First Position (26 page)

Relieved it was over, Emory leaned back in her chair, and Olivia nudged her.  ”Looks like someone will be celebrating tonight while I’m flying home first class.”

“I do have a little something planned.  Steven is helping me with it.”

“Oh,” Olivia said, “he didn’t tell me anything about it.”

“He’ll probably fill you in on the plane.”

“I’m sure Mason would prefer a congratulatory fuck,” Wesley chimed in, “instead of whatever lame shit you and Steven have cooked up.”

* * *

In the cold outside their hotel, Mason and Emory waved goodbye to Steven and Olivia.  When they’d left, Mason wrapped both his arms around her, then made a move towards the lobby door, but Emory stopped him, waving to the valet.  “I have other plans for us tonight.”  Her car appeared, and she excitedly pulled Mason towards it.  Mason asked where they were going, but Emory didn’t say a word.  She quickly turned on the heater and pulled out of the hotel, stopping at a red light to reach into her glove compartment for a bandana.  “Put this over your eyes.  I don’t want you to know where we’re going until we get there.”

Mason smiled mischievously.  “I remember doing this with you when. . . .”

“Shut up, and put it on.”  She slapped his arm.  “And no peeking.”  Mason tied the bandana around his eyes, Emory making sure it was tight.  After driving a few more minutes, he felt the car slow down, and Emory turned off the ignition, telling Mason she’d be right back.  He heard the car door open and shut, then Emory talking to someone, but he couldn’t make out what was said.  Suddenly, he felt a rush of cold air, as Emory opened his door and took his hand.  “No peeking.”

Emory led him a few feet, then through a door, slamming hard behind them, causing Mason to jump.  They walked through a seemingly endless dark hallway towards an elevator, and rose slowly.  Mason heard a ding, Emory gripping his hand tightly.  She led him out of the elevator, then a few more feet, and dropped his hand.  Mason felt her hands on his cheeks, removing the bandana.  It was pitch black and cold.  He squeezed his eyes shut, and blinked several times, trying to adjust to the darkness.
 
Where the hell are we? 

Then he heard it -- an unmistakable sound -- and he knew.   “How did you . . . .?”  Mason’s jaw dropped, his eyes open wide, hundreds of beaming lights popping on at once, standing on the first row of the owner’s suite at midfield of Bank of America Stadium, looking down at the field and surrounded by 70,000 empty seats. 

“Steven helped me.  He’s very persuasive with management.”

“You make my surprises look amateur.”  Mason pulled her to his side, kissing her nose and forehead. 

“I plan on being in the stands for all of your games,” she said, taking his hand and walking up a few steps into the suite, then removing her coat, revealing a Panthers jersey, #11, with his name on the back.

“I like the way that looks.”
 
It would look better on the floor!

Emory gave him a smile over her shoulder and pointed to a chilling bottle of champagne.  “I thought we should toast your new start.”  She removed the bottle from the ice.  “And our new start together.”  Mason took the bottle and placed it back in the ice, holding her tightly in his arms, as she melted into his warm body.

Mason thanked her, then pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes.  “Not just for all this, which is unbelievably great, but for giving me another chance.”

“We both are getting another chance,” she said, Mason looking at her, confused.  “I wasn’t there when you got drafted, so this is my chance to show how proud I am of you.”

“I wanted you there so badly that day.”

“It didn’t look that way on TV?”

“You watched?”  Mason ran his fingers through his hair, remembering when his name was called, his family had erupted in cheers, and Alexis kissed him, playing it up perfectly for the cameras
.
I subjected Em to that.

Emory pouted her lips and nodded.  “We had dreamed about that moment for so long.  I had to be there for you, even if I was alone in my bedroom.” 

“God, Em, I’m so sorry.”
 
And she wants a second chance?  I don’t deserve her.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing for the past.”  She shook her head.  “I forgive you.”

Mason had hoped so, though she’d never told him before, but was prepared to apologize for the rest of his life if he had to.  “Enough about all that, we don’t have much time.”  Emory grabbed the champagne and popped the top, pouring them each a glass.

“What should we toast to?”

“I’ll toast to you,” he said, “since I don’t need anything else.”

Mason knew exactly how he wanted to celebrate and wanted to be completely sober.  He kissed her softly, and she moaned, pulling him firmly to her.  Their lips parted, and he gently stroked her tongue with his, Emory feeling a familiar spark radiating through her body.  Mason felt it, too, as he slid his hand under her shirt and unhooked her bra, caressing her tenderly while they kissed.  His other hand slid to her bottom, and Emory wrapped her leg around his waist, pulling him closer to her, feeling how aroused he was.  Wesley’s words flashed in her mind.
 
Congratulatory fuc
k
!

Emory pulled back.  “Probably not a good idea to have sex in the owner’s suite.”  She smoothed her shirt down and hooked her bra.

“At least not on the first day,” he said.
 
But when
?
  The lights of the stadium went dark. 

“Steven promised we wouldn’t stay too long, so I guess our time is up.”

“Our time is just beginning.”

