28. Joey
28
Joey
W hen I come back to the group, I make a lame excuse about running into an acquaintance. Brent smiles in lazy satisfaction. I hope no one else notices, but Charlie’s narrowed gaze tells me she has.
Soon after, Charlie calls it a night, saying she needs to head back home to Connecticut early the next day. She and I bid our farewells to the others with hugs all around. I just might get less awkward at hugging if I’m forced to do it more often now that my circle of friends seems to be growing all of a sudden.
However, I keep my distance from Brent, unsure how to behave since we never did the hug thing in front of his family. He surprises me by placing a chaste kiss on my cheek, his first public display of affection toward me.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he whispers against my ear.
Charlie and I take a cab back to my temporary apartment. I’m surprised she waits until we’re inside before she pounces on me. “What the hell is going on between you and my brother?”
“What? Nothing. What are you talking about?” I play dumb.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Josefina Desai! You got touchy-feely with him,” she accused, “and then you both disappeared. When you came back, there was this…this…look between you. And he calls you Josie. What the hell?”
“ Pffft ,” I scoff. “You’re imagining things.” I can’t face Charlie as I utter that lie.
“I didn’t imagine him calling you ‘baby.’”
I hadn’t noticed, but had Brent slipped up?
“He probably said ‘babe.’ You know how he does that.” He must have called me that after we returned, separately, from our encounter. He hadn’t ignored me anymore and had been almost back to normal, except taking care not to touch me.
“Yeah, to the women he’s slept with. Oh my God! Did you guys hook up?” Charlie screeches.
“What—no…no, of c-course we didn’t hook up. He…he’s your brother,” I weakly deny, lying through my teeth and feeling wretched because Charlie and I never lie to each other. Besides, as she always reminds me, I am a terrible liar.
She takes my face in both her hands, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Joey, honey. I love you. You are closer to me than my own sisters. Swear on the blood oath of sisterhood we took that you did not sleep with my brother.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, blushing furiously.
She gasps, but rather than becoming angry, she laughs and jumps around in excitement. “I knew it! This is great! Why are you keeping it a secret?”
“It’s just a temporary thing, and I asked him to do it, to be my first. There’s nothing more, so calm down. And we’re keeping it quiet since we both work for the team.” Something I had forgotten earlier thanks to my foolish insecurities.
Charlie leads me to the sofa, and we sit. I slip my heels off with a sigh of relief and curl my legs under me. I bring her up-to-date on what’s happened, all the things I left out when we called or texted. It’s a relief to tell her—almost—everything.
“Seeing as he’s my brother, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to reciprocate and ask for all the details like you did after my first time.”
“Please don’t. Suffice it to say, it was perfect.” I blush. “It’s still perfect. He took me against the wall at the restaurant—exactly like your mom’s books.”
I sigh dramatically even as Charlie wrinkles her nose and makes gagging noises.
“Okay, it’s going to take some getting used to, listening to you talk about having sex with my brother.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t last long.”
Charlie ignores the dire prediction and smiles. “We’ll see about that. Now that you’ve told me, I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I knew something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I thought CJ was going to drop dead from the glares Brent was giving him. I assumed he was trying to send the message to back off to protect me, but he hardly blinked when CJ tried cozying up to me. I guess what he was really saying was, ‘Keep away from my woman.’”
I eye her as if she is crazy.
“Seriously,” she continues. “Don’t you see? He’s actually jealous. This is not his normal relationship.”
I think in silence for a moment. I like the idea of Brent being jealous, but I’m not sure if I believe it to be true.
“His normal relationship?” I question.
“Normal for him, anyway, normal being his harem of women that he calls up when he needs someone, whether it’s a date for an event or a night out or…whatever. He’s been with you for almost a month?” Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t think he’s dated anyone for that long since college.” She pauses. “But please be careful, sweetie. He has demons, and it makes me worry that they might rear their ugly heads and ruin things. Don’t let him ruin this.”
