Rooster: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (41 page)

Ok, I’m going to rephrase that. I’m more scared of a long term relationship than Alex is. It sounds ridiculous even thinking it. We are talking here about Alex Vann Haden, the man who by his own admission some years ago, declared himself perennially single. The man who used to have relationships in the blink of an eye, who would move from one girl to the next as though moving from his living room to his kitchen. I know that’s in the past now, and I know Alex is a completely different person, I guess it just takes a bit of getting used to.

And me? I’m just as perennially single, but for completely opposite reasons. I’m not used to having a boyfriend, even though we still haven’t labeled exactly what it is that we’ve got going here with each other. We’re going slow, but that still means fucking each other at every opportunity, spending every single waking moment together, and generally behaving like every single couple in the world does.

We argue about stupid shit, and then we make up and have the best sex either one of us could imagine.

It’s perfect, but perfect’s scary sometimes, and being the cynical reporter than I am, I’ve learned to be mistrustful.

The truth is, I’m over the moon with Alex. He is nothing like the guy he was at college, even though some aspects of his personality remain the same. He’s driven, obstinate, desperate to win at all costs and will do anything in his power to get what he wants. Those are qualities I admire, because he manages to display them as qualities now, when back at college, he just came across as a selfish dick, who didn’t care about anyone but himself and his career in football.

Now, it’s obvious that he cares about me as well as his team, being the best at anything he wants to set his mind to, and making sure me and him don’t ever let the world get us down.

It’s been hard between us. Even in the short space of time we’ve been back together, I’ve been depressed about Dad, negative about what I want from us, even though deep down I know what I want is for us to be together, and the negativity I feel is fuelled by fear of something pulling us apart, busy with trying to get my shit back together and overwhelmed with work, which is just about pushing me over the edge at the moment.

Alex is supportive with everything I throw at him, and happy to look after me financially should the day job ever get too much.

Being a kept woman is very tempting, but it doesn’t suit my style and I think the worst thing anyone can do in any relationship is rely on the other person to the point of losing their own identity. I’m not going to let that happen, a) because I’m a strong woman and b) because it’ll set expectations between us I don’t want to put in place.

The shit with Dad is ongoing. They still haven’t got the headstone in place, there is a problem with the insurance claim, the lorry driver is trying to prove his innocence by blaming it all on Dad, and the security camera footage has somehow either been lost or erased over completely.

Sorting out his inheritance has been a nightmare too, because, in typical fashion, Dad didn’t leave a will.

Alex is away a lot with his team and the closer I get to him and the more I rely on his being around at all times, the harder it is to cope with his absences. I was conscious of that coming back to him, and too stupid enough to ignore my desires and heed it. Since the Jets game, and that incredible fuck session back at his house afterward, I’ve seen him as much as possible, which has basically been almost every night in the week, and two weekends out of the four he’s not been traveling. It’s enough for now. I know it’s enough for now, but every time he has an away game and has to go out of state, I get itchy until he comes back home.

It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s that I need him and for me, that’s really fucking scary. That’s why, after only one month and a bit since our two-month reunion, I’ve got wedding bells ringing in my head, thoughts of moving in - even though nothing’s been said by either of us - and images of enough children running around we could make an entire football team.

That’s what I mean by saying I don’t know whether I’m ready, because my subconscious mind seems like it’s already made the decision, while everything else is catching up to the news.

I guess I’m complaining about nothing. I guess that if I didn’t want any of this, I wouldn’t have come back in the first place and I wouldn’t be here now, waiting for Alex to come home.

I know what it is too. He means so much to me that even the possibility that our situation could change is enough to make me worry if the pain of that is worth the pleasure I get from risking it.

And then I think again and realize I usually get introspective like this when Alex is away and as soon as he gets home, any doubt I’ve ever had about us gets obliterated as quickly as I see those gemstone eyes twinkling at me, he gives me that incredible hug and whisks me off to the bedroom with sinful intentions in mind.

I never tell him any of this either. They’re not doubts about my feelings for him - my feelings for him are more intense now than they ever were in college, and I never thought that would be possible with anyone let alone the same man - they are doubts about love itself, I suppose.

I just wonder how it can be so perfect, because I expect at any moment to have the carpet pulled out from underneath me, just because that’s the way I’ve gotten used to, the way life has a tendency of fucking you in the ass.

It’s happened to me before too. And if it’s happened once, no matter how strong your current relationship, there is always the chance it could happen again, no matter how unlikely it seems. There is always the worry that it might.

Alex has admirers in every state in this country. Ex-lovers in almost every city and I’m sure a ton more besides that, that not even the most dedicated of reporters ever found out about.

