ranchers. Mac and his siblings, Lilian and Harrison, had grown up in a mansion in Boston with all of the luxuries imaginable. But their parents had made sure that they knew they were fortunate and that they knew they had the duty to help others and to fulfill the obligations that came with being privileged. His entire family invested time and money in social causes, but they did it with the utmost discretion because they didn’t want to be awarded, rather, they simply wanted to help.

Mac could have participated in any one of the charity foundations that his parents created, or in the one his grandmother had founded to protect abused women with no resources. It was one of the most renowned charities in the country, but he wanted to have his own project, something he could truly believe in and something he could dedicate his heart and soul to when he retired as a professional football player. He had been thinking about it for years, looking for just the right project that would suit him, until one day on the way home from practice he found it.

It was dark and rainy. The highway he usually took was closed off and cars were being detoured to streets that were less busy. A few minutes later, he looked around and saw that he was in a sketchy area, and it didn’t take long for him to see a few street gangs hanging around on the sidewalk. Behind them was a football field that was completely abandoned. It was pitch dark. Mac made it home without any problems, but he couldn’t get the image of that deserted football field and of the teenage gangsters out of his head. If the football field was in good shape and if it was lit up, someone may even like to use it. On top of that, if there were free practice sessions, surely more than one person would be tempted to try their luck to see if there was something better out there for them. And if there was a league set up between neighborhoods, maybe the people who live there would get involved and as a result, those streets wouldn’t be so dangerous.

Mac wasn’t stupid and he knew perfectly well that in order to rebuild an area, simply playing football wasn’t enough. But he had to start somewhere, right? Trying to remain anonymous was increasingly more difficult; that’s why he hired a lawyer who was responsible for all of the paperwork, but the one who made the decisions was Mac.

Until now, The Best Play had rebuilt many abandoned football fields around the city and sponsored a few local teams, kids’ leagues, and several championships. But what Mac was working on now was trying to buy a site that had become available right in the middle of four buildings taken over by drugs dealers. If he were able to make it happen, he would build not only a football field, but also a mini stadium so that the youngest players could play, and he would also make a small library. It was a very ambitious project, but there was a big obstacle in the way; a real estate company from Boston was interested in building a shopping center on the site.

These past few weeks had been very intense. The real estate company had been approved by one of the city councilmen, and if Mac didn’t find a way to stop them and convince the mayor that his project was better, he would end up losing the site. He and his lawyer had presented all of the possible arguments against building the shopping center, and they’d also presented the most favorable outcomes from football fields that had been revamped by the city. The results showed a decrease in crime and an increase in school attendance in the area, but they didn’t, however, show economic return.

It did no good.

City hall put the site up for auction and the real estate company made an offer they couldn’t refuse.

Mac was in his lawyer’s office when they got the news. He could have stayed for a while to weigh his options, but he was too furious and too tired. He needed to think, so he said goodbye to his lawyer, headed for the street, put his hands in the pockets of his coat, and started walking aimlessly.

Walking helped him concentrate. It was something his first football coach taught him. His feet trailed quietly, one behind the other, and in his mind he started to focus on what was worrying him the most. City hall’s decision wasn’t for sure. There was still the possibility that they could reject the builder’s bid, but there had to be an endless number of conditions. It made him furious knowing that because of a few money-hungry, short-sighted city councils, he wasn’t able to move forward with his project. Surely any economics student could explain to them that they were making a mistake. Economics student? Susana. She had a PhD in economics and knew what she was talking about more than anyone. She was even capable of making the financial news easy to understand. But she would never agree to help him, and he would never ask her anyway. He would find another economist, an internationally known, tenured university professor. And he would have him, or her, write up a report to present to city hall. This probably wouldn’t do any good either. Maybe he should just forget about that site and look for another one. He decided that the smartest thing would be to do both. He would keep fighting for that damn site but he would look for another one, too.

Mac didn’t like to give up, and maybe that’s why when he looked up he wasn’t surprised to see that he was right in front of Susana’s apartment.

It was twelve o’clock noon and Susan was at home baking a cake. Cooking wasn’t her forte, but she refused to admit it. She loved the smell of vanilla and since she couldn’t spend her life inside of a bakery, once and a while she dared to make a cake or some cookies. She always gave half to Pam, who yelled at her for ruining her figure, and she always ate the other half herself little by little, usually after getting off work and before going to bed.

She whipped the butter and thought that it was strange that she hadn’t realized until now that she’d never made a cake for Tim. It had never even occurred to her to share her little pastime with him.

What other things had she not told him?

The more days that passed since their breakup, the more Susan doubted if they ever would have been happy together. And at the same time, she had to admit that when she thought about Tim, she did so with care, but not with love, desire, or lust.

