Page 134 of Who's Playing You
His words, not mine.
He explained that his desperation to be near me, to try to meet me and for us to get to know each other took over everything and that’s why he came to New York instead of going where he and his friends had dreamed of going. He shared how he’d come across my workshop over the summer and how he thought it was divine intervention. He explained that that is why he booked all my slots because he wanted to be one-on-one with me so we could get to know each other.
I must be drinking his Kool-Aid because he had me swooning over his level of dedication and love for me.
The rest of the story I knew, except for the conversation that he had just had with Nic and Nik. He then told me how that had gone, how Loving told him his sex club scandal news, which led to Nicholas’ confession and subsequently led to the guys, effectively, telling him to go fuck himself before they hung up on him.
“I can’t say I really blame them…” I hedged.
“Nah. I don’t blame ‘em,” he said. “I deserved it. All of it.”
“So, now what?”
“Now…” he blew out a raspberry. “Now I take care of you and baby bean. And then I try to figure out how the hell I can work on begging my two best friends for forgiveness.”
59
NICK SOBA
What a fucking whirlwind this entire football season has been. I couldn’t believe how far I had come since the start of the season. And I still couldn’t believe that I was standing on the field of what used to be my favorite team, right in San Fran, about to play in the Super Bowl.
February in San Fran was a hell of a lot warmer than the weather in New York, but the air was also electric. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on me.
The Trickie Nickies had been meant to play together, in the pros, right here - on this field. Together.
But I’d fucked that all up for them.
For me, I made the absolute right choice. There was no denying it, and both Papas and Loving saw it now. If I hadn’t made the decision that I did, Scottie and I wouldn’t have had our chance and we certainly wouldn’t be a few months away from the birth of our daughter.
That’s right. Not only was I going to be a dad, but a girl dad.
I was over the fucking moon.
Scottie and I had had a few ups and downs since I made my confessions to her right after shit blew up with Loving’s sex club psycho. Even though Scottie forgave me, I had been workingreally hard for the past two months to show her that she could trust me. That I was honest and genuine. I had come clean to her about a number of a few other little things in the past two months. I decided though that she didn’t need to know about my,ahem, stalker tendencies.
I thought no good would come of that.
She was already painfully aware of how obsessed I was with her, and had been for about ten years. So in effect, she knew I was obsessive. Obsessively in love with her. That was enough. She didn’t need to know theactionsinvolved in that obsessiveness.
Following her. Hacking her computer along with her medical records and other records. Putting up surveillance in her home. Creating playlists on her Spotify for her to listen to. Flooding her apartment. Killing Bessie… I mean, you get the idea. No good would come of her knowing all this shit that I’d done.
Maybe when we were old and grey I’d tell her. But until that day came, I’d keep that shit to myself.
I did however plan to share with her my involvement in the marketing and promotion of her artwork through the years. I was waiting for the right time to share all of that with her. But between all the drama with Papas and Loving and the fallout that that had caused with me and Scottie, her pregnancy, and then preparing for the Super Bowl… I was waiting for things to quiet down in our lives before I let her in on the last secret I was keeping.
I stood on the thirty yard line and turned in a circle, taking the stadium in.
The New York Rage, independent of the outcome of today’s game, are winners. The spirit and soul of our organization was restored this season. Atticus, as I was free to call him now, said that I was the reason for that. I told him that there’s no “i” in “team”.
He told me that every team needs a fearless leader - or dictator.
He said that I was a little of both, then he just laughed.
I watched every single one of my teammates as they warmed up and got themselves in the right headspace. You couldn’t look at our team and not see the smiles on everyone’s faces. This is what a team should look like - where everyone is happy to be here, to work, to be together and work as a unit. As a team we are all thriving.
I looked across the field to where the Drillers were warming up. Loving was over there too, stretching, preparing for battle.
Even though I was honored and joyous that I’d be playing in the Super Bowl with at least one of my best friends, I was sad too. I hated that we were being pitted against each other.
