Deep Zone

by Tim Green

  “You know,” Ty said, “you’re right. I forgot all about Agent Sutherland. He would like it. Oh, well.”

  The Bavaros appeared, and Thane talked excitedly to Mark Bavaro about the trip down to Miami, asking where the team would stay.

  “There’s a great new place called the Florida Grand,” Bavaro said. “I got a block of rooms. It’s not South Beach, but the place is five-star. It’s not too far from the stadium and it’s right on the edge of the Everglades. The Falcons are staying there.”

  “Two weeks till the Super Bowl? I’m surprised you got anything at all.”

  “The Giants’ travel agent hooked me up,” Bavaro said. “They had a corporate package that fell through. We’ll be doing this thing in style.”

  Ty and Thane got into Thane’s black Escalade and headed for home, both of them excited and grinning wide.

  “You did awesome, Ty,” Thane said as they pulled out onto the turnpike. “You made me proud.”

  Ty felt something grip his insides.

  “What’s the matter?” Thane glanced at him.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, what?”

  “Just what you said.”

  “About me being proud?” Thane said. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” Ty turned his head away from Thane and wiped the corners of his eyes on the back of his hand. “It’s just that’s what he used to say. You sounded just like him.”

  “Who?” Thane asked.

  “Dad.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  MAYBE THE BEST PART about going to Miami for the week of the Super Bowl was missing school, the unexpected holiday, and the wistful look his Halpern teammates got in their eyes when they heard about him playing on a 7-on-7 team with Mark Bavaro’s son.

  Maybe the next best thing about the trip was being warm at the end of January. While New Jersey was wet and frozen, the air in Florida—even in the breezeway getting off the plane—was tropical. Thane rented a royal blue Mustang convertible. They put their luggage in the back and raced down the highway to the Florida Grand with the top down. The hotel looked like a white sand castle rising up out of a mangrove swamp. The driveway wound through a stand of ancient banyan trees, each with dozens of gray, narrow trunks growing into the same canopy of leaves. Bellmen in burgundy-colored uniforms with gold trim rushed down the stone steps to their car to take the luggage.

  Their room looked out over the Everglades, an endless sea of green grass that switched and flowed in the wind with veins of glittering dark water. In the distance, little bumps of green suggested tree-covered islands that dotted the swamp. Directly below was a swimming pool with palm trees and a sandy beach that crept up to the edge of a broad body of dark water, which was part of a wide canal. The canal ran straight north and south and appeared to mark the eastern edge of the Everglades. The hotel also had a small marina jutting out into the dark water, where several fishing boats, skiffs, and WaveRunners were moored. On land, a rack of kayaks and canoes stood next to a thatched-roof hut.

  Ty put his hands and nose on the window and stared.

  “Want to go hit it?” Thane asked, tossing his bag onto a stand next to the dresser.

  “The beach down there?”

  “We can toss the ball around. Take a swim in the pool.”

  “Your knee.”

  Thane looked down at his leg and flexed it slowly. “I can throw passes, and I don’t mean twenty laps, just a splash. I’m okay. They have me in the pool in therapy all the time anyway. I can do some self-rehab.”

  They spent the afternoon in the sun on the sand and splashing in the pool. Ty kept his eyes open for signs of the Falcons players, but none appeared, and Thane told him the team was probably having a practice. After showers, they put on jeans and polo shirts and headed down the highway for South Beach. They pulled up to a fancy club right on the ocean. A young man in a white shirt and black pants parked the car, and Ty and Thane walked down a red carpet and into the crowd of people among white umbrellas and wide wood lounge chairs with thick white cushions. Music, laughter, and the hum of talking filled the air, along with smoke from several beach fires. Above, beyond the halo of light from the fires and city lights, the star-filled sky almost seemed to glow.

  “And you get paid to just show up to this?” Ty asked.

  Thane nodded. They checked in at a table and received bronze bracelets that would get them whatever food or drinks they wanted. Ty saw something go by on a tray, cherry red in a tall glass with a pink umbrella and a strawberry floating in the ice.

