The Game Changer: The Final Score

The Game Changer: The Final Score

By: L.M. Trio

Copyright 2013 L.M. Trio

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2013 LM Trio

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Cover Design by Melody Simmons

http://ebookindiecovers.com

Chapter 1

(Jesse)

The buzzing of my phone startles me as I lie curled up in the twin bed that I have become so familiar with since arriving at the University of South Florida several months ago.

Hey, Dad, I answer cheerfully, unconsciously fixing my hair as if he can see me through the phone. I’m good… I can’t… Not yet… Hey, why don’t you come here? The weather is so warm; you’ll love it. You need a break every now and then, I exclaim, attempting to convince him the weather is the reason I would prefer him to visit me.

Dad, it’s too soon… I’m not ready. My dad has been asking me, for the last couple of weeks, to come home for the holidays. The wounds are still raw. I haven’t been able to return to Bay Point since the day I left. Yes… Everything is fine here… You’ll love it this time of year… Dad, I have to go. I have class in a few minutes. I’m running late… Okay, love you, too. Talk to you later.

I let out a sigh, hanging up the phone, and crawl back under my comfy covers. It’s draining trying to convince him that everything is great. That’s one good thing about living over a thousand miles away. I can lie without having him know that I’ve already finished my classes for the day, ending up here, in my favorite spot; my bed.

As I lay here, my mind swirls with its usual thoughts; how, once again, my life has been dramatically altered. How could I be so wrong about something? Actually, someone? I think, as I once again replay the events of the last year over in my head.

My dad makes a point of visiting at least once a month. He rented a condo not far from my dorm for the Thanksgiving weekend. I know it made him feel good to be able to cook for me again and spend a few days together, somewhat pretending that our lives are normal. He’d love to have me home for Christmas to continue our tradition, but I’m unable to return, as of yet. I said goodbye to that street a long time ago. As much as I loved my home, I can’t get past the memory of that one awful night; I can’t go back. Not yet, anyway.

While reminiscing over my painful memories, I’m interrupted by my roommate, Mya, entering our room.

Oh good, you’re in bed. I can always count on you being more pathetic than me. For some odd reason, it cheers me up, she says drearily as she climbs in the bed across from mine.

Mya is from Chicago. We are night and day on some levels, but we get along great. I figure it’s probably because we both are so damn depressing. At least I try to hide my sad, sad life from everyone, but not Mya; she’s your stereotypical, morbid, gothic girl. Way too thin, wears nothing except black, has a piercing in her eyebrow, tattoos all over her pale-white skin, jet-black hair—usually with streaks of some crazy new color each week—dark, red lips, and she smokes like a fiend. Not to mention, she’s promiscuous. She hardly ever goes out, yet, when she does, she always manages to pick up some random guy that is just as dark as her. Actually, she’s a pretty girl, if you can get past all of the darkness that she hides behind.

I figured we were paired together, not because of our troublesome lives, but because we are both enrolled in the art program at USF. I wasn’t sure what to make of her at first, but, to be honest, I really didn’t care. I wasn’t here to make friends, and likewise for Mya. She had me pegged wrong from the first time she met me.

It’s hard to remember how we came to bond in the first place, though it wasn’t long before we both realized we share more in common than we originally thought.

While I manage to lose everyone that I love, Mya comes from a family that doesn’t know how to love. Well, that’s not entirely true. They do love their money, which makes Mya rebel against anything to do with it, except for the all-expenses-paid college experience.

We often joke about whose shitty life is worse and, in the process, we’ve become really good friends.

Bringing her into the group of my other friends has been a little more interesting. I’ll never forget Mikey’s first visit to my dorm at USF. He was just coming off a two week road trip on Florida’s east coast and I wasn’t expecting him. I was sitting at my desk working on an assignment while Mya answered the knock at the door.

Holy shit, I hear the familiar voice trail in through the doorway. Typical Mikey, doesn’t hold back his thoughts.

Who are you? Mya asks bluntly in her monotone voice while glaring at him; dressed in her darkest gothic wear with streaks of blue scattered throughout her jet black hair.

Who the hell are you? he shoots back, eyeing her up and down.

"Mya, it’s my friend… My very rude friend. Let him in please," I intercede, jumping from my chair and rushing to the door, giving Mikey the evil eye to zip it.

Mya mumbles something under her breath that can’t be heard, but I’m assuming it isn’t nice. Mikey smirks as he arrogantly walks past her, picks me up in a bear hug, and swings me around.

What are you doing here? I laugh, quickly forgiving his rudeness, as he twirls me around. I’m happy to see a familiar face.

Just got back, thought I’d surprise you and see if you wanted to get somethin’ to eat? he asks.

Sure; where?

We’ll decide along the way, he says, leading me out the door.

