The Best Of LK Vol. 1 Page 7

  “I’ll do anything to make it better. Just tell me what you want.”

  Letting out a sigh as all of his vulgar attacks ring through my head, where do I even start? “I don’t want you to ever lay your hands on me again.”

  “I promise I’ll never touch you.”

  “Okay, I need you to admit that you’ve cheated on me.”

  He leans back in his chair before responding. “Yes, Abby, I have, and it will never happen again.”

  “How many women?” I question him.

  He holds his breath and his face contorts. “I’m not sure.”

  “That many…wow.” I pull my hand away from his, devastated finally hearing it from him. Even though I’ve known all along, I don’t think that I’ve actually come to terms with it. It’s kinda like believing that Latch was an escort – I pushed that away for as long as I could, but last night it all crashed down as the reality of his life shone through. Leaving Darrell at the table, I am heartbroken.

  “Abby, please don’t go.”

  “What do you want from me, Darrell?”

  “I want to make this work. I’ll do anything.”

  “Fine, stop drinking.” I know there is no way that he will, especially with us going through issues. It’s his only coping mechanism.

  He looks over at his bar, like the decision between me and alcohol is that hard for him. I shake my head and walk away.

  “Okay,” he says, catching me by surprise.

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn as he walks towards me. “Why now? Why this sudden change of heart?”

  He leads me back to the table and takes a sip of orange juice before proceeding. “My head coach called me last night and said I needed to report to practice today.”

  “You should’ve gone in a long time ago, especially if your job means that much to you,” I respond.

  “I know, but the thought of leaving you here alone and us on bad terms worried me. I cannot bear the thought of you turning to another man.”

  “So you’re just being nice to me so I don’t mess around again?”

  “No, Abby, dammit, don’t you see that I’m trying here? I want to make our marriage work.”

  Hearing him say those words with tears in his eyes, I am stunned. This is the man that I fell in love with. How he got so lost along the way is beyond me.

  “Just because we had a meal together and you agreed to not drink doesn’t mean that everything is just going to go back to normal. I need to know that you aren’t going to cheat on me when you’re on the road.”

  “I told you I won’t. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, some that I cannot change. Going forward, I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”

  “I really hope you do.”

  “I will.”

  “What have you even said to your coaches about being away?”

  “That I was sick with the flu, and after I pushed it, they wanted to send a team doctor here, but I declined. They sniffed out my BS and now I have to go and see if I even have a future with this team.”

  “Of course you’ll have a future with them. They would be stupid to let you go.”

  “Not if they see how fucked up my hand is. I punched it through that cabinet and still have glass in it. I don’t know if I can still throw a ball. If I get caught lying, they can cut me. I got to thinking about losing my job and you yesterday, and I lost it. I drank so much that I don’t know what happened.”

  From the time Darrell was ten, everyone kissed his ass, just because he is a phenom throwing a baseball. I don’t think anyone has ever told him no or denied him anything. So I can see the fear that he is facing at the thought of losing his career. But I’m not buying that he is really invested in making things with us work. Both of us let go of any chance at our marriage surviving a long time ago.

  9

  Latch

  Knocking on my grandmother’s door, it is barely light out, but she’s an early riser. As she answers with alarm written across her face, she asks me, “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s a long story,” I tell her, running my hand up the back of my neck.

  “Come in,” she says, worried, stepping aside for me. “Do you want coffee?” she asks, hugging me as she closes the door behind us.

  “Please.” I follow her to the kitchen, where I lean on the island watching her pour us each a cup.

  “Your cream is in the fridge, dear. Could you grab it please?”

  I hand it to her and she says, “Is it that girl, Abby, we talked about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened?”

  I take the cup of coffee from her, and try to think where to start.

  “Come on, you didn’t come here at 5:40 in the morning to sit in silence.”

  “I saw her last night.”

  “How did that go?”

  “I thought it went well. We talked a little bit and she stayed the night. But when I woke up, I found this.” I hand her the note that Abby wrote to me and watch her expression change as she reads it. She’s feeling my pain just as much as I am.

  “Latch, I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  “Can I be blunt?”

  “Of course,” I tell her, needing that from her. It’s why I am here, after all.

  “What did you think she would be thinking inside? You yourself told me that you feared finding a woman who would accept the work you do.”

  “I don’t know what I was expecting from her, but she didn’t even tell me that this is how she was feeling. I mean, I’d quit my job had I known. That’s how much she means to me.”

  “Would you?”

  “I would,” I respond honestly.

  “Then tell her that.”

  “I tried to call her, but she’s not answering and won’t return my texts.”

  “Then go to her.”

  “I can’t. Her husband is in town.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” she asks me firmly.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I am here.”

  “Latch, you know I’d do anything for you, but I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for. You have some decisions to make and then what you do with those decisions is up to you.” I take a sip of my coffee and stare out at the sun as it lights the morning sky.

