The Wall of Winnipeg and Me: A Novel

The thing with having a terrible day is that a lot of times, you don’t know it’s going to be a bad one until it’s too late; it isn’t until your clothes are on, you’ve eaten breakfast, and you’re out of the house, so it’s too late to go back to request a sick day… and bam! The signs stare you right in the eye, and you know your day has instantly gone into the shitter.

I woke up that morning at five o’clock, slightly earlier than usual because it was going to be a busy day of running around, to the smell of my coffee machine going, and my alarm clock blaring the most obnoxious tone in its programming. I showered, slipped a thick headband on to keep the hair out of my face, and threw on a pair of slim, red, cropped pants, a short-sleeved blouse, flats, and my glasses. My two cell phones, tablet, and laptop were all sitting together on the counter in the kitchen. I grabbed my things, poured a travel mug with coffee, and hauled ass out of my apartment when the sky was still sleepier than it was awake.

I managed to make it all the way to the parking lot when things started to go wrong. I had a freaking flat. My apartment complex was too cheap for working outside lights, so it took me three times as long to change the tire than it would have usually taken me, and I stained my pants in the process. I was running late, so I didn’t go back to change.

Luckily, the rest of the drive went by fine. There wasn’t a single light on at any of the other houses surrounding my boss’s, so my usual spot in front of the 4000-square-foot home was empty. I went inside through the front door, disarmed the security panel, and headed straight to the kitchen just as the pipes began humming with use upstairs.

I put on the apron hanging from a hook in the corner of the kitchen because one stain was enough for only having been up two hours. I pulled fruit out of the freezer, the kale and carrots I’d washed and prepped the day before out of the fridge, measured a cup of pumpkin seeds out of a glass container on the counter, and dumped it all into the five-hundred-dollar blender on the countertop. On the mornings when he didn’t leave the house to go to training first thing, he had a big smoothie, worked out a little at home, and afterward had a ‘normal’ breakfast. As if a sixty-four-ounce beverage could be considered a snack.

When I was done blending the ingredients, I poured the mixture into four big glasses and placed Aiden’s portion in front of his favorite spot on the kitchen island. Two apples out of the fridge later, I set it all right next to the glasses of smoothie. Like clockwork, the sound of thunder on the steps warned me The Wall of Winnipeg was on his way down.

We had this routine set up that didn’t require words to get through it.

The second sign I’d been given that today wasn’t going to be my day was the scowl Aiden had on his face, but my attention had been too focused on washing the blender to notice it. “Good morning,” I said without glancing up.

Nothing. I still hadn’t been able to give up greeting him even though I knew he wouldn’t respond; my manners wouldn’t let me.

So I went on like always, washing dirty dishes as the man sitting on the stool in front of me drank his breakfast. Then, once he was ready, he finally cracked the silence with a low, sleep-stained and hoarse-voiced, “What’s the plan for today?”

“You have a radio interview at nine.”

He grunted his acknowledgment.

“Today is the day the Channel 2 news people are coming by.”

Another grunt, but that one was especially unenthusiastic.

I didn’t blame him; at the same time, I didn’t understand why his manager had even gotten him that kind of publicity with the local news. It was one thing for him to get through an interview in a hotel room in the pressroom after a game, or in the locker room, but one at his house? I’d spent the day before dusting the hell out of the living room and kitchen in preparation for it.

“Then you have that luncheon the senior center you donated money to invited you to. Last month, you had me confirm with them.” I kind of eyed him after I said it, half expecting him to say he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going.

He didn’t. He nodded that tiny baby nod that could have been easy to miss.

“Did you want me to go with you?” I asked just to be sure. Most of the time, I accompanied him anywhere he went in Dallas, but if I could get out of it, I would.

“Yes,” he grumbled his sleepy reply.

Damn. “All right. We should get going by eight just to be on the safe side.”

He lifted a couple of fingers in acknowledgment or agreement, whatever. Five chugs of smoothie later, he got up and handed over the empty glasses. “I’ll be in the gym. Get me fifteen minutes before we need to leave so I can shower.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Vanessa!”

I peeked my head into the green room Aiden was waiting in until his radio interview, and hit send on the message I’d been sending my little brother, before slipping my personal phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Yes, sir?” I called out.

“I want more water,” he replied. He sat on the edge of the couch, busy doing whatever it was he did on his phone. It wasn’t like he responded to any fan mail unless I insisted, and he didn’t pay his own bills, or do his own posts on his social media websites. That was my job. What exactly he did was beyond me.

