The Total Package (2 page)

“Here’s to the good old days,” he toasted before taking a swallow. He quickly put his hand and the glass back on the table, a trick he’d learned to feel grounded. Now was the moment for her to take her leave and join the ranks of those repulsed by him. But sweet inexperienced Ella wasn’t beating a hasty retreat. Instead she pulled her chair up closer and lowered her voice.

“I’d much rather toast to your future,” she said, picking up his half empty drink and polishing it off.

He didn’t want to pretend anymore. And he didn’t have to carry on the charade. She still seemed to be looking at him with the wide-eyed adoration she had in the past, only now with a shadow of Jack-shooting tough girl.

“I don’t have a future.”

“Of course you do,” she proclaimed, “and I want to help you get back on the field.”

Tyson leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs to one side of the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a single chuckle. Not the follow-up he’d expected. And she said it like he should’ve known.

“Just how do you propose to do that, Ella Bella?”

“By being a real friend for starters, the kind that wouldn’t just sit idly by and watch you get hooked on drugs.”

“Nobody got me hooked on anything,” he said stubbornly, more defense mechanism than anything else. By the time the news broke that she was indeed correct, this conversation would be over and he’d never have to see her again. And he refused to blame anyone other than himself for his lousy choices.

“So it was just alcohol that influenced your decisions that night with Carla Dowe?” she asked, moving on to the next topic, sounding more like a sideline reporter than an old friend.

Tyson grimaced. That was one face he’d never forget. At least she got right to the point. Carla Dowe was the beauty he met in a nightclub outside of Houston. She had long hair, longer legs, and rode him like a cowgirl in his rental car in the parking lot where they shared a joint after drinking the night away. His other transgressions surfaced rapidly after she sent one too many selfies of them looking a little too cozy. Her tune changed altogether once her parents found out. In the lawsuits that followed and thanks to his expensive attorney, the bar that let her in and served her took the brunt of the fallout. The suspicion around him remained as the allegations intensified, and rightly so. Even he had trouble recollecting the events of that evening. His blackouts had become a frequent occurrence. Luckily, his own lawyer was ruthless enough to subpoena and systematically grill friend after friend of the girl’s to testify about that night and Carla’s delight at having landed herself the ultimate score, complete with all the smiles she snapped, captured, and sent. But it was a double-edged sword. She looked young and innocent. He looked like ten miles of bad road. Tyson was spared a jail sentence but convicted of being a total scumbag in the court of public opinion.

“I swear she told me she was twenty-one.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but the embarrassment reflected in his bloodshot eyes. “And she
was
eighteen.” He added feebly. He wasn’t sure why he bothered. There was still the issue that he was married at the time.

“Four days into eighteen. Easy to lose sight of that fact given she was still in high school,” Ella replied, graciously making no reference to his now-ex-wife.

Tyson scowled defensively, before leaning his forearms down on the table between them. “Then I guess there really isn’t any story left to tell. Sounds like you know it all.” He was sorry he had offered her a seat, much less his drink.

“I told you, Tyson, I want to try to help you,” she reiterated.

“Why?”

“Because I believe in you,” Ella stated with conviction, as if that was enough to earn his trust. But Tyson Palmer was long past trusting anyone, including himself.

“Why?” he repeated, now angry.

Ella looked down at the table for a moment, then said quietly, “Because I remember the guy I tutored. Who was serious about his game and never had a problem taking no for an answer.”

He wanted to laugh in her naïve face. To mockingly tell her at the time she hadn’t been worth the pursuit, if for no other reason than to get her to leave him alone. He wanted her to stop looking at him in the way she was, like he was not a total disaster. But most of all, he no longer wanted to be reminded of when he was in control and held the world in the palm of his football-throwing hand.

“That kid doesn’t exist anymore. When you graduate and join the real world, you’ll realize that people change, usually not for the better,” he spat out cynically.

“I refuse to believe that.”

Tyson sighed and ran his hand through the shaggy brown hair that had outgrown his clean cut months ago. She was being way too persistent, but her sincerity was admirable, and part of him wanted to believe her.

