Offside (36 page)

“Hey, Dad.”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Dad’ me! Why the
fuck
weren’t you at practice?”

“I…um…”

Shit. I was not ready for this.

“Fucking answer me!” he screamed through the phone. “Were you out boning that bitch, because I told you
no fucking distractions
! Ten days, asshole! Ten days before the Messini brothers come to see you.
Ten fucking days
!”

“I know, Dad…I was just…”

“Just what?”

I didn’t want to do it, but I only had one card to play that didn’t lead to total disaster.

“Just…not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well?” he repeated. His voice dropped significantly in volume. “You sick?”

“No...um…” Damn! Now I was stammering. “I don’t think so. It’s just…it’s nothing.”

“Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you!” he yelled.

I took a long, audible breath.

“My ribs are really hurting today,” I lied. “I took Motrin, but it just wasn’t taking the edge off. I think I overdid it when I was working out yesterday and maybe pulled it or something.”

He went completely quiet for a minute.

“The prescription is in my bathroom,” he said softly. “Take one, and one only.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem. Just get some rest tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You have to be in top shape next week, son. You can’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t, Dad. I swear.”

“That’s my boy.”

He hung up.

I wanted a cigarette.

“Fuck.”

I stopped at the end of the street, rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes for a minute, tried to take some deep cleansing breaths or some such shit, and drove home. The house was dark when I got there since the clouds had thickened and there was even some thunder in the distance. I turned on the lights in the kitchen and the living room just to make it a little brighter. Then I went upstairs and into Dad’s bathroom, dumped one of the pain pills into my hand and then into the toilet.

I knew he counted them.

I went into my room, stood there staring into space for a minute, and tried to figure out what the fuck was happening.

I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen after-school specials. I knew a lot of shit about my life was fucked up: my Mom was gone, my Dad had to deal with being a single parent, and I had no real understanding about what a relationship between a man and a woman was supposed to be beyond tab A into slot B. I knew, when it came right down to it, my Dad shouldn’t fucking hit me.

And I knew that he knew it, too.

I had only ever used his guilt on him once before, when I was fifteen and wanted to go to an all-night party at the beach. He said no way because I had to train the next day, and I sulked around until he finally blew up. Then I told him I was supposed to go the prior weekend, but I hadn’t been able to.

I was too bruised to be seen in public.

He let me go.

I felt like shit then, too.

I knew why he acted that way because ultimately, whether he should be doing it or not, whatever pain he inflicted on me was nothing like the mental anguish I had inflicted on him when I killed his wife—the only person he had ever loved. I thought I knew what that was like for him before, since I lost her too, but now that Nicole was around…well, the very idea of anything happening to her was just…unthinkable.

I’d freak out.

I’d go insane.

I’d implode.

I’d probably punch and kick and destroy anyone who came into contact with me, and if I got a hold of the person responsible for hurting her…well, whatever happened wouldn’t be pretty, that was for sure.

I went into the kitchen, thought about eating something, but just grabbed a Gatorade instead. I needed to go to the store; I was almost out of the blue ones. I tilted my head a little so I could see the bottom of the fridge, and it did look a lot better. It reminded me that Nicole was going to come over at some point, and she was going to string me up by my balls.

I lost my train of thought as I imagined Nicole’s hands on my balls.

I shook my head, went into the living room, and played a little FIFA on the Wii. I was Germany and creamed the Spanish team, the way the last World Cup should have been. When I was done, I tossed the controller back in its drawer and looked at the pouring rain out the window. It was getting dark, and I hadn’t heard from Nicole.

Was she still coming?

Did she have to stay later than she thought?

Was she making Greg dinner? Had she forgotten about me?

Did she get in a…in a…

Shit.

Fuck.

My chest tightened up again, and I had to fight the bile trying to rise up my throat. I swallowed hard and washed it down with a big gulp of blue Gatorade.

It had started to rain harder. What if she was hurt? What if Ron had shitty eyesight, and he hit something trying to drive in the dark? What if a lamppost or something got hit by lightning right in front of them?

I felt like the twelfth man on a team, just waiting on the sidelines but unable to actually do anything about the play. All I could do was try to come up with some chant to spur on the team.

My stomach clenched again, and I tried telling myself I was just hungry, but the idea of food made me want to vomit. I looked down at my shaking hands and realized I was starting to hyperventilate.

I couldn’t stand it. I had to go find her.

I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Just as I got there, I saw headlights coming up the drive.

Thank fuck.

I didn’t care if she yelled at me, slapped me in the face, or told me she never wanted to see me again. She was okay, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. As soon as she started running from the car to the front door, I was out on the porch, grabbing her into my arms and holding her against my chest.

She was real.

She was okay.

My hand went up her back and came to rest on the back of her head, tangled in her wet hair. I tucked my head against her shoulder and inhaled the scent of her.

“Thomas, I’m getting drenched!”

Oops.

I pulled her inside, kissed her forehead, and told her to wait while I ran upstairs for towels. I gently dried her arms then her face and her hair. I ran back upstairs and grabbed a clean jersey, some sweats that were too small for me, and a pair of dry socks. I ran them all back down to her and then ran the wet towels into the laundry room to get them washed. Once they were going, I raced back to Nicole, realized I had left her hair sticking out all over the place after the rubdown, and ran back up to my bathroom to find a comb.

