Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Chase
I ducked my head to avoid making eye contact with anyone I passed. No one tried to stop me. They were all heading to the press conference, vying for a good place to stand. None paid much attention to anyone leaving the area.
I almost bumped into Bec as I hurried through a doorway.
"Sorry," I said in the direction of my feet and kept going.
She said something, but I didn't hear it. Any other time, I'd stop and ask. This time, I just kept on going.
I slipped into the elevator which took me up to the private boxes. That ride took about three days. Okay, three minutes, but it seemed like much longer.
The doors weren't even fully open when I pushed past them and trotted to the team box.
Apart from cleaners removing empty plates, wiping tables and stacking chairs, it was empty. No sign of Ashley.
Idiot, I said to myself. She's probably long gone. If she was here at all.
I turned away in frustration and leaned against the wall to think. If she wasn't here, then I should let it go. Let her go, once and for all.
What if she was though? What if I missed her in the crowds? I remembered Bec and swore under my breath. Could that be what she tried to tell me? I could be clutching at straws here. She might have just said hello, and I was too dense to pay attention.
I thought about calling Ashley, but then I stepped into the elevator and the signal died.
You'd think, in this day and age, they could make a phone signal work anywhere, even in an elevator car in a big building.
I tucked my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and waited for the doors to slide open again.
I stepped out and scanned the faces heading for the doors, or those who bustled around doing whatever they did, post game.
I didn't want to go near the press conference. I wouldn't get away if I did.
"It's Chase!" an excited young voice whispered.
I glanced down to see a wide-eyed boy of about eight, wearing a Humpbacks shirt and looking at me in surprise. Tomato sauce and mustard was smeared on the sides of his mouth.
I guessed he'd had a hotdog during the game. He still held a cup of cola in his hand that probably cost half a day's wages for his parents. Game food was part of the fun, but it wasn't cheap.
"Hey," I greeted. "Did you enjoy the game?"
The kid stared at me.
"He asked a question, Bobby," the man beside him said. They didn't look alike, but the man gave Bobby a fond smile.
Bobby nodded. "Yeah, it was sick! We smashed the Kookaburras right back up their gumtree."
I chuckled. "We sure did."
"Yeah, Dan said they'll be hanging on to their nuts for a while after that." Bobby nodded to the man beside him.
Dan groaned. "You're not really supposed to repeat stuff like that."
"Don't worry, I won't tell Mum," Bobby said. "She'll get cranky if I do."
"Just a bit," Dan agreed. He patted Bobby on the shoulder.
I presumed Dan was the kid's stepfather. They seemed to have a great relationship.
"You guys want an autograph, or a selfie?" I offered.
I didn't think Bobby's eyes could get any wider, but they did.
"Can we really? That would be sick."
"Do you want me in it?" Dan asked.
"Yeah, you gotta be in it." Bobby nodded. "Then you can show all your friends too. They're gonna be jealous."
"Getting a selfie just to make someone jealous isn't a good reason to do it," Dan said sternly.
Bobby's face fell a little. "I wanna do it because Chase is the best player on the whole, entire team, ever, ever."
That might be a slight exaggeration, but I smiled anyway. Dan was right, trying to make people jealous wasn't a good motivation for doing something. Hero worship, on the other hand, was a great reason. One I was more than happy to support and take part in.
"Have you got your phone there?" I asked Dan. Kids these days, even as young as Bobby, often had their own, but I couldn't see one on him. Besides, the photo was more likely to be accidentally deleted from a kid's phone than an adult's. If Dan deleted it, it would be on purpose.
Dan pulled out his phone and we ducked down to Bobby's height. The three of us squeezed into the shot and Dan took a couple. One with serious faces, one with funny ones.
Knowing my luck, it would be the funny one they shared with the world. Oh well, I guess it wouldn't do me any harm.
"Thank you." Dan straightened up, put away his phone and held out his hand.
I shook it and then Bobby's before the pair hurried away toward the parking lot. Bobby kept looking back and waving, so I waited until he was out of sight before I resumed looking for Ashley.
If she was still here, I couldn't see her. I thought about texting, but that seemed too impersonal right now. Besides, if she was driving, she wouldn't see it and couldn't answer.
I could hunt down Bec and ask her where Ashley might be, but then if Hawk was there, he'd have questions. If the press was also there, so would they. I didn't want to answer anything just now, especially when I barely knew the questions myself, much less the answers.
