Page 4 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

NICK SOBA

T he Rage’s stadium and practice facilities are located just outside of New York City in Rockland County.

It’s city enough, I suppose, but offers a quick and easy escape out of the chaos that is city life, especially the Big Apple’s chaotic city life.

I’m used to this kind of setup though: Nik, Nic and I grew up in the suburbs of Philly, which was much like this - close enough to the city if we wanted, but far enough away that it felt more like a close-knit community and had nature all around.

I quickly learned that quite a few of my new teammates live in NYC and do the reverse commute on the daily, whereas others - mostly the guys with families - have opted for the more suburban and even rural life.

But outside of NYC, driving anywhere from half an hour to an hour seems to be normal for a commute according to the locals here.

For me, it was the perfect scenario, which - again - was by design and the whole reason for coming here. Because Scottie lives and works just north of where the Rage are. She’s just across the border in Orange County, and I’m quite familiar with the area after my repeated trips to see her.

Well, when I say see , I mean I literally saw her.

Because I would watch her.

But she was totally oblivious. Beautiful and oblivious to my presence.

Sure, some might consider it creepy AF or borderline stalking… alright, they’d probably think it full-on stalking. To that my response is: pshhh. Those people don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. When it comes to a love like ours, you do what needs to be done.

And yes, it’s love.

This isn’t some infatuation or obsession, even though - sure - I’m obsessed with Scottie.

I have been since I first met her when I was teetering on 15.

She was way out of my league then and continues to be.

She’s seven years my senior and was Natalie, my older sister’s best friend from college.

When Natalie was a junior, Scottie started coming home with her during breaks, long weekends and over Christmas break, or whenever my sister decided she’d grace us with her presence.

And to be honest, half-sister is a more accurate term.

My mom had my sister when she was in her early twenties, but she and Natalie’s dad were never together.

So Nat had a bunch of trauma, anger and resentment as a result of those first few years of her life, and it was especially targeted toward me and our other sister Nadine, because our parents were together.

I was also the youngest, and the only boy, so to say that I was the golden child… well, you know. Of course I was the spoiled baby and I was a mama's boy. That didn’t help matters with Nat. It only made her hate me more.

So when Nat would opt to come home, it was always a crap-shoot whether it’d end up in a blow out, knock out fight or if she’d act like a normal human being. It was always better when Scottie came with her though.

I’m not sure what Scottie’s family dynamics were. That’s something I’ve yet to totally figure out. She’d never say, and Nat never shed any light on it. Especially not with me, because I was the person, it seemed, that she hated most in our house.

But I heard my mom ask her once on the phone when Scottie was supposed to come home with Nat for Christmas during their senior year.

She was making dinner in the kitchen and had Nat on speaker, and mom was just checking that it wouldn’t upset Scottie’s family that she wasn’t going to be with them during the holidays.

Nat replied in a clipped tone that Scottie didn’t have any family and that she and Scottie were each other’s family.

I knew how much that stung my mom, and hit the intended target.

Because once my mom got off the phone with her, she burst into tears.

Nat can be such a fucking bitch. I’d know, I’ve been on the receiving end of said bitchiness my entire life. So the fact that her best friend is the sweetest, most amazing person on the planet, I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how Scottie puts up with her.

I had immediately walked in and hugged my mom, tried to console her, but that comment had cut her so deep.

Then when Nat and Scottie came home two weeks later, Nat acted like nothing was wrong, like she hadn’t just sliced my mom’s heart open. She had even acted halfway decent towards me.

I was sixteen at the time, and was already the biggest deal in our town, so with my already-inflated ego, I strutted around like the proud peacock I was.

At that point I was already 6’2 and was pushing two hundred pounds.

I was quickly filling out too. I worked hard to do so, because I didn’t want to look like some scrawny teenager to Scottie, or anyone else for that matter.

But mostly to Scottie.

Football was my life and I had every intention of becoming the best at it. Between that goal and the other goal of impressing Scottie, I worked tirelessly on my body and mind.

