Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line

by Jean C. Joachim

  There was a huge helmet to helmet crash. Harley went flying right into the cornerback for a head-to-shoulder collision. The ball bounced away, to be recovered by a Demon. It happened so fast, Trunk couldn’t believe his eyes. His teammate fell to the ground, lifeless. The ref blew the whistle, and all play stopped. A hush fell on the crowd as Harley Brennan lay crumpled and still.

  Two trainers ran to him. A voice from the stands, from behind Trunk, called out the running back’s name. Al turned to see an attractive woman with blonde hair cup her hands by her mouth and call Harley’s name again.

  “Harley! Get up!” she screamed, a lone voice in the subdued stands.

  Griff wandered over. The men worked on the player, but still he didn’t move. Griff took off his helmet and took a knee. One by one, the other Kings players ambled over and did the same. From the Demon’s bench, Mark Davis ran onto the field. He crouched near his friend, his lips moving silently, and then took a knee. He kept his helmet on, but Trunk could see a tremor in the quarterback’s hand.

  The trainers called for the cart, which sped out onto the field. After what seemed like a lifetime, Harley’s right foot moved. The trainer’s then removed the player’s helmet.

  Truck could almost hear the sigh of relief from the crowd to find Harley was still alive. It was the longest blackout of a player he had witnessed. His nerves were on edge. He’d considered Harley to be a new pal, and it had scared him to think the man might be dead.

  With help, Harley sat up. Supporting him, the trainers managed to get him onto the cart. Harley lay down. Mark Davis leaned over and whispered something to the running back, who raised his hand with a thumb’s up signal. The crowd cheered and applauded as the cart took Brennan off the field.

  The referee cited the linebacker for an unsportsmanlike conduct and personal foul, with a fifteen yard penalty from the point of the infraction. Possession of the ball returned to the Kings. Although they were in the red zone, the Demons prevented them from scoring a touchdown. They brought Robbie Anthony out, and he came through for another field goal. The two minute warning sounded. The score was twenty to seventeen. The Demons needed a touchdown to win.

  Trunk and Tuffer were exhausted. The Demons marched down field, eking out first downs by the skin of their teeth. There were only thirty seconds left on the clock. They were in the Kings’ red zone, on the twenty yard line.

  “Pass, for sure,” Trunk said to Tuffer.

  The younger man nodded. “I’ll get Davis.”

  Mahoney agreed, and they lined up for the snap.

  Tuffer and the two defensive linebackers charged Davis. Tuffer broke through and chased Davis, who kept out of the defender’s way, glancing down field, searching for an open man.

  With his last burst of energy, Trunk raced down to the goal line, determined to keep the Demons out. Number Twelve raised his hand, and suddenly the ball was in the air, just before Davis went down. It hurtled toward the little wide receiver. Trunk launched himself up, sailing above the shorter man. Al reached out and caught the ball. He went down in his own end zone. Untouched by a Demon, he popped up, and ran toward their goal line as clock wound down.

  He was taken down, after twenty yards, by the offensive linemen. The whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. The Kings won, twenty to seventeen!

  Trunk leaped up before he was mobbed by his teammates. The rest was a blur of congratulations, high fives, hugging, shoulder slapping, butt patting, and head butting. In the locker room, the players were drenched in bubbly, standing in their underwear, swigging from open bottles of champagne. Lyle Barker came downstairs to congratulate his team. Coach Bass was dancing and drinking with his men. The locker room was a zoo.

  Feeling a bit tipsy, drunk from victory coupled with a modest amount of alcohol, Trunk seesawed into the training room. Harley was sitting up with his legs stretched out on the table.

  “No champagne for this fella,” Hank said, shaking his head.

  “How the hell are you?” Trunk’s brow furrowed.

  “Just a concussion. No big deal,” Harley replied.

  “Oh, it is a big deal. A very big deal,” Hank said.

  Harley made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

  “Hank’s right. You’d better take it easy.” Trunk padded out into the hall in his boxers and bare feet, cradling his cell. He dialed Carla. By now, her phone was working. “Hey, baby. We won! Did you see?”

  “I did. Electricity’s back. I watched the whole thing. You’re the hero. You won the game!”

  “No, no, it’s a team effort—”

  “Stop being humble. If you hadn’t caught that ball, the other guy would have, and you’d have lost. You saved it. You, all by yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

  “You are?” No one had ever said that except his high school coach.

  “Of course I am. And if you were here, I’d show you in a more physical way.” There was a pause. “Doodles! Stop. You’re no virgin. Hey, if it embarrasses you, then don’t listen in.”

  “We celebrate tonight then leave tomorrow around noon. I’ll be home soon. And I expect that private party.”

  “You got it, handsome.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, but Trunk was too drunk on victory to notice.

  “Sure I am, babe. Of course. I’m fine now.”

  “Great! I want to hear all about your Super Bowl party when I get home.”

  “See you tomorrow. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, honey. Love you.” Damn. That keeps slipping out.