I didn’t care enough to snoop.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” I replied, trying to remember where I’d seen the break room.

It took me a lot longer than I expected to find the vending machines because, of course, no radio station employee happened to be roaming the hallways in my time of need. But I bought two bottles with the cash I had on hand, and found my way back to the green room.

“Did you go all the way to Fiji to get the water?” Aiden asked abruptly when I entered.

Umm.

What?

I frowned and then blinked. I focused in on my boss and the fact there were two women sitting on the couch perpendicular to him now, catching a glimpse of boobs in a low-cut blouse, and too much makeup. I wasn’t worried about them. The only thing I was paying attention to was my boss. My temporary boss. My temporary boss, I reminded myself.

“Is something wrong?” I made myself ask carefully as I stood there, staring him right in the eye even as the two women seemed to squirm in their seats, like when you’re a kid and your friend’s parents scold them right in front of you; it was that awkward.

He watched me right back, his answer more of a pop than a statement. “No.”

No.

Why did I bother asking stupid questions? Really. For a moment, I thought about keeping my mouth closed, but this moody crap was getting old real quick. His usual grumpiness was one thing, but this was a total other. The fact he was being an asshole again in public hummed a quiet song that was too easy to ignore and push away before mulling over because I didn’t know the women in the room, and I would never see them again. What he’d said in front of Christian had been a different story.

Picking at the material covering my headband, I glared at that whiskered face and that whiskered face alone. “I know it’s not my position to say anything, but if there’s something you want to talk about…” My voice was rough, anger tinting each syllable.

His sole focus was on me. The big guy straightened his spine and set his phone on top of one of his thighs. He wore his usual baggy shorts and T-shirt. “You’re right. I don’t pay you for your opinion.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I balled up the sensation burning my esophagus and willed myself to keep it together. I knew what it was like to be picked on. I knew what it was like to be treated like crap by the people you were supposed to care about.

I wasn’t going to cry over Aiden. I didn’t cry over people who didn’t deserve my tears, and Aiden—especially not fucking Aiden—wouldn’t be the person to break me. Not now, not ever.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

He was right. I was his PA, and that was what he paid me for no matter how hard I grit my teeth. I was leaving soon. He wouldn’t be my business any longer. Biting the inside of my cheek, I made myself let the moment go even though I would later on look back on it, and realize it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

In a calm, even voice, I set the bottles of water on the table, maybe slightly breathing like a dragon. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” the rude bastard muttered.

I smiled at him even though I was positive my nostrils were flaring, and kept right on ignoring the women who had gotten to their feet. I didn’t need to ask to know that they had invited themselves in, and were now regretting that decision. Good. “I’ll be out here then.”

I got out of there and leaned my back against the wall right next to the door, my fists clenching at my sides. A second later, the two strangers who had magically appeared, were out of the room, two dark heads pressed together as they walked down the hall and out of sight. It wasn’t the first time women had tried to approach Aiden and gotten shut down immediately; either way, it wasn’t like I even cared. I was too pissed off to give a crap about anything other than the asswipe in the green room.

What the hell was his deal?

I hadn’t told him about the multiple e-mails he’d gotten from angry fans in San Antonio over the cancelled signing—he wouldn’t have given a crap about them either way. Trevor and Rob hadn’t been blowing up my phone or his about anything lately. He didn’t seem to be having any issues with his tendon either. What was it then? He had everything and anything he wanted.

What the hell could possibly be wrong in his nearly perfect little world?

This was the last year of his contract and he’d been putting off talking about what he wanted to do after it was over, but he had options. Probably too many options, if that was possible. Getting bent out of shape over that didn’t make sense, at least this early. Aiden focused on the now. I could see him worrying about the future once the season was at least halfway over.

So what else could it be?

“Hi, miss,” a voice called out from down the hallway with a wave. “We’re ready for Mr. Graves,” the radio station employee said.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded. “Okay.” I dropped the smile before peeking into the room and giving Miranda a flat, expressionless look, as everything in me raged at the sight of his face. “They’re ready for you.”

After the interview, the ride back to Aiden’s place had been quiet and tense. As soon as we arrived, he disappeared into his gym without a single word. I raged to myself as I swept and mopped the living room and kitchen floor again, angrily, in anticipation of the camera crew coming. I knew what Aiden had done hadn’t been the floor’s fault, but it was the only thing I had around that I could take my frustrations out on.

I had just started working on the hallway that led from the front of the house to the half bathroom and the gym when I overheard Aiden.

