Ratchet Vampire Chronicles #2: About Delaney

So here’s the second installment of Ratchet Vampire Chronicles Season 1: About Delaney. It’s told from Delaney’s perspective which I decided to write because we always hear about women fighting over prominent men and athletes, but rarely from the men who get caught up. Of course, this whole situation will develop an intense paranormal twist. I don’t know, maybe it’s lame. You tell me. I’m all ears to your feedback and thoughts!

***This series is for mature readers! 18+ years!

The Ratchet Vampire Chronicles #2: About Delaney

At the beginning of senior year of college, I was a little shaky about my chances of going to the league. No I wasn’t the team star and didn’t get as much attention from scouts as I would have liked. Right now, the pundits were predicting me as a third-round pick at best. So of course, I was planning to get my business degree. But… come on, how do you give up something you’ve given your life to for fifteen years?

ratchet ball

I guess my fear of the unknown, of what came next, is what sucked me in.

It didn’t help when I learned my Pops had cancer. At only forty-six.

The world went into a tailspin. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. He only had a few months. My hero. The infallible guy who had an answer for everything, fixed everything and had always made a way, even when our family had been homeless. Speaking of that, the money. What would happen to my family without Pops and I didn’t make it to the NBA? My siblings? Their college? My moms?

It seems like, when one learns their loved one only has so much time, the next thirty to forty years gets squeezed into right now. All the milestones he would never be there for, or places in the world I could not take him, weighed down on me now.

I tried to pull it together for my commitments— weekend volunteering, homework, practices, family. But my mind drifted from livid to helpless to closed. I asked myself what was the point. Why spend so much time living your life the right way, only to have your life cut short? Why didn’t God ever come for the bad guys? The terrorists, rapists, torturers and dictators? Why did they always live a really long time, unless one blew themselves up? Why did some of the most hateful people on Earth live to enjoy old age? While good guys like Pops were taken too soon?

While my head was twisted backwards, introduce the whole woman situation.

My new fiancee, Bree, was phenomenal, up with me in the middle of the night while I cried and stared at the ceiling, making sure I had hot meals after games, and picking me up from teammates’ spots after I sank my spirits in a little too much to drink. Greatest girl I ever met. She was perfect. Great cook. Great sex. Took me to church. Kept my head on straight. Goofy and fun. Intelligent but not full of herself. Everything a man wants in his woman.

I had been dating Bree since eleventh grade. And I won’t lie. Her privilege and background, who her parents were— a state senator, and a top trial lawyer— was a little intimidating at first. I was pretty sure she was used to a certain caliber of dude. Since my dad was a train operator and my moms a restaurant manager, I wasn’t too sure how that would work out. But now, we were two peas in a pod. She was my angel and I would never leave her.

Then, Fallon Eriksen showed up while I struggled with questions of what would happen to me next.

“Hello, Mr. Harper. Could I interest you in a ride on my helicopter?” she said extending her firm white hand, and red-tipped nails to me, after one of my Mizzou games.

I couldn’t put my finger on her mystique. The slender, mid-height lady owned a couple of European teams as well as NBA developmental teams. Her skin was incredibly white, like perfectly untarnished porcelain on those dolls my little sister had. Wearing red lipstick with real eyelashes that stretched for days, she was beautiful. But she couldn’t have been more than thirty, so my first instinct was to brush her off. She looked too young to know what was happening. However, as she spoke, she seemed old on the inside, if that can make sense.

In fact, the more she talked, the more I got drawn into her intense golden eyes that had an eerie glow, like sparks burst inside of them. Hell, I know I sound like one of those corny mystery books when I say her eyes literally did something to me. I just wasn’t sure of what.

She took me to a couple of developmental games. Out to dinner at The American Restaurant in my hometown of Kansas City. Talked about goals and what I thought my chances were to make it to the NBA. She wanted me to consider playing for her in the developmental league. I wasn’t ready to give up on the NBA yet. I had already declared, and wanted to put my best foot forward, just for that. Didn’t want to give scouts the slightest inkling I was doubting myself, and use that as a reason to overlook me. But if that didn’t work out, I told her we could revisit it.

I must say, it was hard telling Fallon no. Sitting across from me in her fine European pantsuits, vests, and purses that looked like mini-briefcases, she carried herself like she was royalty. Here she was getting chauffeured everywhere, hopping from this helicopter to that one, getting first class service at exclusive high rise restaurants, and being followed by assistants. I made a mental note to research if she was part of some aristocracy or something.

In the couple of outings she and I had, she felt like an old friend, laughing and joking about life. A young genius, she knew so much, and was able to toss out wisdom like she had lived my problems thousands of times. How could this little pampered white girl know so much? Finances, growing up, peoples’ expectations, friends and enemies, pops’ sickness and looming death. She had some great advice on accepting death.

“Humans spend so much time on what we see. Which is quite unfortunate. The bond we share with those we love is greater than what we see. Powerful. I have been to war-torn countries where millions of people will never know the joy or power of being loved. That you got to experience it at all should make you celebrate, not cry.”

Damn. How was she so magnetic?

Through grades, ball, agents, training, the future and Pops, keeping my head on straight was my first priority. No matter how dizzying life got.

And then, finally, while I was volunteering with children every so often, in came Haley Menjivar.

Haley, Haley, Haley.

Latina fire.


2 thoughts on “Ratchet Vampire Chronicles #2: About Delaney

  1. Pingback: Ratchet Vampire Chronicles #1 (Edited): Operation Steal An Athlete | ratchetcaelan

  2. Pingback: The Ratchet Vampire Chronicles #6: Meet the Billionairess. | ratchetcaelan

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