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“Yes, Jessica Ortiz. She and Jake were dating. I mean, no one thought it would last, but she publicly broke up with him, using that post along with others from Nobu, and it was with…”
Rakell couldn’t force back the gasp that rushed from her, panic gripping her throat, her stomach swirling with acid. “Oh fuck, it was with Bernardo Cappuccino…Jessica is the other woman he ENDED. The one that was permanent.” She struggled to get more words out from her constricted throat. “Ohhh. Oh, shit. Levi, he didn’t say anything, nothing…but I knew something was wrong. He didn’t seem like he’d slept at all the night after I got the call about the audition. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She gulped air, sitting on the edge of her bed, trying to run the past few days through her head. “He didn’t say anything.” The elation from the audition evaporated, and in its wake, angst. Did Bernardo know, is that why he’d spoken to her in that cocky, salacious way? Had he been taunting her? Her brain shifted back to Jake, understanding that he was putting himself aside, not interfering with her opportunity despite how he had to be reeling internally. Her eyes clamped shut, emotion aching to be released. “Oh, I can’t believe he did this. He didn’t…he…” The words to explain what Jake’s action meant to her were out of her grasp…it was the action of love. Someone can say they love you, but when they push their fears aside to clear the path for your dreams, that was love lived. It was something far more profound and encompassing than love said. But she was still unsure of how to react to this knowledge.
“Rakell,” Levi started, gravity to his voice, “I can’t claim that Jake’s my best friend, but I have known him a long time, interviewed him dozens of times, and I can tell you after that happened, he has consistently refused to talk about her. He literally said to me, ‘If you interview me, I’m suggesting you don’t ask about her. If you do, that will be my last interview with you.’ And if you're me, who wants access to one of the best quarterbacks of our time and an all-around decent guy, you listen—because you don’t jeopardize that kind of relationship, and since no one was speculating they were going to get married or anything, she was just another…”
“I think what Levi is saying,” Lana interjected, “is that Jake wasn’t really attached to her, but he is to you…obviously, and we just thought you should know. I think he’s trying not to mess up your audition, but he has to feel…”
“I have to go. I need Jonathon to help me with something. I, I need…Jake to know that I’m standing up for him, that he’s on my mind. Shit, Lana, I don’t know how to…” Her words scrambled along with her thoughts as she slid off the edge of her bed to the floor.
“It’s okay, we just wanted you to know. Sorry we put a dent in the excitement. We…”
“No, it’s…I want to do this right, he needs to know. Thank you for telling me. Okay, bye.” The rush of thoughts, what was going through Jake’s head? She had so many questions, but what could she do? How did she let him know she cared about him deeply…saying, I love you too, seemed like a contrived reaction.
Rakell looked at her watch. Jake’s at dinner right now with Dwayne and the coaches, she thought, pushing on Jonathon's contact. She wanted to get this done fast. “Jonathon, hey I need you to help me do something.”
“Hey, Rakell, are you okay?”
“Yes, I mean, I’m not sure.” She detailed the story to him, and even in her panicked state, his over-the-top expressive reactions like “Girl, this is better than the Housewives of Beverly Hills,” and “Oh no, she didn’t,” and “Women are crazy, don’t they know they’re signing up for pushing a wheelchair sooner rather than later,” made her face stretch with a grin. She had an idea, and Jonathon was more than eager to comply.
“I’m on it, Princess. Text me all of them. Can I use some photos from the Sports Illuminated shoot and, of course, a few of you with Matt and me?”
After they finished discussing the details, she let the phone drop to the floor, pulling her legs to her chest, resting her head on her knees… and waited. This plan was out of her comfort zone—hell, she’d made it clear that she didn’t want this. Yet she wanted to take the chance. “Jake, you’re not the only one who can go big,” she said into the air with a giggle, thinking about his response.
Chapter Thirteen
Once we were settled around the long picnic-style table at Billy’s Burgers, Dwayne nudged me, his shoulder pushing into my tricep. “Let it go for now,” he urged.