“I’m about sick and tired of hearing what you think is best for me. I know what’s best for me,” Aiden’s familiar voice spat.

Uhh, what?

“No, you listen to me. Maybe I’ll re-sign with them, maybe I won’t, but don’t make promises I have no intention of keeping,” Aiden kept going with venom in every vowel.

Was he contemplating leaving Dallas?

“Don’t glorify what you’ve done. I have what I have because of my hard work, no one else’s,” Aiden added after a brief pause.

Who was he talking to? Trevor? Rob?

“I don’t care,” Aiden growled a moment later.

The silence after that was heavy, almost ominous and extremely alarming.

“All I’m asking is for you to do what’s best for me. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You work for me, not the team.”

Well, someone wasn’t just being bitchy to me today. That should have made me feel better, but it didn’t.

“I don’t need to remember anything,” Aiden said carefully, his tone controlled and cool. “Don’t open your mouth; it’s that easy. Don’t promise them anything. Don’t even talk to them. I’m telling you to listen to what I want. That’s what I pay you to do, isn’t it?”

Then, just like that, it was over.

I must have stood completely still for at least five minutes, listening, but there was nothing else said. I stayed rooted in place, breathing as quietly as possible until I figured enough time had passed to not make a suspicious sound.

“Slackin’ on the job?” Zac asked, his head hanging over from the top of stair rail.

I froze. What if Aiden thought I might have overheard his conversation? Damn it. I coughed and smiled innocently up. “You’re barely waking up?” I tried to play it cool.

“It’s my day off,” he explained as he jogged down the steps.

“Hasn’t every day been your day off?” I teased, not waiting for him to answer. “Ask me what time I woke up this morning,” I said, putting my chin on the top of the Swiffer handle.

“I don’t wanna know, darlin’.” He patted my shoulder as he walked by me into the kitchen. “I don’t wanna know.”

I snorted and pushed the dusting device around the hardwood floor as the sounds of Zac messing around in the kitchen kept me company while I thought about Aiden’s conversation. He had never said anything about leaving the team, and I guess I hadn’t assumed he would. From the digits in his bank account—at least the account I had access to—his contract extension a few years ago had been more than lucrative. Plus, he’d only improved. He was the face of the Three Hundreds. They would give him anything he asked for, but who the hell actually knew what that was? I sure didn’t.

Aiden should be singing praises for the Three Hundreds all day every day for what they’d given him in exchange for his skills.

“The house is lookin’ good, Cinderella,” Zac snorted as he held a bowl to his chest and snuck by me before I could whack him with the handle. He dashed through the doorway that led into the living room. The television was turned on a moment later.

Before I knew it, Aiden was in his bedroom getting dressed in something other than workout clothes for the first time in months, and a Channel 2 news truck was parking on the curb across the street. With a quick glance around, I made sure the house looked even more spot-free than usual. By the time the doorbell started ringing, Zac was zooming up the stairs with a panicked expression on his face.

“I don’t live here,” he muttered on his journey just as I reached the door and opened it.

A man in a suit and two cameramen stood on the other side. “Hi, come in,” I said, waving them forward. “Aiden will be down in a second. Would you like something to drink?”

All three of them glanced around carefully as I showed them into the living room where a producer and Trevor had already agreed would be the best place to film. I caught the camera guy looking at the walls when Aiden jogged down the steps. I’d never lived through an earthquake, but I was sure him on the steps might register on the Richter scale.

He filled the entrance to the living room—his shoulders and arms looking spectacular in the white polo shirt he’d somehow squeezed into, and the khaki pants he had to get specially made for his oversized thighs. I edged my way out of the corner of the living room, not necessarily wanting to but knowing I needed to. Just because I was pissed off at him didn’t mean I stopped doing my job.

“Need anything before you start?”

His eyes were everywhere, except on me. “Get them some water.”

Oh, ye of little expectations.

I blew out a breath, ground down on my molars, and nodded. “I was already going to do that. I was just waiting for you to come downstairs.”

When the doorbell rang, I frowned and walked around Aiden, wondering if one of the crew had been outside taking a smoke break. Peeking through the hole, I saw a face I’d seen enough of recently through video chat.

Trevor.

Of all the people in the world…

Undoing the lock, I slowly let it swing open but put my body between him and the crack in the door.

“Vanessa,” the forty-ish man greeted me.

My eyelids lowered. “Trevor.”

