Page 10 of The Player's Obsession

After the breakup, I forced myself to go out with random women to prove to everyone I was fine. But I might have been grumpy and barked at more than a few of my teammates. It was so bad my trainer told me the scowl on my forehead was going to become a permanent feature if I didn’t loosen up.

My heart wasn’t in my fake smile. My heart was broken.

Some may say I don’t have a heart. Am I proud of my life’s achievements? Yes. I admit to bragging about my career and investments to impress women. Honestly, does it count? It’s all public information. I can’t assume anything I do is private. However, I come from a family that rewards success, and I have to live up to their expectations and win the unspoken competition with their friends’ children, even though we are well past that age for them to brag about us. It’s no wonder I have to have the best of everything.

I have a formidable collection of watches, suits, shoes, and cars. Hell, I even own a speed boat. Which is why….

I can’t show up alone to a wedding.

I have to find a plus one, and she has to make it look like she’s into me. Normally, I’d agree a wedding date should be someone I’m serious about, but the circumstances are complicated. Hell, my date could catch the bouquet. Then I’m really fucked.

I really don’t want to tempt fate. If she catches the bouquet, she’ll think she’s the next to get married and expect me to put a ring on it. That’s not happening. Superstitions are stupid, and yet every player is susceptible. It’s a way to try and control the uncontrollable.

I remember a year ago, a player wore the same socks for two weeks. He swore his socks were lucky and never washed them. A week later, he threw the smelly things in the trash after we had three losses in a row.

I’m an analytical man, but even I wonder about these things. I prefer to see concrete evidence. Like the fact that a pretty woman was cleaning my house today, and I wrangled a date out of her. I didn’t need a lucky rabbit’s foot to pull that off.

I walk with keys in hand to my vehicle. I’m hungry and should have stopped to eat on the way home. I drive into the city limits of Spring Hill, and I’m at a loss as to what my mood calls for. I spot a BBQ place and pull into the drive-thru. I’ll grab something here and eat at home. I need to plan this dinner date with Penelope so I can coax her into attending the wedding with me. This is not going to be easy. It was like pulling teeth just to get her to go to dinner. Now, persuading her to attend a wedding? That's a whole different ballgame. Deep down, I know it's pretty low of me to use her as a pawn in my game to make Melanie see that I've moved on. The bitter truth? I'm still hopelessly in love with her.

The wedding is going to be tense. I can’t go alone.

I call my brother Michael.

“What’s up, man?” At twenty-eight, I expect him to sound more mature. Maybe it’s the fact we’ve always been tight, playing football together, dating, and making it into the pros.

“Not much.”

“You’re lying. I know the wedding is this weekend. Who are you taking?”

“No one, I don’t know who to invite.”

“You have tons of girls, you could ask. Hell, use the intranet you never know who you might meet.”

“That’s the problem. Whoever I take is going to overthink it and assume I’m ready to play house with them. We both know I’m not looking for a wife.”

“Dude. You’re the one overthinking everything. You need to lighten up and allow yourself to fall in love again. Honestly, you’ve carried this broken heart shit for too long. You need a date, get out, move on.”

“I have to go to this wedding. Otherwise, it means I’m still broken, and she wins.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You know what you need to do. You should get a fake fiancée for the wedding. Get a ring on loan from a jeweler, make up a story, and play the happy couple; this way, you can show Melanie you’ve moved on. That’s a win.”

“It’s not a win.” I pause. He might have a point. “But it’s not a bad idea,” I say.

“Really?”

“How did you come up with this? Is this a thing?”

“Sure, all the reality TV shows do this shit. Married in thirty days, at first sight, you name it. Hell, you two might end up liking each other.”

He’s still watching reality TV. He finds the shows entertaining. I find them too orchestrated and edited by the producers to be reality. I prefer to watch something with character development and intrigue.

“How do I go about this?”

“Find someone with no skin in the game and no romantic interest in you. Maybe you can throw something in the mix that will sweeten it. Someone with a low profile would be good. You don’t want it getting out. Arrange for the pretense to last for a week or however long it takes to convince Melanie you’ve moved on. Then tell everyone you broke off the engagement. Give them some stupid reason if they ask. I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

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