“First round’s on me. Come on, let me find you and your harem a table,” Trunk said, grabbing Tuffer’s shirt and dragging him along. There was an empty one in the back. The ladies sat down around Harley. Tuffer tried to get away, but Trunk wouldn’t let go. “Ladies, may I introduce Tuffer Demson? He’s our newest defensive back, and he made several key plays against the Nebraska Huskers.”
Two of the women turned their gaze on the young man. The other only had eyes for Harley.
“May he join you?”
Tuffer’s face turned red, and he glared at Trunk.
“Sure, Tuff. Come on. Sit down,” said the redhead, pushing a chair his way.
Demson plopped down and continued to shoot a hostile glance at Trunk.
“What are you having? I’ll place the order myself.” Al joined Carla at the bar. “Three margaritas and two Heineken,” he told her, indicating Harley’s group.
“Who’s got the beer?”
“The guys, who else?” He chuckled.
After one drink, Buddy and Emmy rose to leave. As they made their way through the thick crowd, the door opened. Robbie Anthony and Chrissy, a Kings’ cheerleader and Buddy’s former girlfriend, came in. The foursome stood in awkward silence. Emmy turned sideways to push past the couple.
The cheerleader’s gaze dropped to the singer’s belly. “Got a bun in the oven, huh? So, that’s why the quick marriage.”
Emmy’s eyes flashed, and she slapped the blonde across the face. “You got a lotta nerve. Now, get out of my way.”
All conversation stopped. All eyes were on the two women in a stand-off at the door. Carla looked up from the bar.
Chrissy raised her fist, but Robbie caught it in time, closing his fingers over hers. “What the hell? She’s pregnant, Chrissy.”
“I don’t give a damn. Nobody smacks me and gets away with it. Bad enough she stole Buddy.”
“She didn’t steal me, Chrissy. Emmy and I go back a long way. Please, move.”
“Next time, watch your mouth,” Emmy said, under her breath.
“Emmy. Take it easy,” Buddy cautioned, easing his wife by the hostile cheerleader. He shielded her with his body.
Robbie put his arm around Chrissy, just below her breasts, pinning her arms to her sides.
Carla loaded Harley’s drinks on a tray. Trunk joined her.
“I’ll take those. Never a dull moment.”
“In a bar? Damn right.”
“And on the gridiron,” he said, picking up the tray and heading to the back of the restaurant.
The party started breaking up around nine thirty. The players were early risers, so they were used to going to bed by ten thirty. Harley took two of the girls home, and Tuffer took one. An hour later, Harley returned. He sat alone at the bar. Trunk joined him.
“Whatcha got there?” Harley asked, indicating Trunk’s glass.
“Carla special.”
“What’s in it?”
“No alcohol.”
“Can I try it?”
“Sure.” Trunk passed the drink to his teammate.
Harley took a sip and returned it. “Not bad. Kinda like a Tom Collins. Can I get a beer?” he asked Carla.
“Coming up,” she said.
“Are you ready for the game?” Trunk asked, taking a swallow.
“I think so. If we win this one and the Demons beat the Sidewinders, we’ll be playing the Demons in the Super Bowl.”
“Yep. Can’t wait.”
“My best friend is the quarterback for the Delaware Demons,” Harley said.
Trunk’s eyebrows shot up. “Mark Davis? Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to play them. I’m hoping the Sidewinders win.”
“Can you tell us about the team?”
Color pinked Harley’s cheeks. “Isn’t that like spying?”
“Hell, you’ve been outta there for a year and a half. They may have changed their whole playbook by now.”
“Yeah, right. I doubt it. Besides, we’re good enough. We don’t need that kind of thing, do we?”
Carla handed him a tall, frosty glass.
“Does Coach know?”
“He knows I came from the Demons. But he doesn’t know Mark and I are friends.”
“Maybe you should say something. He might not care, but if you don’t tell him, it looks like you’re holding out.”
“You’re right.” Harley stared at Carla. “She yours?” he asked Trunk.
“Yep. So, get your tomcattin’ eyes off her.”