I thought for a moment, then headed out to my motorbike.
The private lot was still packed, but the public lot was almost empty.
When people lingered for a glimpse of their favourite players, they waited at the entrance the press used.
As long as they kept looking that way, I might get out without too many gawking eyes.
I passed out the gate with a wave from the security guard on duty. She knew the team on sight, all the guards did. That seemed to be the first thing they learned when they started working at the stadium.
I jammed my helmet onto my head, glad for the cover from the cold, and from curious eyes. I gunned the engine and wove through traffic, flouting a road rule or two along the way.
I passed a police car and immediately became the model member of the road using community. The press would have a field day with me if I got a ticket on the way home from a game.
At best, I'd be photographed if I got pulled over. If the cop recognised me, I might escape an infringement, but I couldn't assume that would happen. Some cops were harder on guys like me, because they thought sometimes we got off too lightly. I wouldn't risk that being the case today.
Besides, I didn't want to let down the kids like Bobby, who looked up to me as their idol and role model. That made it tough when I was in a hurry, but that was life as a football god.
As soon as the cops were out of sight, I wove between two cars and sat behind an SUV almost all of the way to Ashley's place. Luckily they were driving to the limit and caught every second light. Of course that meant every other light was red.
I wanted to fly right through them, but I didn't. The traffic was too thick and there might be other cops around.
The SUV finally turned. I went straight. A block down, I pulled over.
I got off my bike, slipped off my helmet and looked up at Ashley's building. My heart pounded harder than it had during the game. If everything was at stake during the game, then everything and more was at stake now. Part of me wanted to get back on my bike and head home.
The rest of me figured I'd come this far, why stop now? What was the worst that might happen? She could laugh me all the way back out the door. I'd get over it, some day, like I got over…
It took me a moment to remember her name. Brandi.
I didn't know when I stopped thinking about her, but I had.
Now I did, I realised I felt nothing for her, not even anger at her talking to Harvey Danbury.
I wished her well, and whoever she hooked up with next.
With any luck, they'd make her happier than I did, if they could get over her need for fame.
Better yet, she might get over her ambition for her own good.
Fame was great, but it wasn't everything.
I sucked in a breath and headed into the building. I flashed a smile at the woman at the desk.
She gave me the side eye, but let me pass. Good. After the game I wasn't up to being thrown out by someone bigger than me. Right now, I wasn't much competition for someone smaller than me either.
I headed to the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. What number was hers? Thirty-six? I should have asked the woman on the door.
I stepped out of the elevator and tapped on the door of thirty-six. It opened after a minute or two to reveal a guy about my age, with a thick beard and a bunch of piercings and tattoos.
"Yeah?" he asked. He had a pleasant speaking voice, and seemed harmless enough.
"Sorry, I was looking for Ashley Levitt." I couldn't rule out the possibility she hooked up with this guy, but I sensed that wasn't the case.
"Mailbox for thirty-nine has that name on it," he said. "Try there."
"Thanks." I managed a nod before he closed the door again.
Almost the moment it clicked shut, it swung open again.
"Hey, are you that football guy?" Beardo asked.
"Uh." I guess I could be described as 'that football guy.' One of many, but whatever. "Yeah, I am."
Beardo nodded. "Awesome. Big fan. You like good music?"
"Uh, who doesn't?" I had no idea where this was leading.
"My name is Jack. My band is gonna be the next big thing. Ice Blue Roses. Check us out sometime."
"Right, I will," I replied. "Thanks." I backed away toward Ashley's door before anyone tried to sell me anything, or get me to endorse a product. It happened often enough. Honestly if I saw my face on an endorsement, I'd probably not buy it, but each to their own.
"You're welcome, football guy," Jack called out before closing the door again.
As nicknames went, I could do worse, I supposed.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I tapped on Ashley's door.
"Please be home, please be home," I said under my breath.
I should have called or texted, rather than just turning up at her door. What kind of guy just turns up, expecting a woman to be there, waiting for him to—
The door swung open.
"I told you, Kris, I don't want you— Oh. You're not Kris." Ashley looked adorable in black jeans, a pale blue sweater and a confused look on her face.
"I hope not," I said. I gave her a lazy smile. "Kris broke rule number one. I hope not to do that again."
Her brow creased slightly. "I think you should come in." She stepped back to let me past.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes," she said firmly. "We have a lot to talk about."