You Belong With Me

You Belong With Me

I have always known Joe. Our mothers had us playing together while we were still in diapers. Our houses were next to one another and, as luck would have it, so were our bedroom windows.

I could see Joe in his room, and he could also see me. We each knew it and because we were so young, we never felt the need to hide anything from the other.

That lasted until we hit puberty. Each of us was growing in our own separate ways. The shades started to be drawn, unless one or the other was kind of showing off. But sometimes, I turned off the lights and peeked at Joe through some binoculars I had. I learned something that I intuitively knew was his big secret.

At about that time, Joe started playing football. And he was good at it. He was also getting pretty tall. In 8^th grade Joe was already 6 feet tall.

I, on the other hand, was the definition of the Ugly Duckling. I was all odd angles and nothing was coming along the way I wanted it to. My hair was a mess, my face was nothing to remember, my boobs were non-existent and looked more like a couple of fried eggs than boobs. My only saving grace was that I was pretty smart.

Joe was attracting a lot of attention from the other girls in school. As we entered High School, Joe was a formidable 6’2” and 190 pounds. I knew this because the Athletic Department was beginning to tout him as the Quarterback of the decade. And this information was on the roster list. And the girls were all flocking to be with him.

But I kept thinking “You belong with me, not them.”

I was mostly forgotten, unless Joe was doing homework and needed a hand. Which I was always more than willing to provide.

I was on track to complete High School in three years. Joe was on the normal path of four years.

As school rolled on, Joe really was the QB the school wanted to show off. Our school won a lot of games with Joe under center. And that attracted a lot of college recruiters.

Whenever Joe and I got the chance to talk, he would say which schools were trying harder to recruit him than others. He asked my opinion and since I was ready to head to college a year earlier than he, I was way ahead of him there.

Stanford had been on my list for a long time. I applied and was accepted. I told Joe if Stanford was on his list, no matter what happened with football, he’d have a great education to fall back on. He agreed.

But Mary Jo Martin, the Cheer Leader Captain, was trying her best to get him to go where she was going. Or rather where she could get admitted. Her grades were abysmal.

Joe was also smart. He could get into just about any school he wanted on scholastics alone. Sports just ensured he would have a free education and get paid under the new Name, Image and Likeness (NIL) rules. He would probably be a multi-millionaire before he signed his first professional contract.

I knew Mary Jo would try to keep her hooks on Joe. But as soon as they graduated, Joe left her in the dust. I thought again and again of how Joe belonged with me.

But how would it look if the star quarterback went together with the Ugly Duckling? It just wasn’t in the cards.

Whenever Joe and I got together, I made sure I told him of the value of NIL at Stanford v no name college where Mary Jo would be going. And how the Stanford program was looked at by the pros.

I graduated and began my studies at Stanford. I wanted to be a lawyer and specialize in Sports Agency. I was also a fairly good journalist and started writing sports articles for the school paper.

That was a huge advantage for me. I was allowed unlimited free access to the players and coaches, and I got to travel with the teams. I limited myself to the football team. I still had my studies and also, I wanted to be around Joe, in the event he decided to attend Stanford.

As luck would have it, Joe signed with Stanford. I knew I would be interviewing him for a few years.

Just like in high school, I worked to graduate early from college.  I put myself on the three-year track there too.

My advisor knew of my long-term goals and said if I applied to the Stanford Law School, I would probably be a shoe-in with my grades.

When Joe entered the school, I met up with him. One, I wanted to show him around campus and two, just to be with him. I had to get to him before all of the more affluent and pretty women around got their hands on him.

In my mind, Joe and I were always together as husband and wife. But I was still way behind in female development.

I felt sure Joe wouldn’t be all that interested in most of the Stanford coeds. They lacked the thing I believed he wanted most in a woman. And for them being so smart, not one of them ever cracked the code.

Remember, I had been peeking through his window for a long time when we were kids. I knew what he was looking at on his computer. And no, it was not porn.

