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Sacked
Monica DeSimone
Love was never in my game plan. But that changed the moment I ran over Ben Anderson. The second he opened his sarcastic mouth, I was a goner. Looking back, it's ironic how the quarterback wasn't the only one to be Sacked.
1
Once upon a time…
Pfft, this isn’t a fairy tale, just simply my tale. My life hasn’t worked out the way I expected it to; instead, it’s so much more. Like my mother, I never intended on marrying. Unlike my mother, however, my reasoning has nothing to do with political aspirations. You see, until the day I “bumped” into Ben Anderson, I have never felt worthy enough. Ben is the man I always needed but never thought I deserved.
Now, as I stand at the back of the church where four generations of Montgomerys before me have said their “I dos,” and four hundred plus in attendance, media swarming, and both my parents hovering for the first time in my life, you would think my nerves would be kicking me in my proverbial ass. Yeah, not so much. I’m finally marrying my Bennie. He is the safe haven I have been looking for my entire life.
Born the daughter of a senator, I was raised in a privileged household, but my life was not one of privilege, nor passion. I have not lived a life to be envied. Bearing a child was not in my parents’ well-thought-out plans. I was an oopsie, one they were unable to get rid of due to being in the political spotlight. Once I was born, I was handed over to the nanny, only to be brought out for the annual obligatory Christmas card photo and during election years.
Despite my upbringing, I survived. Hell, I even thrived. On my own terms. Not that Alish and Whitehall Montgomery expected anything less.
But I digress.
The day I met Bennie was both the best and worst day of my life. Instead of running headfirst toward my future, I ran the man over. You would think that would have sent him running for the hills. Thank the fairies, it didn’t. Almost as though he knew I needed saving, as well as someone to love, Ben pursued me. He never gave up on me, despite my desire to push him away.
Between you and me, I knew who he was, and I may have even run him over accidentally on purpose. Hey, how else was I going to garner his attention? I mean really, how could I—the dejected debutante, the unpampered princess, the unspoiled brat—have compared to the football god of Oklahoma State?
The way I tell the story, I was distracted by a hot soccer player and my foot slipped off the brake, which caused me to slam “bump” into Ben. It was sheer happenstance.
Of course, luck had nothing to do with it. I was fascinated by Ben. He wasn’t just a pretty face. His tall, well-toned and muscled body wasn’t just for decoration. I quietly stalked him for a good two weeks before our encounter. I was tickled to discover Ben was smart, like pre-law smart. He carried a 4.0 grade point average, and was VP of his fraternity. I also
discovered he was the heart of the football team.
So, when my bestie, Zoey, told me she was meeting up with Derrick, Ben’s best friend, I played my cards right and got an informal invite to tag along. I even held back from primping and changing my clothes. I couldn’t let on to Zo I was interested. Otherwise, she’d never let it go. She can be tenacious when she sets her teeth into something.
All I wanted that day was to make a good impression, I really hadn’t meant to run the guy over.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I say to the heavens, who seem to be conspiring against me. I put my Land Rover Defender into park then bang my head on the steering wheel. “Big girl panties, Suz, big girl panties,” I mumble as I shove out of my car, a bribe from my parents for graduation, and am bombarded by a mixture of voices.
“What were you fucking thinking!”
“Christ, it’s a chick.”
“Of course, it’s a chick.”
“Worse, she’s from New Jersey.”
“Please tell me he’s okay.”
“Suzie? Suz? Get out of my way, you stupid gorilla!”
I round the front end of my sporty SUV and am greeted by an angry mob of oversized men and an even angrier Zoey.
“Is he okay? Did I hurt him?” I ask the mob in general. But my voice is weak and doesn’t carry over their voices. It is lost on all the men now surrounding Ben on the ground.
A deep, smoke filled grumbling to be “left the hell alone” sends a shiver down my spine and has the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
