Page 77 of Just for the Cameras
CHAPTER 15
GRAYDON
“I’m guessing you don’t wantto talk about it,” Hutton says as he takes a seat next to me, returning from the bathroom, at the bar that’s walking distance from my place.
“What gave you that impression?” I ask as I tip back my fourth beer of the night.
“Well, we’ve been here for about a half hour, sitting in silence, just drinking, and nary a mention about the girlfriend proclamation that happened in the training room, so…”
“So what?”
“So…I guess we’re not talking about it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Cool.” From the corner of my eye, I see him nod. “Well, if you’re not going to talk about it, then I think I might just go home and fuck my wife, if you don’t mind.”
“Do whatever the hell you want,” I answer.
He stands from the barstool and pats me on the back. “When you need to vent, you know where to find me.”
“Between your wife’s legs.”
“Precisely.” He squeezes my shoulder and then takes off, leaving me alone at the bar, feeling like a steaming pile of shit. I appreciate that he sat with me, but he’s right. I’m in no mood for company.Not that that’s unusual.And I don’t begrudge him going home to be with his wife.
Christ, today was a compilation of fuck yous.
From Maple being late, to seeing her hurt, to her tears that gutted me, to wanting to shield her from the pain and impending firestorm on her privacy, to seeing my dad, to him being a fucking slimeball all over her, to needing to do something, anything, to make it up to Maple after she had to meet him.She has no real idea how messy this will get.
It’s why I needed to drive her home to her apartment. Then, once I caught sight of her meager dwellings, I just wanted to…make it better. Can’t say I’ve ever shopped for someone else before.I doubt I’ll ever repeat it either.How did she have so little? She’s…she’s so bubbly and feisty…Shouldn’t she have all that pretty shit?
Like, Jesus, she didn’t even have a coffee maker.
A plant.
Her bedding looked like it was from middle school, pulled straight from a trunk in the attic.
And her apartment was so bland that I couldn’t imagine her going through all of this bullshit she’s about to embark on and retreat to that…joke of an apartment.
And I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t. She grates on my nerves, there’s far too much tension between us, and the last thing I want her to do is feel any sort of…empathy toward me. But I couldn’t just stand there and not do anything when I feel this impending need to doeverythingfor her.
I drag my hand over my face. What a goddamn mess.
And then there was my dad. I can’t remember the last time I saw him, probably at my last game of the past season. Disappointment was written all over his face then, and even though I did my job, it wasn’t good enough for him.
I was a disappointment to him. He’s told me over and over again I was wasting my time with a front office that wouldn’t know how to draft and trade players if their life depended on it, but I couldn’t leave. I had to stay here.
I fucking had to stay here…
I down the rest of my beer and plop down a one-hundred-dollar bill on the bar, nodding at the bartender. He offers me a nod back, and I head out the door and walk the block back to my apartment.
It’s a calm Friday night, not many people out and about, the wind whipping around off the bay more strongly than it normally does, cutting through the streets of San Francisco. And as I walk, my mind goes to Maple and how she’s only four blocks from my place.
Fucking four blocks. I didn’t mention that to her because she doesn’t need to know, but how are our apartments so different with just a four-block distance in between? It’s not that my place is anything to write home about, but it’s newly renovated, offers me a sizable garage for my truck, and doesn’t have chipping paint coming off the walls.
I bought below my means, but that doesn’t bother me. I don’t buy fancy things, nor do I care to own them. I live a simple life with a truck that gets me around, an apartment that keeps me warm and dry, and a job that lets me get out my rage.
And when I can’t get out my rage because I’m attempting to play nurse on a white horse, I have a bar a block away that allows me to drown all the rage and confusion with a pint glass.
