I broke up with Jesse the night of the Frat party. She asked me to come to her family’s house for Christmas and it freaked me out, so I did what made the most sense and broke things off. I guess it’s why I got so wasted with my teammates. I didn’t want to think about her, about what I might have been losing. I couldn’t. I had to focus on my career. That meant transferring out of Fitzburg’s class once I handed in my assignment, and getting rid of the rest of my distractions in time for the scouts.
There’s no more time for girlfriends. Just sex. Sex is pretty easy to get as long as you don’t put your heart into it, especially at UCLA.
I can’t commit to a woman. I’ve never been able to. I dated in high school and during my time at UNC, but I never kept a girlfriend around for more than six months.
Jesse is no different, and I could kick myself for transferring into her English Lit class to be closer to her. I should have thought about it, and told myself I’d break it off with her sooner than expected just like always. But I was stupid. I wanted sex, and now I’m paying for it dearly.
I’m going home for the holiday’s yes, but not to Dad’s and not to Trace’s.
But to Ellie Plymouth’s house.
Really? Of all the fucking people I could get mixed up with, it has to be the girl I beaned in the face with a basketball. I’ve been reading her bio this week in between practice, games, and management negotiations, and I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s the most boring woman on the planet. I didn’t have much time to dwell on the situation with her though. Sports agents from all over the country have been lining up to sign me, because they’re sure I’m going to be selected as the first overall draft pick next spring. It’s hard talking to them by phone conference with my Dad and attorney. I wish we could all meet in person, but it’s not realistic. I don’t have time for all those meetings right now with the season in full swing. It’s all about finding the best offers. Who can get me the best endorsements. So far, I’ve picked two agencies that have intrigued me, but I’m not completely ready to commit to anything. It’s pissing my Dad off. He wants me to make a decision in time for March Madness. He knows I could get a couple of commercials by then if I play my cards right.
Make him more money.
I love my Dad. He’s done everything in his power to get me where I am. I mean, I sacrificed a good part of my childhood to get here too. I didn’t go to birthday parties, or my friends houses after school or on weekends. Every bit of free time that I had was spent on a basketball court. I was taught in private at my school by a tutor so I could do the work at my own pace. Strange, I know, but it was the only way I was able to play ball on an elementary school team so I could get on a good high school team. My Dad paid the school a ton of money to agree to it, and so…I guess I owe him.
In the summers as a kid, I was sent to basketball camp that cost upwards of twenty five grand a year. I was taught by the best. Retired hall of famers, and famous basketball coaches. Everyone always told me I was destined to play ball, that it was built into my blood and I had a future with the NBA. I’m one of those players that comes around once every fifteen or twenty years. I don’t know what it is. People see me play ball and they just foam at the mouth. I guess I love it. I mean, I don’t know anything else. Just plays, and moves, dietary regiments and work out routines. I spend countless hours on the court, shooting baskets into the early hours of the morning, perfecting my craft because anything else is unacceptable.
It’s my entire life.
Really, all I ever wanted to do was make my Dad happy. Especially when Mom had enough and left us. She wanted to take me away from the life he created for me, but just like everything else, his money overcame the issue. He’s not a millionaire by any means, but his construction business has always kept us comfortable.
He paid my mom to leave me behind and not look back.
The last time I saw her, I was twelve. She kissed me goodbye as I begged her not to go. I told her I’d quit ball for her, and all she did was smile.
“I’ll see you soon, honey.”
I wake up sometimes, with her voice echoing in the back of my mind, telling me she’ll see me soon, only…she’s not there. My dad said she got remarried few years ago, but that’s the most I know. She doesn’t call or write, and I guess…I just haven’t had the time to hunt her down.
Or maybe it just hurts me too much to try.
I don’t have time to worry about it now. I have too much to focus on.
And now this. Now Ellie. I have to stop my life because of a damn term paper and it’s not fair.
“I can’t believe you’re not gonna come. My mom was so excited.”
“I told you I’m sorry.” I dribble the ball and shoot from the three point line. It swishes. “Maybe I can come for New Years if I stay out of trouble.”
He pushes his notes off his lap and gets up to join me on the court. Trace isn’t a ball player. I make him look like a fool every time we get together on the court, but he’s a friend, he doesn’t care if I’m the best ball player that’s come around in a long time. I’ve known him since I was in the third grade, and somehow, we managed to hang on to our friendship despite the fact that I was never around. We were really good pen pals all those summers I was at camp. I think that’s part of it. He goes to UCLA too, so when he found out I was transferring here he was ecstatic. We see each other more now than we ever have, and it’s one of the biggest reasons I’m glad I was able to come here. I need a friend like him. Someone who knows me.
r32;It’s hit me all too hard lately, that nobody really knows me besides him. I don’t even think Dad understands me like he does. He just sees the ball player, he doesn’t see the other side. The one with a human personality. But maybe he doesn’t have the time to see that part of me.
It’s not his fault.
“Ellie Plymouth.” He laughs as I pass him the ball and he dribbles it clumsily. “She’s in one of my classes. A real train wreck.”
“The girl can write a term paper,” I sigh and wipe the sweat from my forehead with my arm. “She gave me a sample. At this point, that’s all I care about.”
“So…let me see if I have this down.” He shoots the ball, and naturally, misses. “You go spend Christmas with her and her family, and she writes you a paper in return?”
“Something like that.” I catch the ball when he throws it back to me and start to dribble it while he attempts to block me.
“I don’t get why you have to go to her house though,” he pants out as I throw the ball over his head and sink another basket. “What’s the point?”
