Blue 42 by C.A. Rene
Chapter ten
Dixon
“You sound sick, Dixon.” Mom’s voice floods my ear and I cringe, “are you pushing yourself too hard?”
“I’m fine, Ma.” I try to placate her, “I’m just waking up.”
“Just waking up?” she squeaks and I cringe once again. “It’s noon!”
“It’s my first day off in a long while,” I groan and hold the phone away from my ear, “I have been trying to rest.”
“Oh, I see.” She sounds better but I can’t help but hear her slight tone of disappointment.
That used to really set me on edge growing up because I had the drive and worked my ass off, while Danny was a troublemaker. I would be reprimanded for enjoying my downtimes but he would be coddled when the police brought him home by the scruff of his neck. It’s always been this way and even though I’m used to it, I still feel the resentment I’ve kept hidden away.
“Well, what time do you plan on getting up?” She huffs, “it’s Sunday, do they not have a church near you?”
She knows there’s a church near me and she also knows I won’t ever be stepping inside. No matter how often I tell her I don’t believe, she lets it go in one ear and out the other, hoping one day I’ll repent. I take a deep breath and exhale into the phone, my frustration with her evident.
“Where’s Danny?” I ask, knowing he’s probably not home and hasn’t been all weekend.
“He went out with some friends last night.” She answers quietly.
“Then maybe he’s the one you should be calling and asking what it is he’ll be doing today, hmmm?” I know it’s harsh but now that I’ve hit my life goals, I think her attention should be on the son that’s struggling.
“He rarely picks up his phone to me.” She sighs and I roll my eyes.
“Because you let him get away with too much.” I roll out of bed and grab my wallet from the side table. “Ma, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”
I hang up and open my wallet. I grabbed Danny’s old bus pass before coming here, it shows him on the cusp of changing from a troublesome boy into a dangerous teenager, and I keep it as a reminder to get my family out of the streets of Baltimore. I scan through the cards and when I reach the end, my heart begins to pound. It’s not here.
I look on the floor by the bed, underneath the bed, and open the drawers in the table, nothing. It wouldn’t fall out of my wallet, I know that because it’s been in there for almost a year, and it was tucked into the tight sleeve in the back. I don’t remember pulling it out since I’ve moved into this house because life has been busy as hell and I don’t have time to sit here and reminisce. It should be in my fucking wallet.
I wrack my brain and still come up with nothing, there’s no way it’s missing. I try to think of all the places my wallet has been and I come up with here and the camp. My locker there locks though and I’ve been locking it because I don’t have any trust for a few of my teammates. That leaves this house. I don’t always lock it when I go jogging but really, I don’t have much importance in here and besides, why go through a man’s wallet to steal an old bus pass. It makes no sense. No, I must have dropped it somewhere, maybe when I was paying for something or in my car. It’s not like it’s the end of the world, I just wanted to have something that reminded me of where I came from, and what I must work towards.
I try to shake off the feeling that something is wrong, like someone has come into my space, and changed just enough to be noticeable but not enough to cause panic. Luckily, all my financial records and personal documents are locked away in a safety deposit box at the bank. I was raised to never trust a lock and that if someone wants into your space, they can do it. That’s why I live minimally and I don’t care if this place was broken into.
It’s just extremely weird that they steal an old, expired bus pass when my brand-new black AMEX card is sitting in the same wallet. Something just doesn’t feel right. The only explanation is that I’ve misplaced it.
I pull up to the Buffalo Bills home stadium and beam, I’m finally here. This week we’ll be practicing on the field then our first NFL game will be on Sunday. I am so fucking psyched to be running out on that field as a part of the first string. I feel stronger than I’ve ever been and my body is in top form, I’m ready to work some magic. I’m ready to start racking up those wins and to shove it into a certain someone’s face.
Just thinking about the man that took advantage of me, brings back the flurry of emotions I try to keep buried. Sebastian Avando has created this reaction inside of me and I fucking hate it. It’s not so much the fear that flickers there because I know that’s normal after everything he’s done, it’s not the anger because I know that’s warranted, and it’s not the lingering shame because I’m intelligent to know that comes with being a victim. No, it’s none of those feelings that worry me, it’s the confusion when I see him.
