Motown Throwdown (5 page)

“What I should set is rules,” I groan. “You’re here to tutor me not give life advice. Seriously Teach, if I was going to take life advice from anyone it would be from someone who actually had a life.”

“Espn 2 did a piece on you,” she says in a less confident voice. Yeah, I just smacked her down but I wasn’t aware of a piece on me, this wasn’t good. “You and your teammates taunted the mascot from U of M on Saturday.”

“So?”

“So? His name is Kevin and he is a mentally challenged boy who loves football. They made him an honorary member of the team and the mascot. The students love him and you---”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

“I imagine had you known you wouldn’t have done it,” she says looking at her book. “But it doesn’t negate the fact that it happened. It shouldn’t matter if he had a handicap or not, Roman. You’re supposed to be a role model.”

“What are you my fucking PR person?” I growl pissed at her, pissed at the situation. God dammit I was pissed at myself.

“Hardly,” she scoffs. “I’m not certain I can even help you pass physics. Trying to help you with your image is laughable.”

“How does perfection feel?” I snap.

“I’m not perfect, Roman. I’m also not in the spotlight either. If I were I would be cautious about the choices I made.”

“Thank fuck you are not one of the choices I have to worry about.”

“Sure I was,” she counters. “You chose me from the database of tutors, it was your decision to make. If you regret it, walk out then you won’t be held accountable anymore.”

Kandace didn’t bring my papers out to me she had a nurse do it, a fucking nurse.

Tossing them in my passenger seat, I sit in the lot seriously pissed off. I never forgot her. It wasn’t possible. Not her pushiness, not her expectations and not her beautiful face when she smiled at me, told me how smart I was. She had to remember some of the good times we had together, fuck, she had to. Because they weren’t just good times, they were the best times in my life. Time has passed but she sure as hell didn’t look like the girl I remember, fuck, she was so much more now. Back then I knew that I fucked with her head but did it anyway. I liked that I could. I liked knowing she was jealous, I was a cruel son of a bitch, too.

Letting my head fall, I knew she was right. Back then though, everyone told me what to do, where to go, how to dress and the best piece of ass to fuck. I was the guy that fucked you first then left you to everyone else as leftovers. My tutor was the only one who bitched at me for not thinking for myself, to stay away from certain girls and to focus on my studies in the event football didn’t work out.

Football was my life, of course it would work out so, I dismissed her and stared at her tits instead.

I remember inviting her to the party, hoping she’d show. Our time together was over so I promised myself if she came, I’d tell her how I felt. When she did and the guys, hell every guy noticed her, I couldn’t fucking handle it and reacted. Not a day goes by that I don’t remember the look on her face when I walked away from her. After that night, I didn’t see her for ten God damn years. Now she’s real again, the one I hurt, the one I wanted but would never have me. Because the damage I caused couldn’t be fixed, it was written all over her face. On the field I never backed down, I didn’t accept defeat and I couldn’t accept it now.

Driving back to work I shut everyone down, even Jules. Technically I was off the clock but I didn’t want to go home so I went back just to stay busy. For ten years I was stuck with myself and even if I didn’t engage much, I needed to be around other people so the silence wouldn’t get to me.

The night went by slowly without any incidents. No matter how hard I tried that one night wouldn’t go away, it was a tangle of events, all brutal, all permanent. While serving my time there were three things I thought about; what would life had been like had I stayed in and studied, watching my back and
her
.

After my shift, I went home to check on my grandma first. Walking in she greeted me like she always did, with a hug and the usual I love you. Falling into the recliner, she’s quiet a moment before she starts in on me.

“Judging by your face I’d go for bad night?”

“This was on purpose,” I tell her, looking away.

“Had to be,” she says handing me an ice pack. “My boy hasn’t lost a fight since preschool. Who is she?”

“A doctor, the one that got away.”

“Uh huh,” she says taking the chair across from mine. This was the woman who raised me, stood by me and swore my innocence when no one else would. She knew me, she knew my struggles. “What’s this doctor’s name?”

“Kandace Kane,” I tell her and her face lit up at the mention of a woman. “She tutored me senior year. Do you remember me complaining about her? Shit, had I listened to her---“

“Stop that,” she snaps. “Boy, playing that game will get you nowhere. Looking back never solved nothin’. If this woman cared for you it’s because you’re worthy of care and she sees that. Don’t let the past define you, live in the present, Rome.”

“I’m crashing out,” I tell her standing up. Leaning down to kiss her cheek, I tell her, “Love you, grandma,” before locking up behind me to go to my own place next door. My grandma owns the duplex we live in and when I got out she had the place next door ready for me. Normally she’d be down south spending half the year with family but she stayed back to help me adjust to life on the outside. Behind these walls was my safe haven but also a prison because no matter where I went, I was that guy.

The convicted rapist.

Grabbing my yearbook from the top shelf of my closet, I thumb through the pages in my class but I don’t see her. Going to the grade behind me, I spotted her right away. Kandace looked just as gorgeous then as she does now, minus the glasses. I loved her in those frames. The real bitch was, in college I hooked up with a specific type of girl and Kandace wasn’t it. She was the ultimate challenge; one I had no idea how to win.

Ten years changed her only slightly. She was still thick with long hair and pale skin but she wasn’t as shy anymore, she was totally confident now. Kandace was fucking beautiful. She was the one chick that scared the shit out of me
because
she was smart, didn’t care about what people thought and didn’t give a fuck about my status.

The truth was, in all these years she wasn’t the one who changed, I was and not for the better.

Football was going to give me money and fame. Both things I felt were owed to me. One bad choice I don’t even remember making, took that away from me and now I was nothing, nobody, a joke, a fucking lesson.