  “Love you too.” And she hung up.

  Her words warmed his soul, especially the “L” word.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On the plane, winging back to New York, Trunk wasn’t the only player hung over. The night before was a complete blur, as celebrations of the men without wives had continued until three o’clock in the hotel bar.

  Trunk’s teammates hailed him as a hero. He sat back, sipping apple juice and staring out the window. Satisfaction flowed through him, until he thought about Carla. The moment of truth awaited him back in Monroe.

  Figuring he was on a lucky streak, he’d decided to come clean with her about his situation and take his chances. Fear spiked as he visualized her shock, disgust, and rejection. At least his house was ready enough for him to move in. The floors were done. He wanted to be there, pass the rest of the winter in peace, with his fireplace blazing and the love of his life by his side. It was time to move out of Carla’s place. He prayed that she would go with him.

  Some of the men slept on the bus ride back to the stadium from the airport. There were heartfelt farewells as the team scattered, each to their own cars and back to their own lives away from football. They would continue to use the gym, but it was off season—time to tend to their families, rest their bodies, and enjoy life.

  Trunk pulled up in front of The Savage Beast. He couldn’t miss the “for sale” sign, leaning up against the building. Panic rose in him. What happened? He opened the door and stopped.

  Carla was at the bar, her back to him. There were a couple of patrons sitting at a table, in front of the fire, drinking beer. The rush of cold air drew her attention, and she turned around.

  Her chin quivered when she faced him.

  “Baby, what happened?” Before he could utter another word, she flew into his arms, sobbing against his chest. He ushered her into the privacy of the kitchen. Doodles wasn’t there.

  He sat down and slid her onto his lap. He offered his handkerchief and stroked her back while she hiccupped and explained about the nightmare of the last few days.

  “I can’t sell this place without a freezer and a fridge. New ones are coming tomorrow. Six thousand dollars. That’s every penny I have. I’ve got nothing left to pay the mortgage with or buy meat.”

  “Oh my God. Honey. Baby. Let me help you.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why
not?”

  “Because. We need to talk. Later. When the customers are gone.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She leaned against him and took a deep, shuddering breath. “We need to go our separate ways,” she whispered.

  I guess she found out. No surprise. “If that’s what you want. I understand.”

  She opened her mouth slightly then closed it again. She pushed up off him and combed her hair with her fingers before returning to the bar.

  His phone rang. It was Griff.

  “Lauren’s got some drawings and wants to tell you what’s happening at the house before you move in. We’re finishing dinner now then the kids’ll go down. Can you come in an hour?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Returning, Carla pulled plates of blue cheese burgers and fries out of the oven. “I saved the last two burgers for us. And I packed your things. I know you want to move to your new place.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. Just makes it easier.”

  “There’s nothing easy about this. It feels like I’m getting a divorce again, but this time, the pain is real.”

  She looked at him with sad eyes. “We knew it wouldn’t last.”

  “Sucks.”

  “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  “You’re turning down my blue cheese burger? I don’t believe it.”

  He chuckled as she set the dishes on the bar before sliding onto a stool next to him. He stared at her face as he ate. She’d made it easy. Turned him down without him having to come out and admit his shameful secret. Typical of Carla, always thinking about him. Her brown eyes darkened with sadness. She avoided his gaze. Her hair was messy, reminding him of how it looked just after they made love.

  Everything about her attracted him. Her breasts, like ripe fruit, strained a bit against a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her small, delicate hands, so capable and hard-working, could cook anything and caress him in the most tender and exciting ways.

  The desire to crush her to him, carry her upstairs, and take what was his overwhelmed him. He focused his gaze on his plate, while his heart bled quietly. The sensation of love and loss overpowered the big man. Words wouldn’t come, and the food stuck in his throat. He washed it down with a Carla Special. Never had he experienced this unique mixture of joy and pain.

  When he finished, he grabbed his car keys and headed to Griff’s.

  * * * *

  “Hail the conquering hero!” Griff proclaimed in a soft voice as he opened the door.

  Trunk grinned. Lauren and Griff escorted him into their den where a fire was blazing. After a couple of barks, Spike, the pug, trotted after them, curled up on a pillow on the floor, and began snoring.

  “I think I need a dog,” Trunk said, stooping to pet the snoozing pooch.

  “Really? I can arrange that,” Lauren said. She plopped down, cross-legged, on the sofa, next to Griff. Trunk eased into a chair. She spread out some drawings, renderings of what the interior of the house would look like once the renovations were done.

  “Are you sure I can live there while this is going on?”

  “As long as you stay out of the way.”

  He approved what he saw with a few minor changes.

  “Let me know if you’re serious about a dog. I’m in touch with pug rescue people, and I’m sure I can find one for you.”

  “A dog. Never thought about it. Living there alone, probably be a good idea. Let me know if you have one looking for a home. You like pugs, Griff?”

  “Wouldn’t have any other breed.”

  Trunk pushed to his feet. “Thank you, Lauren.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Griff said.