“Okay. We’re friends, now what?”

She brightened with his acquiescence. And she really did have a pretty smile. “Now you let me be a good friend and help take care of you. You look so tired. ”

This time he didn’t hold back the laugh, and while it wasn’t exactly harsh, it still was hollow. She wasn’t able to help him any more than he could help himself. And she made it sound so easy, like she could perform some sort of exorcism and all his demons would flee. The more likely story was she was trying to get close to him under the misguided impression that he had something left to offer.

“You’re good, Mother Teresa. Why don’t we go someplace quiet where I can confess my sins and you can absolve me? Make sure you turn your phone on to
RECORD
, so you don’t miss the good stuff.”

“You’re wrong, but I understand you being leery,” she patiently explained. “I . . . I always liked you, Tyson, and you were always so nice to me. You deserve to have someone on your side. I know this is all just your circumstances talking.”

“Sorry, not interested.” Tyson took back his now-empty glass and went back to sucking the last remnants of Gentleman Jack off the ice. Damn his mouth was dry, always so dry. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was closed. He wanted her to get out before he settled back into the dark side.

“What would it take for me to get you interested? For you to consider coming home with me, at least for a decent night’s sleep?”

Maybe it was the way she asked it, completely oblivious to the fact that the question itself made her sound like a hooker. Maybe it was the pity or her dogged insistence that he see himself for something other than he was, which was a lost cause. And then, like a lighthouse shining through the fog in his brain, it dawned on him. His cute little virtuous tutor had joined the ranks of pleasure seekers and was trying to get him into bed. At least that explanation turned the exchange from ludicrous to one that made sense.

“You still a virgin, Ella Bella?” He answered her question with one of his own, accompanied by a smile of complete impropriety.

Finally she blinked. Her grip tightened around the handle of the purse in her lap, and she stared at it before looking back up at him and meeting his gaze head-on.

“Yes.” She spoke her one-word answer unemotionally, even as the flush crept up to her cheeks.

Tyson sat back in his chair, the recesses of his drug-addled mind jarred. Wrong answer. She was supposed to have forsaken her outdated notion of chastity. She was supposed to have been tainted by now, like everyone he knew. As corrupted as he was.

“Hey Ella Bella, what do you say to you and me going someplace to get freaky?” Part of it was said in jest, trying to recover from just how badly she managed to throw him. Another part of him longed to engage in just a little bit of the same harmless banter from the days when she was a sweetheart and he was a hero.

“Your place or mine?” Her answer was so unexpected and sounded just as foreign to his ears.

She was supposed to have played along and let him down easy, as she had done a hundred times before.

Tyson shook his head, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. He took a moment to let it sink in. Perhaps she was just trying to be funny, to save them both from the awkwardness of his initial reaction. Or she was trying to show him she was all grown up.

“You shouldn’t be so glib, Ella,” he scolded her. “It could get you into trouble.”

She seemed to enjoy watching the emotions that played across his face. “Maybe I’m looking for trouble.”

Despite all his best intentions his body once again started to hum. She had upped the ante.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

“I want you to be the first person I make love to.” It sounded romantic, but romance wasn’t what he was currently known for. Or what he wanted. He wanted dirty, sleazy, guilt-free hookup sex, at least until they lawyered up. It was what he was used to. But not what he wanted for her. He was surprised that he even cared at all.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Not only did she not appear chastised, but by the set of her jaw, she looked more determined. “I’m a grown woman, Tyson. I know what I’m doing.”

The very idea was preposterous. They were little more than strangers. He knew better than anyone that strangers didn’t have sex to forge relationships. They did it to avoid them. Who in their right mind would make such an offer after so many years? He gave her some time to come to her senses, but she continued to stare at him, waiting for his answer. “You do know what they’re saying about me?”

He felt her foot clumsily begin to slide up his leg in response to the question. He gave a short laugh and then narrowed his eyes.

“You realize this ride has no refunds?”