  “That?” Ty asked.

  Thane signaled to a waitress and asked for two of whatever they were without any alcohol. The two brothers found an empty lounge chair and sat down to watch the people move past, men and women elegantly dressed with brilliant gold watches, diamond necklaces, and sunglasses even though it was nighttime.

  “We’re kind of underdressed.” Ty looked down at what he had thought were pretty nice clothes.

  Thane looked at Ty, then at his own clothes, and shrugged. “We’re okay.”

  “Not like these people,” Ty said.

  Thane waved a hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside. I mean, you don’t want to be a disgrace or anything, but we’ve got nice clothes on. Not fancy, but nice. Respectable. People who judge you by what you wear or how good you look aren’t worth knowing anyway.”

  Ty absorbed his older brother’s words. And as he looked around, spotting other NFL star players—like Drew Brees, Troy Polamalu, and Adrian Peterson—his excitement grew.

  Someone called his brother’s name. Ty looked and saw Seth Cole, the New York Jets’ owner. The owner reminded Ty of pictures he’d seen in history books of war prisoners, men with dark and empty eyes, even if they were smiling. Next to the owner stood Brett Favre. Ty’s mouth fell open.

  “Come on,” Thane said, tugging Ty along with him.

  The owner asked how Thane’s knee was feeling, then introduced the NFL legend.

  “I like your hands, man,” Favre said.

  “I like the way you throw the ball,” Thane said. “This is my little brother, Ty. He’s a receiver, too.”

  “Hey, Ty,” Favre said. “You got those big hands like your brother.”

  Ty felt his heart swell with pride, but he couldn’t talk, only nod.

  “Tiger, you brought your brother?” the Jets’ owner said with a blank face. “Very nice.”

  “He’s here for that NFL Seven-on-Seven Tournament,” Thane said. “He’s playing for Mark Bavaro’s team. They won the New Jersey qualifier. The finals are Sunday morning, but we’ll see.”

  “Excellent,” the Jets’ owner said. “I’ve got a young man who’s a guest of mine he should meet. He’s here for the tournament, too. The team from Georgia.”

  The owner turned to a woman who stood behind him. She had long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore no makeup but was pretty anyway, with her big green eyes and a bright smile. The owner said something to her. She turned back and ushered a girl Ty’s age into the group. She had long dark hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her tan skin looked even darker because of the white summer dress she wore. Behind the girl was a boy in jeans and a polo shirt, just like Ty.

  When Ty saw the boy’s face, he recognized him instantly, and the shock of who he was made Ty stammer.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  THE NFL OWNER BOWED to the young girl and the woman, then turned to Ty and Thane. “This is Tessa White. She’s here this week with our NFC champions. She’s with the Falcons PR staff. And this lovely young spitfire—I use that as a term of affection—is Tate McGreer. Finally, a face you might recognize if you’ve been watching ESPN, or maybe you saw him on Larry King . . .”

  “Troy White,” Brett Favre said, extending his hand for a shake. “Hey, buddy, you ought to come to Minnesota next year. Don’t listen to Mr. Cole here. I could use someone to tell me what defense the doggone Packers are gonna be in. You need to be we
aring purple.”

  To his credit, Troy White blushed.

  “The deal is already done, I’m afraid.” The Jets’ owner put a hand on Brett Favre’s shoulder and winked. “You may have the fastest release throwing the football, but I’m quicker with a checkbook. Troy, meet Tiger Lewis, and this is his brother, Ty. Sounds like you two might go at it this week in the Seven-on-Seven Tournament.”

  Ty held out his hand and shook Troy’s iron grip.

  Troy met his gaze with a steady eye. “Northern New Jersey, right? You’re in the other bracket. We won’t play you guys unless we both make it to the finals.”

  “No reason that can’t happen,” Ty said.

  “I feel sorry for you if you do,” Tate McGreer said to Ty.

  “Why’s that?” Ty asked.

  Tate shrugged. “Anyone who plays against Troy won’t stand a chance.”