When I got back, she was holding in giggles.

“What?” I asked.

“You!” she said as she finally lost her hold on her mouth and started chuckling. “You just made fifteen laps around the house.”

I smiled a little sheepishly.

She reached out and put her hand on my cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just…was starting to…worry, I guess.”

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

“Maybe.” I didn’t want to admit I was practically having a panic attack worrying about her. I reached out, lay my hands on her sides, and pulled her close again. It was good to feel her against me.

“I’m still mad,” she informed me.

“I know,” I mumbled. I tried to look properly chastised, but I wasn’t sure it was working. Well, she hadn’t really started yelling at me yet, so the look was probably a little premature. I straightened up, un-pouted my lip, and waited for the shit-storm.

“How did you find me?” she asked. “Did you follow me or not?”

“Well, I—”

She suddenly leaned forward and grabbed hold of my chin.

“And don’t you dare lie to me, Malone!” she snapped.

Meow.

“I tried to follow you,” I admitted, “but I lost you.”

“You said that,” she reminded me. “How did you get to Ron’s house?”

“My GPS…and a little luck.”

“Thomas!” she yelled, obviously exasperated.

I sighed and gave up. I reached out for her hand, and she let me lead her to the couch.

“I’ve got a…friend,” I told her. “He’s a skip-tracer. He can find out almost anything about anybody. I called him, and he got me the address.”

Nicole looked into my eyes for a long, long time. Her expression remained guarded and thoughtful all at the same time. When she finally spoke, I jumped a little.

“Spill it,” she said simply.

“Huh?”

“Everything you had this guy find out about me. Everything.”

“Um…well…”

Okay, this was not going swimmingly right at the moment.

“Out with it!”

“Okay!” I ran a hand through my hair. “He did a little background search on you but nothing too detailed, okay? All I wanted then was your phone number, really.”

“You could have asked for it.”

“Not right at that time,” I said. I tried to give her a smile, but it faltered. “You weren’t speaking to me.”

“Humph.”

“He gave me your IM account info, too.”

“So, you got all this info—my IM and my phone number—but you never called or tried to friend me?”

“I didn’t need to friend you,” I said—like a total idiot.

“What do you mean?”

“I…um…hacked your IM account.”

“Oh my God,” Nicole said as she put her elbows on her knees and her hands on her head. “You really have no boundaries, do you?”

“I just…wanted to talk to you,” I admitted. I felt like a total tool.

“You are such a fucking stalker,” she said. She obviously wasn’t overly happy, but she didn’t seem nearly as mad as I had expected, either.

“You don’t have Facebook or Twitter,” I said with a shrug.

“No more of that shit,” she said as she shook a claw at me.

“I won’t,” I promised. I waited a minute, and when she didn’t say anything else, I made my move. “Are you going to tell me what the big deal is? I mean, it’s just a kid. Why all the secrecy?”

Nicole huffed through her nose and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

“I talked to Sophie, and she is seriously mad at me,” she said. “You know, you and your dad are not exactly popular around there.”

“I know.”

“Why is that?”

“Um…my dad managed to get a section of land annexed to make the parking garage at the hospital bigger. They claimed it was like…I dunno…supposed to be for a park or something. It was a lot of bullshit.”

I waved my hand dismissively.

“I am
not
having that conversation with you tonight,” Nicole replied. “Eventually, I convinced Sophie that you would never, ever tell anyone about Timmy, and if you make a liar out of me, I’m going to put your balls up on a pike in front of the school. Got it?”

“Um…yeah,” I said, and I was again torn between feeling threatened by the act she suggested or once again turned on by the idea of her touching my balls. “I won’t say anything. Who would I tell?”

“Your dad?” she suggested.

“No fucking way,” I said. It was apparently a good enough promise.

Nicole nodded and went on.

“I’m going to make a long story short,” she said. “Sophie was seeing a man in Portland…an older man. He was campaigning to be mayor. Their involvement was obviously very hush-hush because she was only barely eighteen, and he’s married. She ended up pregnant.”

“Okay, so he doesn’t want anyone to know.” I figured. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Nicole said. “You were there—Ron’s a politician, too. He needs votes and has two daughters and now a baby as well. They are in a ton of debt because he uses all the money for campaigns and trying to keep up appearances. Sophie is working all the hours she can, but if anyone finds out about Timmy, she’s screwed.”

“She’s already been screwed,” I piped up. “He should have had the sense to wear a glove.”

Nicole dropped her head to the side and glared at me.

“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. It was still true, though. I never fucked a girl without using a condom. “I still don’t get why the baby has to be a secret.”

“I’m getting to that bit.”

“Okay.”

“When Sophie told the guy in Portland, he wanted her to…well, to get rid of it, but she couldn’t. He was really mad, saying she was going to ruin his life and whatever. He said if she ruined him, he’d ruin her, too.”

“He knows she needs money,” Nicole went on. “He’s promised to support the baby but only if she keeps it a secret until after the first of next year. That’s when he’ll be elected mayor, and he wants to make sure he gets what he wants. If anyone hears about Timmy, he won’t. So, he said he’ll support Sophie and the baby if she keeps the affair quiet long enough. If not, he says he’ll fight her on it, drag her through courts and whatever. He’s got money, and there’s no way she could afford a lawyer or anything. He knows it.”