by Impulsive
"Hey! I really dig that new swimsuit of yours," Destiny said now. "A smiley face! Talk about super cool!"
"You saw it? Me?" Jess stammered.
"Sure did, along with about a hundred other people at the pool," Jazz told her. "And I've got to tell you, that suit is a winner. I just wish I could wear something like that, but I've got too much chest to pull it off."
Pepper laughed. "Me, too. Half my butt would be hanging out the bottom, and my breasts would droop too far for anyone to see those cute little eyeballs on the cups."
Jazz poked her friend. "Shoot, Pep, those flimsy straps would snap and your big flabby boobs would unroll like window blinds and break your kneecaps!"
Pepper swatted at Jazz, who was laughing uproariously at her own joke. "You should talk, girl! You could grow mushrooms between your toes and never see them. It's a wonder you don't get those things stuck going through a revolving door!"
"I did that once," Destiny admitted sheepishly. "Only, it was a sliding door. Hurt like the dickens, too! I had a flat nipple for a month—after the swelling went down, of course. Guess I was lucky I didn't get it caught in something more dangerous, like a garbage disposal."
By now Jess was laughing so hard she could barely stand upright. "And to think I've always envied women who are built like you," she blurted. "I always saw the advantages, but never realized the hazards."
"Shucks, honey," Pepper said. "There isn't a woman alive who is one hundred percent satisfied with the way she looks. If it's not her figure she hates, it's her hair. Or some part of her face, or her laugh, or the way she walks. It took me years to adjust to the fact that I'll always sound like a frog."
"But you don't," Jess told her honestly. "You have a voice so sexy men must dream about it at night."
"Tell that to my high school choir director," Pepper retorted with a wry grin.
"Oh, she was probably just jealous," Destiny commented.
Pepper shook her head. " 'She' was a 'he,' but come to think of it, he did have this high voice that made him sound rather like Mickey Mouse."
"I've never liked my toes," Jazz contributed. "They look like ugly little bent twigs. That's why I never wear sandals."
"I'll take your toes over my tattoo any day," Destiny claimed.
"What tattoo?" Jess asked curiously.
Destiny wrinkled up her nose. "The one on my behind."
Pepper let loose a bark of laughter. "You've got to see this sometime, Jess. No kidding. It's a picture of a cute little skunk, on Destiny's right cheek."
Destiny gave a long-suffering sigh. "Well, tell the world, why don't you, Pepper? It's bad enough Mom thought it was such a nifty idea, without you hollering about it."
"Well, you've got to admit it probably made changing your diapers a lot more fun," Jazz proposed past a chortle. "And it certainly fits the spot. What else would she put there? A rose?"
"I'll bet it is embarrassing," Jess commiserated. "If you truly dislike it that badly, can't you have it removed?"
Destiny shook her head, adamantly opposed to the suggestion. "No way am I going to go through all that pain, and possibly end up with a scar worse than the skunk. It's bad enough that every guy I go to bed with notices it—not that I've had scads of lovers, mind you—but I can just see getting stuck with some smart-ass doctor who would call in everybody but the resident plumber to see my tattoo before he removed it. No, I'll keep it, thanks, and put up with all the razzing."
The game against the Cardinals was a nail biter. For every score the Knights made, the Cards matched it. While trying to stay on top of the game, Jess fiddled with her earphones. Either they had been repaired or this was a different set, for no matter how she tried she couldn't get any signals other than those she was supposed to receive.
They were playing outdoors today, on a grass field in Sun Devil Stadium. Though hot, the dry breeze made it fairly temperate and kept the bugs at bay. Which was why Jess noticed the one reserve player on the bench who seemed to be terrifically uncomfortable. The poor fellow kept shifting and scratching and tugging at his clothes. Jess was soon itching herself, just watching him. Finally, out of self-defense, she approached him.
"I don't mean to be too personal, Ervin, but do you have a bad case of poison ivy, or hives, or something?"
The man looked up at her, startled. "No ma'am. Why?"