I turn back to Mya. Mya… do you want to come with us? Mikey’s treating, since he was so rude earlier. I laugh, giving him a wink.

No thanks, I’ll pass, she grumbles.

We aren’t out of the door for a second before Mikey begins to badger me. What the hell is with Morticia? JJ, please don’t tell me that’s your roommate?

Yes, she is… And that’s not nice… We get along fine.

Yeah, of course you do, he says with sarcasm. You’re supposed to be here to cheer up, not to want to slit your wrists… Great, now I have to worry about Morticia bringing you down.

I laugh, loving the way Mikey just says it like it is because I know in all honesty, he does worry about me. If nothing else, Mikey is loyal to the people he cares about.

Trust me; I’m not going to slit my wrists… You have nothing to worry about… And her name is Mya, by the way.

Later that night, after returning home, it doesn’t take long before Mya makes it clear that she isn’t so fond of him, either. I really can’t believe you are friends with someone like him. He’s so fucking full of himself; it’s written all over his perfect, arrogant face. Typical, egotistical jock, she exclaims. I laugh, unable to argue his case. In some ways, she’s right.

However, as the months pass, and Mikey continues to faithfully do his weekly visits, Mya and he decide to call a truce; trying on some level to get along. She even agrees to attend a couple of his games with me and we all grab a bite to eat afterwards. I actually think they enjoy pretending not to like each other.

Deanna on the other hand, is having a tougher time accepting Mya as my friend. Her visit for a long weekend a little while back has her petrified of Mya and she’s afraid for me to be living alone with her. She honestly believes Mya is going to kill me in my sleep.

Then again, Mya wasn’t on her best behavior when Deanna visited. I know Mya well enough to realize she was intimidated by Deanna’s beauty, confidence, and our friendship; which in turn, caused Mya to act out more so than usual. Deanna tried her best to be nice, but Mya wasn’t having it. She laid on the psycho, depressed girl routine pretty thick.

Sadly, my dad has the same impression. Although Mya is pleasant whenever he is around, she scares the hell out of him. I know that he’s thinking, in the back of his mind, that it’s only a matter of time before I show up on his doorstep dressed in Mya’s attire.

I know they all think I’m vulnerable and will be pulled to the dark side once again, with Mya leading the way. Even though my life isn’t what I want it to be, I am making the best of it and moving on. I do my best to assure my dad and Deanna that all is well.

I haven’t made many friends, other than Mya, since attending USF. It doesn’t help having her as a roommate. She’s just as content as me to mope around and lay in bed all day; both of us refusing to socialize with anyone other than each other. At least I’m polite enough to talk with my classmates. I’ve even been invited to a few parties, but I have yet to take anyone up on their offer; although, I have studied in the library with a few of my classmates on several occasions.

Mikey is being a good friend, not only is he protective, but he somewhat takes over the role of Deanna in the friend department; especially since we only have each other here in Florida.

I was thankful we immediately cleared the air about the kiss we shared the night that everything went down. I was feeling rejected and drunk; he was trying to console me, knowing I felt rejected. There was nothing more to it. We were more than happy to put that moment of insanity behind us. It was another senseless act during a night full of regrets. We agreed to wipe the moment from our memory and never speak of it again. It was the first time I had actually seen Mikey embarrassed to talk about something, but I was glad when he brought it up; so it won’t be hanging between us, getting in the way of our friendship.

We have this unspoken bond between us that keeps us close. Each believing that staying close with each other makes us feel closer to Luke and Deanna in some way. Although neither one of us will admit to it.

I try to attend at least a game or two each week that he’s playing home or close to it. It gets me out of my room. I enjoy watching him play, but it’s hard sometimes. I can’t help being reminded of when Luke was playing alongside him. Mikey and I never discuss Luke, although I get the feeling that sometimes he would like to. I always manage to change the subject before he gets the chance. Mikey wants me to be happy, so he always lets me. He’s even encouraged me to meet more people from school; make friends and get out once in awhile. I’m trying, although my progress is slowly moving along.

Other than the fact that they don’t get to see each other as much as they would like, Deanna and Mikey’s relationship hasn’t changed much. He loves discussing the girl of the week in front of her, knowing it annoys her to all hell. As well as just the mention of any guy from her is enough to infuriate him. Some things never change.

Chapter 2

(Luke)

Luciano DiAngelo! I hear my name being called from the guard standing by the door. I look forward to Saturdays. Visiting day. I like the sound of getting called for a visitor. My dad is my one constant. I don’t allow Deanna or my mom to see me here. It’s dirty and rather disturbing. I don’t want them to know the way I am living, but at least I call to keep in touch. My friends from high school arrange the occasional visits, however, most are busy with school and their lives. I appreciate the effort none the less.

