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The BoRe Blogger
Chapter 5
Travis
Irvin has his car service bring me home, after I was informed that Jeffrey was having my car picked up from the bar, if it hadn’t already been towed away. As soon as the driver opens my door, the occupants of the numerous cars, vans, and whatever else is parked on my street do the same. I’m a sitting duck, out in the open, without any security. The media come at me with their microphones pointed in my direction, yelling questions that I can’t answer. When one calls me a rapist, my steps falter. I hear someone laugh. Maybe it was the one who asked the question. I can’t be sure. I want to turn around and square off with the person, and hate that I can’t. They get to say whatever they want about me, and I have to take it. I have to ignore it and pretend that everything is okay, when it’s anything but.
Standing on my stoop with my back facing the crowd, I hear words like coward, piece of shit, loser, and again rapist. Each one tears at my psyche, making me feel weaker than I already am. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Are they like this because of who I am? And what if they’re wrong? Will they apologize? I already know the answers. I’ve seen countless friends and peers be destroyed by the media, and once they’re done with you, they move on to the next unsuspecting target.
My house is cold and dark, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m alone. Normally, I’d go out and find a female companion for the evening. Someone I can show a good time to and who can help warm my bed. But that is out of the question, and with very few of my teammates in town, including my best friend, Ethan Davenport, who is three thousand miles away visiting his family for the winter, I’m stuck in this solitude.
A light flashes in my eyes. It’s someone with a camera, taking pictures of the inside of my house. I move swiftly to shut the blinds, and while that may keep them from peering inside, it doesn’t keep their voices from being heard. Turning on the television to drown them out, my face is all over the screen. The only saving grace is that the photos are random and not a mug shot—although they have video of me leaving the police station, and the caption reads, “Renegades star brought in for questioning.”
“They didn’t bring me,” I say to the TV. Why can’t they get their story straight? I mute the volume and sit back on my couch and try to relax. The effort is futile, though, because my mind is racing a million miles a minute as I try to remember every little detail from last night. Aside from being crude, I don’t think I did anything unwarranted. She never asked me to stop or shied away from me. And she became angry when I was speaking to Saylor. That is all this is, revenge, and in the worst possible way. She’s going to ruin my life all because I decided not to go home with her.
My cell phone juts out of the pocket of my track pants. I turned it off earlier so I wouldn’t be distracted. I turn it back on, watching the Apple symbol come to life. The messages start appearing, each one chiming as loud as the next. Everyone wants to know what’s going on, and I don’t have any answers. The last message to come in is from Ethan. Instead of texting him back, I call.
“Kidd, what the fuck is going on?” Ethan doesn’t say hello or ask me how I’m doing. He cuts right to the core.
“I don’t know.”
“What does that mean?”
I lean back and set my feet on the coffee table. My picture is being shown again, and I have a feeling it’s on every channel on cable and the local networks.
“I didn’t do it,” I tell Ethan. I think that if I keep saying it, everyone will start believing me and not what is being said in the media.
“I didn’t say you did, but c’mon, man. This is some serious shit.”
“I know. I can’t really say anything else.”
“Do you need me to come home?” This is one of the reasons Ethan is my best friend. He’s willing to drop whatever he’s doing to come to my aid. As much as I want to say yes, it would be selfish of me. Christmas is drawing near, and the last thing I want to do is interrupt his family time.
“Nah, I’ll be okay.”
“All right. Have you spoken to Stone or Wilson?”
“No, my manager’s office was going to take care of that.” I sigh, wishing that I could go back to yesterday when I made the decision to head to the bar. I don’t even know why I chose that particular place. It’s not like it’s my favorite bar, and I don’t go there a lot. There’s so much about yesterday that I’d like to change. Hindsight is a bitch.
After a long pause, I finally say, “Do you think I’m going to get suspended?”
There is a ruffling on the other end of the phone, as if he’s moving around or leafing through a stack of papers. Faintly I hear someone in the background talking but can’t make out who it is.
“Is there even a remote possibility that your hookup said no?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “We never even talked about leaving the bar.”
“Well, let’s hope that comes out sooner rather than later. You don’t want this hanging over your head when we get to spring training.”
He’s right. But in all reality, the tests should come back clearing me of any wrongdoing. I hope to hell that it doesn’t take months for that to happen. I’m not sure I can live my life under the scrutiny of others until then.
“I’m going to let you go, E. I need to grab some food, and you’re on vacation. You shouldn’t be coddling me because I met the wrong chick last night.”
“Call me if you need anything, and, Travis…?”
“Yeah?”