The Alpha's Second Chance Page 8

  My trip down memory lane was interrupted by a hand on my arm. “Excuse me, sir? May I take your trash? We’ll be landing soon.”

  I handed the flight attendant my cup and napkin and looked at Mr. Spreadsheet, but his computer was closed and he was passed out asleep with his head up against the window shade. How long had I been resting?

  As the pilot came on the loudspeaker and told the flight attendants to “please prepare the cabin for landing,” I wondered what kinds of charity stuff my mom was doing these days. Ever since Susie started going to school, my mom began to channel her excess energy into volunteering.

  It was nice of her and everything, but my free time was so limited that spending it volunteering seemed a bit excessive for me. Terrance would tell me all the time how great it was, and he spent hours every month mentoring kids. But, it really wasn’t my thing.

  Frankly, I just wanted to have a short visit with my parents, talk to them and maybe Chet about this whole sensitivity training thing, and come home to relax and enjoy the rest of my break. It was only early March, but July and training camp would be here before I knew it. Four months sounded like a long time but when every second of your time during the other nine months was taken up, it meant you have to cram a whole year of personal time into just a few weeks.

  Not to mention, Terrance and I were playing in that All Star game in a couple of months to benefit the Boys and Girls club. Terrance had roped me into it and even though I didn’t care much about the charity — sorry, Terrance. But I did care about staying in football shape so that Coach didn’t kill me when I got to camp. So, I’d agreed to do it.

  Before I had much more time to think, the plane bounced to the ground and the flight attendant came on the speaker. “Welcome to Los Angeles. The weather is a temperate 69 degrees and local time is 6:30 p.m. If you are making a connecting flight, please listen for your terminal …”

  I didn’t need that information, so I powered up my phone to pull up the rental car company I had a reservation with. I didn’t feel like dealing with limos and drivers, after dealing with Kyle and his attitude, which hadn’t gotten any better. I really was going to have to talk to him when I got home.

  Traffic was typically bad as I headed up the 110 freeway toward Pasadena. At the time I’d booked my flight into LAX, I’d chosen it because of the timing of the flight. But now, as I sat in bumper to bumper traffic, I was regretting my choice.

  I wonder if I’m getting too used to having drivers everywhere I go? How could I have forgotten LA traffic?

  It took me an hour and a half to get the twenty seven miles to our home. It wasn’t the time as much as it was the crawling traffic. By the time I pulled the rented RAV4 into the driveway, my back and legs were killing me.

  My dad must have heard me pull up because he came out to greet me.

  “Well, if it isn’t my famous quarterback son!” He laughed and hugged me heartily and then looked surprised at the car. “What? No Lamborghini? Where’s the limo?”

  I grinned and said, “I left those at home. Wanted to remember how the little people live.” I stretched and went to the back of the car to get my bag.

  “I can get that for you, son.”

  Historically, I never would have let him carry my bag. But looking at him tonight I saw it differently. It wasn’t that he thought I couldn’t carry my own bag. It was a gesture of parental love. So I said, “Thanks, Pops.” As we walked toward the front door, I asked, “Hey, did you get a new driveway? This looks great.”

  His chest puffed up a little as he told me about how they’d decided on interlocking pavers for the driveway because the Gordons next door had gotten them.

  My eyes wandered to the house next door. The Gordons. Where I’d fallen in love with Lauren. So many memories …

  16

  Lauren: Who Are You?

  Mom was going to stay at the hospital overnight with Dad, and so I took her keys and Uber’ed home to get her car so I could go to Whole Foods. After Dr. Guzman — Mark — had left, we were waiting for them to transfer Dad into a room so he could stay overnight for observation. We’d talked about what the doctor said about the lifestyle changes, and we all agreed to watch the documentary together and follow the advice to become whole foods plant based. Honestly, I had no desire to become vegan, but I could sure do it when I was here to be supportive. I knew plenty of people in Denver who followed a plant based lifestyle.

  I was going to go to Whole Foods and stock up on vegetables and fruits and healthy stuff and then when I got back home, I’d dump all the meat and dairy and processed food. Maybe I’d give it to the Ryans next door. Then again, I liked them. Why would I give them food that made my dad sick? Maybe I’d give it to the Hensons across the street. I never liked them much.

  As I pulled my mom’s Honda out of the garage, I noticed a new car in the Ryans’ driveway. The whole driveway was new, too. I wonder if the Ryans had sold their house or something? I’d have to ask my folks later.

  Driving the short distance to Whole Foods, I realized that I would be sad if the Ryans sold their house. Not that I was a fan of Shawn Ryan these days, but that house held some serious memories for me. My first kiss had been under the avocado tree in that backyard.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I reflected on how weird it was to be home again. It seemed surreal, but that was also likely to be because of my dad’s heart attack and the fact that I’d had virtually no sleep since I left Breckenridge.

  Before going in, I pulled out my phone and Googled “whole food plant based grocery list,” and grabbed the fabric bags out of the trunk. I had a lot of food to buy, and figured I better be organized.

