Page 12 of How to Deal

Around nine, I pry open the door to my apartment, wondering if Tathan is in his apartment or if he’s at the bar with his brothers. It’s not like I can tell anything by looking at the door, but the mystery is solved in the parking lot.

Warmth blankets my skin, the sweltering Arizona heat licking my face as I fidget to smooth out my long brown curls. When I get to the parking lot, his silver Lexus RCF isn’t in the parking lot. The only reason I know the model of his car is because I like cars. My dad was obsessed with them so by the time I was ten, I knew most manufacturers and the models they made.

Tathan’s car is nice. Mine is not. Remember how I said I love to shop? Well, you certainly wouldn’t think it looking at my car. I have an old ’72 Chevy Impala my dad bought for me when I turned sixteen that gets horrible gas mileage, barely passes the emissions laws here in Phoenix, and has duct tape holding the worn upholstery together on the seats. Not only does it hold sentimental value for me, but I also can’t fathom spending six hundred dollars a month on a car like Casey does. Think about the clothes I can buy with that money each month.

Knowing Tathan’s car isn’t in the parking lot makes me a tad nervous because there’s a good possibility he’s at the bar with his brothers. Then what?

My heart drums wildly in my chest, the idea of seeing him again today gnawing at me. I’m sure you can guess why I have such a strong reaction to him. Though my words are harsh and accusing, it’s a defense mechanism. Like a puffer fish.

With shaky hands, I start my car, the throaty rumble of the engine roaring to life. Traffic in Phoenix is a bitch, no matter what time of the day it is, so it’s more like thirty minutes instead of twenty, and I’m entering the Red Revolver, convinced my plan to make Tathan miserable by dressing sexy might work based on the glances I receive when I walk from my car to the door.

I’ve always enjoyed the Red Revolver. It’s a nice bar, with good strong drinks, and loud music.

Once inside, I scan the room. It’s not hard to find Casey and Zane. He’s tall, she’s short, and both equally obnoxious when you walk in because they’ll literally stand on a table to get your attention.

“Took you long enough!” Zane yells, moving so I can sit between him and Casey.

I decline and push him back down by placing my hands on his shoulders so I can sit on the end of the bench seat of the small booth they’re in. I don’t like to be trapped between them in case I need to leave quickly.

Conversation is quickly steered the direction of the wedding and the expo on Saturday when “Stolen Dance” by Milky Chance blares through the club. I’m in the middle of telling them about Tathan’s latest attempt to ask me out and me biting him.

Naturally, the both of them are fully engrossed in everything I’m telling them until a group of men walk in, causing all the women in the bar to navigate toward them.

“Who’s that?” I ask Zane as he peeks around Casey, staring at the guys surrounded by women.

It’s not uncommon for athletes, even actors to come to this club and if it’s either, Zane will know. The dude spends a good amount of time with his nose in aTMZmagazine. Honestly, Zane gets more action than most women. He’s very attractive and well dressed. Believe me, if he wasn’t gay, I’d consider dating him.

He watches the men, loses interest in another one by the bar, and then looks closer.

Zane leans into my ear so I can hear him over the music. My eyes follow his hand in the direction of the men. “Well, that one,” he points to the bigger guy with brown hair, “is Aldon Hernandez.”

I eye Aldon from a distance. He stands tall, heavily muscled, wearing a white polo shirt with a dark gray hat hiding his eyes. His smile, bright and gleaming with pearly white teeth peeking out, is familiar, but I can’t place the face with the name right away.

Beside him, I notice black hair and that scruffy beard, and I know who the other guy is.

It’s Tathan. I knew when I saw the missing Lexus he’d be here. It’s when I’m staring at Tathan that it finally dawns on mewhoAldon is. He’s the quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals.

“Aldon Hernandez?” I take a drink of Zane’s beer, attempting to be nonchalant. “Like the football player?”

Casey chooses then to butt into the conversation, and it’s apparent she’s had too many glasses of wine. “If that guy even looked my way,”—she gestures to Aldon, nearly knocking over her glass of red wine in the process—“I’d be on my back in seconds.”

“You would not,” I point out, trying to ignore her. Casey likes to talk like she’d mess around on Bryan, but she’s been with him since she was fifteen. There’s no way she’d jeopardize it even with a guy like Aldon Hernandez.

Zane stares at me as if he’s trying to find the cure for cancer in my facial features. It’s creepy. “You know who Aldon is, right?”

“No,” I lie. “I’ve just heard of him before.”

I actually enjoy football, but I wouldn’t say I follow it. When my dad was sick, I spent a lot of time by his side watching it with him. He was an avid fan, didn’t really have a team he enjoyed more than the rest, just the sport in general.

“I’m not sure who the other guy is,” Zane adds. “Can’t see him with all those whores surrounding him.”

He’s right. You can barely make out Aldon let alone the guy next to him, who I’m positive, is Tathan now. I see his ass. Iknowthat ass because anytime he gets up from his desk, I watch it. It’s a nice fucking ass.

“Is that Tathan?” Casey looks closer. “I think it is.”

Zane almost spits his beer out. “Oh my God, how does Tathan know Aldon and I didn’t know about this?”

In a panic, I stand immediately. “I’m going to the bar.” I quickly disappear before they can talk me into getting their drinks.

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