"I've seen flea-bitten dogs who didn't scratch and fuss the way you have been," she told him bluntly. "Frankly, you're making me itch. Maybe you should check this out with the doctor. Could be you're allergic to something."
"I'll do that, Coach Myers." She was blocking his view of the field, and he angled his head to see around her. "Uh, could you scoot over a bit, please?"
"Sorry." Jess moved to one side and stood there to watch the upcoming play. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ervin tug at his left ear. Not once, but three times. Then he gave his knee a couple of quick slaps. Probably no more than nervous gestures, but that reporter's instinct Jess had mentioned to Alan kicked in.
On a hunch, Jess stepped in front of him again prior to the next play. Though he didn't say anything, she saw him frown and shift to another spot on the bench. It struck her, however, that his new position was even less advantageous to viewing the game. He rubbed his nose, then bent to retie his shoelace— though it wasn't untied to begin with.
She turned in time to watch the rival defense make a quick realignment on the field. The ball was snapped, and Ty had to scrap his plan to throw to Gabe. He scarcely handed the ball off to another receiver before getting rammed to the ground. He got up slowly, and for a minute Jess was afraid he'd been injured. Fortunately, he didn't appear to be hurt as he plucked a chunk of grass from his shoulder pad—just supremely angry.
The Knights were now in a third down and ten situation, too far downfield for a field goal attempt. Once more, her own temper rising, Jess tested her burgeoning theory. As if unaware that she was again stepping into his line of sight, Jess stationed herself in front of Ervin. When he scooted to the right, so did she. He stood up and walked past the end of the bench, and even though she wanted to, Jess couldn't follow. It would have been too obvious. But she did watch, her lips tightening, as Ervin scratched his chest, first up and down and then across, and stamped his left foot twice.
Within seconds, the defense shifted into a more advantageous lineup. Again, the Knights' play was fouled, and they had to punt the ball away.
The moment she could, Jess cornered Ty. "There's something fishy going on with Ervin," she told him bluntly. "He keeps fidgeting and making all sorts of odd motions, and every time he does, the opposing defense changes position immediately afterward, and your play goes down the tubes."
Ty glanced at Ervin and back at Jess, a scowl growing. "Are you sure?"
Jess shrugged. "I was standing right there, and whenever I moved in front of him, he'd move to another spot. Then he'd scratch, or tie a shoe that didn't need tying, or some such thing. It may just be my imagination working overtime, but I could almost swear he's sending signals to somebody. I just don't know to whom, because he didn't seem to be in full view of anyone on the other team, at least not that I could tell."
"He's not squirming around now," Ty observed.
"No, he only seems to do it when our offense is on the field," she said. "Am I nuts, or does that strike you as a bit odd?"
Ty gave a sharp jerk of his head, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stared at Ervin. "More than a bit, darlin'. But we're still shy on proof here. Why don't we try a little scam of our own and see what happens?"
Ty hustled Jess to where Coach Danvers was pacing the sidelines. After advising the man of her suspicions, Jess listened as Ty and Danvers swiftly formulated a plan of action. When the Knights' offense next took the field, Ty was armed with a totally new series of unscheduled plays.
As Coach Danvers and Jess watched, Ervin began to fidget. For no apparent reason, he put his helmet on and abruptly removed it. He pulled at the armpit of his shi
rt. When the new play Ty called succeeded in garnering the Knights a first down, Ervin looked befuddled. He picked up his playbook and seemed to be studying it. As the second play was set up, he tipped his water jug to his mouth in four jerks and wiped his hand down his right thigh. This play also gained yardage, and Ervin frowned and checked his playbook again.
By now, Danvers was cursing beneath his breath. For a third time, Ervin made a series of odd motions, and when Ty made a surprise shovel pass to Chili that resulted in a touchdown, Ervin definitely appeared more frustrated than elated at his team's score. As the others cheered, his gaze was trained on the section of stands beyond the goal post, as if he were searching for someone there. Jess saw him shake his head and make a hand gesture, as if to say it wasn't his fault.