I can’t say that doesn’t worry me, especially now he’s back in the public eye, placing himself in a position of scrutiny, accepting invitations to all kinds of social events, modeling a variety of different underwear with a variety of different underwear models. It’s temptation city, and Alex hasn’t ever, in his past before us, been a man able to refuse something so appealing despite his appeals to the contrary.

He promises me he’s not playing around. He promises me that I’m the only girl he’s ever wanted and the only girl he will ever have from now on. He invites me to these things too, it’s not like I don’t have the opportunity to go along, it just doesn’t seem right and I want to make sure I can trust him without me around making sure of it anyway. It’s different if I’m there hanging off his arm, that’s not the real test of a partner’s ability to be monogamous. It’s when the other half isn’t there at all to keep a watch on them.

And it’s not as if the press don’t already know about us. I mean, Alex and I are like the worst kept secret of any football player and his most recent lover. From that very first day I went back to him, he never even tried to hide it. We’ve been all over the papers together, comments have been made by all corners, we have our detractors and our supporters and overall people have been lovely, but at the back of my mind, despite all of that to contradict it, I’ve always had a niggling doubt growing. Something like a shadow so small you barely notice it at first, that over the last month has just sat and waited patiently for the inevitable to happen.

I guess you could call it prophetic. Maybe you could even say I willed it into existence. Whatever it is, when I see the photo, the accompanying article underneath, the scandal that hits the front page of every national newspaper from here to Alaska, my heart sinks so hard I have to pick it out of my boots.

My yo-yo life. One moment I’m at the top of the mountain looking at a perfect sunset, the next I’m tumbling down the rocky face of it, into a chasm so deep it doesn’t appear to have an end.

One minute I’m fucking Alex, the next my father dies. One minute I’m fucking Alex, the next he’s apparently fucking someone else.

I don’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because I know how all of this works, but right now it doesn’t look good. Right now I’m scared. Right now I’m looking at fuzzy cell phone footage, the confession of a call girl and indications of the existence of a sex tape that may or may not be released.

I’m scared of getting close, only to have the carpet pulled out from underneath my feet, because life sucks, leopards don’t change their spots, and Alex Vann Haden may just have broken my heart into a million pieces once again.

I don’t call. He calls me instead like he usually does but I don’t answer it. Instead, I wait for him to get home and explain. I trust him, I just don’t like what I’m seeing, and I definitely don’t trust the girl that’s spread over four pages, her tits practically hanging out all over the place, her hair tied up like mine and a tattoo across her arm that looks like a stamp of stupidity.

It’s not the first time in Alex’s career a call girl has called him out. That time we never heard Alex’s side of the story, only an update from his lawyer that the girl had been taken to court and charged with slander. The newspapers that printed that story ran apologies and were fined for printing something that not only wasn’t true, but had the potential to be defamatory. You’d think they’d have learned their lessons, right? You’d think Alex would have done too.

It could be that I’ve had a shit weekend already. It could be that I’ve just found out I’m on my last warning at work, but that’s another story entirely. It could be that my self-confidence is at an all-time low and there’s no reason I can think of that makes me wonder why he wouldn’t do it anyway and why it’s taken him so long in the first place, and then it could just be because I’m used to being hurt. By men, by the world, by everything that stands in my way of happiness.

Either I’m paranoid and I’m more depressed than I thought, or Alex has got some serious explaining to do.

He finds me in the bedroom when he gets back, covered in pages of different editorials, hidden in a blanket of accusations and buried deep in what I hope is nothing but newsprint lies.

I’ve been crying but that’s nothing new. I cry for Dad still and I cry because I feel alone on the weekends that Alex leaves me and I can’t or won’t go with him.

He stands in the doorway, filling it almost entirely, a bag of something that looks like presents under his arm that give the impression of a bribe ready to be gifted apologetically.

“You’ve seen it?” he says.

“Who is she?”

“Someone from my past.”

I raise the page that has been stuck in my hand since I first read it to my eyes and begin to read for him.

“Alex is dynamite in the sack, like you wouldn’t believe-.”

“Lucy.”

I hold my hand up to stop him coming in and continue to read, my eyes wet with tears.

“So careful and considerate, I can’t tell you how many times I came-.”

“You know-”, he begins to say.

I ignore him and continue. “But right afterward, talk about cold. He was out of there before we even had time for a cuddle. There’s more.”

“It’s bullshit.”

“This what you get up to when you go away?”

“You know I don’t.”

“How many more are there?”

“Lucy, listen to me. She’s lying.”

“This is you and her, isn’t it?”

“It is, but not from when she says it’s from. Look at my hair, look at my face, it’s an old picture. It’s from last season, almost a year ago.”