Why hadn’t she realized it before? Why had she convinced herself that she loved him when now it was so obvious to her that she didn’t?

She brushed a lock of hair off of her forehead and concentrated on the recipe. She added the eggs, flour, sugar, and vanilla extract. And later she poured the batter into the cake pan and put it in the oven. Today she had chosen a simple cake; simple but delicious and the one that went best with the tea she was having at night. She set the oven timer and heard a knock at the door. She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and went to open the door, convinced that it would be the doorman since she had bought some books on the Internet that she was expecting any day.

But it wasn’t the doorman who was darkening the doorway with a box of books in his hands. It was Mac. And he was furious. And he wasn’t holding any books.

“You made me come all the way here,” he said, convinced that it made sense. He placed one hand on the door, pushing it open all the way and pushed his way past Susana.

“I didn’t do anything,” she answered, not taking her eyes off him as she watched him move about like a caged animal.

“Oh yes you did. The last two weeks have been a complete nightmare. I’ve done nothing but work myself to death, and at night, do you know what I’ve been doing at night?” he asked, moving closer to her. “At night I’ve been watching you on T.V.”

“I…,” stammered Susana.

“You nothing. You sent me that horrible message apologizing, as if you had keyed my car or something.
Shit,
Susana, did you have to be so cold?” He frantically ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you have to go out with that guy? Fuck, Susana. You let him touch you,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t speak like that in my house. I’m not going to allow it. And Parker is just a friend.”

“What!?” Mac threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “Seriously? You showed up at my house at three o’clock in the morning and practically threw a box of chocolates at my head. You were half drunk, or half sober, and came at me with that speech of everything you know about me. And then you threw yourself at me before I could even answer you. I haven’t finished!” he warned her, as he noticed she was about to say something. “You had sex with me against the door and you left, and then you sent me that message. And a few days later you went to the opera with Mr. Perfect because, apparently with him, you don’t mind being seen. You, Susana, did all of these things, and now you’re not going to allow me to swear in your house? It was just a word, Susana. In my house you did much worse.”

Susan’s heart was beating so strongly inside her chest that she could barely hear anything he said. Mac was furious, she was sure about that. However, judging by his eyes and the corner of his mouth, you could tell that he was also frustrated and exhausted, and something told her that it wasn’t all her fault.

Something had happened to him, something rather serious that had affected him deeply.

“Did something happen, Kev?”

“Did something happen, she asks,” he said sarcastically. “Of course something happened. You came to my house, Susana.”

“I meant today.”

“Today, yesterday, tomorrow. I can’t think. After seeing you at the opera with that idiot, I thought I was going to be able to forget you, that my mind would get the message, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Why have you done this to me?” Mac had no idea those words were going to come out of his mouth, but he still couldn’t stop them. He was tired of trying to stop them.

“I didn’t do anything to you! It wasn’t as if I had to force you. You seemed to be more than willing to…to…,” she swallowed. “To just go along with it.”

“
Fuck
, Susana, how can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time!”

“If you’re going to keep insulting me, it’s best that you leave.”

“I’m not insulting you.”

“Oh, no?”

With each phrase they kept throwing at one another, they kept getting closer and closer to each other. Mac was the first to realize that he had her within arm’s reach and saw that her pulse sped up and that her eyes were shining.

“To hell with it,” he muttered, deciding that being so worked up like they were wouldn’t help to solve anything.

He grabbed her by her forearms and at the same time lowered his head to devour her lips. Susana, despite her pride, moaned when she felt Mac’s lips pressed against hers. He moved his tongue with rage inside her mouth and lifted his hands up until they cradled her face. Susana firmly held his wrists for a few seconds with her fingers, but he kissed her repeatedly and pressed his torso against hers and let her see just how much he wanted her.

Susana let go of his wrists and brought her hands down to his waist so that she could pull him closer to her. Mac also brought his hands down so that he could pick her up.

“The bedroom,” he said moving away from her only for a few necessary seconds.

Susana, surprising herself completely, responded to him.

“At the end of the hall.” She wanted to take his clothes off so bad she began pulling on his t-shirt.

He carried her there and kicked the door open. They both fell on the bed, frantic to figure out how to undress each other without having to stop kissing and touching one another. Mac was the first to have his t-shirt off, basically because he tore it off, and Susan followed his lead instantly. She clawed his back, and he pinched her and kissed her breasts through her bra.

Why was it that he only lost control when he was with her? Mac used to be a thoughtful and refined lover who only got rough whenever a woman asked him to, and it didn’t really turn him on. However, with Susana, his technique was reduced to that of a teenager and his only objective was to get inside her as soon as possible and stay there for as long as she would let him, and make her moan and tremble from pleasure.