The Player Part 2 ... It's Not About Me

A ruined man fell from her hands like a ripe fruit,
to lie rotting on the ground.
― Émile Zola

Reese

“Always a player," Reese hisses as she dismisses me.

She conveniently forgets she crafted my marketing program and thought casting me as a man-about-town author would enhance my image and draw attention to my 'brand.'

The truth is she believes her image of me despite the fact I spend countless nights alone writing—secretly wishing she'd notice me.

But it's not going to happen any time soon and I might as well face it.

We do a short TV spot for Entertainment Buzz, ‘to prime the pump’ for The Randall Mystery Series and then we head home to get ready for the celeb party.

Reese is already on her cell. “Hi Daddy, it’s me—just checking in. We did a spot on The Buzz Tonight—you can catch it at seven—Byeee!”

I feel sad for her. “You know he won’t watch it. I doubt your dad ever sits down and watches TV.”

Her eyes flash.

“Don’t you dare make a comment about my family. My personal life is none of your business.”

I try to calm her. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Reese.”

She gives me her withering look. “Yeah, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Hey, don’t you think you should keep your eyes on the road?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to tell me how to drive?”

At that moment, I spot movement from a nearby field. A deer bounds from the underbrush and comes floating over the road.

“Watch out!” I shout, and Reese swerves, but clips it. She manages to fishtail to the side of the road.

I make sure she’s all right, then go back and check out the deer. It’s a female and her left hind leg is bleeding. I take off my coat, and wrap it around her, and phone the number posted on the signs along the road.

Reese comes back, trembling and remorseful. “Is it hurt bad?”

“I don’t think so,” I reassure her. “Why don’t you go back and wait in the car until help arrives?”

She nods and walks back along the soft shoulder to the idling Lexus.

It takes about an hour, but eventually the wildlife rescue arrive—two paramedics—a man and a woman. They say the injury is mostly cuts and bruises—no bones broken.

As I go to leave, the woman shakes my hand. “Not many would stop—and I’m afraid your leather coat is ruined—the lining’s all blood-stained.”

“That’s okay,” I tell her, “I’m just glad the deer’s going to be all right.”

She sees my pained expression and pats me gently on the shoulder. “She’ll recover—but you better get back to your warm car –it’s freezing out here.”

When I get back, Reese is in a foul mood. “Do you have to try to pick up every woman you meet?

“It’s not like that Reese.”

“Well, Lori’s furious. I just got off the phone with her. She wants us at the party by eight—and it’s already past six.”

“We’ve got lots of time.”

“Sure, sure we do lover boy—not like you have to put on makeup and do your hair.”

The ride home is frosty.

© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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