Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line

by Jean C. Joachim

  Dr. McMillan laughed.

  “Mary said she thought I was screwing around, that’s why she gave it up to Connie.”

  “But you weren’t?”

  “No. If I’d been gettin’ any from her, I wouldn’t have even gone to the clubs.”

  “When did you two stop sleeping together?”

  “About a year ago. No, wait. Maybe more.”

  “That’s a long dry spell.”

  He chuckled. “You’re telling me.”

  “Well, maybe that excuses the lap dances.”

  “Maybe it does. If I’d had a real wife, there’s no way I’d be going to the clubs. I’m a loyal guy. Ask any of my friends.”

  “I believe you, Al. Did you discuss the lack of sex with her?”

  “She always had an excuse. The last year, she wasn’t around much. Said she’d joined some support group, then a book club. I’d be asleep when she got home. I get up early for practice. I guess it was all a big lie so she could spend time with her girlfriend.” He sat back and stretched out his legs. He used a tissue to wipe the sweat from his face.

  “What’s most important now is how you’re going to move forward.”

  “I have no clue.”

  “You’ve got your team, your friends, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you met any interesting women?”

  Heat rose to his face. “Well, there’s Carla. She’s the owner of The Savage Beast. I’m renting a room from her.”

  “Oh?” Dr. McMillan raised an eyebrow.

  Should I tell her? “She’s a friend. Been friends for two years.”

  “Only a friend?”

  “I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s tempting.” He looked down at his hands. “What do I have to offer her? Nothing. The last thing I need is another woman shitting all over me.”

  “Don’t assume she’s going to do that. Has she said anything?”

  “Just offered me the room.”

  “Anything else going on between you two?”

  Again, the heat rose in his cheeks. “I don’t wanna say.”

  “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, Al. But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  He picked at a cuticle, avoiding her eyes.

  “Maybe you’d like to think about it. Time’s up.”

  Al couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved. “Okay, okay. Yeah, I kissed her. Yeah, I wanted to do more. Yeah, she liked it…I think. Great until she finds out I can’t make babies.”

  “How will she find out?”

  He raised his head to give her a direct stare. “Come on, doc. You know the facts of life. We don’t need to use birth control. Isn’t that gonna come up when we have sex?”

  Now, it was the doctor’s turn to blush. “You’re so right, Al. I’m sorry. Would you like to have another half hour? My schedule is open. We could talk about Carla?”

  The idea of talking about the barkeep brought pleasure and pain.

  He nodded.

  “So, tell me, what is it about Carla that attracts you?”

  * * * *

  “It’s over,” Carla said, into her phone.

  “What? What’s over?” Stormy asked.

  “Trunk and I.”

  “Who said?”

  “I ran into him by accident this morning.”

  “By accident?”

  “Long story.” Embarrassment crept through her at the memory of being discovered in his room. “And there was nothing. He didn’t look the least bit interested in me. We talked a little, then he took off. There’s nothing there. It’s done. Finished.” The ache in her heart wouldn’t go away.

  “You’re jumping to conclusions. Maybe he had something else on his mind.”

  “You might say that. His divorce from that bitch, Mary.”

  “Why do you call her a bitch?”

  “Promise not to tell anyone?”

  “I swear.”

  “Last night, I got to bed around two. Al had gone up much earlier. I crept up the stairs quietly, ’cause I thought he was asleep. But I heard him. In his room. He was crying.”

  “Trunk crying?” Carla could practically hear Stormy’s eyebrows spike up.

  “Don’t tell! You promised. He’d be real embarrassed if he knew I knew. Guys like him don’t like to cry.”

  “Don’t I know it? Devon’s the same way. Kinda stupid, if you ask me.”

  “I agree. But that’s how he is.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I pretended I didn’t hear it and went to bed.”

  “Damn. That’s pretty serious.”

  “I wish I could help him, but he won’t talk to me. Won’t tell me anything.”

