Chapter twenty - eight Damon
Chapter twenty-eight
Damon
If the pictures are anything to go by, Kendra and the girls got turnt in AC!
I chuckle to myself on the way down the subway stairs. Turnt probably isn’t the cool word anymore, but fuck if I’m going to waste any time trying to stay up to date on teenage lingo. As far as those kids are concerned, I’m a fossil.
After a week of lust-filled bliss, it was hard to let Kendra out of my sight for Camila’s bachelorette party.
It was even harder to hear she can’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner with my family.
Yes, she was there for the July 4th party, but not as my girlfriend.
Not as someone whose place I stay at more than my own.
I pop in my AirPods, doing my best to tune out the commute.
The boys won their game tonight, a grueling battle against their fiercest rival, Ridgefield High.
Kendra’s cousin, Jeremiah, was there; he’s an absolute beast!
He racked up twenty points and ten rebounds while making Carter’s life miserable.
It was one of his lowest-scoring games of the season, a fact that had him kicking a chair during halftime until I reminded him that shit wouldn’t fly out on the court.
Robbie stepped up, sinking buckets from the perimeter when Ridgefield made it impossible to get to the net, and the team as a whole ran plays with the ease and confidence of people who truly trust in each other’s abilities.
I thought for sure the game would go into overtime, but Bryce, the sophomore we just moved up from JV, came through with a clutch three-pointer right before the buzzer.
The response was a wall of sound from the stands that almost knocked me on my ass.
Everyone was on their feet, cheering and stomping and making me worry slightly about the integrity of the bleachers.
Jeremiah and the rest of the Ridgefield team were understandably gutted, but they held their heads high during the post-game handshake. They played incredibly, and if they’d sunk one more ball, blocked just one more shot, they would’ve been the ones celebrating tonight.
I exit at the 1st Avenue stop and turn left on East 9th instead of my usual right on East 12th.
Kendra’s packing for a weeklong shoot in Bali, and all that’s waiting for me at home is an empty apartment, so I washed up in the world’s shortest shower stall, shaved at the world’s tiniest vanity in the boys’ locker room, and headed to Kendra’s place for a surprise visit.
I have to see her. I’ll even help her pack if she wants. Maybe not clothes, but I have something that’ll be a tight fit. Tonight’s game warrants more than a beer and a TV dinner alone.
There’s an extra spring in my step when I arrive at Kendra’s building, mostly from my eagerness to see her, but partly from the climax of Coldplay’s “Paradise” in my headphones. That excitement falls flat the moment I see who else is waiting in the lobby.
Fuckin’ Andre.
Ever since the paparazzi started taking our pictures, he’s been sniffing around.
Texting her late at night for a trip down memory lane, not realizing I’m lying right next to her.
Trying to get our date itinerary from her agent so he can ambush us.
Inviting her dad out for drinks “for old times’ sake”.
Apparently, he doesn’t believe I’ll really kick his ass, but I’m happy to enlighten him.
He stands in the cavernous lobby, holding a bouquet that’s easily two hundred dollars, and my hands clench into fists automatically.
“Hey, Andre!” I greet him with a wave. Sarcasm drips from every word, and there’s no way he doesn’t miss the menace in my eyes. “Long time no see.”
The douchebag straightens like he’s just been called to attention. I’m pretty sure I heard his asshole pucker.
“Uh, hi man,” he answers, looking nervously around for…what? Backup? From whom? “What are you doing here?”
“The real question,” I tsk, swaggering within choking distance, “is what are you doing here? Aren’t you and Kendra divorced?”
He tries to puff out his chest, like that will make up for the fifty pounds of muscle and six inches I have on him. My lips curl into a smirk.
“What Kendra and I are is no business of yours. You think a little piece of paper is enough to stop people who were married for four years from ever speaking again?”
“No,” I say matter-of-factly, striding even closer. “Unless that little piece of paper is a multi-million dollar settlement agreement explicitly forbidding future contact. Or don’t you think Kendra’s aware of the terms?”
The poor doorman watching all this edges towards the phone, ready to call the cops if needed. Andre’s face turns beet red.
“That settlement is supposed to be confidential!” he blusters. “I could sue you, pal!”
“And Kendra could let all your dirty little secrets come to light. Would you like that?”
The adrenaline surging through my body right now feels amazing!
On the court, as a player, I had ample opportunity to release aggression; physical intimidation and good, old-fashioned insults were a part of every game.
But I can’t let loose when I’m coaching high school kids.
I have to be an example of self-control and good sportsmanship.
Show them how to keep their heads when the other team tries to rile them up.
After months of good behavior, it’s safe to say I’m itching for a fight. I almost hope Andre ignores his survival instincts and tries to confront me, but I can tell he’s not the type. He wouldn’t want to rip that fancy suit he’s wearing.
“What are you? Her guard dog?” he spits in my face. All he’s got is shit-talk, and he knows it.
“Guard dog, lap dog, 24/7 sex slave.” I shrug. “Take your pick.”
When Andre’s nostrils flare, the doorman finally pipes up.
“Gentlemen. Please take this outside,” he warns.
Andre ignores him and steps into my space.
“What does she see in you, anyway? She went from a platinum recording artist to a has-been basketball player not even good enough for the NBA? It doesn’t make any sense.”
I grit my teeth, annoyed his words are so close to the truth. But Kendra doesn’t see me that way, right? I won’t be some charity case, not even for my dream girl.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Andre sneers, reading into my silence. “Do you really think she’s going to stay with you once she hears I dropped Julie?”
I bark out a laugh at his audacity.
“Please! You and I both know Julie’s only one of the reasons Kendra dropped your ass!”
“Gentlemen,” the doorman tries again.
“We had a rough patch. I made a mistake.” That makes me laugh harder. “Fine! Mistakes. But no matter what you think, I’ll always be a part of her life. Her dad and I are tight, and he said there’s no way she settles down again. Not unless it’s with me. You’re defending her for nothing!”
I hide my wince with a sneer of my own, crowding him until he shrinks away.
What does her dad know about it? She hasn’t even been divorced a year, and her ex won’t leave her alone.
Of course she’s not ready to settle down!
Not yet anyway. She’s barely had time to breathe.
But we’re already getting serious. I invited her to meet my family.
Oh God, did she say something to him? Is that the real reason she can’t come to Thanksgiving?
Andre turns to the doorman, my mind still racing.
“Dashiell, I’m sorry about all this.”
Dash says nothing, looking warily between me and Andre. Andre slaps a twenty-dollar bill on the reception desk, along with the gaudy bouquet.
“For your trouble. See that she gets those, OK?”
Andre doesn’t wait for Dash’s answer before walking out the front door. I sink onto one of the lobby couches, my head in my hands.
I wish I could chalk it all up to trash talk, but some of what Andre said has me spinning. I’m on her arm for the cameras, in her bed, but I don’t really measure up to someone like Andre. He’s rich and famous. He bought her the apartment she’s still living in. I teach high school basketball.
And what does a serious relationship even mean for her at this point? Is her dad right and she’ll never get married again? If so, what are we even doing?
I stand and give Dash a silent nod on my way to the elevator, my thoughts going a mile a minute. When she gets home, we really need to talk.