I haven’t told him the truth. To be honest, I’m embarrassed that I have to stoop this low. I was just dating one of the hottest women at this school and now I have to play boyfriend to Ellie Plymouth who looks like she hasn’t had a date since…ever. She’s not exactly ugly, she’s just not somebody you would notice, really. She tends to blend in, and maybe that’s because of the dull baggy clothing she wears or the fact that she never smiles. Maybe it’s because her hair doesn’t quite fit the shape of her face, and when it’s down, it covers most of it up where you can’t see her whole expression. r32;
But more than anything, it’s because she’s shut up tighter than Fort Knox. I swear to God, I’ve never met someone wound so tight, and I seriously doubt walking into her house with me at her side is going to change anything. Her family will see right through us an hour into our visit, but that’s not my problem. I’m complying with what she’s asked me to do. I can smile and act as charming as she wants me to, but it won’t change the fact that she has the personality of concrete.
“You’re holding out on me, man,” Trace laughs. “What’d you do? You must be pretty desperate to go to all this trouble.”
I sigh harshly. “I…I’m going to fail my English class unless she writes me this paper, that’s all.”
“Okay, and money wouldn’t do the trick?”
“Apparently not. She needs this more I guess.”
“What? Are you going to pretend to be her boyfriend or something?” He laughs it off.
I shrug, and shoot the ball again. I miss, and curse out loud. Distractions. I can’t have any more distractions.
“Tell me you didn’t agree to some crazy shit like that, Justin.”
I let out a long breath. “It’s the only way she’ll do it, so I have to play along.”
“Are you shitting me?” He walks close to me and puts his hands on his hips. “Seriously?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Really? Do you realize how degrading that is?”
“It’s not worth losing the draft over, Trace. If I fail Fitzburg’s class they’ll ship me back to Carolina and I won’t have a chance in hell. Plus, they’ll make me pay back the money we’ve spent out of the offer.”
He’s silent. He gets it now. He knows how hard I’ve worked, how bad I want this, and that I’ll stop at nothing to get it. “You know who her dad is married to right?”
“What’s it matter?” I dribble the ball harshly and shoot. When it goes in, I let out a relieved sigh. “Wait…” I look at him, confused and slightly angry, because she didn’t mention anything about her father being married to someone significant in her “bio”. “How do you even know that kind of information?”
He laughs. “Everyone knows. It’s why she’s so damn serious all the time. She doesn’t want to be associated with it.”
For the first time since I bounced that basketball off her face, I’m curious about Ellie Plymouth. “Spill it.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?”
I tuck the ball underneath my arm. “Trace?”
“Jeanine Granby.”
For a moment I stare at him, at a loss for words. “Bullshit.”
“I wouldn’t lie about a hottie like that.” He swipes the ball out from under my arm and shoots again. It hits the rim and bounces elsewhere in the court.
“Jeanine Granby…the actress? That’s her mother?”
“That’s the one, and no…it’s her step mother,” he snickers. “Fuckin’ hot as hell right? I loved her last movie, the one with Matthew McConaughey…did you see it?”
I shake my head slowly as he chases the ball down the court. It’s mind blowing, to say the least. It explains a lot too. I mean, I’m not sure about her family situation, but it explains the bitterness.
They can’t be all that close.
Now I have to play nice with this woman. She’s an A list celebrity, which means she has a lot of contacts and a lot of influence. It could make or break me.
Why couldn’t Ellie have been up front about this? Doesn’t she realize how many things can effect my career over the next few months?
Oh wait that’s right, she doesn’t give a fuck.
“You want my advice?” Trace calls out to me.
I grunt and shrug.
“Bail.” He shoots, and makes it, barely.
“I can’t bail.”
He turns to me. “You have to. What’s Jeanine gonna do when she realizes you’re nothing but a fake? She could seriously fuck things up for you.”
“I’m a good liar.”
“It won’t matter. Have you taken a good look look at Ellie? Who’s going to believe you fell head over heels for that mess?”
He’s right. I feel my heart sink down into my stomach, and I suddenly have the urge to vomit. “It’s a few days. I can do it. I’ll kiss enough ass where they’ll ignore Ellie for the most part. I mean, maybe it’s a sign. Maybe Jeanine has enough influence to get the Lakers to sign me right away instead of scouting me.”
“I think you need to at least talk this out with Ellie before you do anything.”
“It’s too late for that. We leave tomorrow, Trace. If I bail I’m going to flunk. There’s no options.”
“Well.” He grips the basketball with both hands and throws it at me. “At least bring me back an autograph.”
I roll my eyes. “Nice. I guess I know why she wanted me to bring a suit now. I’m getting thrust into some industry Christmas gathering at the house.”
“Great. You’ll be in a room filled with supermodels and movie stars and I’ll be home watching the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with my family. Great trade off. Remind me why we’re friends?”
“Because we got each other through summer camp for ten years by mail,” I laugh.
“True. I guess I can’t hold this against you then, but you better keep me updated. I want details.”
“I guess I can do that.”
He slaps me on the back. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
“Actually, I’m going to spend another couple of hours here,” I tell him. “Maybe we can have a late dinner?”
“You’re crazy. It’s already seven. I’ll see you later. Try to have a good Christmas though, even if you are spending it in a very awkward situation.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Peace out!” He pushes himself out the door, and then he’s gone.
I’m alone again, but I’m more informed. Whether or not that’s a good thing, I have no idea, but I’m about to find out.
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