She drains another drink almost as soon as the waitress puts it down. Good idea. I order another. I’m going to regret this in the morning, and I have no idea how I’m going to get home. If Callaghan gives me shit at practice for being hungover, I’ll put the blame squarely on him—where it belongs. Speaking of which ... “Do you think Hannah and Callaghan are still here? Are they holding us hostage? Are they going to pick up the bill for tonight?”
Andi’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Why would they be picking up the bill? They were doing us a favor, arranging this meeting. I doubted you would come if I’d asked you directly, and we needed to be discreet. We can’t have anyone think we’re sneaking around. That’s why we’re in the room back here.”
Does she not see the irony in this plan? “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing? There’s no one else in this room but us.”
“No, we need to have a legit plan.” She keeps talking. “So my brother has a genetic disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy. It’s in the Muscular Dystrophy family. I’m always happy to do something for that. Of course, I’d also be happy to do some sort of fundraiser for women in sports. Those are some causes near and dear to my heart.” Now she takes a long sip from her water. “I just want it to be something important. You know, something that matters.”
I think about a cause near and dear to my own heart; the only thing that matters to me right now. “What about drug addiction? Keeping kids clean and all.”
Andi rolls her eyes, her mask cracking wide open. “Are you kidding me?” she slurs. “That’s so overdone. Plus, when are people going to start taking accountability for themselves? No one makes them do the drungs.” She looks surprised and tries again. “Drungs. Druuuuugs.” She nods triumphantly. “My brother didn’t get a choice about being born with a disease that will kill him. An addict isn’t born one.”
That’s it. I don’t want to listen anymore.
I push my chair away from the table. “This isn’t going to work. I don’t think we’d even be able to agree on anything. And you’re totally wrong about drug addiction. It’s a disease, just like your brother’s. But because of narrow-minded people like you, all it gets is shame. Do you know how hard it is to recover when the world judges you for having a disease?”
I throw a few hundred dollars on the table—even though we never got around to eating—and storm out. I cannot be in the same room with that woman. I’d rather never play soccer again.
And she deserves to lose her career.
Entay chases me out onto the street. Where the hell am I? I try to get my bearings. I’m close to the Zakim Bridge. Where did I park my car? It’s in a garage somewhere. Fuck, I’m too far from home to Uber.
“I can’t drive.”
Entay shakes his head. “No, you can’t. I thought I was going to have to wrestle the keys away from you.”
What? I run my fingers through my hair, scraping it back into a low ponytail. “Fuuuck, you think I’m that bad?”
Even in my whiskey-soaked brain, I know this is bad. If my own team captain thinks I’m horrible enough to drink and drive, then I am truly alone in this fight. No one believes in me.
I see Andi also stumble out, Hannah by her side. I point my finger at her. “This is your fault. And now everyone thinks I’m the scum of the Earth.” I turn my menacing finger on Entay. “I hate you all.”
I start to walk down the street. There’s got to be a hotel around here somewhere. I’m used to not being liked. I don’t need to be liked. I am good at what I do and that’s all that should matter. But somehow—right now—it’s not enough.
“Brandon, wait up!”
I stop. Of the three people I walked away from, she’s the last one I’d expect to chase me down. “What is it, Andrew? Am I going to get another lecture about how addiction is a choice, not arealdisease? Any other soapboxes you want to get up on? Or do you just like kicking a man where it hurts?”
She looks stunned at my tirade. Then she blinks and starts speaking, a slight slur edging her words. “We have to come up with something. Don’t you understand? I’m desperate,” she pants. Odd because I’ve seen her run up and down the soccer field and barely break a sweat.
I lean in and sniff the area where her jaw meets her ear. “Oh, I can tell. I can smell it wafting off of you.” Not a particularly kind thing to say, but I’m not feeling in a particularly kind mood.
And it’s a lie. She smells like lavender and citrus.
She puts her hand on my arm, trying to stop me from leaving. “Listen, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choices. The only person who can offer an alternate explanation as to why we were together is you.”
“Have you thought about the truth?”
Andi pulls her hand back as if I were a hot stove. Bitterly she says, “I live in a world where the truth doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is how it’s perceived. And once someone has made up their mind, nothing will change it.”
She walks away, and I’m left standing there on the street for a moment before I hail a cab to take me to the nearest hotel. Her words ricochet in my head, interrupting my sleep.
No one interrupts my sleep.
Certainly not some pain-in-the-ass referee who has it out for me but then puts the salvation of both our careers in our collective hands.
Both our careers.
Fuck, I know she’s right. If my own teammates think I’m the kind of scum who would get behind a wheel drunk, well, that says it all, doesn’t it? I’m a blowhard. I’m a loudmouth. I’m a womanizer. I don’t have an internal filter.