I also discovered that someone that had the attraction Joe had rarely changed.

I was still interviewing the football team, and especially Joe, for my regular articles in the paper. Because I knew Joe so well, I had more information on him than ESPN. And we were able to spend a lot of time together.

About a year before I graduated from college, my body finally caught up with my age. My ugly duckling stage was coming to an end. Finally! At the age of 19 my dorkiness was ending. And guys were actually hitting on me for a change.

Joe noticed the changes in me. But he was also still being hit on by just about any coed on campus with daddy’s credit card and access to the best salons around. He had his pick of beautiful women on campus.

I wasn’t ready to play my hole card. At least not yet.

I graduated and got into Stanford law school. Joe was in his second year of eligibility and was on track to graduate and get drafted by an NFL team. By now, Joe stood at 6’5” and 230 pounds. His workout routine was strict and he looked great. He was the definition of a stud.

My attraction to Joe was getting stronger as time went on. I knew that attraction was actually love. But Joe wasn’t giving me indications he had any emotions whatsoever for me.

The other women on campus noticed Joe. How could they not? I always knew they were after him and I kept trying to get to see him for interviews as often as possible.

My mind was screaming – Joe, You Belong With Me – every time I was with him. But it just wasn’t happening.

Law school was three years of study. There is no accelerating it. By my third year, recruiters from some large firms were making appointments to hire new talent. I let it be known I was only interested in those firms that specialized in professional sports figures.

I was given several offers, and I accepted one to become a junior member of one of those firms. Luckily, they also specialized in football players. And they had offices in cities with all of the major sports.

Long story short here. I graduated, passed the bar and began assisting other more senior members. This was an important step for me.

I learned more about how the contracts were administered and written to the benefit of our clients. And how the pro teams were limited in what they could and could not do because of their agreements with the players union and financial caps from the league.

After a couple of years of doing this, I felt ready to begin getting some of my own players on contract instead of being an assistant to a more senior partner.

I needed that one Grade A player to make it into the big time.

Joe had been drafted high by an NFL team. It was a good quarterback class and Joe was the 4^th QB selected in the first round of the draft. But the team that drafted him was terrible. It sold to new owners with deep pockets during his second year. The new owners installed a new coaching staff, and they wanted to spend money to get quality players. They planned to build the team around Joe, and they were starting to turn things around.

His team was also in the city where my firm had an office and that’s where I worked. Things were lining up for me.

After two seasons Joe’s rookie contract was rumored to be renegotiated. The new owners were rumored to want to lock him up to a long-term contract.

But Joe was represented by another agent.

I spoke to a senior partner about getting in and grabbing Joe away from his agent. He doubted we could do it. Joe’s agent was well known, and from the outside, Joe appeared to be doing well with him.

We talked about possible strategies. There was one card I had never played with Joe. I hoped it was my Ace in the Hole.

For one thing, I was the Ugly Duckling from puberty until later in college. Then I kind of sprouted. My figure was now something I was proud of. I had a trainer at the gym I attended, and we worked out regularly to ensure everything was at its best.

My hair had always been something the girls in high school snickered about behind my back. It was lank, long and the color was a horrible shade of brown. Mousy brown would have been a kind description.

No more. Somehow, my hair had gotten thick, wavy and a nice shade of auburn. It was down between my shoulder blades. A very professional appearance for one of the juniors in the firm.

I didn’t look at all like my High School yearbook photo. Nobody who knew me in high school would recognize me today.

I knew I was one of the few people who had Joe’s private phone number. We used it at Stanford to schedule interviews. Joe was still using it.

I told our senior partner I would like to try and see what reaction I might get with Joe. He agreed but cautioned me about stealing a client away from another agent. I had to be very careful.

The season was coming to an end. Unfortunately, Joe’s team was out of playoff contention. I texted Joe suggesting we meet up and check in on each other.

