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It’s unsettled in some ways. As much as I tell my friends I moved on. I did, but there’s a part that still hangs over me. Why? Did she really leave me on her own accord?
“That’s good, honey, that you can both still talk. Speaking of which, I need to talk to you soon about all of that.”
“All of what?”
“The Emmerson situation.”
“Mom, there is no situation. Don’t worry, it won’t be dragged into the press. Nothing about Em can tarnish my reputation anyway.” I’ve done enough of that for myself. Mom knows I’m not the goody two shoes I was as a kid, but now I’ve made it and we’re both set for life, I’m kinda off the hook with the shock tactics of the press. There’s always some bullshit roaming around about me and whoever I have on my arm for some event. Mom used to be really in my business at the beginning, even though I was based in Nashville for those early years. She had a say in most things until I had to put my foot down a little with my personal life.
It’s also the first time I’ve said ‘Em’ in six years.
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
I don’t know what is worrying her, but I have to get on with my day and hit the gym.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” I tell her.
“Come over for dinner this week, I’ll make your favorite.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye, honey. Awesome play again.”
I smile to myself, hearing the pride in her voice. “Bye, Mom.”
I hit the gym after that, down at the stadium with the guys. Ashton doesn’t get there until around half an hour before I’m about to leave. My body feels better, though, after a massage. Today is just gym and strength training, plus a massage and some recovery time in the sauna. This is where Ashton and I usually hang out and talk shit.
He asks me about the dinner thing with Maddison and Emmerson again, which is strange for him, as he’s not usually one for blind dates.
“I heard she’s a pretty sweet thing and wore my jersey all night,” he muses, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, you can be the judge of that. But yeah, she was wearing your colors bro. Could be a match made in heaven.”
He gives me a look. I know he doesn’t believe in that, not after his parents’ very ugly divorce. I think it put him off for life.
“Cindy and Ty weren’t exactly keeping a low profile either, now I think about it.”
“I hope he doesn’t fuck things up for himself if we make the finals.”
“When,” I correct him. There’s no way I’ve worked my ass off all year just to bow out now. Nope. Not happening.
“You know, I think we can do it,” he says. “We have a strong line-up, stronger than ever. Coach pushes us at every turn, and we’ve had a succession of wins. I mean, taking out the King’s last night was sweet.”
“Tell me about it. Ace fucking Brixton.” That’s all that needs to be said there.
“Then the asshole congratulates you.”
“Double edged sword.” I lament with a shrug. “I don’t trust the guy one iota.”
“I hear he’s been partying pretty hard in the off season, so maybe it’s trickled into on season.”
“Not from what I saw last night.”
“Some know how to hide it.”
I look at him. “You think he’s on some hard gear?”
We get tested at least once a year, so that can’t be possible whilst he’s playing.