  “May I use your phone?” I ask her, hoping that maybe Abby will answer a call from a number she doesn’t recognize. As I dial her number, I’m not even sure what I’d say to her right now, but knowing that I have to do something, I let it ring. Her phone goes to voicemail, “Hey, this is Abby, leave a message.”

  “We need to talk about this note. Please call me. I’m serious, Abby, I have some things I need you to know.”

  10

  Abby

  As I sink down deeper and soak in the hot water of the bathtub, it surrounds me. It consumes my body and I wish it would my mind. All of the thoughts and fears that have plagued me ring loudly and I just wish that for a moment, they would leave and I could find some peace.

  Latch’s tone sounded so panicked in his message and it leaves me conflicted, not knowing what to do now.

  “Abby?” Darrell calls out, interrupting the calmness.

  Dammit. “Yeah.”

  He tries to open the door, but I locked it. “I made you some tea.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right out.”

  “Take your time, but I’d like to talk to you about something when you’re done.”

  I sink under the water, and let out the loudest scream possible. My blood boils, anxiety fills me, as I know I have to face him and talk…again. What in fuck’s sake could he want to discuss now?

  Coming up for air, I take these last few moments to myself and close my eyes. Searching for some serenity, but anymore, there is none. Especially that now, when I get out of the tub, I have to talk to Darrell. It has me on edge. My mind races and I figure rather than imagining what he wants, I better go and find out.

  Sitting up, I unplug the drain and let the
water swirl down it. As I get out, I look down at my body. My sunken in stomach shows that I need to eat. I poked at the eggs Darrell made for breakfast and other than that, I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat minus a yogurt here and there since the day he caught Latch and me.

  I dry myself off and walk into the closet to get dressed. My phone vibrates and I see another text from Latch, Can we meet, please? The Metro Café, 4:00? I don’t know what else there is for us to say, but I can’t bring myself to text him back. Searching for something comfortable to wear, I think about seeing him one last time and come across his soft t-shirt. Picking it up, I bring it to my nose and breathe in his sweet scent. Christ, it still smells like him. Tears gloss over my eyes knowing that we are through. It rips my heart from my chest and I let the tears flow, keeping quiet as I savor his scent for a few more minutes.

  But inside, I know what I am doing is right. Latch cannot give me the future that I need or want. I don’t think Darrell can either, but this life with him is all I have. Tossing on a pair of sweats, I hide Latch’s t-shirt back in the bottom of my dresser and pull a hoodie over my head.

  Right now, I have to deal with Darrell, and then Latch. As I emerge into the bedroom, Darrell is sitting on one of the chairs waiting for me. He has yet to touch the bed, which I guess I cannot blame him for. “How was your bath?”

  “It was fine. What did you want to talk about?”

  He looks nervously at the floor. His knee is bouncing up and down as I wait for his response. “I want you to come on the road with me.”

  “What?” I respond, caught off guard that he’d even think that was a good idea.

  “Like you used to, Abby. I think it’d be good for the both of us.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Don’t act like you know what is best for me.”

  “I’m just trying to work on things between us and being apart for almost a week isn’t going to do that.”

  “Is that really what you want, or do you just want to keep an eye on me?” I ask frustrated. My heart is racing. I cannot believe that he would even consider asking me to come with him. He doesn’t want me to travel with him so we can work on things. I know Darrell. It’s so he can control me, keep me far away from Latch, have me under his eye at all times, just like him keeping me prisoner of this home has done. He knows just as much as I do that I’d barely see him if I went.

  “Please calm down and let me explain.” His words are exasperating, and staying calm is the last thing that I want to do right now. “Of course it’s what I want.”

  “We can barely be around each other now. Being on the road isn’t going to fix anything. You said so yourself that your coaches want to meet with you about your job. What if you get cut?”

  “Then I’ll have you there.”

  “Darrell, you haven’t depended on me for quite some time. You’ll be fine to come back here alone, if you get cut. Plus, if we can’t learn to trust one another now, then what is the point of this marriage?”

  He looks down and nods, agreeing with me. He knows I am right. “So you aren’t going to see that guy while I’m gone?”

  I chuckle and walk away from him. “Are you going to fuck any roadies?”

  11

  Latch

  Walking to the Metro Café, I’m anxious, my stomach is a ball of nerves, and I don’t know how to settle it. I haven’t heard back from Abby, but I’m following my gut. I have a feeling that she’ll show up, she won’t let me down.

  My phone buzzes giving me hope it’s her, but it’s just another client, like the ten others that want to see me today. I’m not sure why there are so many on a Tuesday morning, or what’s going on, but it’s like all the ladies in New York are in heat all at once.

  Walking into the Metro, I order Abby’s favorite salad and a pasta bowl for me. I’ve brought this to her house before, so I know just how she likes it, extra olives, and the dressing on the side. As the cashier hands me the red card with a large number on it, I look around for somewhere private to sit and decide on a table in the back corner of the restaurant where I can still see the front door.