Scottie was always nice to me, not that we were able to interact too much with my sister there, monopolizing Scottie’s time and attention.

Scottie never realized what a buffer she was between our family and my sister.

But that Christmas was the best one I’d ever had.

Scottie and I had even had a few hours to ourselves on Christmas Eve night where we just talked.

Everyone had given up on the movie and gone to bed, but we stayed up, finished the movie and then talked about our dreams while the lights on the Christmas tree only helped to enhance her natural beauty.

Not that Scottie thought of me that way - or any way for that matter. To her I was Nat’s little brother, one whom she’d probably heard nothing but horror stories about.

But I worked tirelessly to gain any scraps of information about Scottie, and if I got an ounce of attention from her or stolen moments like on Christmas Eve, I’d live for that.

Scottie was originally from a small no-name town in Michigan.

She, apparently, didn’t have much or any family.

Scottie was the most amazing artist. She was kind, beautiful, smart and above all, she was real.

There was nothing fake about her and she was just so authentically her .

Not only did she dream of making it as an artist, above all else Scottie wanted to help other artists too.

While my sister moved to Philly to start her career after she got her Bachelors, Scottie went to Stetson University in New York to work on her Masters. It was only a few hours’ drive from where we lived outside Philly, so to say I took a road trip or two… well, you can’t blame a guy.

To my great dismay, a few months into Scottie’s first semester, I saw her walking around the little town where Stetson U was with some older guy. When he kissed her, I saw red.

Turns out that he was some douchebag professor at the University. And get this, the asshole’s name was Earl ! Fucking Earl. How fitting.

I continued to drive up on Saturdays or Sundays, as my schedule allowed, to check on her. And there was Earl, always popping up. It really caused me to rage.

The only thing that could calm me down in those moments, besides seeing her beautiful face, were flashbacks to our stolen moments together.

We had discussed our dreams and aspirations on Christmas Eve and one other occasion, but during the other times we were able to talk we had discussed art, nature, history and philosophy. She was so damn smart!

What the fuck was she thinking? She could do so much better than this no-talent idiot.

If you can’t do, teach and all that. That certainly fit Earl.

And it was very evident to me that he was clinging onto Scottie due to her talent, because she was going places.

She was incredible - everything she did was beyond amazing.

Earl probably saw that and wanted to be along for the ride, because his no-talent ass wouldn’t be going anywhere without hitching his saddle onto someone else’s ride.

What a tool.

But then Scottie finally wised up almost two years ago and dumped his ass. I’m happy to report that she’s been doing so much better since she dropped that dead weight.

He did nothing but hold her back and stifle her creativity.

Since dumping him, she’s been painting again, or painting more I should say.

She’s sold more pieces, beyond what I’ve bought from her.

But with my new deal with the Rage and my signing bonus, I can buy every single one of her pieces.

However, the world needs them too - and she needs to get her work out there and in front of major collectors and not just to be kept in a climate controlled storage unit where I’ve been safeguarding all the pieces that I’ve bought through the years.

I’ve done more than that though. Let’s just say that I’m quite familiar with the dealings of the art world.

I’ve made it my business. And so in the last few years I’ve made it my fucking job to connect with galleries and collectors and influential people within the art world to get Scottie’s name and art in front of them.

What’s the result been? Well, since she dropped the dead weight and has had more time to make art again, and with me marketing her, she’s sold everything she’s put out there.

As she should.

Her work should be in a fucking museum! And if I have my way, it will be before long.

Now with me conveniently living only a handful of miles from her, her art is about to blow up.

Yes, of course I’ll be busy being the star quarterback in the football league and my first season will be action-packed, but come on!

I’ve been working towards this for almost ten years.

I’m finally in not just the same state as her, but so fucking conveniently in the same town.

So you bet your ass that as soon as I signed that dotted line that I called the realtor I’ve had lined up for over a year.