Mikey is as faithful as ever. We talk at least twice a week and whenever he has a Saturday free, he makes it a point to visit. I know firsthand that if you’re lucky enough to have a Saturday free in baseball, there are much better things to do than visit a prison. However, Mikey shows up, no matter what, with a story and a laugh. If I’m having a bad week, he senses it. He’ll make a special trip to fly in early on a Saturday only to head back that same afternoon to be at his game that evening.

I was transferred here, the state penitentiary, not long after arriving at the local police department. The state facility is a whole different experience than the local PD. As the guard pushes aside the steel door to my cage, the knot that settles in the pit of my stomach yanks at my insides. My room is dark, musty and gloomy. There is a constant stench of urine coming from the surrounding cages.

Everything in this place is quite the opposite of the world I once knew. I sometimes feel as if I’ll never make it through till the end. It feels as though I’ve been here for years, although, only months have passed.

When I first arrived, I wrote letters of apology to everyone I hurt, including the family members of Dale Cummings, the man I killed. I feel nothing except regret for everything that happened that dreadful day. Even though I apologized in court, I wanted them to know that I was remorseful for the outcome of that day. I am responsible for someone losing their life. I deserve this.

I wasn’t the wise guy they made me out to be; I had never hurt anyone physically in my life. I thought I was helping that girl; she was hurt. To this day, I replay it over and over in my head. Would I have done something different? I doubt it. Regardless, because of my actions, he died, and for that and many other things, I am regretful. This is where I belong.

I honestly admit to myself, though, that the night that haunts me the most is the last night at home. It’s the one I feel I deserve to be punished for more than any other because of the pain I caused JJ. I humiliated her. I betrayed her. I will never forget that last look in her eyes. I can barely stand to look at myself in the scratched, rectangular, clouded mirror that hangs before me. In it, I see a distorted image of someone that barely resembles me. I hate the person staring back.

I write JJ many letters, it’s one of the things I do to occupy myself. Each one, a guide to the emotional rollercoaster I have been on since the day I arrived. At first, I begged for her forgiveness. I need her forgiveness. I need her. Yet, I can’t bring myself to send any of these letters. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. I don’t deserve her. How could I ask for her forgiveness when I haven’t forgiven myself?

Early on, my dad mentions that David asked for a visit.

Dad, I don’t know. I’m not sure I can face him. He trusted me and I betrayed that trust, I answer.

Luciano, I’m not going to tell you what to do, it’s you’re decision. Let me know if you change your mind. You two were close; why not hear what he has to say? Maybe it will ease some of the hurt you are feeling.

Maybe not, I answer.

Maybe not, my dad agrees.

I know the look in my dad’s eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. It is something I need to do. No, it is something I have to do. I owe David. He trusted me with JJ, and I betrayed him as well.

I don’t want to see him, though. I’m scared. I don’t need him to remind me how much I hurt his daughter. I live with it every day. However, if I can’t tell her how sorry I am, at least I can tell her father that I never meant for things to turn out this way. I finally agree to a visit.

I sit down in front of the smeared glass window, picking up the phone hanging on the wall while signaling to David to pick up the other end.

Hey, Luke… How ya doin'? David asks. I see compassion in David’s face when he looks at me. I wonder how he can feel anything for me other than hate.

I’m okay… I’m good, I lie, barely able to look at him.

You don’t look so good; you’ve lost weight.

I miss your cookin’. A forced smile falls from my face. Thankfully, David laughs at my attempt to ease the tension.

Look, the reason I’m here… He pauses. I’m not here to talk about what happened between you and JJ… We are friends, right? I nod in agreement. My heart tightens at the sound of her name. I finally look David in the eyes, clenching my jaw tight. He deserves my full attention. You and my daughter meant a lot to each other. I can’t forget all of the good things you did for her. I know it ended bad, but…

I could feel my eyes begin to well up and I hold up my hand to stop David from continuing. The last thing I want to do here, in this place, is cry. Crying shows weakness. You can’t dare to show weakness in this place. Nevertheless, I have to say what I need to say, I owe him this. David was always good to me. I ask him to give me a minute while I take a deep breath and try to compose myself.

I never meant for things to end the way they did… I loved her… I hate myself for hurting her… but, she was ready to give up everything… She was ready to back out of school… stay home… visit me here every week. Do you think I would want her to see me here, like this? I’m wrecked David… look at me, I choke out, holding out my arms and pointing to myself. I couldn’t have that. She deserves better. I’m not proud of what I did, trust me… I live with it every day… I should have done it different… I… The lump in my throat is growing. I can barely find my voice as it begins to quiver.

David stops me, cuts me off midsentence. He notices me getting emotional, and I know that is not what he wants.

"Luke. Stop. I know why you did it. I know you love her. I take note that David uses the present tense. That’s what I want to tell you. I’ll admit I was upset for a while. But you’re right… She moved down there by herself. She loves the art program at USF… She seems to be doing okay… I think it was the best thing for her. I knew she was considering passing up her scholarship and I almost let her. I would have done the easy thing and given in to her, which would have been a mistake. You made the tough choice and let her go."