I look at the picture but I can’t see it.

“Don’t lie to me, Alex”, I say.

“I promise you, Lucy. I don’t know why she’s saying what she’s saying now, someone must have put her up to it, but that is not from when she says it is.”

Alex tries to come into the bedroom again, but I’m still not ready to let him.

“I thought you trusted me”, he says.

“I thought I did too.”

“That’s not me, you know that's not me. We talked that night for over an hour. What do you think I did afterward, go out looking for call girls I could sleep with?”

“What did you do?”

“I don’t know. Watch TV, sleep, the usual.”

“On your own?”

“Of course on my own.”

“So nobody can say.”

“Lucy.”

“It’s here, Alex. It’s all over the fucking newspapers. Ten of them, at least. I’ve had people calling me. Mom called me. She says there’s a sex tape.”

“There isn’t a sex tape.”

“Why would she say this if it wasn’t true?”

“Listen to me, Lucy. I know this looks bad, but it’s not at all what you think it is. You work in this industry, you know the kind of unforgivable shit that goes on behind the scenes. She’s doing this on purpose to get at me, to get at us both perhaps. I wouldn’t be surprised if a rival team put her up to this.”

“I need to know I can trust you.”

“You can trust me”, he says.

I’m crying again and this time, Alex makes it into the room before I can get the words out to stop him.

“How long have you been like this, thinking like this?”

I shake my head but still the words don’t come. Alex takes my hand in his.

“Look at me”, he says.

I look at him, my eyes wells of tears.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for ever and a day and I will always love you. I am never going to do anything to jeopardize that, I promise you. You’ve got to believe me.”

“It’s just.”

“What will it take for you to believe me?”

I hold up pages of the newspaper feebly.

“If you need me to, I’ll find her and you can ask her. I’ll take her to court and get her to say when this happened, under oath. Look at my hair, Lucy. I haven’t had it that short for a year. I’m not that person anymore, you’ve got to believe me. You’ve got to believe I’d never do anything like this to you.”

“I don’t know what to believe. I’m sorry, Alex. I’m-. Right now, I don’t know. All these social events, the modeling, and now this. It just. It looks so real.”

“It is real. It just isn’t from when she says it is. The papers have jumped on it like they always do. Print the story, check the facts later. No one asked my side of it. This shit is going to happen, now I’m back in the public eye, you’ve got to realize that. It’s why I took myself away from it in the first place.”

“I think I liked it better when you did”, I say.

“Then maybe we’ll have to do it again because if this is what happens if I don’t, I don’t even want to know.”

I don’t know what to think. That shadow of doubt in my head isn’t going away and it’s so hard to work out whether it’s just me and my paranoia or something else entirely. I’ve known Alex intimately for a month and two days. Do I really know him well enough to trust him over something like this? Do I have a choice? Looking at the photos again his hair does look different, but I don’t know whether there’s enough of a difference in the graininess of the image to convince me. It could be the light. It could be the angle. It could even be the way he’s lying beneath her. The cocky smile is the same after all. The fucking twinkle in his eye I thought he reserved especially for me. That even comes across in monochrome.

“I’ll run a counter article and get onto my lawyer”, he says.

“Ok.”

“I don’t want this to come between us.”

“Nor do I, Alex. This is just so fucking typical.”

“They want to see me fall, Lucy. They always have. It’s what happens to people like me. We get built up and then chopped down and smashed into the ground until there is nothing left. You have to trust me to tell you the truth because if I don’t have your trust, a hole is going to open up between us neither one of us will be able to stop getting so big we each end up on either side of it. I love you. I will not let anything come between us.”

“I love you too. Fuck, Alex, I love you so much. I don’t know. Maybe all this, it’s made me realize it. Fuck, maybe it’s because I can’t bear to think about losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me”, he says.

“I’m not the prettiest girl in the world, you know. I’m aware of that. I’m not even sure why you like me. I’m not like the supermodels all of the other players seem to go for, I’m not even all that normal. What if you fall in love with someone at one of your exclusive post-match parties, or an underwear model? What have I got against them?”

“What you’ve got is that you are you, specifically that. I don’t want anyone else, I want you, and I’m not sure what more I can do to convince you.”

“The papers don’t help”, I say.

“Just ignore the papers and listen to what I’m telling you. I know it’s difficult but it’s the truth. I love you. If you want, I’ll scream it across New York. I’ll print an entire newspaper to distribute across the fifty states just with that message.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I would do absolutely anything to make you happy.”

“Anything?”

“Name it.”

I give him the look and he smiles.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“You said anything.”

