Chapter 31 Rachel
I’m going to need a week to recover from everything that’s happened, not to mention at least a dozen years of therapy.
To be fair, I could use the therapy, even if the last week hadn’t happened.
Tyler is texting and calling multiple times per day, as his schedule permits, to let me know he’s not blowing me off.
I am using every tool in my toolbox to take him at his word.
I’m failing miserably.
I want to believe him, but I know Mom believed all her loser boyfriends. Not that Tyler is my boyfriend. We’ve lived up to our agreement to keep Vegas in Vegas, and we’re back to being strictly friends.
Just because no one’s ever kept their promises to me doesn’t mean I’m going to break the ones I’ve made, no matter how much I want to.
Saturday morning, I receive a text from Ophelia, asking if I’m going to the game.
Me: Hadn’t planned on it.
Ophelia: Damn. I was hoping we could hang out. It’s a lot more fun with friends.
She considers me a friend. I don’t want her to be by herself. I know what that feels like. Quickly, I text her back.
Me: Where are you sitting? I’ll see if I can get one in the same section.
Ophelia: TJ can get you one. Like he did for the Vegas game.
My hand hesitates before typing the next text. These tickets are reserved for very special people only. The wives and girlfriends. I’m neither. I don’t like lying. How can I expect people to be honest with me if I lie to them?
A voice in the back of my head screams at me that I’m already lying to TJ by pretending to be his friend when I want so much more.
I figure if I suppress these feelings long enough, I’ll get over my crush.
Every woman with a pulse, and probably a fair number of men too, has a crush on TJ Doyle.
And they don’t even know him. The real him.
The one who is nurturing by nature. The one who is so worried about what everyone else will think that he spends hours reshooting and editing his videos so no one can criticize him.
I understand that a whole lot more since everything with his parents went down. Still, I decide to text him nonetheless. I’ll let him decide about the deception.
Me: Good luck today! What time do you leave?
TJ: I was just going to text you. Leaving around noon.
Me: I was texting with Ophelia. She wants me to come to the game. Would you be able to get me a ticket so I can sit with her?
Me: I know I don’t technically meet the criteria.
TJ: Done.
Me: Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble.
TJ: It’s fine. But if the ticket police investigate, you’re going to have to kiss me to prove our relationship.
TJ: With tongue.
I suck in a sharp breath, pressing my knees together, thinking about that mouth and that tongue.
Me: I guess I could take one for the team.
TJ: It’ll be waiting for you at Will Call with your pass for the lounge. Have Ophelia pick you up or take an Uber. I’ll bring you home.
He’s just being nice. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse not to see his parents after the game, if they even show up. We haven’t talked much about them this week.
I spend the rest of the morning catching up on work. Then I shower and get ready for the game. No glasses today. I even use the curling iron on my hair. I don’t think twice about mascara and lip gloss.
While it’s been a seasonably nice day for the end of September, the evening promises to be cooler.
I still don’t have any Boston Buzzards merch, so I plan to buy a hoodie once I get to the stadium.
It’ll cost more, but that’s the price I have to pay for not thinking about this earlier.
Speaking of cost, Tyler never said how much the ticket was.
Me: How much do I owe you for the ticket? I’ll Venmo you.
Then it occurs to me. Shit.
Me: I never paid you for Vegas either. I’ll send you the money for both.
TJ: Shut up.
Me: No, really. How much do I owe?
TJ: I get them for free. It’s a perk for the WAGs.
Me: But—
His text interrupts my objection.
TJ: No buts. It’s one of the perks of my job, and if you want to pretend you’re my girlfriend to come to the games, I’m ok with that.
TJ: There is one but …
I wait for his condition.
TJ: Tongue and maybe I get to feel you up a little. You have a nice rack.
I blush at his forward text. I look down at my chest to make sure we’re talking about the same thing.
Me: That’s not the kind of text you send to a friend.
Me: And thank you. I always thought they were on the small side.
TJ: All of you is on the small side, so they are perfect for you. And for tonight, you’re my girlfriend, remember?
I will not get all swoony over this. I should be offended. I should be filled with righteous indignation. I should not be thinking about kissing him again.
Or letting him get to second base.
I know, wrong sport.
Me: Perv.
Me: If I have to take one for the team, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
TJ: Your dedication to the Buzzards organization is appreciated. Not all heroes wear capes.
When Ophelia’s text comes in that she’s here, I’m still smiling.
I smile as I walk out my door, down the hall, and descend the steps out of my apartment building.
The smile falters when I realize that it’s not just Ophelia in the car.
The driver is … holy shit, it’s Hannah LaRosa.
She’s super ClikClak famous. I love her dog park series.
"Hey!" Ophelia greets. "So glad you decided to come. This is going to be so much fun! Let me do introductions. Rachel, this is Hannah LaRosa and Carlos Cruz-Collado. Hannah is with Callaghan Entay, the goalie, and Carlos is with Landon Stubbs. Hannah and Carlos were roommates before they started shacking up with their respective players. Landon’s a midfielder, just like TJ. He’s right and TJ is left. Rachel is dating TJ Doyle, though she continues to keep up a cock-and-bull story that they’re just friends.
Do you fly out to Vegas for ‘just a friend’?
I think not. Rachel," she says to me directly, "I just realized I don’t know your last name. "
"It’s Cramer." One of the reasons I like being with Ophelia is that she does all the talking. I never have to carry the conversation.
"So, Hannah runs the social media account for the New England Patriots. Carlos is a makeup artist. They are both huge on ClikClak, but they don’t like me to mention that." She smiles sheepishly. "Did you say you worked for your family business? What is it?"