"That lousy son of a bitch!" Danvers cursed. "I'm gonna tack his traitor's hide to a wall and use him for target practice. And it won't be footballs I'm aiming at him, either!"
"I'm sorry, Coach," Jess told him. "I was hoping I was wrong."
"Don't be sorry, Jess. I'm glad you noticed, especially since no one else seemed to be aware enough to catch on. You may have just saved this team a whole season of defeats, and for that I can't thank you enough."
Two hours later, Jess was in the center of a police investigation, and up to her ears in her own feelings of guilt. "If I hadn't said anything...," she lamented. "Oh, Ty, I feel so responsible."
Ty hugged her to his side. "Jess, it's not your fault. If you hadn't noticed what Ervin was doing, eventually someone else would have."
"I know, but... good God, Ty! The man hanged himself in the locker room! He's dead because I ratted on him! I might just as well have knotted the rope and handed it to him!"
Danvers stepped up to her other side. "Ervin wouldn't have resorted to this if he wasn't guilty, Jess. It's his fault, not yours, for getting himself tangled up in this situation."
"Did the police find a suicide note or anything?" she asked.
Danvers shook his head. "No. Just Ervin and his playbook. They took it as evidence, of course, to see if it contains any phone numbers or anything else that might be useful in discovering who was paying him in exchange for our plays. Right now, we're still in the dark about that, but it was probably Ervin, or someone he was signaling to, who was transmitting the plays you heard the other week over your headphones."
"Damn! What a mess!" Ty declared tiredly. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to alleviate the pounding pain in his head. "With Ervin dead, I don't suppose anyone else is about to admit to any wrongdoing, either. We may never know who is behind all this."
"It's a crying shame any way you look at it," Danvers agreed. "The kid was only a rookie, but he had potential—if only he'd had a little patience. I keep wondering if he did this out of spite, because he only made third string and would be warming the bench most of the season. Or if he'd gotten himself into a financial pinch of some kind."
Ty sighed. "Could be someone made him an offer he couldn't refuse, for whatever reason. But it won't do much good to second-guess the matter at this point."
At long last, the police had finished questioning everyone, and they were free to go. The Knights, all of them stunned at Ervin's traitorous behavior and suicide, were still in their uniforms. None seemed inclined to change clothes, let alone use the showers where Ervin had hung himself. Dirty, sweaty, and down-hearted, they headed en masse to the airport. They had won the game, but the loss of their teammate made it a hollow victory.
"When I said I wanted you to generate some team publicity,
Jessie, I sure as shit didn't mean this way!" Tom shouted. He waved the newspaper at her, the front page headlines blaring Ervin's death. A grainy photo of Jess, Ty, and Danvers also graced the page, along with a separate picture of Ervin. "Hell's bells, girl! You were supposed to report on the team, not investigate it!"
"Then you shouldn't have hired me to begin with," Jess shot back with a glower. "You know my forte is investigative reporting, not publicity pieces. I was only doing this as a favor to you. Now I'm sorry I ever agreed to it."
"So am I, dammit!" he concurred angrily.
"Then you'll be glad to know that my story is done, video clips and all, and ready to submit to the sports network. Of course, with this latest development, they may want me to add to it, but for the most part it's finished."
"Thank God for small blessings. Now you won't have to hang around here all the time poking your nose into team business. You can get involved with more interesting projects that are more up your alley."
His tone was brusque and cutting, wounding Jess to the core. She'd never seen him like this, or had him speak to her in this manner. Always before, since she could remember, he'd been kind, jovial Tommy. It was like meeting a stranger in her godfather's body. She could scarcely withhold her tears as she responded in turn.
"Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily, Tommy. I'm still coaching Alan, don't forget."
He glared at her and snapped, "You're fired. How's that, Miss Reporter?"
"Not good enough. If you'll review my contract, you'll see that you alone cannot discharge me. Coach Danvers and the other two owners have to agree, and right now they're a lot more grateful to me for rooting out the rat in the woodpile than you are. Not that I'm proud of the resulting consequences, but you could still have a turncoat in your midst if not for me."