“I didn’t think you meant that. What if you take photos and they end up in the newspaper, and besides which they cut into my balls so much before I thought I was going to lose them.”

I give him my sad face, which isn’t too hard considering what I’m trying to deal with right now.

“Fuck, alright. I promise I’ll even do that for you”, he says.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

I shake my head. “It’s going to take a while.”

“I understand completely. Take as long as you want. Ask me whatever you need to. I want there to be complete and utter honesty between us. I will do absolutely anything to show that you can trust me.”

“I’m fragile”, I say.

“You already said.”

“I guess it’s why. I don’t know. I just feared the worst.”

“You want me to get in alongside you?”

I nod. “Let’s get rid of this horrible woman first. What were you even thinking?”

“I know right.”

I hold up one of the newspaper pages so we can both see a picture of her, a gratuitous shot of her semi-naked from one of the lowbrow editorials. “Her tits are enormous.”

“That was a different life entirely”, he says.

“You don’t want that really do you?”

His look tells me everything I need to know. We clear the pages from the bed, screwing some up into tiny balls to throw indiscriminately at the wall, tearing up others into as many pieces as I still feel like my heart has broken into.

I know Alex wants to fuck to make me feel better, but I’m just not in the mood right now. I hug him and hope for all the world he isn’t lying to me. Like I say, that shadow at the back of my brain has always been there, ever since the first time I found out someone had let me down, so it’s going to take a long time to get rid of it entirely. If indeed that’s at all possible.

Thirteen.

Alex

Past life and newspapers. Turns out you can’t avoid the wrath of either one of them. It takes a lot to convince Lucy that story is bullshit, and even though she says I don’t need to do half the stuff I do to prove it, I can tell that deep down she still has her doubts.

I don’t blame her either. I don’t cheat and I never have, not even way back when I would hold hands with a girl during recess and think the world couldn’t get any better, but I’ve done a lot of shit in the past I know full well is going to come back and haunt me, and, unfortunately, it turns out that this was just the first part of that.

It was exactly this kind of shit that got me in trouble with the press before, but this time around I go through the right channels to dismiss it, which includes contacting my legal team, building up a bulletproof PR campaign and approaching the same newspapers that publish the story in the first place to give my version of it. The version that also happens to be the truth.

Yes, we fucked. No, it wasn’t this season, and no there isn’t a sex tape, unless she pulled some hidden camera bullshit on my ass I didn’t know about. The girl comes to me afterward and asks for money, and then when I refuse to give it to her she threatens to release the tape to the internet. This goes on for about a week until it’s clear beyond doubt she’s made the whole thing up and most of the papers are forced to issue a retraction and a subsequent groveling apology. The sex tape never surfaces, no matter how much she crows on about releasing it, while she takes the whole bullshit confession thing online to a tiny corner of the internet nobody pays attention to.

That’s not the only scandal that hits me this month either. After that stuff with the big titted call girl from Cincinnati, two other stories come out about me sleeping with women while on the road. This time they don’t make the papers, instead they end up all over social media, which is almost even worse, because what follows is an endless gossip thread questioning my loyalty, with people making up all kinds of crazy stuff left, right and center about how I’ve cheated on them in the past, or done something to wrong them, or how basically I’m just a love rat.

It takes a while to adjust to, and even though this apparently happens as much to other players as it does to me, depending on who happens to be popular that month for a public airing, whether the story is true or not, it still has a massive impact on my life.

I get called into the team’s office to defend myself, twice in a matter of weeks, while Lucy doesn’t know what the hell to think, one moment getting over one story, while reading another about something a girl and I did together over three years ago. It’s a difficult time, and one in which I do everything I can to prove to my coach I haven’t suddenly slipped back into old ways and to Lucy that I love her.

The old me isn’t the me I am now, and it’s unfair for people to judge me on past actions. That sounds reasonable to me, but I understand how difficult it is for other people to understand, especially if they come from a completely different world. Lucy’s been on the receiving end of cheating men more than once, and I know if she thought I was doing the same to her, especially after everything I’ve told her to the contrary, it would break her into a million pieces.

It’s hard for me to convince her I’m not, even more so when the evidence against me looks overwhelming - call girls changing dates, doctored photos, women paid to lie through their teeth - but there is nothing else I can do that I’m not doing already and  hope she comes around.

We’re only two months into a relationship, a month of which has basically been spent trying to quash rumors and convince her I’m for real, so I know it’s going to take time. Hopefully, we’ve got that, though. Hopefully, Lucy will finally come round, that niggling doubt she’s got about us will eventually fade away into nothing, and we’ll be so strong that not even a seemingly infallible made up story will be able to get between us.