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I approach her side, and sure enough, it’s a post on my brother’s account featuring a photo of him and Leo leaning over Chris’s freshly tatted back, shit-eating grins on both their faces. Matt’s giving the thumbs up as Leo’s rubber gloved hand rests on Chris’s back, still grasping the tattoo gun, his sexy scarred eyebrow raised. The bratty man-boys look pretty damn proud of themselves as Chris smiles nervously over his shoulder from his prone position, as if he’s worried about what they might be laughing at in the picture. And so he should; because between the two goons is Leo’s masterpiece on Chris’s back of a black panther that appears to be crawling up his body, viscous claws sunk in and all. However, where one might expect to see the panther’s face looking ferociously menacing at the viewer over its shoulder, instead, it’s the face of none other than Hello Kitty. Furthermore, etched into the skin above the not-so-threatening cat are the words MATT’S BITCH in bold, capped letters.
Unbelievable.
And ah, the icing on top would be the caption:
“Payback is a bitch… Matt’s bitch to be exact! Thank you @WishboneLeo, @LeoIsSpecTATular from @WishboneTattoos for your help serving it up!
#sweetrevenge #payback #bandpranks #Mattsbitchforlife
The little anecdote brings a welcome chuckle, making me relax just enough to go over to my station and retrieve my bag, but once I’m out the door and making the short trek to my car, my nerves fuse back together, going haywire. I feel a stiff pounding in my chest and my hand shakes a little as I open my car door.
Here goes everything.
I wait nervously by the gate at the back of the field, my eyes scanning each player as they come out in their plain clothes. After about six pass by me, I see him. Tall and fit, his hair shaved in a close crop all over his head, dressed in a pair of jeans that probably cost four of my paychecks and a short-sleeved grey button-down shirt. His hands casually grip the strap of his duffle that’s slung across his chest. My stomach seems to hop on a roller coaster, and before I can back out, I call out his name.
“Evan!” I shout, and he slows his pace and looks around.
“Evan!” I call again and this time his head turns in my direction. His forehead scrunches in confusion, and while that makes me want to haul off and smack him, I remind myself that it’s been ten years and cut him some slack.
He takes a few slow steps closer, still trying to place me.
“It’s Kasey,” I say, throwing him a bone, and his eyebrows climb up. I can just barely see the recognition fall over his face as he keeps closing the distance, stopping just a few feet in front of me.
“Kasey,” he echoes. “Wow. Hi…”
“Hi.”
“It’s been a long time, how are you?” he asks, trying to sound sincere.
How am I? What a question.
“Um, fine,” I stammer, unsure how to actually answer that.
Now’s the part where you ask about your daughter, asshole.
“That’s great,” he answers, looking nervous as hell and like he’s just being polite and is in a hurry to get this interaction over with. That makes two of us, so I decide to do us both a favor.
“Look, I’m sorry to pop up out of nowhere like this, but I saw you on TV and until then I hadn’t known how to find you. If you’ll recall, I was pregnant when you left-”
He drops his head back as he heaves out a heavy breath, his eyes rolling skyward.
“So that’s why you’re here,” he cuts me off. “You saw me on TV and now know that I play ball and make good money, so that’s what you’re after. Fucking awesome…” he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. I jump into defense mode. Not going to play nice? Fine by me.
“This is not about money,” I intercede. “You have a nine-year-old daughter that hasn’t had a father her whole life and I just wanted to offer you the chance to-”
“Chance to what?” He snidely cuts me off again. “Pay nine years of back child support? I should have changed my fucking name…”
I practically cough on my exasperated breath. “W-what? No. I wanted to see if you wanted to know her and be in her life. You’d be nine years late, but better that than never. I wanted to try, in case anything had changed-”
“And my dumping your ass followed by ten years of silence didn’t spell it out for you?” he snaps, and it’s now that I see his pupils are microscopic and I can see a sheen of sweat glistening on the back of his neck. He’s still on Oxy. That, combined with what he just said to me, have all my internal organs feel like they’re wrestling, trying to see which one can kill the others first, and my blood feels like lava in my veins.
“No.” I say firmly, shutting him down. “You do not get to make me feel stupid for doing what any respectful parent would do and trying. Even though I know it’s futile, I am trying anyway, for her!”
“Well I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but nothing’s changed. I don’t want kids. Never will.” he says with finality. “So how much is it going to take to not hear from you again?”
I give a weak, incredulous laugh that’s all for show; another defense mechanism so that he won’t see me bleed.
“You know what?” I reply, as I drop my head back and blow out what is far from a cleansing breath before looking back up at him. “Nothing. While I’d have every right to take, even demand money from you, I’ll say it again so that you can keep up. This. Is. Not. About. Money.”