  Spike cracked open an eye to check on the activity before going back to sleep. The men entered the vestibule.

  “Walk me out? I think I could find the front door. What’s up?” Al turned to face the quarterback.

  “You’re moving in alone? What about Carla? She’s mad crazy for you. You’re breaking up?”

  “We both knew it wouldn’t last.”

  “What the fuck? Are you breaking her heart?”

  “She’s breaking mine. Tell me, Griff. Why didn’t you and Carla get together, for keeps?”

  “A couple of reasons. First, the ‘no kid’ rule. I told her I wanted kids and that wasn’t negotiable. She understood, but wouldn’t budge.”

  Trunk grabbed his friend by the arms. “What ‘no kid’ rule?”

  “Didn’t she tell you? Carla is adamant. She doesn’t want kids. Wouldn’t exactly tell me why. Gave me some bullshit story about ruining her body, but I knew it was something else. She ever tell you?”

  Trunk could hardly breathe. “She doesn’t want kids? Really? You’re not shittin’ me?”

  “Nope. It was a deal breaker for me.”

  “That’s it! That’s it. She thinks I want kids.” Al rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You mean you don’t want them, either?”

  “It’s a long story. Thanks, Griff. I could kiss you.”

  “Uh, let’s not go that far. What did I do?”

  “You just brought Carla and me together, buddy. I owe you for this. I owe you big time.”

  “Don’t you want to know the second reason?”

  “Nope. I’ve got a date with a beautiful woman. Thanks. Thanks a million.”

  Trunk threw on his jacket and ran to his car. He tried to obey the traffic lights, but he couldn’t wait to get to The Beast. When he burst through the door, Carla looked up from wiping down the counter.

  “You’re full of energy,” she said, eying him up and down. She thrust a bottle of red wine into his hands. “Open this. I’m going to put a log on the fire. We have to talk.”

  “Okay.” He popped the cork from the cabernet, poured two glasses, and joined her in a chair by the fire. She pulled up another to rest her feet on.

  Trunk put the “closed” sign in the window and returned. Then, he took her hand and kissed it. “I think I know what our problem is.”

  “We have only one?” She chuckled.

  “A big one…standing in our way. First, tell me. If you could have your wish, would you be with me?”

  “Of course, babe. I thought you knew that. But—”

  He pressed a large finger against her lips. “Let me talk first.”

  She sipped the dark red liquid, her eyes focused on his face.

  “I just found out that you don’t want kids.”

  “Who told—?”

  Again, he silenced her. “Let me finish. You assume that I do, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Wrong. I don’t want kids, either, because I can’t have ’em. Nobody knows, except Mary. I’m sterile.”

  “What?” she burst out, spitting a little wine with the word.

  He handed her a napkin. “That’s right. I’m shootin’ blanks. I can’t have kids. Mary and I tried everything. No dice.”

  Carla stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “I thought for sure you’d leave me if you knew. I figured every woman wanted kids. I’ve been waiting, putting off telling you, because I didn’t want to lose you.”

  Her cheeks pinked.

  “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You get me. I love you, Carla, like I’ve never loved anybody before.”

  “You can’t have kids? You’re not fooling me?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  He shook his head. “That’s one of the reasons Mary left. She changed her mind. She’s pregnant. Artificial insemination.”

  “I assumed it’s your kid.”

  “Nope. We’re on the same page, then, right? No kids?”

  “Right. No kids.”

  “How do you feel about dogs?”

  “Love dogs.”

  “Why don’t we take this upstairs, get more comfortable, and you can tell me why you don’t want kids. Then, you can pack your own suitcase and come with me to our new house.”

&nbs
p; “Oh my God, Al. Really? You want me to move in with you?”

  He nodded. Her sharp intake of breath made him smile. “We belong together. Say you will.”

  “Oh, yes. I will.” She grinned.

  He rose and took her hand. Together, they climbed the stairs, entered her bedroom, and closed the door.

  * * * *

  The next morning, the lovers were awakened at eight by the delivery of the new freezer and refrigerator. Carla called Doodles and hired him back. While she was busy getting the appliances set up and calling the meat man, Trunk had some business of his own. He called Bull.

  “Emergency. I need help. Meet me for breakfast in half an hour at the diner.”

  After he finished there, he went over to the bank. Mary was sitting at her desk, looking very pregnant. He approached.

  “Al? How nice to see you. You’re looking good,” she said, extending her hand.

  He shook it. “And you’re looking very pregnant. This is business, Mary.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to pay off someone’s loan.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m sorry.”

  “You can, and you will. You owe me.”

  “Come on. It’s bank policy.”

  “You’re an officer here. What do you care where the money comes from? At least let me make her monthly payments for six months.”

  “Her?”

  He shifted his weight. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

  “No, no. Not really. It’s pretty quick, that’s all. Were you seeing her while we were married?” Mary raised her chin.

  “Of course not. She was a friend. I never cheated on you, Mary. I don’t do that.”

  “Oh.”