  “How could he? It’s personal and embarrassing. She’s leaving him. I bet he feels rotten.”

  “She’s a stupid asshole, if you ask me. Who leaves a man like Al Mahoney? The sweetest guy ever.” Carla’s temper kicked up. “I’d like to punch her in the face.”

  “You should give her a medal. She’s clearing out. Making room for you. Make the first move. Don’t wait.”

  “Don’t you think I should give him some time to recover a little?”

  “Go ahead. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m sure one of those cheerleaders is gonna move in on him if you don’t.”

  “They’re a little hungry, aren’t they?”

  Stormy laughed. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “What if he turns me down? I’ll die.”

  “Then, at least you tried.”

  “That’s true,” Carla said with a sigh.

  “And what if he doesn’t turn you down? What if he wants to be with you as much as you want to be with him?”

  “That would be wonderful. In the short term.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Because I don’t want kids, and no man will marry a woman who doesn’t want kids. All guys want kids.”

  “Not necessarily. Why don’t you find out before you make up your mind?”

  “Good advice, as always. Thank you so much, Stormy. You’re an amazing friend. Doodles just showed up, so I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s crowd.”

  “Good luck, Carla. Don’t write him off. He needs you.”

  The conversation ended. Carla considered Stormy’s last words as she went to greet her cook.

  “Smile, Carla. The world isn’t coming to an end,” he said, grinning broadly.

  “Might as well be. Football season will be over soon.” She bit her lip. I hope I saved enough to pay the mortgage when the team stops coming around.

  “Bet you make a killing on the Super Bowl.”

  “Damn well better,” she mumbled. “Don’t get any ideas. That money has to last me for months. When the season is over, my business gets cut in half.”

  “Wow, that’s tough.”

  “I save up all year for that, Doodles.”

  “You’re awesome, Carla.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. How much meat do we have? I think we need to order more.”

  They went down to the basement to check the extra freezer. Doodles whipped out his phone and took notes.

  “This freezer is pretty old, Carla. Looks like it went through World War I. When are you gonna buy a new one?”

  She laughed. “When it dies on me, then I’ll think about it.”

  Footsteps upstairs told her Trunk was back.

  She climbed the steep staircase. “How was practice?”

  “Good.”

  “You must be hungry. Want a burger?”

  “I stopped off at the diner on my way home.”

  “My burgers aren’t good enough for you?” Pain closed her throat.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Oh, I see. Okay. Sure. No problem.” She turned before tears spilled.

  “That’s so like a woman.”

  She
fisted her hands on her hips, sniffled, and blinked rapidly before she faced him again. “What?”

  “Typical.” He shook his head.

  Her eyebrows rose, and her voice climbed almost an octave. “What?”

  “Say one thing and mean the exact opposite. Don’t be a bitch.”

  “Why, Trunk Mahoney! You dick! How dare you speak to me that way?” His words stung, and her patience was gone. Her eyes watered. She pushed past the big man and up the stairs to her room.

  Trunk backpedaled, grabbing her arm. He pleaded his case. “Carla, I’m sorry. You’re not a bitch. I didn’t mean that. I’m just down right now. Hey, come on. No tears. Don’t get pissed.”

  “Too late, jerkoff.” she spat at him as she passed, ripping from his grasp.

  When she hit her room, she slammed the door and threw herself on the bed, sobbing. Oh, this is so over.

  Chapter Seven

  Trunk gave Carla breathing room. In a couple of days, he’d be leaving for Nebraska. He wished he could spend the night with her, or at least be speaking again. Might help if she wasn’t mad at him. He got in his car and drove to the supermarket. They had all sorts of things there, including flowers and candy.

  When he returned to the bar at six, people were filling the tables. Stormy Gregory was there with Devon Drake, Bullhorn Brodsky, and Samantha too. The others were filled with people he didn’t know.