Harley laughed. “I never poach, Trunk.”
“That’s good. Then, I can let you live.”
The men chuckled.
“How come a guy looks like you is still single?” Trunk wondered.
“I met a girl once. She was amazing. Smart, artistic, beautiful. The wrong time. She followed her career, and I followed mine. West coast, East coast.” Harley took a slug of his beer.
“Sounds like a movie.”
“Could be. It was that intense.”
“Known her long?”
“I met her at Davis’ wedding. They got married in Costa Rica and we were in the wedding party. We were there for a week. It was heaven, and she was…well, just amazing.”
“Ever hear from her?”
“Every once in a while, like a Christmas card or a text. But since I’ve moved, she doesn’t know where I am. And she travels around the country, designing sets for plays and movies,” Harley said.
“Pretty exciting work.”
“Yep. But I’ve decided my bachelor days are behind me. If it’s not Shyla Hollings, then I have to find someone else.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
“You got to promise not to tell the team.”
“Really? That juicy? Come on.” Trunk leaned closer.
“Promise.”
“Okay, okay, I promise.”
Harley raised his hand to partially cover his mouth, even though the bar was practically empty. “I’m going on Marriage Minded.”
Trunk nearly fell off his seat. “You’re what?”
“I’m going to be the guy on the next Marriage Minded. Filming starts after the Super Bowl. I’ll have my bride before the new season starts.”
“You’re serious?”
“Damn right I am. They asked me. And I said ‘yes’.”
“Why?”
“I want what Mark has with his wife, Penny. I want to settle down. And dating doesn’t cut it. I’m liable to get an STD before I find the right gal.”
“I thought you had found her.”
“So did I. But it didn’t work out. I don’t believe there’s only one right person in the world. There has to be another girl.”
“Good luck with that, man,” Trunk said, shaking his head slightly.
“I might bomb out altogether. But I do get to travel and kiss a helluva lot of gorgeous women. How bad could that be for two months?”
Trunk laughed.
Chapter Eleven
At Monroe County General Hospital
Hank Montgomery pulled up to the front entrance in his son’s SUV. Lauren was in a wheelchair with baby Grace swaddled and in her lap. Griff manned the chair, proud and worried at the same time. His wife looked like she’d been through a war, and he had an unruly toddler at home, with Verna Carruthers, angrily awaiting the return of his mother.
Griff had had experience with children who were four and five years old, as he had helped raise his niece and nephew after his sister’s husband had died. But babies were new to him. He and Lauren had managed to handle Chip, but it was two against one. And even then, the boy often got the best of the adults. What was he going to do when Hank and Verna left? Griff swallowed hard and pushed his wife and new daughter through the doorway to the vehicle.
Hank had set up the baby seat in the back. Griff thanked him silently for taking care of that. While he could memorize countless complex football plays, his dad had always been more mechanically gifted. The idea of figuring ou
t the stroller or the baby seat sent the quarterback running to the handyman.
As he opened the back door of the car, it hit him. They’d need a double stroller. Shit! I’ll have to figure out how to put that together. Crap.
Hank got out and nudged Griff aside. “Let me show you.” The quarterback watched as his father quickly fastened the baby safely into the seat. “Push here and here to undo the belt,” Hank instructed.
Griff watched, nodding.
“Hey, what about me?” It was Lauren, still sitting in the wheelchair.
“Oh my God! Lauren, baby. I’m sorry.” Griff swept her up in his arms and deposited her in the front seat. He fastened her seatbelt and kissed her. Grace made a small cry and gurgling noises before falling asleep.
Griff slipped into the back next to his daughter. He touched his pinky to her tiny palm. She wrapped her fingers around it, making him smile.
Hank put the car in gear. “Everyone ready?”
“Okay,” Lauren mumbled.
“Okay back here, except it’s kinda cold, Dad.”
Hank blasted the heat and took his foot off the brake. The ride home was quiet. Grace kept hold of her father’s finger the whole way. The excitement of a new family member lifted Griff’s heart. For the first time in weeks, his mind abandoned his obsession with getting to the Super Bowl to stand in awe of being a new dad.