  This was turning out to be the world’s longest shopping trip. I’d never been to the Pasadena Whole Foods, and it was like a damn amusement park for healthy people. Right in the store there was a pizzeria, a craft sandwich shop, a taqueria with food that smelled insanely good, and even a full bar and grill. This wasn’t even including the massive shopping area of the store, or the whole cosmetics and vegan clothing store.

  I’d gotten a couple of tacos and a beer, and then instantly regretted the beer because it made me sleepy. And, I’d been halfway through the second taco when I remembered I was supposed to be going vegan.

  Oops.

  I went over to the coffee bar and got coffee before pulling up the list to shop. There was so much to see and look at that I was beginning to regret not taking Mark Guzman up on his offer to take me shopping. This was incredibly overwhelming.

  I was just going to take it one aisle at a time. “Okay, Lauren. You can do this. First, let’s go down the bean aisle. Canned garbanzo beans.” There were twelve different types, from low salt to no salt to full salt, branded and store brand, organic and regular.

  No wonder I was living on American cheese and wine.

  Ninety minutes later, I was almost ready to check out. The last thing I wanted to grab were some flowers for the fireplace mantle, so I headed over to the floral section. The cart was so packed that I could barely push it, and everything was stacked so high that it was difficult to see over it.

  Pushing it up next to a bunch of sunflowers, the cart stopped suddenly.

  “Hey, watch it!” I’d bumped into someone!

  Walking around to the front of the cart, my jaw dropped. “Shawn?”

  “Lauren?”

  “What are you doing here?” we both said at the same time, and then laughed. His sister Susie was standing right next to him.

  “I’m here because some evil trainer made me go interview my childhood friends,” he said, grinning at me.

  Of course. He was here for the report.

  “And I’m here because our mom sent us to the store to get carrots and potatoes and we decided to get flowers too.” Susie had grown a lot since the last time I saw her.

  “You look so pretty, Susie. I love your shoes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What on earth are you doing in Pasadena?” Shawn asked,
and then saw my massive haul of groceries. “Starting a restaurant?”

  “My dad. He’s in the hospital.”

  Shawn’s face changed to shock and concern. “What? Oh my God. Is he okay?”

  “He had a minor heart attack, actually.”

  “Oh wow. Lauren, I am so sorry.”

  My eyes stung with tears. “Thanks. He’s going to be okay, but …” I nodded to the basket of food, “... he needs to make some lifestyle changes.”

  “Wow. Well, I’m glad he’s going to be okay at least.”

  Just then, his phone dinged and he looked to read the text. “Hey, Mom says Dad is getting hangry. We better get these flowers and go.”

  “What’s hangry?” Susie asked.

  “Hungry and angry,” Shawn and I both answered at the same time, and then laughed again.

  “Well, neighbor. It was good to see you again,” I said, pushing the massive cart. “Tell your folks I said hi.”

  As he and Susie were standing there holding their carrots and potatoes and flowers I shook my head. I couldn’t get a read on Shawn Ryan to save my life. One minute he’s belly up to a bar drinking with groupies, and the next minute he’s with his little sister buying flowers for their mother.

  Who are you, Shawn? Entitled arrogant football star or the sweet, self aware guy I fell in love with? My opinion seemed to be changing by the moment.

  17

  Shawn: There’s No Place Like

  The whole way back to the house, Susie was talking about her friends in the fifth grade; her best friend Jenifyr, who “spells it with a y instead of two ‘i’s,” and how they were all into nail polish, and Jenifyr’s mom let her wear lip gloss but their mom won’t let her wear any makeup until next year when they were in middle school.

  While I was listening, I was also totally blown away at running into Lauren here. I’d half expected to see her parents, but never thought I’d run into her.

  I was really glad to hear her dad was going to be okay. Being home like this made me acutely aware of how fast time was passing. One minute I was buying flowers for my mom who was making me dinner, and the next minute I was buying flowers to bring to her grave.

  Wow. That got dark fast, Ryan.

  Shaking those thoughts off, I tuned back into what Susie was saying. She really seemed like a nice kid and I was really impressed with how well Mom and Dad had done with her. Other than a few mild facial features, you’d never know she had Down’s Syndrome.

  “Can I give Mom the flowers?” she asked as we pulled in the driveway.

  “Absolutely. Let’s tell her they’re from you.”

  It was after midnight when I’d finally crawled into bed. I called Chet Erickson and told him I was in town and asked if he wanted to meet for coffee in the morning. He seemed surprised, but also pleased to hear from me and agreed to meet at eight.

  How had I lost touch with so much of this part of my life? My old friends, my parents, even my little sister had taken a back seat to the fame and hard work that comes with being a professional football player.

  But, laying here in my old childhood room, looking at my trophies and my signed Troy Aikman poster that had been my prized possession when I was a kid, and remembering opening the window and climbing down the “dingleberry tree” that was right outside my window and sneaking over to Lauren’s place in the middle of the night … I felt happy.

  It felt good and warm to be here. To be home.

  I put my hands behind my head and stretched out on my bed and looked out the window. The moon was out, right behind the tree and suddenly, I had an idea.