Twisting my head, focusing my gaze on him, I noticed his dark eyes, usually lit with animation, were somber as if he were a high school counselor. It made me think about the time we were playing for different teams, me the Seattle Seahawks and Dwayne the New York Jets, but we still managed to meet up in Vegas and Austin before he moved there; we’d drink way too much, and if we ended the night without women, we’d talk about the what ifs. One time, I’d asked him, “If you could do something besides football, what would it be?” I’ll never forget his answer, not because it was so unusual but because he didn’t have to think about it. He knew; it must have been something he’d already thought about a lot, just like I’d thought about being a high school history teacher. Apparently, Dwayne thought about being a high school counselor. That answer flew from his mouth, along with, “I’d love to help the kids who get overlooked, the kids teachers write off, saying they’re lazy or stupid.” When I brought that up to him a couple years ago, he got pissed, said I was breaking the “bro code,” which he explained was anything deep another dude shares with you drunk gets buried, never to see the light of day.
“Jake, you can’t do anything about this, her, the audition, so if you trust her, you gotta let it go,” he pressed.
“Got it…I need a beer,” I mumbled, pressing my lips together, shutting my eyes, and acknowledging his words. Putting my hand in the air, I signaled to our waitress, a young girl in her twenties with flaming pink hair, a nose ring, and tats covering her sculpted arms. I did my best to seem engaged with the chatter that zig-zagged up and down the long plank table. I was grateful for the distraction, a room full of people blustering with laughter, escalating voices, and the smell of grilled meat permeating the 9walls. The owners had two other successful burger joints in the area, so they’d opened another smaller one downtown, one known for the great burgers but also good brews, and even on a Tuesday night, the place was packed. People gathered around the bar because all the seats were taken, drinking micro-brewed beer while they waited for their tables. I lost half the conversations jutting between the ten of us at the long table. Another person's point would be sucked up by all the ambient noise. I usually talked a lot, but tonight I just settled back and took in the cacophony of voices, pushing a smile to my face to appease Dwayne and fight off any, “Is everything okay Jake?” inquiries. Seriously, I hated that question. What’s a person supposed to say?
“You’re ordering fries? Get the Chilitos instead,” I said, cutting into Dwayne’s complicated burger order.
“Dude, what are Chilitos?” he retorted.
“It’s tater tots smothered in chili and cheese…this place is known for them. So if I were you, I’d trade the fries in for those ‘cause I’m not sharing.”
“They’re yummy,” the girl with the pink halo chimed in. “You should try them.” Her eyes smoldered on Dwayne, and she added, “A lot of calories, but from the looks of it, you work out.”
“Yes, thanks for noticing,” Dwayne said puffing his chest as if he may just be circling back to give her his number. This guy!
I jumped in, “His mouth, he works out his mouth…”
That got a half cackle-giggle from our waitress.
“I swear, you two.” Coach Easton broke off his conversation with Coach Mark to bark at Dwayne and me across the table. “It’s two weeks before you two appear on The Tonight Show for an interview, so no fighting. I don’t want other teams thinking they have an advantage because my two lovebirds are always quarreling.”
Dwayne’s eyes flushed with humor as he rubbed my shoulder. “Coach is right, Jake; they like hearing about how much we love each other.”
I shook my head, trying like hell to be present, blocking out Rakell’s gushing text because Bernardo had deigned her with a quick compliment: impressive. I finally chimed in, “Yeah, great! If I have to tell our ‘meet-cute’ story one more time, I’m going to get sick…and every time Dwayne tells it, the drama ratchets up.” I placed his hand over his heart, playing into his imitation of us as lovers. “I just knew, down to my toes, that Jake Skyler was the quarterback for me. I saw my destiny in his knowing blue eyes, and that arm, so precise and muscular, I knew he would take me places, and he has. He’s my dream…”
Dwayne’s smack on my arm ended my dramatic imitation.
A collective roar erupted around the table.
“Seriously, maybe you two should try dating,” one of the recruiters who had been in the meetings with us squeezed out the edge of his mouth, twisting it into a smirk, his eyebrows arching. “That would be an even better story.”