I nod my head in agreement. My heart is sitting in my throat and I can’t muster up the words to say more. Although, I feel that David’s reason for the visit is to make me feel better, I’m not quite sure that it has. I don’t want to think of her moving on without me. Then again, it’s better than the alternative; I was afraid that I had destroyed her for good.

That’s enough about that. I just want to let you know that I understand. David waves away his hand, dismissing the conversation. He changes the topic from JJ to his genuine concern for my well being. You need to focus on getting stronger and getting your life back. You need to find a way to get through this, he says.

David stays for as long as the guard allows. After the initial conversation is put aside, I realize that David is here as my friend, not as my ex-girlfriend’s father. We discuss David’s job and catch up on sports, which has always been one of our favorite conversations and debates.

After my time is up, I say goodbye to David and thank him for the visit. I wonder if he is going to tell JJ that he visited, somehow, I doubt it.

***

The first year crawls by. I often feel as if time is standing still and I will never leave this place. I begin to scribble in my yellow legal notepad…

"When I first got here, a few of the guys told me I would get used to being in jail, but I don’t know how that is possible. It’s been over a year, and every morning that I wake up, I’m still surprised that I am here. I still feel as if I’m stuck in a nightmare, unable to wake up. Do you ever think of me? I know I have no right to ask. All I ever do is think in this shit hole. Some days, I wish I’d get jumped while walking down the hallway. Maybe I’ll end up with brain damage and my previous life will be erased from my mind. I think it will make things easier for me, not knowing what I lost. As you can see, I’m having one of my bad days. Maybe next week I won’t feel so beaten down. It gets harder, not easier. I miss you. I love you always… Luke"

Chapter 3

(Jesse)

The smell of Cuban coffee from the nearby café and the heat from the morning sun feel good against my skin as I stroll down 7th Avenue towards The Blue Martini. I love living in Ybor City. The exotic blend of aromas, flavors, sights and sounds of this city make me feel more alive. There are plenty of galleries, shops and restaurants nestled among the red brick buildings with their wrought iron balconies and cobblestone streets to keep me busy. Mya and I moved here immediately following our freshman year.

We heard about Ybor City from a couple of our classmates that were in the art program along with us. We found a cool studio apartment on top of a cigar shop. We fell in love with it the second we saw it. The light that pours in through the huge wall-length windows is perfect for Mya while she’s sculpting, and me while painting. There is plenty of space for the two of us and all of our supplies. We each have our own room on opposite sides of the apartment, which are enclosed by huge sliding wooden doors for privacy. In the center of the two private rooms is a large living area that opens to the kitchen.

The studio is decorated with our own paintings and sculptures. We agree the final outcome is pretty awesome, giving the apartment an artsy edge to it. It’s our own personal gallery. We visited antique shops and yard sales on weekends, searching for unique pieces of furniture, and we refurbished everything to our liking.

I began my hostess job at The Blue Martini shortly following my move to Ybor City. My manager, Cheryl, and I hit it off immediately. She’s willing to work around my class schedule, and I make a decent amount of money.

Cheryl was kind enough to let me use The Blue this year for my annual fund raising event at no charge. The Blue Martini is a trendy restaurant/lounge in town. Last year, I held a small, last minute fundraiser at my school, with the help of my teacher. I somewhat dropped the ball, but managed to bring in a little under five hundred dollars for the Olivia Martell Foundation. At the time, I was having a hard enough time keeping up with my studies; not to mention, I spent a good part of my year reeling from my break-up with Luke.

As time goes on, I find myself in a much better place; starting with moving into our own apartment and landing my job at The Blue. I felt so confined, living in that small dorm room Mya and I shared. At first, it didn’t matter to me, but as time passed, I needed to get out. I’m finally getting myself back on track. I’ve been hoping to expand the fundraiser and The Blue Martini will be the perfect spot to reach my goal.

My art professor is helping with the plans, giving me some tips, and several of the art students are donating their work for sale at the event. It’s a win-win situation for the students. We will make twenty-five percent profit from any art work that is auctioned and the rest will go to the foundation. It’s a way for the students to get their work out there to the public, and it’s also exciting anytime someone is willing to pay for something you create. The paintings and sculptures are being auctioned off, while jewelry, pottery and other donated items will have sale tags attached with part of the proceeds going to the foundation. I was touched by the many local businesses willing to donate their services and gift items to the fundraiser. Mikey was able to get tickets to several Rays’ games, along with some autographed MLB memorabilia to add to the items up for the Chinese Auction.

He was recently promoted to the Double A Montgomery Biscuits and will be leaving soon. It’s great for him. He’s doing so well and the way things are looking, he’ll be in the majors