  Should I do it? Would she even let me in?

  Before I could chicken out, I decided to do it. What the fuck, right? For old time’s sake. What was the worst that could happen? Other than me falling out of the damn dingleberry tree and breaking my throwing arm, that is.

  What the hell. That’s what insurance was for.

  So, I pulled on a pair of jeans and an old Captain America t-shirt I found in my drawer, threw on my shoes and turned off my bedroom light.

  Tugging open my bedroom window, my heart automatically started pounding, just as it had when I was a teenager. Except, now I was an almost thirty year old man who could just walk out the front door instead of risking life and limb to climb down a damn tree.

  But where was the fun in that?

  I was about halfway down the tree when I realized one important thing. The tree had grown in the past twelve or so years since I’d last used it to sneak out of the house. This meant that all of the branches were now a good twenty feet off the ground. I used to be able to just climb down and jump off the lowest branch at about six feet up.

  Not to mention, I was scratched up and probably had leaves in my hair. This was a much more romantic idea in my head than in execution.

  I looked up at my window and down at the ground. I could either forget the whole thing and climb back up, or try and shimmy down the tree enough to be able to jump to the ground without risking a career ending injury.

  Sensible Shawn said to climb back up and go to bed. Of course, Sensible Shawn wasn’t the one who ran things around here, so I crawled to the lowest branch of the tree.

  This is crazy …

  As soon as I wrapped my arms and legs around the trunk of the tree, my body started sliding down in a seriously painful way. I was very, very glad I’d worn jeans.

  Letting go, I fell to the ground as if I were being tackled by a linebacker and rolled over.

  Standing and brushing the leaves and dirt and tree bark off of me I really hoped she would let me in after all this. Or, I’d have to do an awkward walk of shame and ring my own doorbell. There was no way I could climb back up that tree.

  The streetlights had been changed to these bright ones, and I was hoping that Mrs. Henson still took her hearing aids out at night. Crouching low, I went around the RAV4 and over into the Ryans’ front yard. Lauren’s room was, thankfully, on the first floor in the right front corner of the house. All I had to do was sneak through the …

  Damn. They changed the gate. What used to be a wooden gate with a shaky latch was now wrought iron and six feet tall.

  I was going to have to go to her front window.

  My heart was pounding with excitement and imaginary danger. Even though I was no longer a horny sixteen year old who was afraid of being caught by my girlfriend’s dad, this was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

  I picked up a small stone from the walkway and gently tossed it at her window, just like I used to do. Except for one thing.

  I wasn’t a high schooler anymore. I was an NFL quarterback. The small rock hit the window with shocking force and actually cracked the glass.

  Shit.

  Her light went on and through the curtains I could see the shadows of her putting on a robe and coming to the window. I had half a mind to run away, as I saw her pull the curtain aside and look at the small hole and crack in her window.

  “What the fuck?” she said as she squinted to look out the window. “Shawn? Is that you?”

  Sheepishly, I stepped out from the shadows into the light of the street lamp. “Hey Lauren. Can you come out and play?”

  18

  Lauren: A One-Time Thing

  I literally could not believe Shawn Ryan was standing on my lawn with a sheepish grin on his face after having broken the window to my childhood bedroom. What was he thinking?

  I wanted to be mad, but, honestly, I wasn’t. He reminded me of the playful guy he used to be before things got crazy.

  I opened the window.

  “Shawn! What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Well, after vandalizing your dad’s house, probably five to seven years.” His grin was huge.

  I had to grin myself. “Are you drunk or something?”

  “Not yet. Are you going to invite me in, or do I need to drag out the mixtape?” He pulled out his cellphone and made a big show of pointing his finger at it like he was going to press play.r />
  Just then, Mrs. Henson’s light came on from across the street.

  “Shhh … get in here. I’ll meet you at the front door.” I closed the window and took a quick look in my mirror before heading to the door. My curls were out of control, but otherwise I looked okay.

  I raced to the living room and turned on the front light and opened the door. Stepping aside for him to come in, I quickly turned off the light. For some reason it felt like we were still teenagers sneaking around instead of grown adults.

  “Sorry about the …” he said.

  “What were you …” I said.

  We laughed and he said, “Ladies first.”

  “What were you thinking? You broke my window!”

  “I guess I’m just stronger than I thought.” He then actually flexed his bicep like an adolescent. It looked like he had a baseball under his skin, and it took all of my self restraint to not reach out and touch it.

  “I’ll pay for the window, of course,” he said, standing far too close to me.

  “I know you will,” I said.

  There was a moment where he looked down at me and I thought he was going to kiss me. But, he pulled away and looked around the foyer.

  “Well, this is novel.”

  “What is?”

  “Coming in the front door. I don’t think I’ve been allowed in here since that time Lisa walked in on us on top of the kitchen island.”

  “Oh God. That’s right!” I walked toward the kitchen and he followed. “She told my parents and my mother said she could never cook on it again and they tore it out.”

  I turned on the light and showed him the kitchen table that now occupied the space where the island once stood.

  “Good thing they never found out about the hot tub,” he said.