Just like his sister, he now had one of each.
Suddenly, Griff’s brow wrinkled at the thought of Grace going out on a date. “Gracie’s not dating until she’s thirty,” he called to the front.
Despite the guffaws in response to his pronouncement, he had made up his mind that boys were to be kept away from his daughter at all costs. He pictured a little darling, beautiful, like his wife, twirling in a pink tutu, or decked out in a pink taffeta party dress that swished when she walked. Although some called him a man’s man, he suspected there were some unexpected joys of fathering a daughter.
Her grip was strong. Bet she’d be a good quarterback too. He vowed to himself not to be sexist, but to give his daughter lessons on throwing a football, along with his son. Who knew? Maybe there’d be a woman’s football league in Grace’s time. Comforted by that idea, he sat back and stared out the window, smiling at the prospects of his new role.
As Hank pulled into the driveway, Griff cringed at the idea of introducing Chip to his little sister. The footballer was a realist. He didn’t expect his son to be glad to have this interloper, this attention-stealer, in the house. How would the toddler handle it? He was almost three, much too young to reason with, but old enough to be dangerous. The idea of becoming a referee made his stomach clench.
Hank parked, and Griff was out in a flash, helping his wife.
Lauren looked up at him with hostile eyes. “This is all your fault.”
“The baby? She’s wonderful.”
“Yeah? Well, birth wasn’t wonderful. And you missed it. You’re dirt, buddy,” she hissed, moving slowly toward the back of the car.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Lauren laughed, an unpleasant sound. “I’ll make sure you do.”
Griff swallowed. One angry wife. One jealous child. One helpless infant. And he was only one man.
The front door opened, and Chip flew out, crashing into Lauren, who groaned in pain, before she could even get to the back seat. “Mommy, mommy, mommy,” the little boy cried, hugging his mother’s legs.
“Chip, let Mommy breathe. You’re hurting her, son,” Griff said, gently extracting the toddler.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy. Daddy bad!” Chip kicked at his father, who jumped out of the way.
“No, no, no. We don’t kick. Let’s go inside. You get to meet your new, baby sister.” Griff tried to sound enthusiastic, but failed. He unbuckled the safety seat, and Lauren drew Grace to her. The infant awoke and began to schmoo.
“She needs to eat,” Lauren said, moving to the house.
Griff closed the car door and followed. Christ, its cold out here.
Verna greeted them. “Coffee’s hot. Got some sweet rolls. Bought some essentials, milk and stuff. Lauren needs to drink milk if she’s breastfeeding.”
“I am,” the new mother said, cracking a smile for the first time.
“Verna, you’re not leaving, are you? Dad?” Griff tried to keep the note of desperation out of his voice, but couldn’t.
Verna patted his hand. “I can stay for a while. Hank?” He nodded. She checked her watch. “It’s nine now. The nurse is coming at ten. We’ll wait.”
“Nurse? What nurse?” Griff was clueless.
“Your dad and I decided you needed a live-in nurse for three weeks. So, we hired one. She’ll be here at ten. She cooks, cleans, will help Lauren take a bath and feed the baby. Whatever you need.”
“Oh my God. You guys are mind readers. Angels.”
“She isn’t cheap, but she’s our gift.”
“No, no. I’ll pay. Gladly.” Relief flooded through him, as if someone had lifted an anvil from his shoulders.
“It’s done, son. Be polite. Say ‘thank you’ and shut up,” Hank said, carrying a cup of tea to Lauren.
She shot him a smile as he sat it down on the table. Then, she opened her jacket and cradled the baby in her lap.
“Uh, Dad, Verna…”
“It’s okay, Griff. They can stay. I’m not shy. This is nature, you know.”
Heat rose to his face. He’d made the big adjustment concerning Lauren’s breasts as a food source for Chip when he was born, so he understood he’d be sharing them with Gracie. But in front of strangers? Well, Dad and Verna aren’t really strangers. But Dad? Griff rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure?”