  Sitting down, I pop the card in the holder, slide it to the edge of the table and pull my phone out. It’s 4:02; she should be here any minute.

  Nervously, I strum my fingers against the table. Sitting and waiting, the time ticks by slowly. I keep checking the door every time someone comes in, but it’s not her. A worker sets our food down, and staring at the empty seat across from me, I begin to worry for the first time that maybe she’s not going to show up.

  Maybe it was naïve of me to think without a doubt that she’d meet me, but somehow I did. Then it happens, the moment that I have been dreading. My phone vibrates with a message from her, Latch, I can’t…I’m really sorry.

  The fuck she can’t. I dial her number. It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail.

  Going into her text, I respond to the message, We need to talk! Abby, I’m not fucking joking!

  “Dammit,” I shout in anger and smack the bowls of food across the restaurant. Salad and pasta go flying, the marinara sauce hits the wall and slowly drips down, like the blood of my heart being torn from my chest.

  This is why I have my fucking rules! Had I followed them and never gotten involved with her in the first damn place, none of this would have happened. All eyes are on me as I storm out of the Café. On a mission and angry, I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I let my feet take me where they want, plowing through the streets of New York hitting people with my shoulders if they get in the way.

  Why? Why can’t she come, or call me, or text me back? Why won’t she give me the fucking time of day?

  Nothing stops me as I barrel across intersections, not giving a shit if cars are coming. A cab honks and slams on its brakes and I dare someone to give me reason to fuck them up right now.

  Finally I stop and am standing across the street from Abby’s condo. If she won’t come to me, then I’m going to her. I don’t give a shit if her husband is home; I need to tell her how I feel. There is no way that I am just going to let her go. Swiftly, I jog across the street, and just as I step foot on the sidewalk, everything around me halts. All of the people and cars are blurred out as I focus on the couple walking out of the condo.

  It’s like my eyes are playing tricks on me as Abby and her husband emerge. He has a bag on his shoulder and his hand is on her lower back. There is a black car waiting for them and the driver opens the rear door. The paparazzi snap photos, but before they get inside, a few fans run up with some baseballs for him to sign. Intently, I watch the interaction, particularly Abby. She looks happy, smiling, as they talk to the fans, zoning out the mob of photographers. She even takes a picture of them with Darrell.

  The fans leave and he ushers her into the car. I stand with the air knocked from my lungs, panting for my breath, bent over like a goddamn loser. “Hey, man, are you okay?” a guy asks me, walking by. He touches my shoulder and I swat his hand away standing all the way up.

  “Sorry!” he responds and walks off.

  I try to catch my breath, doing everything I can, but clearly Abby has made her decision. She has chosen to make things with her husband work, and as much as it hurts me, who am I to stop her or tell her not to do that? Just like she said in her note, it’s not fair for her to change me.

  Turning my back on her place, everything that I once felt coming here fades. The adrenaline is gone, I’m empty.

  Walking away, my phone rings and I answer it out of habit, zoned out and in a daze, I’m not even sure what I’m doing right now.

  “Are you feeling better?” Scott asks me.

  “Yeah, sorry I bailed.”

  “Not a big deal. I mean, Tracy was devastated. But I know you’ll make it up to her.”

  “Yeah, man, for sure.”

  “Listen, I realize it’s last minute, but would you have time to swing by today? We’re available anytime. I just got a call that I need to leave the country on business for a few weeks,
and if she has to wait that long…well, I don’t know what she’s going to do.”

  As much as I don’t want to do anything right now but drink myself into oblivion, I know that working will keep me busy and is better than getting wasted. Maybe giving Tracy a good fucking will clear my mind and help me let go of Abby once and for all. “Yeah, I’m free now. Should I just come to your place?”

  “That’d be great. Thanks, Latch!”

  We hang up and I hail a cab. Hopping in the back, I tell him the cross streets for Scott and Tracy’s. On the drive, my eyes are locked on my phone and Abby’s text. Now it all makes sense. Why she pushed me away and asked for space. She’s reconciled with her husband.

  And I sealed my own fate by not opening up to her when I had the chance. Had I told her how I really felt, and not let myself be scared of the consequences of my honesty, maybe things would have turned out differently. But instead, I indulged in the moment, thinking what we had was stronger than it was. Thinking we’d have tomorrow, but really tomorrow is never guaranteed and I know that best.

  Walking up Scott and Tracy’s large round driveway, the gate automatically opens for me. And I hope this is just what I need to erase my mind, to numb the pain and release Abby, the way she’s let go of me.

  Scott opens the door for me and shakes my hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I promise I’ll make the pay worth your time,” he says.

  “Of course. I owe you guys.” Walking into their lavish home with marble floors and dark interior, I can already hear Tracy moaning, probably playing with herself. Normally that would be the first step to a huge hard-on, but today the effect is underwhelming.