Page 15 of The Player's Obsession

“Great.”

She’s about to hang up, so I jump at a chance for more information.

“By the way, I noticed that you and Penelope are friends. Have you known her for a long time?”

“She moved here a year ago. We met at the driver’s license bureau and have been friends ever since.”

Interesting.

“Is she going to be working for you in the future?”

“I have no idea. Why?”

“No reason. I have no issue with her cleaning my house.”

“Good to know. Have a good day.”

I am about to check on Melanie’s social media and think better of it. I grab my suits that need to go to the dry cleaners and bound down the steps, laying the clothes over one of the seven chairs stationed at the kitchen’s island. I pull frozen raspberries out of the freezer, toss them into the blender, and add protein powder from the cabinet. I pull soy milk out of the pantry and, after breaking the seal on it, splash some over the berries, hit the word ice on the refrigerator and let about eight ice cubes fall into it before I put a lid on the blender. I bend my head to make sure it’s tight before setting it on the machine’s base and hitting the smoothie button. The blade grinds until it chops up the frozen berries and ice. When I hear the machine whir without resistance, I pour the contents into a drinking glass. I swirl it in the glass and notice it doesn’t move much before taking a sip.

Not bad.

Meanwhile, I have a strange premonition about Penelope. I want to learn more about her. I don’t know why I’m obsessing, but I can’t shake the fact that she might know more about me than I do of her. I grab my keys and decide to make the trip to see where she lives. Lucinda’s call was serendipitous, but she’s a professional and didn’t give me much information about Penelope. Nor should she.

I’ll drive to Penelope’s apartment, so I have an idea of how long it will take to get there.

I grab my keys and chuckle at the memory of Penelope swiping the wrong keys yesterday. She’s correct. I’m not used to women turning me down for a date. Only my teammates get to tease me. I’m a bit serious. I think the team wants me to find a girlfriend because I’m easier to live with when I’m in love.

I grab a coat from the mud room and climb into my truck, pushing a spot under the rearview mirror to open the garage door. I push the button on the dash for the maximum blast of heat to circulate inside the vehicle. I make a mental note to pick up some groceries on the way home. According to the map on my phone, I’m only going out of my way by fifteen miles. I drive in the direction of Penelope’s apartment, and my mind returns to my painful past.

I’m not happy about Melanie leaving me, but I should have given up my hopes of winning her back months ago. I have to accept the fact that she is marrying my teammate this weekend. She met Nathan when I took her to a team charity event. When he walked into the room, her face lit up. I introduced her to him and immediately felt like the third nipple, useless and something to be hidden. We had been together for two years and engaged for six months. I should have known there was a problem when she had no interest in planning the wedding and never bothered to send out save-the-date announcements.

Finally, we had a talk. I was miserable for months. I took it out on Lucinda’s staff, and I’m sure my teammates were miserable on some of our away games as nothing in my world was good enough. I was a wreck.

I’m close to the apartment complex when I regain my thoughts of what I’m doing as I pull into the parking lot. I’m not worried about being recognized because no one knows what I drive. I peer out my window, looking for the numbers on the buildings. The complex is a bit rundown. I would think Genzdime would pay her well enough to afford a better neighborhood.

I see her car and ride my brakes. I wish it were her I spotted, but then remind myself I’m overstepping what’s proper by spying on her. I’m compelled to circle around and drive past her place again. This time, it pays off.

A teenager on a bike approaches me.

“Are you the manager?”

“No, why?”

“Well, there’s a car driving through here with scary-looking men with tattoos on their arms and hands. They asked if I wanted a taste of some powder and said it was cheap.”

“That’s terrible. Did you report it?”

The teenager shrugs. He straddles his bike. “My mom said to stay out of it and stay away from them.”

“Your mom is right. Thanks for letting me know what’s going on.”

He nods and rides off.

Drugs. Nothing new. What neighborhood doesn’t have them?

Penelope seems moderately happy and hard-working. I hope she’s not cleaning houses to support a drug habit or someone else’s.

I pull onto the road and make my way to my neighborhood grocery store, where I pick up steaks, sweet potatoes, and bags of prepared salads. I return home, bring in the groceries, and slip out of my sneakers and coat. After I put away my purchases, I head to my office on the bottom floor of the house. This room has a huge picture window with a great view of the nature preserve behind the house. I can sit at my desk and enjoy the view from here year-round.

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