I also knew Joe was not seeing another woman. At least on a regular basis. My research about his peculiar interest appeared to be spot on.

Joe agreed to meet for dinner after the season ended.

We met at a very nice restaurant and got a private table where we could talk. As is usual with sports figures of his stature, the maître d comped us the meal. Ensuring sports figures came to their restaurant was good for business. I doubted Joe ever bought his own dinner. The only thing he signed were autographs, not checks.

We spoke about a lot of things. I already knew most of his story. It was public knowledge. But Joe wanted to know how I was doing and what I was doing.

I told him. And I also hinted that my firm would be very interested in representing him going forward. Joe seemed interested in this. But he also hinted that he would like me to be the agent doing the representations if the firm would allow that to happen. Our childhood friendship was a strong attraction and a bond of trust between us both.

I was ecstatic. I tried to hide my excitement and remained professional. I just told him I would see what I could do and that we ought to see each other again soon.

I told my senior partner about our discussion. He agreed I should keep the dialogue open and flowing and see what we could do.

The season was now officially over. Joe and I were scheduled to meet again for dinner in a week. I had plans. These plans had been in the making since I spied on Joe’s Internet interests when we were kids.

Joe was always looking at pictures of women with short hair. And not just pictures, but YouTube videos too. And he always stared at the ones with very short hair. He kept coming back to them time and again. He thought his secret was his alone. He had no idea I had been spying using my binoculars from my darkened room.

I had been going to the same salon for several years. Ever since I started with the law firm.

My stylist was named Jason. It took me a while to find him and his specialty, which was short hair. Plus, he had a great sense of style. He even told me flat out that in his view, once a woman’s hair got longer than just brushing her shoulders, it wasn’t a style. It was a length. He liked to do shorter styles on women.

That was one reason I was going to him. I knew that if and when I asked for a shorter cut, he wouldn’t try and talk me out of it the way most stylists would, especially a woman stylist.

I had been keeping mine a little longer than Jason’s preference. But it was in keeping with most of the women in my firm.

I was about to change all of that.

I made an appointment with Jason for the afternoon prior to my next dinner with Joe.

I walked into the salon. Shaking. Even though I had been planning on this visit for years, I was still nervous about losing my hair today. Hair that had only within the last few years been anything but a curse to me.

I liked how it looked and how it moved. And now, after 25 years, I was going to cut it all off.

I wondered what Jason’s reaction to my request would be.

I was greeted warmly by the receptionist and offered some water. What I really wanted was a good two fingers of single malt to help calm me down. But I accepted the water.

Jason came out and hugged me. He indicated I should follow him to his station.

As I sat down, Jason looked at me, and he knew something was up. “Casey, you look nervous. Something’s up. What’s going on?”

I looked at him and said I wanted to make a change. Jason’s eyes twinkled and he had a big grin on his face.

“How big of a change are we making?”

“Very big. I want it really short. One of your specials.” His eyes twinkled.

Jason had told me about his specials. He loved going very short with women. They were his trademark.

His grin got even bigger. I could tell he was excited as well. But his excitement wasn’t due to nervousness like mine. It was professional delight.

“Do you have anything specific in mind or are we playing it by ear?”

“I think I can leave it up to your judgment. If it’s not short enough, I’ll let you know.”

“Casey, I don’t think you are going to have to tell me it isn’t short enough.” And we both laughed at that comment. It broke the ice nicely.

“OK, first of all, we need pictures for the salon. I want to do a before and after view of your cut. It’ll be fantastic.”

Jason guided me over to a wall with a curtain in front of it. He had me pose in quite a few different ways to get a good look at my hair and me.

Then it was back to a shampoo, done by an assistant.

When the assistant finished my shampoo, I went back to his station and I could see he had all of his tools out, ready to make the big change.

Most prominently displayed were his cordless electric clippers. Oh boy.

Jason began talking. “Casey, are there any restrictions or desires you want? If there are, I need to know now before we get too far.”