Tommy looked as if he were about to blow a gasket. "I'll still put it to a vote," he vowed. "And another thing," he said, pointing a finger at her accusingly, "just what is going on between you and that hot-shot quarterback?"
"That's none of your business, Nelson." Both Tom and Jess jerked around as Ty barged into the office.
"I don't recall inviting you to this meeting," Tom declared tersely.
"You didn't have to," Ty told him flatly. "Your little chat can be heard all over the building, so I assume it's not exactly confidential."
"Is that all you came to say?" Tom inquired. "If so, you can leave now."
"Not without Jess. You've dragged her over the coals long enough, Nelson, and you're placing blame where it doesn't belong. Ervin was the culprit here, not Jess. So back off."
Tom sneered. "Oh, how sweet. The irate boyfriend coming to the rescue. You drumming up brownie points, James?"
Ty's smile was as false as Tom's. "Don't need them, Tom, old boy."
Tom's features tightened even more. "So that's the way the wind blows." To Jess, he added spitefully, "I thought I warned you about letting any of these jocks cozy up to you, thinking they'd get in good with me that way."
Jess's eyes narrowed. "That tears it, Tommy. I've taken all the flak I'm going to take from you today. I'll be waiting for an apology, when you've had time to cool off and think things through properly. Until then, don't call me. I'll call you."
Ty took her arm, escorting her out the door. As they left, he sent a parting shot. "If you can't reach Jess at her place, Nelson, she'll be at mine. Just phone any time. Day or night. But like the lady says, don't bother until you're ready to apologize."
CHAPTER 15
Jess could not recall when she'd last been this depressed. First, this dreadful business with Ervin, then the fight with Tommy. For his part, Ty was angry on her behalf and equally mystified as to how to console her. But there had to be some way to cheer her up. He fell back on some of the things that always worked for his mother and sisters.
"Would you like to go shopping?" he suggested.
"Not really."
"How about getting gussied up and going out to dinner? My treat. The place of your choice."
Jess shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm not in the mood."
Ty figured it would be a bad move to buy her flowers at the moment. They would probably only remind her of a funeral arrangement.
"Do you want to rent a video, or go to a movie? Isn't there a new comedy playing?"
She gave him a weary look. "Wagara, James. Give it a rest, okay?"
"You keep hi
tting me with that word at the oddest times," he mused. "I'm going to guess it yet." He thought a minute, and said, "Women's Automatic Guy Alteration/Reformation Act?"
"Not even close."
But he had gotten half a grin out of her, so he tried again. "Wanted: Assorted Gods And Reverent Angels?"
She smothered a chuckle. "Not bad, but way off base."
"Okay, how about Who's A Grinning And Retarded Ape?"
Jess burst out laughing. "You are! Now stop this nonsense."
"Why? So you can go back to wallowing in your own guilt and feeling miserable? No way, lady. Say, why don't we trot down to the store and buy about a ton of ice cream and chocolate goop?"
"That doesn't sound half bad. Why don't you go while I wash my stringy, greasy hair?" She plucked at a limp strand, eyeing it balefully from the corner of her eye. "Yuck! I think I could wear a dirty mop and no one would tell the difference."
"A permanent might help. Curly hair doesn't get oily as fast as straight hair," Ty informed her.
Jess cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, you're just full of surprising little tidbits. But a perm wouldn't do the trick, I'm afraid. Not for me. My hair is too fine. A body perm lasts me about a week and a half, and a full perm leaves me looking like Little Orphan Annie. Or Ronald McDonald's sister. Take your pick. Either way, it's not a pretty sight."
"Then why not get your hair frosted, or streaked, or highlighted? That usually adds a bit of body, besides giving you a change of color that's not too drastic. And if you do it lightly enough, you don't even have dark roots to touch up."
Jess eyed him oddly. "Just where are you picking up all this information, Tyler James? Are you secretly hooked on Woman's Day or Cosmo? Or are they putting this stuff in Playboy these days, just to give you guys something to discuss on a date?"