Dressed in a steel-gray suit with his hair combed back, he looked every bit of the high-powered sports manager he was… and a douche. “Can I come in?” He didn’t make it sound like a question.

Could he? Yes. Did I want him to? No. But considering his two clients lived here, I didn’t really have a say. “I didn’t know you were in town,” I commented as he stepped passed me inside.

“Only for the day,” he said, casually strolling in and heading into the living room.

Had he been in town talking to the team about Aiden? Was that who Aiden had been on the phone with?

To give Aiden and Trevor credit, they both acted like they hadn’t just been arguing recently. What a bunch of fake-asses. I held back my eye roll, and headed into the kitchen to grab enough bottles of water for the entire crew, Aiden, and The White Devil. I set the bottles on the coffee table and headed toward the half bath to take a quick pee.

“Van!” Zac whisper-hissed when I was in the hallway.

I tipped my head back to find him peeking over the railing and couldn’t help but grin. “What are you doing?” I whispered, eyeing the living room to make sure no one was paying attention.

“I’m beggin’ you. I’ll love you forever, darlin’…” he started.

That had me groaning. I knew I was going to say yes to whatever he was about to ask of me just because he was being so cute.

“I don’t wanna go down there, but I’m starvin’. I have two sandwiches in the fridge, can you toss ‘em up to me?”

I blinked. Did he not know who he was talking to? Me tossing stuff? “Give me a second.”

He pumped his hands in front of his chest before retreating behind the bannister. What a goofball.

As I passed by the doorway of the living room to go into the kitchen, I could see the crew arranging white umbrellas and bright lights by the couches as the man in the suit talked to Aiden and Trevor. I snagged the two foot-long sandwiches still in their wax-paper wrapper from the fridge, and hustled up the stairs with them and a bag of sweet potato chips. I knew him. He’d get hungry in half an hour on just a sandwich.

Sure enough, Zac was waiting at the top of the stairs, his back against the guest bedroom’s closed door, just far enough away from the staircase so that anyone standing at the bottom couldn’t see him.

He beamed when he spotted my offering. It didn’t escape me that he still hadn’t gotten dressed for the day. I couldn’t wait until I didn’t have to either. “I love you, Vanny. Do you know I love you?”

I handed him his things. “So you’ve said.”

“I do. Anything you ever need, I’m your loyal servant,” he said, busy peering down the stairs as he whispered.

“How about a million bucks?”

Zac glanced at me over his shoulder. “Well, anything but that. I don’t even have a million bucks for me. I’m the poor guy in the house.”

Considering he probably made eight times what I did—at least—I wouldn’t call him poor. But comparing him to Money Bags of Winnipeg in the living room, I could see his point.

“Have you seen Vanessa?” Aiden’s voice carried up the stairs from below.

Just as I opened my mouth to let him know where I was, Trevor answered. “Since when do I keep track of your dinner roll?” he replied in a voice that definitely wasn’t a whisper.

Did that asshole just call me fat?

Zac’s eyes met mine as if he was thinking the same thing. I frowned and put my index finger up to my mouth so I could focus on listening. Apparently, I was a masochist who liked to do things that caused myself pain and anger.

“She was here a second ago.”

“I know this isn’t the time, but I will find you somebody else,” that was the asshole talking. “She did tell you she was quitting, didn’t she?”

Aiden’s “Uh-huh” made it up the stairs.

“Good. I’ll find you a replacement soon. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” the traitor replied, which only slightly insulted me.

“I was worried you weren’t going to handle it well,” Trevor admitted, but I was so focused on what was being said, I didn’t pick up on the hints he was leaving with his word choice.

“She can do whatever she wants,” The Wall of Winnipeg replied in that cool voice that held zero emotion, a confirmation of its own that he meant what he said.

What a damn dick. Did anyone appreciate me?

“I never liked her much anyway,” the devil’s advocate continued.

I hadn’t liked Trevor much either, but sheesh. Weren’t there more important things in the world to talk about than me behind my back?

Aiden on the other hand grunted, and the insults just kept on coming…

“Maybe I can find you someone a little easier on the eyes. What do you think?” Trevor’s tone lightened at his joke.

I waited. Then I waited a little longer for Aiden to tell him to shut up and do his job.

But I waited in vain. He didn’t say a word.

After everything I had done for Aiden…

Everything…

He was going to let Trevor talk shit about me? I mean, I just figured a decent person wouldn’t do that. I would never let anyone talk badly about Aiden, unless it was Zac and I doing the shit-talking, but I figured we both had get-out-of-jail passes with it since he was his roommate and I was his lackey.