“Just short. I’ve seen pictures of your wife Kathy here.”

Jason had a lot of photos of his wife posted around the salon. And he changed them out regularly. During some of my previous visits, I had asked who the model was. Her hair was very short. Not a buzz, just very, very short. She looked great.

“I’d like something along those lines if you think it would be good for me.”

Jason beamed at me. “That is exactly what I was planning for you while you were back for the shampoo. I think it’ll be perfect. Just to be clear here. You are OK with whitewalls, right?”

I grinned back. “Perfectly OK.”

“Great, now I can have some fun.” Fun for Jason; I was still shaking.

Then he began combing out my hair. But he didn’t seem to be too careful. The reason soon became apparent to me.

He quickly picked up a pair of fairly large scissors and came to me. At my hair. And then he began chopping my hair off. Not a lot of discussion, just cutting.

I wasn’t sure if he was doing this quickly to ensure I wasn’t going to change my mind; I wasn’t. All I knew was what I saw, and what I saw was a lot of what had been my hair was now on the cape and then onto the floor.

Jason started the conversation. “So, what brought this on? I thought you were a pretty committed long hair type of woman. This is kind of sudden, isn’t it?”

“Not really. I’ve been planning this for a long time, and the time was right to do this now. At least I hope the time is right. I have a business meeting tonight and I wanted to look good for the client.”

“OK, so it’s not a breakup haircut or anything.”

“Nope. But I need to impress this client and hopefully something good comes out of it.”

“Gotcha. Well, I hope the client is impressed. Because if they’ve known you for a while, this style is certainly going to be a shock.”

“That is exactly what I hope happens.” And then I stopped this line of conversation.

“So, tell me what you’re going to do and what you’re doing while you cut it.”

“Right now, I’m just reducing the bulk. You have a lot of hair, and I need to get it down to where I can actually start cutting the style we’re after. You mentioned you’ve seen and apparently been impressed with how I cut Kathy’s hair. So, we’re going to see where we go with her cut as a point of departure. I can’t have two models looking exactly the same now, can I?”

“Does that mean my cut will be quite a bit different than hers?” “Not quite a bit, but different enough.”

Hmmm. Now I wondered what did “different enough” mean?

Kathy’s pictures showed the white walls I expected. Her hair on the top was a good 4 inches long. Maybe even 5 inches. Her bangs were sometimes up and sometimes drawn across her forehead, and she could comb it around for different looks. That was the look I somewhat expected.

But now I wondered what Jason was planning for me that was “different enough.”

All the while Jason had been cutting my hair down to something more manageable for the final cut he envisioned. By now it was probably 4 inches all over.

He put his large scissors down. Then he picked up a smaller pair and began cutting again.

Using his scissors over comb, he cut pass after pass of hair on the sides and back. Lots of hair was on the cape and floor. After 15 minutes my hair was as short as most men had theirs. I had what I would have called a typical men’s style. Lots of men at the firm had theirs like mine was now.

Jason put these scissors down but kept the comb in his hand. With his free hand he then picked up the clippers. He selected an attachment for the clippers and came at me with his new tools.

Using the comb as a guide he lifted some hair and cut across the comb cutting more and more off. Turning my head from side to side I couldn’t see any skin, I knew it was nowhere near finished.

Most women would have stopped right here. It was a cute style and length for most of them. But I wanted shorter.

Finished on the sides and back, he put down his comb and then used the clippers alone with the same guide on them. Starting on the left side he pushed them up, and after the first pass, I could now see my skin when I moved my head a little to the right. Not a lot of skin, there was still some hair there, but the skin showed through.

He did this all around my head. “Now we’re going to get a bit interesting. This is a little longer than Kathy’s. I’m going to take it down to be something shorter than hers.”

He selected another attachment for his clippers. This one was yellow and looked smaller than the red one he had been using.

I was getting a little nervous. Had I gone too far in asking for such a short cut? I had never had short hair at all and now the sides were really short. And Jason was talking about going shorter.

