The Debt 12 (Club Alpha) (7 page)

 
“Did you talk to anyone about it?” Faith
asked.

“What, like therapy?”

“Anyone,” Faith said.

Monique shook her head, crossed her long legs.
 
“In my family, therapy was for head
cases that couldn’t handle their own shit.
 
Pardon my French.”

“Not a problem.”

“I tried to bring it up around one or two
of the other player wives, but they instantly froze me out and shut me down
when I did.
 
It was like I’d farted
loudly at someone’s dinner table,” Monique said.
 
“I couldn’t tell my mother or
sisters.
 
They’d have freaked out
and flown out to Boston to confront him—and believe me, that would’ve
just made things worse for me.”

“So you just dealt with it all yourself,”
Faith said.

“Yeah.
 
I considered leaving him on occasion,
after a bad fight or something.
 
But
then he’d turn on the charm for a few weeks and win me back, have me convinced
that this time he’d really stopped for good.
 
I guess I’m just dumb or something.”

“You are
not
dumb,” Faith said, her voice getting loud.
 
She stared at Monique.
 
“Don’t talk that way.”

Monique’s gaze fell to the table.
 
“Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize
for.
 
He’s got your head spinning
and he’s obviously undermined your self-esteem.
 
It’s not okay,” Faith told her.

The other woman looked up again, and now
the tears in her eyes were falling, trailing down her cheeks as her jaw
trembled.
 
“I’m so scared,” she
whispered.

Faith stood up and walked over to where
Monique was sitting.
 
She leaned
down and hugged her tightly from behind.
 
“You’re going to be okay.”

“I need help,” Monique said.
 
“I don’t know what to do next.”

Faith let go of her and knelt down beside
her.
 
“Can you return to
Atlanta—go and stay with your family?”

“I—I think so,” she replied,
nodding hesitantly.
 
“I have a
little money saved up in a secret account that Steve doesn’t know about.
 
I’ll buy a ticket for tomorrow morning.”

At that moment, Chase stepped into the
kitchen.
 
His face told Faith that
he’d perhaps heard some of the conversation—or at least, enough of it to
know what was happening.

“You can stay here tonight and we’ll take
you to the airport tomorrow,” he told her firmly.

“I couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“It’s no imposition,” Faith said.
 
Of course, it wasn’t really her place to
say that.
 
But Chase obviously felt
strongly that he wanted to help, and Faith thought it only right to reassure
Monique that she had their full support.

Monique hung her head and now the crying
had gotten more apparent, as her shoulders shook.
 
“I can’t thank you guys enough.
 
I think I really need help.
 
I need to get away from him
before…before he does something terrible to me.”

 
Chase came further into the room.
 
“We’re not going to let him hurt you.
 
You’re safe here.”

He said it with confidence, but Faith
wasn’t so sure.
 
Was Monique really
safe?

Monique thanked them over and over again
through her tears.

Faith looked over to Chase, her heart
beating strong in her chest.
 
His
eyes were somber and she knew what he was thinking.

Life was about to get very complicated.

***

A little while later, Monique was in the
guest room, and Chase and Faith were in the master bedroom.

He was pacing back and forth in front of
the bed, while Faith sat on the bed and reading on her cell phone about
domestic violence and how to help someone who was a victim of it.

“Maybe we need to get her to a shelter?”
Faith said.

“She’s flying home in the morning,” Chase
said, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, maybe.
 
We don’t know if she even bought herself
a ticket yet.”

“I’ll buy her a damn ticket,” Chase replied,
his voice rising.

“Don’t talk so loud!” Faith
whispered.
 
“We don’t want to make
her feel bad.”

“We’re the last people she needs to worry
about.
 
Velcro’s going to make her
feel bad if he gets hold of her again.”

“Don’t get upset,” Faith said.
 
“We need to stay calm.”
 
She continued reading about victims of
domestic violence.
 
It was
frightening how often women were hospitalized or even killed by their husbands
and their boyfriends.

It was so common that their spouse or
boyfriend would be the first person questioned by police if a woman was
murdered.
 

“How can I not get upset?” Chase
asked.
 
He stopped and faced
her.
 
“This guy is on my team.
 
And he’s the most popular person on the
team, in the locker room and with the media and the fans.
 
Now I’m going directly up against him
and the front office by helping his fiancé run away.”

“I know it’s a tough situation—“

He laughed bitterly.
 
“It’s a lot more than that.
 
In case you hadn’t noticed, my
performances aren’t exactly lighting the world on fire.
 
This isn’t the time to try and throw my
weight around.”

“What do you want to do?
 
Kick her out?”

“Obviously not.”
 
He rubbed his beard stubble on his chin
and then went to the window and stared outside.
 
“It’s just bad timing.”

Faith wanted to comfort him but she could
tell he wasn’t in the mood.
 
“Maybe
he won’t even find out you helped her.”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” Chase said.
 
“Considering Velcro just got out of a
car and is coming to my front door.”
 

“What?” she cried out, dropping her phone
in a
panic.