The hatred is the most prevalent and it burns exceedingly hot, the force of it sometimes scorching my insides when I see him. The fear mixed in just makes me angrier and that stokes the burn further. But then when I’m alone and the fire burns out, the confusion seeps in. Why is Avando like this with me? Why does he go out of his way to attack me personally? How the fuck did I appear on his radar and why am I still there? I’ve proven myself and I’ve shown I am worthy of being a Bill. So why is it he’s still so quick to knock me down? Another cause for my confusion is how often I think about the man. I know it’s due to the fact that he took advantage of me and he made me a victim in a place I should be comfortable in, like a second home.
He just seems to worm his way into my mind and I need it to stop. I want to be able to play the sport I love without having all this contention connected to it. I drop my head to the steering wheel and let my mind ease, drawing in a deep breath. I hold onto it and will my heart to slow down, then let the air out of my lungs in a quick rush. I give myself a quick nod, pull all my doubts and fears back deep inside me, and push open my door. I don’t want my first day here to be clouded with thoughts of him.
I jog across the parking lot and hit the steps, taking two at a time, and then throw open the door. This place is huge with multiple vendors and a circular walkway to take you around the stadium to the appropriate seats. I remember being a kid and begging my mom to take me to a game, any game really. I would’ve watched hockey or basketball, as long as I got to experience the hype. Of course, it was never something we could afford and the first time I saw a live game was watching college football. I was eleven and I knew after that, I wanted to be a player.
“Mr. North?” A lady appears from a side door and smiles. “This way to the locker room.”
I was told someone would meet me at the front and even though I’m excited to get down below to the locker room, I really wanted to look around. She must see the flash of disappointment on my face because she chuckles.
“Not everyone is here yet, you have about fifteen minutes before Coach arrives. Did you want to meet me back here then?”
“Yes!” I answer quickly and she chuckles again. I don’t care how I look right now; this is the epitome of my dreams all coming together, and I don’t want to forget a single thing.
I take an immediate left and head down the center walkway, scanning the different vendors and imagining what it would smell like in here on a game day. Popcorn, corn dogs, and beer most likely. As disgusting as that combination sounds, I can’t wait to fucking smell it for myself, and watch as fathers hold their little son’s hands, guiding them towards their seats. That’s all I ever wanted for myself, to have a father that would show me those things and praise me as a man when I succeeded. Our father passed away when Danny was three and I was eight. He had a heart attack and died on our kitchen floor. My mother never remarried and Danny and I grew up without a man around us. It’s water under the bridge now but being here brings those longings back. My only consolation is that I’ll one day be able to do that for my own child.
I take the first set of steps upward and come out on a platform, overlooking the large stadium field below. Rows and rows of seats that I can see rounding the arena, imagining them being filled with screaming fans. I can’t stop the excitement that bubbles in my chest and the feeling works its way up and over my face. I’m beaming into the early morning sun and the feeling reminds me why I’m here. This euphoric feeling and the rush of adrenaline it brings, this is the exact reason why I’ve worked myself so hard for the past twelve years. I give myself ten minutes to stand here, feeling that excitement, and letting the warmth of the rising sun soak into my skin.
Before I leave, I make myself a promise that I won’t let anyone ruin this for me, and that includes Sebastian. His issues are not mine and if he continues down this path of fighting me, I will fight back. I won’t let him or anyone else take what is rightfully mine.
I get back to the front and the lady is there waiting, just as she said. I notice she gives me an appreciative once over and I grin. Maybe it’s time I get out a bit.
“What’s your name?” My eyes trail down her body and come to rest on her dark eyes. I watch as a pink blush coats her cheeks.
“Danielle,” she replies, her voice smooth but shy, “my friends call me Dani.”
“Can I call you Dani?” I smile at her and that pink blush turns red. Fuck, she’s beautiful and her features tell of an exotic mix. Maybe Asian and white.
“I don’t know,” she bites down on that full bottom lip, her teeth sinking into the flesh, and capturing my full attention. “Are we friends?”
