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Fancy: Indy. had a bad day. can’t sleep.
The last leg of his trip ends in Indianapolis for the NFL scouting combine, a week long event for his young guys that have declared for the draft to showcase their mental and physical abilities.
The smart choice would be to pretend I never got that text. It’s midnight. I can always say I fell asleep.
Me: Wanna talk about it?
Repeat after me, my pride whispers. I am a weak, pathetic excuse for my gender. A moment later my phone rings. There’s no guessing who it is because I’ve assigned the song from the movie Arthur called Arthur’s Theme (The Best That You Can Do) by Christopher Cross, to Ethan. Seems only fitting since he’s so worried about disappointing his nana that he agreed to be set up on a blind date.
The chorus plays…When you get caught between the moon and New York City…
“Hey.” His voice is low, the edges rough from overuse.
“You sound like shit.”
He chuckles and I instantly feel my spirits lift. After a deep sigh, he grumbles, “One of my guys tested positive for PEDs today.”
One of the things I respect most about him is how much he genuinely cares about his clients.
“It’s going to effect how he’s drafted?”
“Yeah.”
I can feel the weight he carries around in his voice, in the tired way he exhales. “I know how hard you work to help them be successful but you can’t save them all, Fancy Pants. They’re grown men.”
“He’s a twenty one year old kid with too much responsibility.”
“I’m sure you warned him.”
“I did.” He’s back to grumbling his responses. A stretch of silence follows. I can almost hear him thinking on the other end of the line.
An irrational urge to take all his worries away, to soothe every hurt comes over me––and that’s just plain stupid. This man does not need me to kiss his boo-boos. He’s beautiful and successful and has friends and family. He doesn’t need anything from me.
“Alien,” I say. “Night, Vaughn.” I hang up before he can say another word, before this craving becomes a full blown addiction. I’m out of the boo-boo kissing business.
I warned Morrison to hook up a generator. I warned him repeatedly. Ethan agreed it was only wise considering the state of the ancient electric wiring in this behemoth of a house and Morrison said he would take care of it. But did he? No. Of course not. Hence, here I am alone, since Fancy has yet to return from his trip to Indianapolis, stuck in a house with too much open space, no electricity, and no heat.
Wrapped in my down blanket, I glance outside the living room window and see nothing other than a sheet of continuously falling snow. It’s whiteout conditions. Traffic hasn’t come to a complete halt yet but I give it another half hour until the streets look like a scene out of The Day After Tomorrow. Thank God I had the foresight to buy a couple of candles at the market when I went food shopping. Though a couple of candles aren’t going to do jack to keep the frostbite away.
A noise at the front door gets my wary attention. The lock clicks open and a large hooded figure blows in with the cold wind and snow. Under the cover of the inky darkness, I stand there paralyzed, my heart hammering away.
Who the hell else has the keys to this place? One of the construction guys?
In nanoseconds I’m calculating how quickly I can reach a solid object and what my chances are of surviving outside in only my pajamas, and I suck at math. Amazing what the human mind can do when pumped up on adrenaline and life is at stake.
The intruder pulls his snow covered hood down and my knees almost buckle.
“What are you doing here?!” I screech.
“I live here,” the intruder answers flatly. Angry stomping, I stalk up to the jackass and hit him squarely in the chest, and in the process drop the blanket. I may as well be standing in an icebox. No problem, my anger’s keeping me toasty. Catching my wrists as I flail against him, the jackass chuckles.
“This is how you thank me for walking twenty city blocks in a blizzard for you?” I rip my hands out of his hold and plant them on my hips. He drops his snow covered down puffer jacket by his feet and looks down with a heart-stopping grin.
“Don’t smile at me like that!” I snap. “And let’s get one thing clear, I am immune to that bullshit.” On a roll now, my arm slashes through the air. “You’re not supposed to be back ‘til tomorrow! I thought you were one of the construction guys trying to break in. I was about to go Crouching Tiger on your ass––”