Chase was already running down the stairs
to the first floor, as Faith was following behind him.
 
He was fast—and she couldn’t keep
up.

Her head felt faint and she was spinning
a little from what Chase had just told her.

Velcro was here?
 

That meant somehow he’d found out where
Monique was.
 
But
how?

Chase had already opened the front door
by the time Faith got to midway down the staircase.
 
She heard the guest bedroom door open
and saw Monique coming out.

“Go back inside your room,” Faith
instructed, her voice surprisingly calm, given the circumstances.

Monique hesitated.
 
Her face looked pale and her eyes had
dark circles under them.
 
She
retreated and closed the door and Faith turned to see what was going on with
Chase and Velcro.

“Where’s ‘Nique?” Velcro said.
 

Faith could hear the other man’s voice,
low and angry—still controlled, but barely.
 

Chase’s large body was blocking the
doorway.

“Listen,” Chase began.
 
“You can’t be here right now—“

“No.
 
You listen,” Velcro said, his voice getting louder.
 
“This is between me and her.
 
You got nothing to do with this,
Winters
.
 
Now
step aside, I need to see my girl.”

“She doesn’t want to see you right now,
and this is my house.”
 

Faith stood on the stairwell, not knowing
what to do.
 
She was terrified that
Velcro might have a weapon.

“Dude, you have no idea what I’m capable
of,” Velcro said.
 
“I will take you
out if you fuck with me.
 
That’s my
lady in there.”

“If you care so much about her, maybe you
shouldn’t beat her,” Chase told him.

“I don’t know what you’re chattering
about,
Winters
.
 
Tell Monique to come out.
 
I’m through talking to you.”
 

“I already told you.
 
She’s not coming.”

“Fine, then.
 
Guess I’m coming in, bitch.”

Velcro tried to rush through the doorway,
like he was trying to run for a touchdown.
 
Chase grabbed him and attempted to halt his progress.

They began struggling ferociously, and
Faith screamed for them to stop.
 
She ran down the stairs and tried to stop them, but everything was
happening so fast.

Velcro was trying to push through the
door and Chase had grabbed him in a headlock and was pulling him back outside.

They were two very strong men, and
Velcro, although smaller—was incredibly athletic and fast.

He pulled out of the headlock and faked a
punch.
 
As Chase went to block the
fake punch, Velcro scooted inside the door, bumping past Chase as if he was
executing a passing route on the football field.

“Where’s Monique?” he said, staring
angrily at Faith.
 
“Monique!” he
shouted.

Suddenly, Monique appeared at the landing
atop the second floor and looked down.
 
“Steve,” she said sadly.

Faith put out her hands and tried to push
him away from the stairs, but his chest was like a rock wall and he didn’t
budge.
 
“You need to leave or we’ll
call the police,” Faith said.

“Do you really want me gone?” Velcro
asked Monique, locking eyes with her.

The woman didn’t respond.

“She’s terrified of you,” Faith said.

Velcro made a face of disgust.
 
“You don’t know shit about her or me,
bitch.”
 
He pushed Faith casually
out of the way and she fell on hard on the edge of the stair tread.

Chase ran up the stairs, and when Velcro
turned to face him, Chase pulled a pistol from the waistband of his pants and
put the muzzle of the gun tightly to Velcro’s temple.

Monique shrieked.

“You ever touch Faith again and I’ll make
sure whatever brains you have left, get picked up off the floor by the
cops.
 
Got it?” Chase growled.

Velcro raised his hands as his face
turned purple.

“I’ll fucking end you.
 
I’m not playing,” Chase said.

“Don’t do it,” Faith said.
 
“Please, Chase—put the gun away.”
 
She sat on the stairs, looking up at
them, her heart pounding hard in her chest.
 
“Stop,” she said.

His eyes were cold and hard as Chase
continued pressing the gun to Velcro’s temple.
 

“Please…don’t…don’t shoot,” Velcro whispered.
 
His lips were pulling back from his
teeth in a fearful grimace.
 
White
flecks of spit had spattered the corners of his mouth.

Finally, Chase released him.
 
“Now get the fuck out of my house, you
sorry son of a bitch.”

Velcro practically fell, as he was let
go.
 
He stumbled blindly towards the
open door.

Chase kicked him hard in the ass and sent
the smaller man forward, but Velcro kept his balance as he ran outside.

Finally, Chase walked calmly to the door
and slammed it shut,
then
locked it.
 
He turned, putting the gun back in his
waistband.
 

Faith stared at him, stunned by what he’d
done.
 
“You just pulled a gun and
threatened to kill him,” she said.
 
“If he calls the police—“

“He won’t,” Chase told her.
 

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s a coward, and he won’t want
any investigation into this.
 
He’s a
woman beater.”
 
Chase glanced up the
stairs at Monique, who looked positively shell-shocked.

Chase helped Faith to her feet.
 
“Are you okay?” he asked her softly.

She nodded slowly.
 
“I—I think so.”
 
She took a deep breath and let it
out.
 
Her hands were numb and
tingly.