Jugador: The Mendoza Family, page 27
I hadn’t heard from him today so far, which I knew, because he’d be in training all morning. I was genuinely gutted yesterday, the way I heard the news. I knew Marco had trust issues. Lately, I thought we were beyond that point.
“Lily!” I jumped at the sound of my name, and loud banging was all I could hear. “Open the door.” Marco was going to piss all of my neighbors off with his incessant knocking. Then they’d probably see him and be awestruck, too, and ask to take a selfie with him. Or eventually, graduate to asking him to be their sperm donor. I stomped to the door, which I thought he might barrel down, as the pounding grew louder and louder.
I opened the door. “What—”
Before I could finish, he lifted me in his arms and drove his mouth over mine. He pressed me tight against him and kissed me with unbridled passion, and I clutched him like my life depended on it. His tongue clashed with mine as his lips crushed mine in total possession. He groaned into my mouth as one hand clenched my thigh and the other cradled the back of my head. He let up before we both passed out from lack of oxygen. “I want to give you everything, Lily. Every piece of me. Even the broken, ugly pieces are yours.”
“I love all of your pieces. That’s what makes you who you are. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” I leaned in and kissed his lips softly. “I want you to know, whatever you’re struggling, with I’m by your side.”
“I know, baby, I want to share everything with you.”
I drew my lips over his as my heart overflowed with both love and elation. I also knew time was about to run out, and he had to report back to his team tomorrow. I pulled back and studied his face.
“I’m scared, Marco. I’m happy for you, but scared,” I said in a small voice and nuzzled his cheek, wanting him selfishly for myself. “I don’t want us to be apart.”
“Hey.” He lifted my chin and gazed down at me with his smoky eyes. “Don’t be. We’ll make this work. You know I want you with me all the time. Come with me.”
“I have to run my stores, and I’m knee-deep trying to get my new boutique up and running.”
“You have store managers, Lily, and Dani is doing the design on your new store, right?” When I agreed, he added, “You trust her, she can handle more of the workload. I know you have to be here to check in, but you can commute back and forth.” He walked us to the counter and set my butt down on the edge. “People do it all the time.”
He made a good point, and any orders I needed could be placed online or over the phone. However… “Isn’t that expensive?” I mean, I wasn’t hurting for money, but airline costs would get steep.
“No. I got this, and we’re doing this, say yes.” He cradled my cheek.
There really wasn’t another answer for me. I would follow Marco everywhere. “Yes.”
He crushed me to him again and loved me with all his heart and soul.
Marco
“Green Right Strong Slot Spider Two Y Banana.” It was mid-December, and I stood on the sideline signaling a play to Cal. I thumbed the mic from the headset off to the side and spit on the ground as goose bumps pricked my exposed arms. A frigid East Coast wind whipped through the open stadium where we played our home games. I forgot how much I hated cold weather until I returned to New York.
When I came back two weeks ago, I vowed I was going to suck it up and work as hard as I could and prepare as if I were the starter. As long as I had Lily by my side, I could handle this. I was always conflicted that falling into a heavy relationship would dull my skills and make me lose focus on my career. What an idiot I was? Now I was just an idiot for her and couldn’t be more content in my life. I had to believe if I worked hard, it would all work out in the end.
We were tied with Dallas in our division, and the winner of this game would practically be a shoo-in for a playoff berth. Like always, when we faced off against this team, we went back and forth on scoring. Usually, the games came down to the last play to determine the winner.
Our offense received the ball first and was lined up on our own ten-yard line. Cal lined up in position; he called the play and backpedaled two steps with the ball looking to make a quick pass out to our wide receiver. Unfortunately, the cornerback on Dallas’ defense jumped the route, intercepted the ball, and ran straight for our end zone without anyone in the vicinity to chase him down. Touchdown.
Curses were heard on the sidelines and through the headsets as well. Shit! The last thing we needed was for the opposing team to gain momentum and take our fans out of the game. That was part of having home-field advantage.
By the end of the first quarter, Cal had thrown two more interceptions and Dallas had capitalized each time. Fans were starting to boo loudly. Embarrassingly loudly. One thing about New York fans, they were passionate about their team, but would voice their discontent really fast if you were losing, especially to a hated rival.
When halftime rolled around, we were down 27–0. The boos were relentless as our team jogged over to the tunnel. Plastic cups full of beer and empty water bottles were also flying through the air our way. Whoever the dumbasses were doing that shit were about to get escorted out of the stadium. Again, our fans were insane.
As we huddled around despondently in the locker room, I heard the loud crash of a chair hitting the cement wall as well as feet kicking lockers. “We’re getting our fucking asses handed to us!” our coach yelled in the locker room. He was an overemotional guy who cursed and shouted so much he was probably going to die of a heart attack on the field. But he was right. We looked like fucking amateurs. The turnovers were killing us, and now we were down to a damn near impossible deficit to come back from.