  “You can’t say that.” Ty felt his face grow warm. “Mark Bavaro’s son is our quarterback, and we’ve got a great team.”

  “I can say it.” Tate spoke plainly, without anger or any kind of emotion. “’Cause it’s true. That’s all.”

  Ty didn’t even know how to respond, but he was saved when the waitress appeared and delivered the red drinks Thane and Ty had ordered. Ty accepted his but felt a little silly when he saw the way Troy looked at the drink.

  Tate said, “That’s neat-looking. What is it?”

  “Here, have some.” Ty didn’t know if it was because he was nervous, or flustered, or what, but the words came out of his mouth sounding cross, and he didn’t mean them that way.

  Even the sound of his words wouldn’t have been a big deal if—at the same moment—the Jets’ owner hadn’t stepped sideways and onto Ty’s foot. The heel of his shoe came down just so on the nail of Ty’s big toe, sending a shock wave of pain up his leg. As a reflex, Ty yanked his foot free. The momentum tilted him off balance, and he lunged forward. The big red drink flew from his hand.

  Everyone in the small group saw where the drink was headed, and everyone gasped.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  TATE’S SHRIEK MADE HALF the nightclub stop and stare. Her dress looked like a horror movie, with red spattered all down its front and pink slush looking like bits of gore. Troy gripped Ty’s arm and shoved him away.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Troy glared at Ty with clenched fists.

  Ty could only swallow. Thane wore a look of surprise and didn’t say a word.

  “I . . . I didn’t mean to,” Ty said, but it sounded more angry than apologetic, even to Ty. He wanted to say that the owner had stepped on his foot, but Seth Cole’s dark look scared him into silence.

  Tate looked around at the gaping crowd and huffed. “Can you take me back to the hotel, Ms. White?”

  “You don’t have to go, Tate,” Troy’s mom said softly. “You can stay.”

  “I don’t mind looking silly,” Tate said, studying the mess. “But it’s kind of sticky, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” Troy’s mom put her arm around Tate and led her off toward the entrance. Troy gave Ty one more hateful look before following the two of them.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cole,” Thane said to the Jets’ owner.

  The owner looked at Ty with eyes as lifeless as glass before narrowing them slightly and slipping off into the crowd.

  “What the heck?” Thane said when they were alone.

  “He stepped on my foot,” Ty said.

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Cole. He stepped on my toe and I fell. I was offering her some, not throwing it at her.”

  Thane scowled at Ty. “What’d I tell you about what people say? Who cares if she said you can’t beat him? I told you, that doesn’t matter. You save it for the football field.”

  “I wasn’t not saving anything! Why don’t you believe me?” Ty turned and ran, through the crowd, past the fire pits, and out into the night on the empty beach. He turned so that the water was on his right and ran down the hard-packed surface where the waves still licked the sand. Above the thump of music from the party, Ty heard Thane calling his name.

  The smell of dead sea animals rode the salty breeze. Ty stopped and turned and saw the outline of his brother’s shape against the flickering lights of the party. Thane limped slightly as he made his way toward the water. Ty kept going down the beach, but he walked backward, watching to see what his brother would do. Ty just wanted some time alone. He figured his brother would tire of calling him and return to the party, but Thane fished the cell phone from his pocket and used it to light up the sand in front of him. Thane bent over to study the tracks in the firm sand, and presumably found Ty’s because he started heading down the beach as well.

  Instead of continuing on, Ty walked to the very edge of the waves, where his tracks would be washed away. He went another twenty yards, then ran and jumped up into the dry sand where no tracks could be found. He jogged all the way to the sea grass and sat down on the edge of a small dune. There was something exciting about outsmarting his brother and watching him move down the beach in the faint light from the stars without knowing that Ty was there. Thane would stop every few feet and check the footprints with his phone.

  Just as Ty started to feel guilty about the trick, he caught the faraway movement of another dark shape, a man leaving the party and heading for the water without the help of any light or cell phone. Ty thought it was someone just taking a walk, but after a minute, he realized that when Thane stopped, the dark figure behind him stopped too. Ty blinked and rubbed his eyes, thinking that somehow the dark must be playing tricks on him. He watched for several more minutes. When Thane turned around and the figure crouched down low on the sand so as not to be seen, Ty felt his heart race.