“I’m starved. Where are those cinnamon buns?” Lauren said, ignoring her husband.
Griff scooped up Chip and headed for the kitchen. “Come on, Chip. Let’s get some food.”
“Mommy!” the youngster shrieked.
“She’s right there. We’ll be right back. It’s okay. No worries.” The quarterback kissed his son’s cheek. The boy slapped him. Griff closed his big hand around the child’s wrist. “No, no. We don’t slap people. Say you’re sorry. You hurt Daddy.”
Tears welled in the toddler’s eyes. “Hurt Daddy? I sorry.”
“It’s okay. Don’t do it again.” Griff placed a kiss on the top of the boy’s head and continued into the kitchen. “Come on, let’s make a plate for Mommy.”
“Okay,” Chip said, sliding down his father’s body to the floor. “For Mommy.” Chip grabbed a cinnamon bun and put it on a dish. “One for Mommy. One for me.” He took another and bit into it.
Griff laughed and ruffled his child’s hair. “That’s right. One for Mommy, and one for Chip.”
“One for Daddy,” he said, handing one to his father. “And one for baby.” The boy picked up a fourth cinnamon bun and ran into the living room. “For baby,” he said, holding out the confection to his mother.
Lauren chuckled. “She’s too little to eat that. She doesn’t have any teeth. See?” Lauren detached the infant from her breast long enough to show Chip. He peered into Gracie’s mouth then burst into tears.
“No teeth! Where are her teeth?”
Griff was on the boy, hugging him. “She has to grow teeth. Just like you did. She’ll have teeth like you in a few months.”
“Sad baby. No teeth.”
“Will you eat Gracie’s cinnamon bun for her, Chip?” Lauren asked.
The toddler nodded, taking a big bite. “Eat for Gracie.”
The adults laughed. Warmth flooded Griff’s heart. He’d be able to handle this, with Lauren’s help. She put the baby back on her breast and gave him a warm smile. He choked up, tears watering his eyes. He finally had what he’d always wanted. The only missing element was that his mother wasn’t there to see it. Otherwise, Griff was grateful.
The doorbell rang.
“Must be the nurse,” Verna said, rising.
Hank clapped his son on the back. “L
ooks like you can handle things.”
“I guess we can.”
“I want that nurse,” Lauren said.
“It’s okay with me. Besides, I have another game, then the Super Bowl,” Griff agreed.
“God willing,” Hank tossed in.
Verna walked in, accompanied by an older woman with gray hair. Her step was lively. She was slim and smiling broadly.
“Hi, I’m Rita. And who’s this charmer?” She knelt in front of Chip.
Rita had been Griff’s mother’s name. Her announcement startled him for a moment. Maybe this was all meant to be. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the brass ring, but gratitude rose through him. He drew a chair up next to Lauren and smiled down on her and his new child. Both were beautiful. He stroked his wife’s hair for a moment then kissed it. Life was good.
* * * *
Trunk sat at a table in the bar with a newspaper in his hand. He called real estate agent after real estate agent, leaving messages. Three called back for appointments that afternoon. He needed to dump the old house, to put his old life behind.
It was early Friday morning, and energy coursed through his veins. The party had been terrific, and since he hadn’t drunk alcohol, he wasn’t hung over. The game with the Florida Gators was scheduled for Sunday night. He had plenty of time to start rebuilding his life.
First step, sell his house. Second step, buy a new one. He thumbed through the pages of the newspaper as he sipped his coffee.
Carla padded down the stairs, closing her robe. “You’re up early.” She stifled a yawn.
“Busy. Gotta get rid of my house and get a new one,” he said.
“Coffee?”
“All ready.”
“Thanks.” She filled a mug and joined him.
“You can help me decide on a new house.”
“New house? You’re moving out?”
“You knew this was only temporary.”
She sighed. “Didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“Hell, I’m not gone yet. It takes time to find a house, go to contract, close, and all that shit. Then, I’ll probably have to renovate. I’m not outta this place yet. Not by a long shot. Unless you’re kicking me out.”
Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line Page 13
