how long that eyesore’s been there. I haven’t been home for a while, so it must’ve gone up in that time. No way I could miss something like that.
I study Tiger’s image on the billboard, and a hot, ugly thing stirs in me. It’s a faded, long-ago memory, and not something I consciously think about anymore.
I feel bad for what I said after she left me high and dry on the dance floor. Telling my buddies she ran off because I’d turned down the blowjob she offered was not one of my finest moments. I can still taste the vicious lie all these years later, but nothing’s nastier than a teenage boy with a wounded pride.
Not an excuse, just a fact.
Besides, after she found out what I’d said, she got her shots in too. And she did it in front of the whole football team.
I’d never offer the likes of you a blow job, Cash King. These lips wouldn’t be caught dead on any part of your body. Especially there.”
It stung, because I knew it was true.
A week later she was back with Brad, and she never spoke to me again.
Ugh, thinking of Tiger Lyons always makes me feel like shit. I mean, it’s been twelve damn years. I’m a thirty-year-old franchise quarterback in the NFL. I should be over it. And I am, but I’d be lying if I said that night hadn’t left a mark.
The ring of my cell phone blares through my car speakers, and my business manager’s name pops up on the dashboard display. I punch the button on the steering wheel. “Talk to me, Marty.”
His low chuckle rumbles through the car. “Good morning to you too, Cash.”
“Sorry, I’m anxious to see if they accepted my offer.”
“They did, indeed. For what it’s worth, I think you overpaid. But be that as it may, the Wayland Estate in Ryder, Texas, now belongs to you.”
“My mom.”
“Pardon?”
“The house belongs to my mom. I’m surprising her with it today.” It didn’t matter what it cost. When I was young, my mom used to say, “Look at Wayland Estate. Can you imagine what it would be like to live there?” Now she’ll know. Well, she could know, if I can get her to leave the old neighborhood.
“When are you coming back to Fort Worth?”
“I’ll be back for the game, Sunday. I need to spend some time with my mom. And since I’m on injured reserve, I don’t have to be there every day.”
“Are you working with Duke?”
“Yeah, I got the go-ahead from the team trainers and the front office to work with him.”
I have every intention of rehabbing my shoulder and getting back my position. But I don’t want to struggle in front of the team. All my attention needs to be on getting healthy and reclaiming my spot with the Thunder, and I can’t do that if everyone’s watching to see if I’m getting better or not. I don’t need that kind of pressure. “Well, I better let you go, Marty.”
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
Paper rustles on the other end of the line. “There’s a stipulation on the house sale.”
I wave at a carload of high school kids as they drive past. “What kind of stipulation?”
“Says here that the project manager has to be allowed to live in the pool house until the renovation is complete.”
“That’s fine. It’s good to know that someone will be on site at all times.”
“I’ll text you the realtor’s info. I set up an appointment for you to meet her in an hour. Does that work?”
“Yeah.” That gives me enough time to swing by my mom’s first.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Okay, thanks.” I disconnect the call and stare out the window.
The Wayland Estate is mine. Or should I say, my mom’s. I could never live there. It used to belong to Tiger’s family. Too much emotion tied up in that name and memory.
I call my mom. Nothing like a little maternal TLC to make me feel better. But the phone goes straight to voicemail. I hang up and shoot her a text.
Hey, Mom, I just got into town. I have a couple of things to take care of, but I thought I’d drop by to see you first.
Immediately, the screen alerts me that my message has been read and then the little bubbles pop up, so I wait for her response.
Oh, darn, I won’t be home. Your Gran, Joe and I are going out.