“How do you think she is?” Holly snapped, rolling her eyes. “Can I come in or what?”
I moved out of the doorway and let her enter. I looked over her shoulder to check if anyone was with her. “I’m alone, don’t worry,” she said, then her eyes softened as she studied the bruise on my face. “That looks pretty nasty.”
I gripped my jaw, I hadn’t seen it yet. I hoped Ace’s eye looked worse.
“I need to talk to her,” I said, bringing her back to the most important matter.
Her eyes hardened again. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” she snapped. “Where are her things?”
I pointed upstairs and then followed Holly as she made her way up. “Nice place by the way.”
She began gathering Whitney’s clothes, folding them into the suitcases. With each item she packed, my composure cracked more and more.
I couldn’t take her leaving again, I just couldn’t.
“Holly, you’ve known me a long time, so please listen to me,” I pleaded.
She looked up at me as she finished zipping the last suitcase. “I have known you a long time Calvin, but…” she waved a hand in my direction, “this person in front of me isn’t the same guy. So what does it matter?”
“I am the same guy,” I said, needing her to believe me. “I fucked up, let everything happening around me go to my head. We were fighting every day, and I was pissed, she was pissed. It all went to hell before I even knew it.”
She blinked several times, then rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blinked some more. Finally, she looked back at me. “What about the two girls in your bed? You were banging them while you were begging my best friend to give you a second chance.”
I gripped my hair with my hands, pulling at the roots. How could I make her understand?
“No, that’s not true,” I insisted. “Those girls were the reason I called Whitney. That’s why I fucked up so bad.”
She looked at me, confused.
Exhaling deeply, I began to pace the room. I stopped and turned to face Holly again. “I thought Ace was the shit, that he was the luckiest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Not a care in the world, woman crawling out of his ass…” I closed my eyes and cursed, “shit, sorry.”
Holly waved her hand, telling me to go on.
“Anyway, he was my hero so I thought he could do no wrong. And it was fun, you know, having women fawning all over me, having people think I was a big deal. I came from nothing. Nothing. And then suddenly…” I pushed a hand through my hair, “I was something.”
Holly was blinking hard again, so I turned away and started pacing again.
“But I swear to you… I never touched a woman while Whitney and I were together. I thought about it. I had woman jumping on my lap and trying to get in my pants, but I never touched them. Never. It wasn’t until weeks after Whitney left that I did anything.” I barked out a laugh. “Then I did everything. It was like I was trying to bang my brains out so I’d forget…”
Shit. I so shouldn’t have said that. I glanced at Holly, but she was looking at me with some understanding.
“But you couldn’t forget Whitney, could you?” she finished for me.
I shook my head violently. “No. And the more I partied and the more people, women, I met, the emptier my life became. Those girls were the last straw. Every guy’s fantasy brought to life, and it meant nothing. And I realized I was doing what—” I stopped myself.
“What Ace would do?” Holly finished for me again, her voice soft.
I shot her a yeah, I’m sorry look. “After Whit and I talked, I cleaned up everything, even my house. Hell, I got a new bed so she wouldn’t have to lay where those women had…”
I stopped. Thinking.
“What?” Holly asked in alarm.
“The bed!” I jerked Holly’s arm, pulling her to the master suite. “This bed. I bought it after I spoke to Whitney. They delivered it that same night.”
I was ecstatic that I had proof of that one thing.
Holly busted my bubble. “What does that prove?” Holly asked, unimpressed with my declaration.
“It proves that the picture was taken before I bought the new bed,” I explained like I was talking to a toddler.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, how would she know when you bought the bed?”
“The furniture store, Ralph, he would have the invoice,” I announced. “Ask her to look at the bed in the picture; it’s not the same bed.”
“You sound crazy, Calvin,” Holly said. “You really need to get some help.”
“Tell her!” I yelled, holding her arms tightly, forcing her to face me.
“Okay, okay,” she agreed, saying the words slowly. “But, I don’t see how that really proves anything; you could just have your buddy fudge the dates.”
For me, it was a start, and that was better than I had before. I helped her carry Whitney’s bags to Ace’s Porsche and then made her promise to talk to Whitney one last time before I let her leave.
After she shut the door, she rolled down the window and dropped a bomb at my feet. “So, Calvin, who took the picture of you and the sluts?”
Shit.
She smirked at me, the look more of disgust. “That’s what I thought.”
Before I could say a word, the Porsche roared to life, and she was gone.
***
I dreaded showing up to the stadium that next day. I’d barely gotten any sleep, and my jaw was swollen and still red from Ace’s fist. With Whitney’s stuff gone and no way to get in touch with her, I had no idea if she was even still in New York. For all I knew, she had gotten on an airplane and headed back home, or even worse, moved to Rhett’s house and let his charm ease her pain. Or Todd Morris. Hell, I was sure millions of guys would be willing to comfort my girl.
Coach stopped me at the locker room entrance and examined my jaw. “How’d this happen?” he asked just as Ace walked in. He stopped him too, leaving us standing side by side. I peeked over at Ace, his eye was swollen and colored with a deep purple that was almost black. I smirked, happy that he looked worse than I did.
“Okay, whatever happened between you two, it’s not coming on to the field. Got it?” Coach snapped.
We both agreed, and he let Ace pass but stopped me from going any farther. I was pulled to his desk, sat in the chair and was made to listen to a ten-minute lecture on my behavior during yesterday’s game. “I made the mistake of showing you the tabloid,” he admitted. “I didn’t know Whitney was back.”
“Well, she’s not anymore,” I half snarled half pouted.
“Now, whose fault is that, boy? You trying to blame me?” Damn. The man was scary when he was angry.
“No, sir,” I said and dropped my face in my hands. “Sorry.”
“I’m sure you’ll work it out,” he offered. “If she came back after all the stunts you pulled, why would she care about this?”
I didn’t want to get into the politics of it with him, I just wanted to be released from his rantings and lecturing. “I hope you’re right, sir.”
***