But the entire conversation—this moment—felt like a betrayal at the highest level.

It was one thing to be his employee, but for him not to care even a little bit that I was leaving? On top of that, for him to let this asshole talk about me? About my freaking looks of all things? I’d never shown up to work a sloppy mess. My straight, auburn hair was usually fine because I didn’t do much with it other than let it loose around my shoulders. I put makeup on and put some effort into my clothes. I wasn’t gorgeous, but I wasn’t ugly—at least I didn’t think so. And sure, I wasn’t a size zero or a three or a five, but was Trevor fucking kidding me? Me? A goddamn dinner roll?

I was hit on every once in a while. If I wanted a boyfriend, I could have a boyfriend, and he wouldn’t look like Shrek either, damn it.

Fucking asshole. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t exactly Keanu Reeves to begin with.

I managed to count to two before thinking “fuck it” and letting myself get mad.

What was I doing here? It had been weeks since I told them I was quitting. Aiden had been bossier and moodier than usual. Colder. I couldn’t completely blame it on his injury at this point either.

And here I’d been stressing out about keeping his house clean, putting chocolates on his pillow, and delaying my dreams because I felt bad leaving him, and he couldn’t even tell Trevor not to talk about me.

I swallowed and blinked once. Only once. I met Zac’s eyes and found his jaw clenched. Biting the inside of my cheek, I thought about what I told myself out on the curb with the trashcan. I’d begun going for walks that day. I’d even done a little jogging. I’d gotten paid last week.

This was my life, and I was the one to choose how to spend it, didn’t I? Hadn’t I done enough? Put up with enough? Sucked it up enough?

If I didn’t put up with people who should have mattered, why the hell was I putting up with people who didn’t? Life was what you made out of it, at least that was what those Chicken Soup books my foster father thrust on me when I was a teenager imprinted on me. When life gives you lemons, you get to choose what you make out of them; it doesn’t always have to be lemonade.

With a mental slap to my own butt, I nodded at the only loyal person in this house. “I’m out of here.”

“Van—” he started to say, shaking his head. His long face was tight.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re not worth it.”

Zac scrubbed at the side of his jaw before tilting his head in the direction of the stairs. “Get outta here before I try to go kick both their asses.”

That had me sucking in a watery snort. Try to kick both of their asses. “Give me a call or a text every once in a while. All right?”

“Nothin’ would stop me from doin’ it,” he assured me, putting his fist out.

Thinking of my psychopath older sisters, I filled my veins with every inch of hard-earned resolve I had within me, and fist bumped him. We looked at each other for a moment before hugging, just a second, not a good-bye but an ‘I’ll see you later.’

Down the stairs, I ignored the bare walls I’d be looking at for the last time. The sound of voices in the living room almost had me glancing over, but I didn’t care enough to waste the energy.

I was over this.

In the kitchen, I pulled my work phone out of my bag, fished my keys out of my purse, and pulled Aiden’s house, mailbox, and PO Box key off the ring. Setting those four items on the kitchen island, I rubbed at my eyebrow with the back of my hand, adjusted my purple-framed glasses, and tried to make sure I hadn’t left anything lying around. Then again, if I left something, Zac could grab it for me.

I rubbed my pants with the palms of my hands and slung my purse over my shoulder, nervous anticipation flooding my stomach. I was doing this. I was fucking doing it.

“Could you go out and grab me something to eat?” Trevor asked, suddenly standing in the kitchen when I turned around to leave.

While I knew I was supposed to kill even this dipshit with kindness, I couldn’t dig deep enough inside of me to be an adult. This was the last time I’d have to put up with his crap; I’d never have to see him again, deal with him again. Amen and thank you, Jesus.

“No,” I replied with a little smirk on my face. “Dinner Roll is leaving now. Please make sure to tell Aiden later on when no one else is around that I said he can eat shit.”

Trevor’s mouth gaped. “What?”

Going out in a mini blaze of glory, I wiggled my fingers at him over my shoulder as I walked out of the kitchen. Just as I reached for the door, I turned to peek in the living room to find Aiden on one couch talking to the reporter. For a brief split second, those brown eyes met mine across the room, and I’d swear on my life a crease formed between his eyebrows.

Just as I opened the door, and before I could talk myself out of it, I mouthed, “I deserve better, asshole,” making sure he read my lips as I did it. Then I raised my middle finger up at him and waved good-bye with it.

I hope they both got syphilis.