* * *

Mason rented a condo on a three-month lease, while waiting for Emory to be ready for more.  She found herself sleeping with Mason at the condo most nights, though that’s all they did, despite Mason’s best efforts.  But over the next few weeks, they found there was little time for the glitz and glitter of new romance.  Mason was busy with press conferences and appearances and continuing his physical therapy, but made it a point to keep in touch with Emory’s father, all while doing his best to avoid his own mother.  Emory spent the majority of her days teaching dance and taking photographs, making sure to reach out to Olivia about her pregnancy on an almost daily basis.  Overall, Mason and Emory settled into a nice routine, spending their free time together, including Sunday morning mass, and even invited Wesley out with them on occasion to distract him from missing Tomás.  Emory adjusted well to the attention Mason received from fans when they were at church, or dinner and a movie, or just walking down the street.  She realized, as he did, the attention was fleeting and came with the job. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Emory walked into the kitchen of her apartment and found Wesley making her favorite breakfast, French toast.  He usually made it only on her birthday, which wasn’t today, so she sensed something was up.  She prodded Wesley for information as he plated the French toast, but he insisted she eat first.  They sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, Emory refusing to eat until he spilled, though sad her breakfast was growing cold.  After much back and forth, Wesley pulled out The Charlotte Observer from a kitchen drawer.

“Bad photo of me in there?”  Emory found herself in the newspaper every other week.  The public, or at least the reporters, seemed fascinated with Mason’s girlfriend -- who she was, what clothes she wore, where she went.  It usually was nothing more than a blurb or two in the Style section.  She learned to live with it, but preferred to be behind the camera.

“Nothing about you,” Wesley said, and motioned to her plate.  “I worked hard on that.”

“Something about Mason in there?”

Wesley shuffled the paper, finding the front page of the Sports section, and set it in front of her.

QB Mason Accepted Less Money from Panthers

As she read the details of Mason’s contract, her face turned from pink to red to crimson, the local reporter wondering why a quarterback, still recovering from shoulder surgery, would accept $1 million less to sign with the Panthers in what could be his final contract.  The reporter acknowledged there was an additional $500,000 in incentives with the Panthers, but he saw no way those would ever be reached: it was doubtful Mason would start four games, or ever play in eight.  So Mason had turned down a better offer from Seattle to play in Carolina.  At this stage of Mason’s career, the reporter could find no good reason for doing so, but speculated it might be the new girlfriend. 

“You didn’t know, did you?”  Wesley asked, as Emory rose from the table, taking the paper with her, along with her keys and purse.  “There’s probably more to the story that you don’t know.” 

“And I’m going to damn well find out.”

* * *

Emory parked illegally at the hospital.  She got out of her car, with the paper in hand, and slammed the door.  She quickly walked inside and up a flight of stairs into the physical therapy center, blowing past the receptionist who called after her.  She entered the exercise room and saw a young female therapist stretching out Mason’s shoulder.  He smiled at Emory, happy and surprised to see her, but she didn’t respond, other than to glare at him as she approached, like a tiger stalking her prey.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asked, the therapist releasing his arm.

Emory threw the paper at him.  “What the hell is this?”

Mason picked it up and read the headline.  He hadn’t seen the morning paper and didn’t know the story broke.
 
Why hadn’t Steven warned me
?
  He skimmed the article.
 
Shit, it’s pretty much accurate
.
  The therapist excused herself, having no therapy to offer here. 

“Why are you so mad?” he asked.
 
Should I just start apologizing now?

“Why am I mad?  Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to be in Seattle.  Raining all the time.  I don’t even own an umbrella.  I wanted to be in Charlotte with you,” he said, reaching for her hand. 

Emory held up hers, ordering him to stop.  “Oh, don’t even try it.  Don’t even try to get all sweet with me.  Again, this is something you never even mentioned to me, and decided without me.”

Mason wiped his hands with his towel and hung it around his neck.  “Em, we had just started seeing each other and things were, well, delicate between us.  No amount of money was going to make me leave you.” 

“Did you ever consider that I would have gone with you?”

Mason raised his eyebrows.  “You would have moved to Seattle?”

“I guess we’ll never know, because you didn’t fucking tell me I had a choice.”

“I knew if I told you, you would’ve made me go to Seattle.  Am I wrong?”

Emory knew he was right: she wouldn’t have wanted him to stay in Charlotte for her and less money.  But she was a stubborn woman, taught to be relentless from her father, and wasn’t about to concede anything.  “You should’ve told me.”

“Em.”  He again reached for her hand, but she swatted it away. 

“Don’t!  I’m pissed.”  Mason smiled at her, trying not to, but just couldn’t help himself.  “What’s so fucking funny?”

“It’s just weird to have an angel yell at me.”

She threw her arms up in the air and stormed out in a huff, making her way back to her car, quickening her pace, as she recalled parking illegally.
 
The last thing I need is a ticket to cap off this awful morning.

A man in a white lab coat rushed after her.  “Emory!” he called, then grabbed her arm.

She stopped in her tracks and turned around.
 
A parking ticket is preferable to this
.
“Hi, Eric.”

“Are you OK?” he asked, sizing her up.  “You look flustered, walking so quickly.”

“Just a weird morning.”

“Something happen here at the hospital?”

“No, not here,” she lied.  Emory didn’t want to get into any details.  She wasn’t in any mood and owed Eric nothing.

“I’ve seen you in the paper a few times lately.”

“I’m not thrilled about that,” she said, rolling her eyes and walking again towards her car.

Eric followed her like a puppy.  “Maybe I should get your autograph?  Or his?”

She glared at him, unimpressed by his lame attempt at humor, and put her hand on her car door.  She didn’t have the energy to deal with Eric and frankly didn’t care anymore.  Over the past few weeks, she’d moved on with Mason, even if he seemed intent on infuriating her, and needed to save her energy to whip Mason into shape.  Eric again put his hand on her arm.  “I’ve got to go,” she said, wiggling her arm out of his hand.

“Can we just talk?”

“I have nothing to say.”  She opened the door, and Eric gently pushed it closed.