“Don’t worry,” I reassure her, though I can’t help worrying a little. “There’s nothing to ruin.” For both our sakes, I deliberately lighten the mood. “In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy every minute with that spectacular bod—”
Charlie smacks my shoulder with a throw pillow before I can finish. “Ew, stop!”
I grab the pillow, then turn the tables on Charlie.
“Your turn now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You may be a better liar than me, Charlotte Jane Hutchinson, but I can still tell when you’re hiding something from me. You’ve been kind of preoccupied all day. So spill, sister.”
She shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
When she doesn’t continue, I prompt, “What’s nothing? Does it have to do with your one-night stand? You said it was consensual, but are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine and like I told you when it happened, it was totally consensual. I feel horrible because I want to tell you who it is, but I can’t.”
“Hey, don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Besides, I didn’t tell you about me and Brent tonight. It was killing me to keep it from you. But it’s your brother and—”
“I understand. Trust me.”
Wanting to lighten the mood, I tease, “You said it was the best sex of your life. I hope you’re still getting some of that. Now that I’ve experienced it, I don’t understand how you survived without it for so long. Brent is insa—”
“Stop! No details,” she pleads, throwing the pillow at me.
She’s not telling me what’s really bothering her. Whatever is on her mind, I hope she can soon tell me, because I feel so much better now that I’ve unburdened my secret.
I take a moment to appreciate the sun just rising as I enter the Firebirds facility. While I’ve always been a morning person, waking up when it’s still dark outside is a bit much, even for me. When my alarm goes off at five a.m. every morning, I could swear it’s been only minutes since I fell asleep.
Since training camp started, I’ve been getting home so late I have only time to feed the cat and clean out the litter box before falling into bed, utterly exhausted. The staff warned me the first days of camp were going to be the roughest. It starts with ninety players and slowly whittles down to fifty-three over the next few weeks.
Long hours hadn’t worried me, but the intensity of pro football is a whole different ball game. Being new doesn’t help, nor does the stifling heat. I have a lot of respect for the players who have to do endless rotations of drills and strengthening workouts for hours, with meetings and rehab in between. I could have sworn I heard one rookie crying for his mother. And full-padded practice hasn’t even started yet.
For me, it’s nonstop treatment of players, weighing them before and after practices to make sure they’re staying hydrated, restocking supplies, helping to set up and break down for practices, and endless paperwork. I barely had a chance to say hello to Charlie when she came to interview the starting quarterback for an episode she’s producing. But I don’t complain because this is exactly the type of experience I wanted. I can’t believe I’ve been handed such an opportunity. Though I already had a basket of homemade treats delivered to DeShawn as a thank you, I thanked him again with a big hug his first day at camp.
“Baby girl,” he said, “I didn’t do nothing but mention your name. You’re the one who blew ’em away. And I told you, you can thank me by making sure I get back on the field ASAP if I’m ever hurt. Now when do I get my session with you today?”
I was touched that DeShawn was the first to allow me to work on him. Players aren’t ready to hand over their bodies to just anyone, particularly not to someone new, and a female at that. Women in most parts of pro football are still a rarity, and gaining trust and respect is harder than it is for a fresh-out-of-school male.
I don’t like it, but it’s reality. All I can do is my job as best I can and show them I’m more than qualified to be here.
Of course, a few pigs would call me over so they could make passes at me. I quickly learned who they were and either avoided them or gave them my most professional demeanor that unequivocally indicated I’m not available for anything other than to treat their injuries. Most eventually got the hint and started treating me like my male counterparts.
I’m just finishing on one of the rookies in the treatment room when a veteran player calls me over.
“I think I pulled a groin muscle, Joey. Can you take a look?” asks Walter Gordon.
I’m normally wary of any guy who wants me to check out a groin injury, but not Walt. He’s a 320-pound tackle who reminds me of a big bear. A grizzly bear, not the cute and cuddly kind. He has a permanent scowl on his face and appears ready to shred someone into pieces at the least provocation. But I’ve learned he’s a sweet, quiet family man, one who also accepted me right away. As one of the captains on the team, his approval means a lot and I appreciate it.