I decided to just let Jason do his thing. He certainly seemed to know exactly what he wanted to accomplish here.

When he pushed the clippers up on my left side, I could see little balls of hair come rolling down the cape. I turned my head again to the right and now my skin showed clearly where he had cut. I was sure it was shorter than Kathy’s.

“Wow, when we said white walls, we weren’t kidding.” Jason replied, “I kind of skipped a step here. Kathy’s was just a bit shorter than yours when I used the other guide. For you I just went right to the shortest guide I have. This is almost a shave on your sides and yes, it is shorter than Kathy’s. It will actually extend the cut and last you another week or so between visits, if this is what you want to keep.”

OK I thought. The different enough part was becoming apparent to me now.

Jason seemed to be finished with his clippers. He put them down and went back for his comb and scissors.

He started at my crown and grabbed the hair there and cut it down to no more than an inch. It stood straight up. While I gathered my composure at this little surprise, he continued cutting. Nothing was longer than an inch.

As he got closer to the front, I thought it was getting a bit longer than the rest of the top.

“So how long are we going here?” Jason looked at me in the mirror and continued cutting. “I want to have a graduated length from back to front. It will be short until we get to the bangs. Trust me, you’re going to love it and hopefully your client will too.”

“How long will the bangs be?” Jason let out a breath. “Your bangs are actually going to be a little longer. You have a fairly high forehead. If I cut the bangs too short, it won’t look right at all. It depends on how things go. But right now, your hair is behaving even better than I had planned. Casey, you were made for this cut.”

Longer bangs. Huh. That was not something I had ever planned for, and I was glad Jason had taken my forehead into account when he decided to give me bangs. Something I had never had before.

Jason continued his cutting. It was severely short. I had complete faith in Jason. I just wondered what the final version of me would look like.

When Jason got to the bangs, he stood in front of me. I couldn’t see what was going on. I saw small bits of hair fall past my nose and knew these were the longer bangs Jason spoke about.

When he moved to my side, I got my first look at what I looked like.

I immediately loved it. All of my apprehension disappeared. This was a stunning haircut. Was Jason finished?

Apparently not. He then picked up another set of clippers. But this one was much smaller than the ones he had been using.

“Casey, stay very still”. Going freehand, he carefully guided them over the top of my head cutting small bits of hair down to what he thought was a more uniform length.

Then he used them to carefully take my sides and back even shorter and then outlined whatever small bit of hair remained.

He put the clippers away. He was done cutting.

He then went to his counter and picked up a jar of something and put a small dollop of the product in his hands and rubbed them together. He rubbed his hands into my hair making it shine and hold it in place. Although I wondered how it could ever move with it being so short.

My bangs kind of floated over my forehead. They were maybe 3 or even 4 inches long. In contrast to the really short hair everywhere else, it was a daring look.

Jason then removed the cape and tissue, then handing me a mirror, he asked me what I thought while he turned the chair in a circle.

What I had thought was short hair on the sides was even shorter in reality. I swear it was shaved. I reached my hand up to feel it. Barely any stubble to my touch. It wasn’t quite smooth, but not by much. I could definitely feel skin.

Continuing moving up I felt the top. It was so short my fingers went over the hair instead of through it. And the one inch hair was standing up. I don’t know if I had any optional styles I could get out of this cut.

Jason confirmed my assessment. “Casey, as you can see, this is a really short cut. It will limit you to what you can do. Your hair wants to stand up and that is a benefit I hoped for but wasn’t counting on. I got lucky and I think so are you. The bangs are intended to give it a fun look and won’t be as severe looking as shorter bangs would.”

I continued looking and feeling my new style. I loved it more with each passing minute.

“Jason, I love it. I can’t wait for my dinner meeting.”

“Great. Come on over and we’ll take those after pictures I spoke about.”

And off we went to the curtained wall again. Jason took a lot of pictures.