After Coach’s tirade, the offensive coordinator pulled Cal and me aside. “Cal, you’re out.” He dropped his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He knew a lot of guilt laid on his shoulders. The newbie misread plays and risked some ill-advised throws, which turned into interceptions. Rookie mistakes that he would overcome the longer he was in the league and understood how to better read complex pro defenses. I did feel for him because we’d all been there. Yet wrong time to have a meltdown. Coach looked at me. “You ready?”
“Hell, yeah, I’m ready. I’ve been ready.”
Lily
“Yes!” I cheered in the suite above the outdoor seating surrounded by other wives and girlfriends as our defense made a stop, finally, forcing the other team to punt. When players ran off the field and others came on, my chest pumped with adrenaline as I saw Marco pull his helmet on and lope out on the field. The fans started cheering rabidly standing and applauding in a clear show of respect that he was back. He’s playing.
“Come on, Marco,” I said under my breath with my fingers laced together in prayer. I was nervous for him and wanted him to show everyone he was “the one.”
He took the snap, dropped back in the pocket, and zinged one across the field, and his wide receiver caught it mid-field and gained another ten yards before he was brought down. “Oh, thank God.” I realized I had been holding my breath. Marco always said he knew how he was going to play based on his first throw. If he connected, then he could settle into a groove. “You got this.”
And he did. Two plays later, he laid a perfect pass in the end zone to his tight end. Everyone went wild. The people around me hugged me as we celebrated. We were down 27–7, still a huge mountain to overcome, but I knew Marco could.
With a minute left in the game, Marco had brought his team back to within three points. We’d just scored and were kicking off the ball. I watched as the kicker signaled he was ready and strode up to the ball and kicked it short and far left. Both teams flew to the ball madly as it hit the ground and bounced in the air. Then a dog pile ensued until the ref signaled it was the Wildcats ball. The stadium roared so loudly that you couldn’t hear anything else. We were going crazy in the suite. The momentum was on our side. We had a chance.
The offense was out on the field, and I watched Marco clap his hands sharply, breaking the huddle as the offense dispersed to their positions. My heart was in my throat, praying my man could pull off a win. He took the ball and back peddled and set his feet in his stance and threw a short route pass that was enough for a first down. Coaches signaled for the hurry up offense as the team rushed up to the line of scrimmage. They lined up, and Marco took the hike and found his receiver who ran across the middle of the field fighting to make it to the sidelines. He was tackled before he could make it out of bounds to stop the clock.
The team scrambled to the line of scrimmage. Marco called for the ball and faked it like he was going to spike the ball on the ground; instead, he threw a pass down the sideline and his receiver caught the ball in stride and ran straight to the end zone as the time ran off the clock.
“Oh my God, we won!” someone shouted beside me while tears of joy welled in my eyes. Everyone in our suite was jumping around and screaming as the stadium rocked beneath us. Fans zealously celebrated, and Marco yanked his helmet off and bowed up with head thrown back shouting to the sky as one of his linemen picked him up in elation. He was stoked and I knew this was sweet payback for all his suffering and doubters. You’re back, baby.
Later, I waited outside the locker room surrounded by a large crowd and media types standing around with cameramen to catch quick interviews. It didn’t take a genius to know everyone would be hounding Marco. This had to be the top sports story going now. Some of the players were filtering out, joking around, and sidling up to what I assumed were family members; a few would stop and give quick interviews with some of the sports reporters looking for a sound bite.
Cal followed a few players out, and the media gravitated to him. When Marco passed through the door, the press dropped Cal like a bad habit and swooped in on my man. It was almost frightening how invasive they were—shoving microphones and cell phones in his face to get the golden interview. The glare of the lighting from several cameras shone on his face as he held a hand up to shield his eyes and peered around searching for me. I edged in closer, but it was impossible to get through the sea of reporters.
Since he was tall, he spotted me and said, “That’s it, guys. I’ve already spoken about the game. Thanks.” Without hesitation, he pushed through the crowd ignoring the incessant questions reporters kept throwing out.
“Marco, what did Cal say to you after the game?”
“Are you starting next week’s game?”
“How are contract negotiations going?”
He stared at me intently as he stalked toward me with determination. He picked me up in his arms and pulled me against him, walking us away from the crowd. I curled my fingers around his neck, soaking in his strength. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
“We did it, baby. Without you, I don’t know where I would be. Definitely not here riding this high with you.” With me still in arms, he pushed open a door that led to the parking lot, and as soon as we stepped out, he pressed me against the wall and his mouth claimed mine. Our lips twisted around in poignant harmony, both of us intoxicated by his play and entangled by our love. Marco let up and spoke huskily, “Redemption is sweet, but having you in my arms is indescribable. I love you, Lily Mendoza. You are my life, my everything, and one day you’re going to be my wife.”
Marco
“Marco Cruz, you just won the Super Bowl. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to Disney World,” I shouted as confetti showered down around me. This was my third Super Bowl win, and the feeling never got old. It truly felt like I was king of the mountain, standing at the pinnacle with my head in the clouds. It’d only been a few minutes ago since the game ended and then the festivities ensued. Cameras surrounded me, sports reporters spread out around my team and me, nudging in to start interviews. All I wanted was to have my girl by my side to share in the celebration.