I suck in a deep breath. I’ve just met these people. Even though Tyler and I aren’t really together, would it damage his image to be associated with me and my ClikClak account?
"Ophelia, give the poor girl a break and let her get a word in edgewise," Carlos chides. He turns around to look at me. "God, you’re cute. Adorable."
My face fills with heat. "Um, I don’t wear makeup," I say apologetically.
"Don’t apologize to me, girl."
I wish I could be like Ophelia and be unabashedly open with total strangers, saying something like, "My mom was really into it. She wouldn’t go anywhere without putting her face on.
She’d spend hours at a time on it. I swear, she looked like a completely different person.
You know, like practically catfishing. Maybe that’s why her boyfriends never lasted long.
They woke up with someone different than they went to bed with.
Anyway, she pretty much sucks, and I don’t want to be anything like her, so I’ve never gotten into the makeup thing. "
Instead, I sit quietly while Ophelia continues to ramble, and Hannah and Carlos occasionally chime in. They’re a funny group, and I’m having a good time.
Richie would love them.
I smile, knowing I’m here because of her. Though losing her was the worst experience in my life, I’m emerging on the other side, better and stronger. Maybe even happier. All because of her list.
We’ve arrived at the stadium, and we head inside to the lounge reserved for the WAGs. Carlos is the only man in here, but he doesn’t seem to mind. There are snacks and drinks. There’s even a staff person dedicated to running and getting our alcoholic beverages so we don’t have to stand in line.
This is so cool.
There are only about six other women in here. I’m not sure if most of the team is single, or if coming to games isn’t super popular.
It’s almost time for the game to start, and I’ve yet to get myself a sweatshirt or hoodie to wear. I let the crew know that I’m stepping out and that I’ll meet them at our seats. Ophelia offers to come with me.
"So, it’s basically like high school all over again?" I ask. Even though there weren’t that many other women in the room, the social structure was evident. I was smart not to disclose my place of employment.
Ophelia shrugs. "I guess. I think? I’m new to all of this. We all are. It’s the first season for any of us. We’re definitely the new kids." She thinks for a minute. "Probably not the cool ones, either, in case you couldn’t tell."
"I’ve never been invited to sit at the cool kids’ table," I admit. That should shock exactly no one. "I’m not sure I’d want to, either."
"Me neither, which is why we vibe."
"I don’t know anything about soccer. Do the players’ positions determine their rank? Like that Victoria woman—is her husband the … what’s the soccer equivalent of quarterback?"
"She’s like that because her husband, Pressley Samson, is one of the two captains. She thinks it makes her special."
"Who’s the other one?" There wasn’t another snooty WAG in the lounge. Maybe the other captain isn’t married.
"Callaghan Entay. Hannah’s boyfriend. He’s the goalie, which is probably the most equivalent to the quarterback."
"But Hannah’s so nice!" I say. It’s true. She is smart and funny, and if she was passing judgment on me, she kept it to herself.
"Like I said, we’re all new here. But we’re determined to have a good time, so I’m glad you came with us tonight."
In all honesty, if I’d known there would be more people, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to come.
On the other hand, Tyler’s response was worth having to people when I didn’t plan to.
His words dance through my head again. He was flirting with me.
No doubt about it. The mere thought of it feels like soda fizz in my stomach.
I’m torn between the red-and-navy camouflage-patterned sweatshirt that matches their home jerseys or a simpler navy hoodie.
I’m not the flashy patterned type, so I land on the plain navy hoodie with "Boston Buzzards" in red and white across the chest. I pull it over my head, and we make our way to our seats.
I probably should look at getting a shirt or jersey with TJ’s name on it, if only to keep up the pretenses of being his girlfriend to get cheaper tickets.
It sits uncomfortably in my gut, the lying and deception.
What if TJ gets in trouble for abusing the system?
Also, I don’t want to lie to people I could be friends with.
I turn to Ophelia. "TJ and I are really just friends. I probably shouldn’t be in the lounge or these seats."
"You can say you’re friends all you want. He doesn’t look at you like a friend. He wouldn’t be buying you these tickets if you were just a friend."
Buying? "Tyler told me he got me the tickets for free!"
Ophelia shrugs. "It’s complicated. They’re not free.
They’re part of his contract, so they’re considered taxable income.
Even then, the Buzzards still have to pay about twenty-five percent of face value, so while they are discounted, they’re not free.
I don’t know that a lot of the players understand about the taxable income.
" She pauses and glances my way. "Once an accountant, always an accountant. "
I laugh. "I do a fair amount of bookkeeping myself, so I get you." Ophelia and I do get along. I’ve never made a friend this quickly before.
I make a mental list of things to talk about with Tyler after the game.
Number one: he’s not buying my tickets. Number two: does he have a good accountant to help him with the financial stuff?
Number three: I’m not going to lie about being his girlfriend.
Number four: where can I get a jersey with his name on it?
It’ll be good that I have things to talk to him about. Maybe it’ll keep his mind off his parents and not going out for ice cream.
The game is slightly more interesting than the last one. The cocktails didn’t hurt. Neither did laughing with Ophelia, Hannah, and Carlos. Seeing their men on the field, rooting for them to do well made the game pass by quickly. I didn’t even think about a book this time.
As the stoppage time minutes wind down in the second half, that fizzy feeling is back in my stomach. Tyler is going to find me, and he’s going to make a show. I just know it.
Yes, I need to put a stop to this farce. I will. After I steal one more kiss from him.