  Carla was moving from customer to customer, taking orders, delivering them to Doodles, and then mixing drinks and pouring beer. Obviously, she didn’t have time for him. He joined Bull and Samantha.

  Carla gave him a frosty stare when he requested a burger. “Coming right up, Mr. Mahoney,” she said, each word encased in ice.

  He took her arm. “Come on, Carla. Don’t be like that. Please accept my apology.”

  “I’ll think about it.” She turned on her heel.

  He hung with his teammates while she worked hard. Trunk kept trying to catch her eye, but she avoided him. By ten o’clock, people began to leave. It was a Wednesday, not usually a busy night at The Beast.

  The last patron left at eleven. Carla plopped down in a chair, toed off her shoes, and put her feet up. Doodles cleaned up in the kitchen. At eleven fifteen, he poked his head out to say goodnight.

  Trunk sat next to the barkeep. “I ate at the diner because I don’t want to keep taking free food from you. I make a lot of money. I can pay.”

  “It’s a burger, Al. It’s not gonna break me.”

  “But I don’t like it. Don’t you understand? I believe a man should pay his way, not mooch off his girlfriend.”

  Her eyes widened. “Now I’m your girlfriend?

  Oh shit. He cast his gaze to the floor to keep her from seeing the truth. “You know what I meant.”

  “Yeah. I do.” She sighed, a weary sound.

  Trunk retrieved the flowers and candy from behind the bar. “These are for you. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

  The roses made her smile. She opened the box of chocolates and offered him one.

  “Forgiven?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  He picked up her foot.

  “What the hell?”

  “Shhh. Quiet. Relax.” He rested her heel in his lap then began to knead the weary flesh.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, closing her eyes. “Can you have an orgasm from a foot massage?”

  He chuckled. “Where does it hurt? The arch?” He slid his fingers from her heel to the center.

  “There, yes, there. Oh my God.”

  He switched feet, smiling as he watched her lie back in the seat, sighing. I can still turn a woman on. Warmth flooded him. He skimmed his hands slowly up to massage the lower part of her calf. She groaned louder. When he finished, her face was flushed, and she was grinning.

  “Guess I’m forgiven?”

  “Anyone who can do that? Damn right you are. That was wonderful.”

  “You deserve it. You work hard.”

  “When do you leave for Nebraska?”

  “Day after tomorrow. Early.”

  She nodded. “That’s good.”

  He pushed to his feet. “If I’m forgiven, I’ll head upstairs.”

  “You are. Don’t do it again.”

  He ran his finger across his chest and back. “Cross my heart. I promise to take advantage of you every chance I get.”

  She burst out laughing. They climbed the stairs together. At the top, Trunk stopped, shooting a longing look at Carla.

  She reached up to cup his cheek. “You’re a good man, Al.”

  “You think so? You’re the only one.”

  “Don’t let Mary get to you. Put her behind you. You have a whole life ahead.”

  “A life alone.”

  “Doesn’t have to be that way.”

  Is she trying to tell me something? “You volunteering for the job?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She cocked her head.

  “Don’t tease me.”

  She shrugged. “Not sure you’re in the market for something new. Don’t you have to get over the old first?”

  “I was over it a year ago.”

  Her eyes widened. “Were you? Why’d you hang around?”

  “Loyalty. Thought things might get better. Failure has never been an option for me.”

  “Even athletes lose a game once in a while.”

  He chuckled. “Good analogy. Yeah. We do. But I hate throwing in the towel.”

  “So, what’s your plan now?” She looked up at him, her tired face still animated, still beautiful, expecting words of wisdom from him.

  “I don’t have a plan. I’m still trying to get my head around being alone.”

  She patted his arm. “You’re not alone.”

  He searched her eyes for a subtle meaning to her words.

  “You have friends.”

  “Oh, right. Friends.” He nodded, hiding his frustration.

  “What is it you want, Al?”

  “To be loved. To be missed. To have a place where I belong, where I’m welcome. As corny as that sounds.”

