The Wife Win

Marek

As the Combine comes to a close, the final scrimmage having just wrapped up thirty minutes earlier, I finish my impromptu meeting with Noah and head across the court in hopes of talking with one of the rookie hopefuls, Reuben Maddox, also known as Mad Dog.

Reuben only just caught my eye during today’s vertical measurement competition. Otherwise, I hadn’t given him much consideration before today. But he proved his athleticism and his incomparable jumping abilities this weekend after breaking the record with an impressive 47-inch vertical.

As I pass center court, I hear Harper’s voice off to my left and it brings a smile to my face. I glance over to the sideline, where it’s an assembly line of reporters, their folding chairs arranged to easily interview one player after the next with the cameras rolling in front of them.

I lock on her instantly, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail today, and her laughter rings out and rises above the noise and clatter in the large domed arena. It hits me square in the solar plexus, knocking the air from my lungs. My feet nearly stumble over one another as my brain’s wiring crisscrosses from the distraction her voice causes. She sits next to the player she hoped to speak with today, Xander Williams, her legs crossed in a poised position as she chats with him on camera.

A ping of unguarded envy twinges in my chest. It’s easy to see Xander is clearly enamored with Harper. And why wouldn’t he be? She’s perfect.

Thoughts of her have plagued me the entire day. Instead of focusing on the players and competitions, my head has been stuck back in the bedroom where we spent the entire night together, wrapped up in each other’s bodies. The unbelievably fantastic sex we had—one round after another—left me depleted, but thirsty for more. Like a dehydrated man in a desert, I need more of her.

Yet, I don’t know if I can do that. If I’m willing to go down that road again. While our bodies cooled during our late-night snack, I realized how comfortable I felt around her. And then I panicked, hesitant to explore more with her for the sheer fact I’m clearly broken when it comes to intimacy and relationships.

So, I made it awkward this morning, uncertain of where things stand with Harper and me. Once this weekend is over, that’s it. We’ll wrap up this exclusive project and she’ll likely return to her life in Spokane. Or maybe she’ll remain and get the position she wants in Seattle. I’d love nothing more than to see Harper succeed in her career. She deserves it.

What she doesn’t deserve is a man like me who has a shit ton of emotional baggage that will only serve to drive her away.

Why start something with Harper I know will eventually end because I can’t give her enough?

I’m married to my fucking job and that’s the way it has to be.

I’ve lived without a woman in my life for the last two years. I can live without Harper now.

Casting my lies aside, I make my way over to where Reuben stands, surrounded by other draft hopefuls who are bullshitting and talking animatedly about the upcoming draft next week.

I clap my hand on Reuben’s back, grabbing his attention as he swings his head toward me, grinning with eagerness.

“Yo, Mr. Talbert. Good to see you again,” he greets amiably, shuffling to the side to make room in the circle for me.

“You too, Reuben. Or should I call you Mad Dog?”

He laughs, his bright white teeth flashing in a big grin.

“You can call me a number one draft pick!”

Everyone laughs at his antics and I also have to give him props. He’s like a young stallion, kicking and busting to be freed.

“I hope that’s the case, Reuben. I just came over to congratulate you on that impressive vertical today. You’ll give some of the basketball greats a run for their money.”

Everyone knows I’m referring to Jordan and LeBron and I notice Mad Dog’s chest puff up with pride at my comment, his back standing straighter, shoulders wider.

“Yeah, man, it’s cool. It’s cool. Been practicing those jumps all my life, yo. My grandma said it’s a God-given talent.”

I nod. “I couldn’t agree more with her. Smart lady. But just because you’ve been born with it doesn’t mean you can rest on your laurels. You feel me? It’s how you put those talents to use with your ambition and drive to succeed. So no matter what happens during the draft, don’t let that talent go to waste.”

Mad Dog throws out his hand to give me the handshake all we ballplayers know. “Yeah, man…that’s what I’m saying.Ri-ght?” He collects nods from the rest of the players congregating around in his circle. A few of whom, no matter how much they gave this weekend, may not have enough to get them to the big leagues.

The story of my life with Jasmine.

But I won’t let it happen with Harper for one simple reason. I won’t let it get started down that path.

“Hey, listen. I appreciate you coming over, Mr. Talbert. You’s a good man. But I gotta go smile for some interviews with the circus over there,” Mad Dog grouses, tipping his chin in the direction of the media squads along the sidelines. But then the corners of his mouth turn into a crooked, sly grin. “But I’ll tell ya what, bro.”

Like seeing a car crash in slow motion, I can predict exactly what he’s about to say, and I’m fast enough to stop it. The words come crashing out his mouth, his immaturity on display and creating a chorus of rubberneckers who all turn in the same direction.

“It ain’t no hardship talking to that chick reporter, Harper. She’s got a fucking pair of tits on her I’d like to—"