  Thane was being followed, and not by a friend.

  Ty didn’t know what to do.

  Ty could tell that Thane had no idea anyone was there. The figure moved suddenly closer. Thane bent over to study the sand, searching for tracks in the light of the cell phone.

  Ty looked up and down the beach but saw no one to help.

  “Thane!” Ty shouted. “Look out!”

  Thane spun around and cried out in pain.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  TY’S HEART EXPLODED IN his chest. He dashed across the sand, stumbling and falling face-first, filling his mouth with the dry grains so that he spit and swiped at his face as he recovered and sprinted toward his fallen brother.

  From the corner of his eye, Ty saw the figure racing back up the beach. In front of him, Thane lay still and silent.

  Ty threw himself down on his knees beside his brother.

  “Thane!” he cried. “Thane!”

  Thane growled with pain, with eyes wide open and jaw clenched tight. Ty felt a wave of relief, even though tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” Ty said. “I’m so stupid. Are you okay? Thane?”

  Thane gritted his teeth and sat up slowly, reaching for his knee. “I can’t believe I spun around like that.”

  “He was following you.” Ty’s words came out in a flurry. “I thought he was going to get you. I had to yell.”

  Thane shook his head and felt the injured joint with both hands. “I don’t know what I did to it, but it felt like it did when I tore it.”

  “You don’t think you tore it again?” Ty asked.

  “I don’t know. They screwed the ligament into the bone, but they told me to be careful. Technically I should still be wearing a brace. Help me up.”

  Ty helped his brother struggle to his feet and allowed Thane to lean heavily on his shoulder. Slowly, they began to move up the beach. Thane used his bad leg carefully, putting very little weight on it and snatching up steps with his good leg.

  “I thought you were dead,” Ty said. The flickering flames from the party were like kaleidoscopes of orange and yellow light in his eyes.

  “I’m okay,” Thane said, but Ty could hear the agony in his voice.

  “Who was that, Than
e? Why would someone be following you?” Ty hoped there was another answer besides what he feared most: that the D’Amico mob had followed them down and were still looking for a chance at revenge.

  “Maybe he wasn’t,” Thane said.

  Ty shook his head violently. “That’s what I wanted to think, but I swear, every time you stopped, he stopped, and when you looked back that one time, he ducked down in the sand so his shape wouldn’t stand out against the lights.”

  “I felt like someone was watching me,” Thane said, “but maybe he was . . . I don’t know, looking for shells or something. Maybe he dropped his keys.”

  “But why run when you spun around?” Ty asked.

  “Maybe you scared him,” Thane said. “That must be it.”

  Ty didn’t even want to say what he thought it was because it seemed that it might somehow make it true, but he couldn’t help himself. “You don’t think it was them, do you?”

  Thane stopped hobbling. He took the back of Ty’s neck and gently turned Ty’s face to look into his eyes. “You’ve got to stop already. We’re fine. It was someone looking for something who got scared when you yelled and I screamed. Man, that hurt like heck. I hope I didn’t pull the screws out.”

  They walked around the outside edge of the party to where they could pick up their car. The valets looked sympathetically at Thane’s expression of pain but said nothing as he and Ty climbed into the rented Mustang.

  “You can drive okay?” Ty asked.

  “I only need one leg for that.”

  Back at the hotel, Thane stripped off his jeans to reveal a knee that was swollen and red. The crimson and purple scars from his surgery puckered the skin around them from where the stitches had held the skin together tight.

  “Can you get me a bag of ice?” Thane asked.

  Ty scooted down the hallway and filled two plastic bags with ice from the machine. Thane packed the injured knee and lay back against the headboard of the bed, looking out over the Everglades.

  Thane raised his bad leg. “I think it’s going to be okay. When it was torn, I could feel it swinging loose. It’s not doing that now. I probably just strained it.”