“Not yet, Danielle.” I toss her a wink as she leads me towards a large set of red double doors, “but I want to be.” My voice drops an octave. She’s tall and lean with curves in all the right places. Her ass is plump but looks firm as I watch her take long strides. I bite into my lip when her calves flex with each step, she’s fit.
“Okay,” she whispers. “This is your locker room and the Coach’s office is right across the hall.
“Thanks,” I tell her, looking around the space, “do you work here?”
“Yes,” she smiles wide, “you’ll see me around.”
“Perfect. Later.” I head inside.
Zeal is standing in the center of the room as I walk in and I grin as I watch him. He has his hands on his hips and he looks from left to right. I watch as he inhales deeply, his back widening, and his shoulders lifting. Then his body deflates with his exhale and I chuckle, the noise making him look at me over his shoulder. His face breaks out with excitement and he shakes his head.
“I think I smell victory this year,” he says as I come to stand beside him.
“There’s no thinking about it,” I grab his shoulder and give him a squeeze. “I know it.”
I walk along the lockers and when I spot my locker and Jersey number, my heart triple beats out of my chest. Number eighty-eight. I’ve had it since high school and it’s been with me through my struggles, but always had my back. I run my fingers along the smooth engraving and smile. We fucking made it.
“Offense is always on the same line.” He remarks quietly and I look to my right, seeing Avando’s name on the locker right next to mine. Like fate just can’t stop laughing her ass off at me.
“It’s all good,” I shrug, “everything is fine.”
“They’ll come around.” He repeats his sentiment and I refuse to burst his bubble, because we may never come around.
I nod instead and open my locker, gazing inside. The royal blue color gleams back at me, telling me this locker room was given a fresh coat of paint; and just like me, is starting over. Camp experiences aren’t going to affect my game here and I can feel how ready I am to be a part of this team. I want the fucking championship.
The quiet moment is short lived as the doors slam open and our teammates begin to pour in. I grab my practice uniform hanging on a hook under my locker and toss my duffle bag inside. I want to get down to the field and run a couple laps before everyone gets there, it’s a tradition I’ve maintained for years.
My head is down but I see his shoes as he walks by me, slowing in front of the locker beside mine, and I’m shocked when he says nothing. I finish tying my shoes and stand to close my locker door, feeling his eyes on the side of my head. I don’t look at him and I don’t acknowledge his presence, I won’t let him be a part of my first experience here. I turn on my heel and head back for the doors, clapping Zeal on the back as I pass.
“I’m going to run a few laps, see you down there.” I watch as he beams.
“See you there.”
I step through the double doors and out into the wide hallway. To my left is the set of stairs we came down from the entrance and to my right is another set of double doors. I know those lead to the field. I hear talking straight ahead and see Coach sitting at his desk talking to Danielle, her face a mask of determination. I jog across the hall and rap my knuckles on the door catching both of their attention.
“North!” Coach booms and stands up, “how are you feeling?”
“Great,” I feel amazing, “I was just about to head out to the field for a couple laps.”
“Dani,” Coach grabs her shoulder, motioning toward me, “this man here is the human Flash.”
I shake my head with a grin, feeling good under his praises, and hoping like hell it convinces Danielle I’m worth her time.
“I can’t wait to see that.” Her husky voice hits me in the stomach.
“This is my daughter. Danielle.” Coach introduces us and my body feels like it’s being doused in ice water. Daughter?
“We’ve met.” She beams at my expression. No Danielle, we actually didn’t. If I knew she was Coach’s daughter, I wouldn’t have flirted with her, and now shit is about to get awkward.
I give them a quick nod and turn to head out to the large imposing steel double doors. The sunlight is streaming in through the cracks and I can already feel the energy spreading through my legs, I want to claim this track with my feet. I throw open the doors and step out onto the concrete ramp that ascends to the field, the walls climbing on either side filled with seats. I jog up to the top of the ramp and stand there, my toes grazing the green grass.
The goal posts stand tall, gleaming a bright yellow, and the paint fresh. The grass is a crisp green and the lines freshly painted as well. And then the Buffalo Bills logo painted into the center, prominent and proud. I dig my feet into the grass and fly forward, pumping my legs as I circle the field. This feels like home.