I take off the ice that one of the assistants set him up with. I perform an exam, moving his thigh in various directions and asking him questions. While I’m pressing gently along his inner thigh, I sense a current, a pull, and I glance around, right into Brent’s stormy eyes as he sits at the table behind me.
I see him several times a day at work but haven’t had a second to spare to talk to him privately since camp started. My duties as chef and private therapist are on hold since he has to stay at the team hotel during the two weeks of camp. I’m working twelve to fourteen hours a day and too exhausted for lengthy phone calls by the time I reach home.
I’ve caught him watching me a few times while I interact with the players. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and don’t have the energy to try and figure it out. If I do have a spare minute, I’m too busy trying to decide if another photo I saw on social media is something to worry about. He was pictured with the blonde woman again, the one in LA. They were at an event in New York City this time. It was taken the week he was too busy to come over because he had to finish up some business before he had to report for training.
I thought of asking him about it during one of our short, infrequent phone calls, but I decide to wait for him to mention it. Only he never did, and I end up asking Charlie about it.
She replied with a short text: Ex from college. One of his demons I mentioned the other night. Don’t know the whole story. Sorry.
I almost wish Charlie hadn’t told me the significance of this woman in Brent’s life. Like why he doesn’t mind a picture of him with his ex plastered all over the internet, but he never gives away a hint of our…affair. That’s the word I’ve decided to use for what we have. It’s mostly sexual and completely clandestine, just like an affair.
Sex at the restaurant had temporarily allayed my fears that we were over, but maybe he’d done it because I’d been playing with him and turning him on. Maybe he’d meant for us to end once training camp started, and he assumed I knew that. If we were over in his mind, then his promise of monogamy didn’t apply anymore, right?
Having experienced his sexual appetite firsthand, I wonder if the blonde took care of those needs. I’m beginning to imagine all sorts of scenarios in my head, each one making me more ticked off than the last.
Am I the only one in this relationship that’s insecure and jealous? Does Brent feel any of that when I touch other men? Though it’s professional, it’s still somewhat intimate.
“What are you scowling for, girlie?” Walter growls, his usual method of communicating.
I glance at him, then continue with the taping. My fingers are practically on his balls, though they are modestly covered. I place the tape high up on his inner thigh before sliding my fingers down toward his knee, applying the length of tape along the way.
“You’re married, right, Walt?” I ask.
Walter grunts in the affirmative, though it’s a rhetorical question. He’s been married for several years. They have two children with another on the way.
“Does your wife ever get jealous?” I ask conversationally, aware that Brent can hear me. He’s alone at the table, waiting to be treated.
“No reason to,” Walter replies succinctly.
“Really? Not even with the groupies or past girlfriends?”
“Nope. Still got no reason.”
“Because…?” I prompt.
“’Cuz she knows I got eyes for nobody but her,” Walter says.
I smile wistfully. “She’s a lucky woman, Walt.”
Walter grunts as he moves off the table. Shifting his gaze between me and Brent, he shakes his head and grumbles, “Kids,” as he shuffles away.
“Keep icing that tonight and see me in the morning,” I call out to him. “We’ll do some work on it before practice.” I update his info on my tablet.
“What was that all about?” Brent asks in a low voice.
“Nothing.” I put the tablet down and return the supplies back to their bins. “Want me to treat you instead of waiting for Mickey?” I ask, referring to one of the senior trainers, despite knowing his answer.
I’m still annoyed with him for not letting me work on him at the facility. I’d feel better if I could see for myself how he’s doing.
“No, that’s okay.” He watches me clean off the table, getting it ready for the next player. “You all right?”
I sigh at his genuine concern, all irritation leaving me. It’s not his fault I can’t deal with my insecurities.
“Just tired.” I try to smile at him in reassurance before walking across the room to where another player is waiting to be treated. At least not everyone is as stubborn as Brent.