I paid Jason’s fee, bought some of the product he used, and made another appointment for 3 weeks out. I was sure I would be keeping this style for a while.

I was betting everything on the next few hours.

Then I headed home to change for dinner and what I hoped would be a very receptive audience in Joe.

I had bought a nice little racy outfit for special occasions. Actually, I had never worn it. I bought it for a “Just in Case” occasion. Tonight was that occasion.

I drove over to the restaurant where Joe made the reservation. The staff escorted me back to the table and there sat Joe, waiting.

When he saw the person walking his way, I could see he gave me a long look. My guess was he liked the view of the short haired woman coming close.

Then recognition hit him. As I got to the table, he just sat there. Stunned. The staff member took my chair out for me and I sat down. Joe still hadn’t moved. His mouth was open, but no sound came out.

I thought I had better start the conversation. “Hi Joe, are you OK?” Finally, Joe came out of his stupor. His face lit up, and a big smile appeared.

“Case, you look great. I’m just shocked seeing you like this.” Joe never called me Casey. It was always Case.

I decided to play a little with him.

I got a worried look. “Don’t I look OK? Is something wrong? Is my hair too short?”

“O no. Quite the opposite actually. I’ve never seen this side of you. You look fantastic. I love the new hairdo.”

“Thanks, I decided to make a change. Is it a big enough change for you? Do you like it?”

“Definitely. I think this is a great new version of you.”

And we settled down to chat and ordered drinks and dinner. Joe kept staring at me the entire evening. I turned the conversation around to business at some point.

“Joe, I would really like to bring you over to my firm so we can represent you in any negotiations with the team and with endorsements going forward.”

He hesitated for a second. “Would you be my agent or would I be represented by someone else?”

“That’s your choice. And I would love to be your agent, unless you want someone more seasoned from the firm.”

“Case, I’ve actually been thinking about finding a new agent. He’s been representing me since college, and I’ve had thoughts that we might have left some money on the table with both the team and with endorsements. After seeing you tonight, I think I definitely want to make a change.”

“Joe, I think we can fill your needs and get you a good deal with the team and any endorsements that might come along.”

“Case, if I move over with your firm, you will have to be my agent. I don’t want anyone else representing me. I want someone I know, and I’ve known you as long as I’ve known my own family. I trust you completely. Remember, you were the one that convinced me to go to Stanford and everything that came with that. You have always given me good advice.”

“Joe, I think we can make that happen.”

And then dinner ended and Joe invited me over to his house for a nightcap. It was everything this Ugly Duckling ever wanted and more. The feelings I had for Joe over the past 25 years all culminated in a single evening.

We instantly became a couple. We went everywhere together, and pictures of us were on a lot of sports websites, papers, magazines. You name it.

I sold my house and moved in with Joe. People thought we moved fast because in a very short time we announced our engagement. Others may have thought it was quick. But how many people have known their partners as well and as long as Joe and I have known each other?

I never have nor will I ever tell Joe about my spying when we were kids. Something tells me he might have done the same to me. Although why he would ever have looked at me during that stage of my life was a mystery to me.

Joe loves my look, and I go back to see Jason every 3 or 4 weeks.

We renegotiated Joe’s rookie contract. He became the second highest paid quarterback in NFL history. Offers of endorsement come to me all the time. Joe now owns a lot of car dealerships. We are about to branch out into some fast-food franchises as well.

I started my own sports agency company. Having Joe as my client got us some additional NFL players. But I can only focus on Joe. I let other staff members take care of our other clients. I have other things to keep me busy.

Joe and I had our first child about a year after we got married. Little Joe is growing like a weed. He is the image of Joe at that age. Our second child is the darling of her daddy, and she has Joe wrapped around her little fingers. And I recently found out number three is on the way.

I am keeping my hair super short. Joe obviously loves it and so do I. Jason gives me preferential treatment because I now do endorsements for him. Those were easy negotiations!

Joe really does belong with me. And I am never letting go.