  “Everyone wants that.”

  “Mine comes with a downside. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s okay. I won’t push you. I bet you get your wish.”

  “Think so?”

  “I have a hunch.”

  He wanted to kiss her, but it was late, and she was tired. So, he bid her goodnight instead, forcing himself to ignore the trace of disappointment in her voice as she turned right to go to her room and he went left.

  When the door clicked shut, he pulled a bottle of scotch out of the dresser drawer. He poured himself a shot and downed it. Just making sure I get to sleep. He put it back. He knew Coach and Bull were worried about his drinking. But it was all about Mary and his marriage disintegrating. He had known this was coming, even if they hadn’t. He planned to cut down, because you can’t drink and play pro sports. But for now, if he needed it to get rest, he’d indulge, just a wee bit, and deal with it when playoffs were over.

  * * * *

  Carla awoke early, still a bit worn-out everywhere except her feet. She grinned at the memory of Trunk’s foot massage. Her smile faded when she recalled their conversation. His wish to be loved and welcome in his own home saddened her. She wondered what kind of childhood he had had and how come Mary hadn’t provided that for him in their marriage? Why did he stay so long? Misplaced loyalty.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushed to standing, and raised her arms to the ceiling. A big yawn accompanied the stretch. Time for a shower. As the warm water soothed her aching body, her mind wandered. What if Trunk was in here with me? The idea of being naked with that hunk of gorgeous man made a shiver zing up her spine. With her eyes closed, she could imagine he was there, almost feel his fingers kneading her back and shoulder muscles then slipping down to her rear end.

  Oh, what she’d like to do with him under the hot spray! She turned off the water, sad to be leavi
ng her fantasy behind, and stepped onto the bathmat. After drying off, she donned a fluffy, white robe. Toweling her hair, she headed for the stairs to make coffee.

  She loved the smell as it brewed, piquing her taste buds, making her mouth water for the taste and feel of the warm wake-me-up. The sound of footsteps above prompted her to pluck another mug from the cabinet. She added milk and sugar to a colorful tray, because he liked that in his coffee too. Then, she carried it out to the bar and placed it on a table while she waited for the machine to finish.

  She poured her cup, fixed it the way she liked, and padded over to the window. There was a little frost in the corners of the small panes of glass. She loved that window, so New England. Despite the winters, she felt at home here, happy to leave her noisy, cramped, family house in Chicago. With nine kids, there had never been enough space to breathe, or enough time in the bathroom.

  The sound of the shower revved her imagination. Goosebumps took over her arms as she realized the gorgeous footballer was bare-assed and wet only one flight up. A shiver rocked her again. She prepared coffee for him, finished hers, and headed up the stairs.

  Trunk came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. They stopped in the hall.

  “Good morning,” she squeaked out, unable to take her eyes off his glistening body.

  “Good morning. Is that for me?”

  She nodded. He stepped up to take the steaming brew from her then retreated a safe distance of six feet. She noted the heat in his gaze as it followed the lines of her body, lingering on her chest, while he sipped. Her robe was slowly parting, the sash loosening of its own accord. A cool breeze alerted her to the fact that she was about to be naked in front of Trunk. She didn’t care. Stormy’s right. This has gone on long enough. It’s time to do something. He finished and placed the empty mug on the floor.

  She took a step closer to him, and he advanced as well. They approached slowly, step by step, until they were practically touching. His gaze searched hers. Heat from him warmed her bared skin.

  “Trunk, I—” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence. His mouth was on her, sucking in her words, her breath, pressing, tasting, consuming her.

  Carla opened for him and let her inhibitions go. She wanted him and had waited long enough. The sash fell away as he pulled her up against him. The tickle of his chest hair on her breasts made her nipples hard. One tiny tug by Carla, and Trunk’s towel hit the floor. She gripped his shoulders and moved closer until there wasn’t even room to slip a piece of paper between them.