Chapter two Damon
Chapter two
Damon
April
“This is a Brooklyn-bound L train. The next stop is Bedford Avenue,” the automated voice announces. “Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”
The subway doors close just as some poor woman finally gets her grocery cart down the stairs to the platform. Bummer. At least the L train runs pretty regularly during the day; otherwise, I wouldn’t even consider this job. I sigh and stretch my legs out in the nearly empty subway car.
Two months. Two months of hopping on and off trains and buses, rushing to meet landlords and movers, all so I can get out of that tin can that masqueraded as an apartment.
Every month of my short-term lease ate into my savings a little bit more, taunting me with its narrow hallways and fun-size bedrooms, and every month I’d come home empty-handed, having found out the apartment was already taken, or that the super wouldn’t approve my lease without a US-based reference.
Excuse me for leaving the country to follow my dreams!
But two weeks ago, finally, I found a place that fit both my budget and my super-sized body.
Adam’s college friend, Bryan, had a fraternity brother moving to the suburbs with his new wife, leaving behind a spacious, rent-controlled apartment just blocks from my current place.
Well aware that the apartment would be upwards of five grand a month if listed online, I jumped on the deal like a lion attacking a gazelle.
Financially speaking, I’m doing OK. Nothing close to the big bucks Henry brings in as a hotshot attorney, or what I’d hoped to be making in the NBA, but I’m comfortable.
From what I’ve read, I made about what the top WNBA players make here in the US, plus extra from a couple ad campaigns and one especially lucrative commercial where I dunked on a popular kids’ cartoon character before chugging a lime green sports drink.
I wasn’t in danger of ending up on Mom and Dad’s couch, not for at least ten years, anyway, but finding this apartment so I could stop blowing cash on Tinker Bell’s guesthouse was still a huge weight off.
I saved even more by paying my brothers in beer and pizza to help me move.
Now all that’s left is for me to unpack a few boxes.
Growing up in Brooklyn was great, and I love going home to visit Mom and Dad every week, but there’s just something about Alphabet City and the Lower East Side that calls to me.
Maybe it’s the buzzing art scene. Galleries and exhibits aren’t really my thing—Henry’s the art buff among us—but the murals and pop-up shows everywhere give the neighborhood a colorful, eclectic look I prefer over the cold, shiny buildings uptown.
Maybe it’s the plethora of cuisines crammed into every block.
There’s a restaurant that just serves mac and cheese, right next to an amazing ramen bar, that’s right next to my go-to pizza spot.
My rigorous training regimen is the only reason I haven’t ballooned like I did my freshman year at Fordham. Go rams!
Maybe it’s the widely available public transportation that makes getting anywhere in the five boroughs a breeze. I’m thirty-four and still don’t have my license. I may need to take Henry up on driving lessons now that I’m home for good, though I can only imagine the parking fees in the city.
Or maybe it has less to do with food and art and more to do with a certain plus-size model that’s been my obsession for going on a year now. More than maybe. Definitely.
Until Adam’s friend came through with the hookup, Brooklyn or even the Bronx were looking like the only boroughs in my price range. Mom and Dad would’ve put me up while I found a job. They even offered. But only in the Lower East Side would I have the chance to bump into the woman of my dreams.
The woman who, two months ago, I completely fumbled.
Once we got to talking, I could tell she was interested.
Fuck, I was interested too! But what did I have to offer someone like her?
A kitchen she could reach while still lying on the bed?
A dwindling savings account? Sure, I could’ve shown her a good time that night.
Maybe even secured a spot as her regular booty call.
But I was in no place to start anything real with her, and that’s what a woman like that deserves.
Hell, I still don’t have my shit together, hence the hour-long train ride for the third time this week to interview for an assistant coach position at a high school in Brooklyn.
The irony of killing myself to get in front of scouts, chasing a fat contract and endorsements, only to come back to the same borough I left all those years ago isn’t lost on me.
I just have to remind myself that I’m returning a success.
I did what all the kids at my summer basketball clinics only dream of doing.
No, it wasn’t the NBA; I went undrafted. And the contracts were anemic at best. But I did get an agent, and I got to spend over a decade playing a sport I love in countries most people will never see. That’s not nothing.
An assistant coaching job won’t pay what ball used to, but it’s a step towards a head coach position and hopefully a long career full of championships and trophies.
First high school, then college, and then, who knows?
Maybe I was meant to make it to the NBA as a coach instead of a player.
I know this game like the back of my hand.
Once I’ve got something nailed down, maybe then I can ask Cory to ask Denise for her number…
I close my eyes and lean my head against the dingy window behind me, only to be startled by a chime at my hip.
One ding is followed by several more in rapid succession as I struggle to extract my phone from the stiff fabric of my pants.
Despite having to wear them before most games, I’ve never been a big fan of suits.
Council of Bros
Cory: Hey bro! Break a leg at your interview today.
Adam: That’s today? Shit, I totally forgot.
I do my best not to let Adam’s recent obliviousness get to me, but I’ve been feeling the distance between us more and more since he got married.
Even when I was back in Spain, our talks became much more superficial than they used to be, with Adam eager to get off the phone and back to his woman.
Cory, who we all thought was an insensitive asshole—a lovable one, but still—was the brother who stepped up when he realized I hadn’t gone back for the season and was more down than usual.
I’m happy for my baby brother. We all are.
But I feel like the overlooked middle child for the first time in my life, and it takes some getting used to.
Adam’s married, Henry and his former paralegal, Camila, are engaged, and no doubt Cory and Denise aren’t far behind.
That just leaves me and Noah, who I suspect plans to remain a bachelor forever.
Council of Bros
Adam: Break a leg, man.
Henry: If he’s got an interview, shouldn’t we stop texting?
Noah: Yeah, what if his phone goes off while his future boss is talking?
Noah: We can’t have Damon’s secret love of emo pop going public.
Noah: It’ll bring down the stock of the whole family.
Cory: It’s not until 12:30, guys. He’s probably still on the train.
I grin at the mild bickering while typing in my reply.
Council of Bros
Yes, I have an interview today. Cory’s right that it’s at 12:30.
Yes, I’m already on the train there, and no, I won’t be leaving my phone on during the interview.
Even if I do sometimes let it ring longer than necessary to hear another bar of my Paramore ringtone. ;-)
Anything else, MOM AND DAD?
Adam and Noah both send middle finger emojis, while Henry reacts to my message with a thumbs down.
Council of Bros
Aww, thanks, guys. You always know what to say.
I snort when Cory sends a smirking emoji.
Council of Bros
Noah: ANYWAY, while I have you, do you want my extra ticket to the Eloquii show tonight?
Noah: It’s around Union Square, so you’re close, and your not-so-secret crush will be there.
I roll my eyes.
Council of Bros
Adam: Oooh! Damon and Kendra sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G!
I snort again as I swipe my thumbs over my phone’s keyboard.
Council of Bros
Adam, grow up, LOL.
Noah, yes, I’ll take you up on those tickets.
I hurry to put my phone away before any of my brothers can make an obnoxious comment.
They’re right. It isn’t a secret that I’m high-key into Kendra, as the kids say.
Not only was I not being subtle the night we met, but thanks to Noah’s endless supply of tickets to the hottest events in the city, I’ve been going to all her shows since then.
I lurk in the back where she can’t see me, but I damn sure can see her.
I tell myself I’m not being creepy because I’m just another fan, but I doubt that excuse would hold up if she ever found out.
That’s all the more reason to ace this job interview. I landed a sweet apartment. Once I get a job, I’ll finally be ready to shoot my shot.