Slamming the book shut, I fall into the chair in front of the TV flicking through the channels but seeing nothing. My ribs ached, my face had a pulse and I was a prick to her because I was embarrassed. Tomorrow was my only day off and knowing I owed her an apology, my plan was to swing by her place to deliver it in person; after I conned Jules into giving me her address.

I wasn’t that arrogant kid in college anymore and I needed her to know that. I needed to show her I could be the good guy she expected me to be. Hopefully she wasn’t too pissed at me showing up to forgive me because I wasn’t leaving until she did.

His name was Sydney, I had been on three dates with him when we were walking in to Mercury Bar to eat before our concert. To say I was pumped to see Pearl Jam was an understatement. He had his arm over my shoulder while we waited for a table and I liked that he was slightly taller than me. Over the years I had tried giving guys shorter than me a shot but the height issue bothered me too much to make one stick.

Laughing at one of his jokes, I look up at him to fire one back when I see Roman in a booth with one other guy and three girls. Nice ratio I think to myself adding an imaginary eye roll. Paying their bill, Roman stands up first and zeroed in on me. I didn’t want him to notice me, I didn’t want his attention or his wrath. With him I never knew which way it would go. “She does come out to play,” he says sizing Sydney up. “Roman Peterson,” he says, extending his hand to my date. “Sydney Green,” he says, offering his. “Where are you two kids headed tonight?”

“Pearl Jam,” says Sydney saving me from speaking.

“Is that right?” he laughs. “Make sure Cinderella gets home before she turns into a pumpkin.”

His crew laughs at his stupid joke and when he walks out the door then turns to wink at me, I lose it. “Excuse me,” I say to Sydney throwing the door open. “Hey! Roman!” I shout. “Hold up.”

“Shouldn’t you be in there on your date with Sheila?” he laughs and the dipshits laugh with him. Knowing my book smarts bothered him, I let him have it in front of his band of fools. “Cinderella was a European folk tale from the Grimm Brothers collection. Cinderella by analogy has come to mean one whose attributes were unrecognized, or one who unexpectedly achieves recognition or success after a period of obscurity. That’s me for you slow people. She was portrayed as beautiful, of unparalleled goodness and a sweet temper,” I say all in one breath. “I’d be shocked if these skanks with you for your jock even know how to fucking read or get that you just paid me the greatest compliment there is. So thanks for being you, Roman, I like knowing where I rank.” While they all stood there with their jaws open Sydney called for me from the door letting me know our table was ready. Walking off, I extended my middle finger hoping Roman gagged on it.

Tonight after work I had a date.

A date I scored on my own, thank you very much. His name is Luke and his profile says he’s an architect, never married and no children. If a woman wasn’t married, or had no children she was defective but when a man stayed single he was a catch. I stayed single because I’ve yet to meet the man that I wanted forever with. Okay fine, I stayed single because none of the men in my life ever measured up to Roman. But measuring men’s character to another wasn’t fair; plus, I had no future with Roman so it was time to move on. We met on a dating site and though I was reluctant to do it, my co-workers insisted it was ideal for workaholics and social recluses. After weeks of dodging perverts and men living with their wives, I agreed to meet him at Roast inside of the Westin Cadillac Book.

Not only was I wearing makeup, but a dress and heels, too.

This wasn’t the norm for me. My basics were scrubs and clogs with my hair in a ponytail. Checking myself in the mirror, I had to admit I looked amazing. Most days I was extremely critical of my appearance but I couldn’t dispute that a little bit of effort went a long way. Turning in a circle, I noticed my large ass and smiled. This ass has served me well. When my doorbell rings I jump at the sound. Looking through the peep hole, I let out a loud holy shit before slowly opening the door. Jesus, it was my past replaying itself; only now I’m three sizes bigger with a degree and hard nipples.

“You’re at my house,” I accuse. “Why?”

“Because you weren’t at work.” He says casually leaning against my door looking perfect. The man never looked bad, it wasn’t possible. He had choice DNA.

“How did you find out where I lived?”

“Jules.” He shrugs eyeing me. “Can I come in?”

“Traitor,” I mumble uncertain what to do. That’s what I get for seeing her employees after hours I guess, awesome. Looking me up and down he doesn’t look impressed instead he just grunts, “You going out?”

“Yes.”

“With a guy?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Just like that my self-confidence took a nose dive into the hardwood floor. My ass felt as deflated as my ego. God, for once I wanted him to drool over me, just once.

“I wanted to say sorry,” he offers moving past me to come inside without an invitation. “In person.”

“Lucky me,” I mumble not moving from the door. “I need you to go, Roman.”

“Rome,” he says looking around my living room but not at me, never at me.

“Huh?”

“Call me Rome.”

“Okay, Rome,” I counter. “Apology accepted. Now, go.”

“You were so pushy. Always telling me what to do. Even called me stupid a few times, more than a few actually.”

“I didn’t mean mentally, I meant---“

“I knew what you meant, Kandace,” he says coming back toward me. “I didn’t get it back then, I do now. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“A lot of good it did you, Rome,” I whisper. “You went to prison.”

“Sure as fuck did, didn’t I? Enjoy your
date
,” he says walking toward the door. Then turning back to me his voice booms in the quiet of my living room, or maybe it was my heart. “Had I listened to you, had I taken the time to see you, things would have been different, doc, for both of us.”

In college I wanted him to notice me more than anything, only when he had, it crushed me. Now he was here looking at me with interest and I didn’t have the guts to play the game, I didn’t know the rules, I wasn’t the athlete he was. “Rome,” I call out as he steps through the door. Turning to me, I blurt the last thing I wanted to say. “Your stitches look angry, you should put some ointment on them.”