Page 39 of Play of Love
Chapter 10
Josh
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Iwas thankful to whatever angel or magical force that had given me the strength, mindset, and comfort to give a good interview.
I’d sat with the lead players in my team, and while Bob Jacobe, the TV presenter, asked the questions, I answered them as if they were nothing to me and mingled like I hadn’t been out of the game, and the loop, for months.
I managed to evade questions about my family and even offered a very brief statement about how I felt. When asked how I was feeling about this season, I’d simply said I was hoping it would be better than the last and that it was a very sad time for me. I hoped to get through so that I could focus on the next season wholeheartedly.
I’d actually looked directly at Amy as I said that, as if I was answering one of her questions in our preparation sessions. She’d sat with Zelda in the studio audience, holding onto the ends of her ponytail and looking at me with that tense edge. She was most likely hoping I’d be able to keep up and not fall asleep again. I supposed that whatever they were paying her must have been worth all the shit she’d had to put up with. Desperation was what I saw in her earlier. Pure, raw desperation, like it was a matter of survival. The other day she’d gone on this tirade about me needing her, but today she looked like she needed me too.
I couldn’t complain since it was true—I needed her and, admittedly, found comfort in her presence.
Even I would have filed myself to the back of the shelf as a total lost cause. But she didn’t give up on me.
She pushed the limits and did what it took to get the job done, regardless of the cost. I didn’t know what drove her and what she was getting out of it, but whatever it was had gotten me here and saved my ass.
Last night had been terrible. It really did a number on me and I was feeling weak from it. I’d lost control in the worst way and succumbed to the grief that beckoned me to give up. Thinking rationally was the last thing on my mind.
I remembered drinking everything I could get my hands on and calling the escort service to send me strippers and escorts. They came and they left. I couldn’t remember the in-between details.
It really was a miracle that I was here today, and I had to push the trigger for last night out of my mind.
Clarissa’s birthday.
I tried not to think about her or Mom while I gave the interview. I had to take them out of my mind.
The whole day went well and I enjoyed hanging out with the guys. It almost felt like the good old days. The days where I was myself and all I cared about was playing a good game and winning. They made arrangements to meet up next Wednesday. I thought I could stick to that.
I knew Amy had made some arrangements for me to do all that public appearance stuff, but I could fit this in too. Training started in a month and I wanted to get myself ready for it. Part of getting ready for training was bonding with my team. Reconnecting with them. It was one of the many things I liked and appreciated about them. That strong friendship we had made them play better, as if they all shared the same mind, and often times knew each other’s thoughts well enough to make those split-second decisions that everyone followed, which I’d seen win games.
As the day drew to an end and I realized I would have to go back to my house, depression set in again.
I followed Amy to her car when I said goodbye to the guys. She walked ahead of me in silence with no acknowledgement whatsoever.
I squeezed into the little green Volkswagen beside her, cursing the size of the car as I tried to adjust myself. I didn’t like cars like this. They weren’t made for me. The fit was wrong, the interior, everything.
I scowled as my head hit the roof when I tried to lean back and she looked across at me.
I looked at her too, and held her gaze. She was mad as hell at me, really mad. It was understandable. I knew it couldn’t have been easy to get me here, and here I was dressed in my suit andhere.
“I’m not going to apologize so don’t look at me like that. You deserved the bitch slap.” She shook her head in dismay, causing her ponytail to bobble across her shoulder blades.
I’d noticed her use of words had expanded as the days had gone by. Just the other day she chided me for swearing and here she was talking aboutbitch slaps. Earlier she said she’d had to put up with mycrazy shit. Clearly, I wasn’t good for a sweet girl like her.
“Yes,” I agreed, to her surprise. “And don’t apologize, it wouldn’t suit you.” I gazed deep into those beautiful green eyes of hers, and just like the other day found myself lost within them.
“Give me back my concealer.” She stretched her dainty hand out to me.
That thing saved my life. I looked like I’d been in a fight by the time she finished with my face.
“It’s in my ass somewhere, come and get it.” I smiled at her.
She narrowed her gaze and looked at me like she could kill me. There was no answer from her, she just turned her head, looked out to the studio exit, and drove through it.
The anger rippled off her in waves, creating a tense atmosphere that was so thick I was sure I could touch it. I imagined that if this were a cartoon it would literally be a hazy fume of black and red surrounding her.