“I do,” she confirmed.

“And when it’s over, I’m going to consider you just another whore?”

He fully expected her to stand up and slap his face. To see him for what he was. To finally abandon the notion that she was going to save him and leave him to his misery. But she only tilted her head and studied him, every bit the sophomore he remembered, only now with her foot finding the inside of his thigh.

“No you’re not, Tyson. Quit trying to scare me away.”

He finally stopped caring. The hum had gotten loud enough to be heard through the numb. Nostalgia was grossly overrated anyway. And her smile was positively naughty.

“Put your shoe back on. The room’s on me,” Tyson said ungallantly, pushing away from the table and standing up. “You’re on.”

He gave her two of the last five one-hundred-dollar bills he had, and they checked into the local Motel 6 under her name while he waited outside. It was a condition Tyson insisted on, and he did it automatically out of self-preservation. There would no confusion as to who was initiating what, should she end up having second thoughts after it was over.

He wasn’t sure what to expect next from her and he had long forgotten how to properly execute foreplay. He half hoped she would chicken out and run screaming into the night. He wasn’t even sure in his current state that he could adequately perform.

They took off their coats and Tyson sat on the edge of the bed. He thought about just lying down and dozing off. They could forget the whole thing. He watched Ella turn the television on and begin to surf, stopping on the motel’s promotional channel, which was the closest she could get to mood music. Nothing said romantic interlude quite like a picture of a continental breakfast with Muzak playing in the background. Then she began to dim the lights.

After checking the dead bolt on the door, she went and stood between his legs. She wove her hand into his hair and then gently fisted it, to tilt his head up to her and hold it in place. The fingertips of her other hand stroked over his cheekbone and down his jaw, then up over the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, the result of him playing through two quarters before having it set during his rookie season with the Blitz. He had considered that bump a badge of courage, even if it was the injury that became the catalyst to launch him into his new normal, courtesy of that first bottle of Vicodin being slipped into his locker by a team doctor. She was mesmerized, like she was walking around in her own amorous fantasy, her movements deliberate and calculated. She looked down and pulled his hair slightly to make sure his eyes were looking into hers.

“You really are still so beautiful.” She exhaled in awe before gently placing her mouth against his. She tasted him, then unhurriedly ran her tongue over his upper lip before nipping at it. Her breath was sweet, Tic Tacs with traces of the whiskey they’d shared.

Whatever Ella’s teacher had been, whether book or movie, she had learned well, Tyson thought. His hands gripped around her waist and he roughly pulled her flush against him. His mouth opened wider as his hands drifted lower before coming to rest on her bottom, giving it a squeeze. Her response was to wiggle into his palms and draw his tongue into her mouth, teasing it with hers. This was no timid virgin, Tyson continued his inner justification, she was more like a vixen, and his body responded to it. Maybe she hadn’t been truthful and had just told him what she thought he wanted to hear. She wasn’t behaving like someone doing something she would regret. She was fully engrossed in her seduction. After that first kiss, he took off her glasses, placing them on the nightstand, and then stood. They took hasty turns stripping each other down, with kisses in between, beginning with Tyson and a sturdy tug at her cumbersome skirt. She pulled off his shirt in exchange for hers. What he uncovered was lush and curvy and a crime to keep hidden. She cooed words of encouragement as he unveiled her, becoming increasingly excited with each piece of clothing discarded, until there was only one thing left to remove. She wasn’t shy or inhibited as his hands freely roamed her nakedness, concentrating on boldly raking her nails down his chest, over the speed bumps of his abs, hooking them into the waistband of his boxer briefs. He kicked the boxers to the side, and his sex sprang to attention. Her fingers curled around him and she carefully pulled and caressed, her eyes lighting up with her discovery at his size, though she had nothing to compare it to. If she kept at him, he would lose it right in her hand. He pulled her hand away and lifted her, landing them both back onto the bed, careful not to crush her. He squeezed ample breasts and sucked at taut nipples. Her touch was hot, her skin supple, and her behavior nothing short of aggressive.