Teammates were shouting and bear hugging each other. I was bombarded by my offensive line basking in the glory. They squeezed the shit out of me being beefy-ass guys. I noticed family members with their favorite player’s jersey on rolling out on the field. I looked around in confusion, and suddenly caught sight of my baby girl who had on my jersey beaming with pride. She ran to me, and I held my arms wide as she jumped with abandon, knowing without a doubt I’d always be there to catch her.
Her hands cupped my face as she gazed at me with hearts in her eyes and her gorgeous smile. “El Milagro,” she gushed.
“Nah, baby.” I held her close like my security blanket because she was. She was everything I always needed in my life. “You’re the miracle.”
I leaned in to kiss her, and she asked with a little skepticism, “Are you really going to Disney World?”
“You bet your ass I am. Day after tomorrow, and you’re coming with me. So pack a bag and tell your family they’re invited too.”
“It’s last minute to book flights.”
I laughed and kissed her, anticipating our own exclusive celebration later in my king-size bed. “It’s a private charter, so we’re good.”
“Marco, how does it feel to be a three-time Super Bowl champ?”
“Marco, do you feel you redeemed yourself?”
“Marco…”
Reporters surrounded me, and I tuned them out. Lily was my sole focus, and nothing else existed in the world. “I love you. You know that?”
She tugged my head closer until our nose touched. “I know. Now, kiss me.”
And I did. I closed my mouth over hers, and soon the kiss turned as frantic and passionate as it always had since that first time in her bedroom years ago when she’d asked me to kiss her. Whatever she wished I would give her. Always.
Lily—Two Months Later
“This place looks amazing,” Dani gushed as she gazed around the new boutique.
“And it’s all because of you. Your vision is amazing. It turned out much better than anything I could’ve planned.” It was true. I had to give all credit to my sister-in-law, who’d basically designed it all by herself. I’d just given her ideas on what I wanted, but I never could’ve imagined this. How she mixed the style of modern, but with a French baroque feel was beyond me.
My grand opening was tomorrow, and I’d been stressed to the max putting last-minute touches on the store as well as making sure all my orders came in before deadline. Luckily, all the clothing and accessories were here, and I was still madly setting up displays and merchandising the store to look perfect.
“She is amazing,” Vince threw his arm around Dani and kissed her tenderly on the temple. “Don’t need to convince me.”
I stood behind the counter and opened up a small box containing jewelry, pulling it out and laying out necklaces and matching earrings. “I know. I think she needs a raise,” I teased.
“She can have anything.” Vince and Dani stared at each other like they were about to rip off each other’s clothes and make baby number two.
“You two want to get a room? This is a public place and there are kids here,” Emilio called out carrying EJ as Teresa and Eric as well as my whole family trailed in behind him. We were having a private celebration tonight.
Vince just shook his head, holding back a comment that would probably be very colorful if my aunt and uncle weren’t here. Instead, he asked, “Where’s Marco?”
“In my office on the phone.” I glanced toward the back, a little concerned. He was helping me earlier when his cell rang and told me he needed to take the call from Brian. He’d been back there for thirty minutes. Marco was fielding calls daily since he was once again a hot commodity.
He was also testing the free agency market. Marco was already disenchanted with his team for the way they dangled a contract on the hook last season and never committed. Now, they were allowing him to test the market and see what other teams brought to the table. Evidently, they were still riding on a feeling that Cal Walker was their insurance as well as the future, not to mention a lot cheaper. I seemed more upset about what I perceived as a total lack of loyalty than Marco did. He just shrugged and said, “It’s business.”
“He’s about to get paid in full.” Adrian strolled up with the ever-sure confidence of the know-it-all he was. He straightened his lavender silk tie and leaned casually against the counter, looking like he knew a secret none of us did. “Just wait and see.”
I hoped so. He deserved it. Not that he needed all the money. He was definitely part of the one-percenters as is. It was a point of pride and respect. “I hope you’re right, primo.”
“Don’t you know, he’s always right,” my cousin Eduardo said sarcastically, reaching out and ruffling his older brother’s always perfect hair. Adrian shoved him off with a half-smile and slicked his hair back in place.
“Just because you watch SportsCenter and follow the speculation and rumors about Marco’s future, doesn’t make you an expert or a wannabe sports agent.” Vince crossed his arms with his never-ending skepticism creeping out of his mannerism. “Stop acting like you are.”
He, as usual, blew off my brother’s comment. My cousin was well-schooled in never rising to the bait with taunts. Believe me, Adrian and Vince could go back and forth all day on seeing who could get under the other’s skin.
“Eduardooo, you made it,” Yovani called out, and they clasped in a tight hug. They’d been tight back in the day since they were the same age and bonded over video games. Eduardo was much more serious than Yovani, which wasn’t saying much being that Yovani was never serious.
