“And the quarterback for the Wolves, Gideon Wells!” the announcer exclaimed.
Gideon ran from the hallway. Before he could join his team, one cheerleader jumped in front of him. He managed to catch her before he knocked her down.
“Whoa. Easy there.” Gideon set her back on her feet.
“Sorry, Gideon.” She wrapped her arms around his neck after the collision and didn’t act ready to release him.
Gideon gazed at her and recognized her as the cheerleader who had been running into him during practices and team events. Through the padding and his gloves, he couldn’t feel her body, despite her best efforts to wriggle herself against him.
Even if dating cheerleaders hadn’t been against the rules, Gideon wouldn’t have gone for this woman anyway. He had to pry her arms from around his neck before he could keep going.
He met up with the team on the sidelines.
Dennis leaned over to Gideon. “Pay up.” Then he released a big belly laugh.
“I knew she was crazy. Who does that before a Super Bowl?” Gideon shook his head.
Before the National Anthem could be sung, Dennis elbowed Gideon in his side. When Gideon looked at him, Dennis asked, “For real, are you good?’”
Gideon dropped his gaze to the ground before answering. “Yeah. Why?”
“The streets are talking, man.” Dennis shuffled in his spot before he spoke again. “You hurt?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Gideon gazed around to see if anyone could hear him. Nowadays, everyone had cameras and microphones everywhere.
“You want us to run the 300?”
Like the movie the name came from, Gideon and Dennis called the method to protect the quarterback 300 because they liked the strategy of funneling the opposing team toward the quarterback in smaller doses to handle them better.
Gideon shook his head. “Stick to my plays. Don’t deviate.”
“Whatever you say, man.” Dennis nodded. “As usual, you want to do things your way, right? Got it.”
Gideon ignored Dennis’s sly remark. Dennis had never had to be the glue to keep things from falling apart—families, friends, businesses. Gideon managed to hold everyone together. No one ever had to worry about him.
After the coin toss, the game started. Gideon got in a zone like he always did during a game. As long as he could see Dennis, he could get the ball to him. They worked like a machine.
As expected, the team looked out for Gideon, keeping the Sharks’ huge defensive line from crushing him. The Hawaiian team had brute force. They couldn’t account for the Wolves’ speed and Gideon’s tactical game play.
Before halftime, Gideon threw a pass to Dennis. He watched the ball barely spiraling in the air before his friend caught it and hauled ass down the field. Gideon didn’t expect to be hit from the side, sweeping his legs from under him as he crashed to the ground. The reserve of air he had in his lungs expelled from his body, leaving him limp and gasping.
Gideon heard a crack in his knee before crashing to the ground, but he could still move it. Good. That meant it couldn’t be broken. He brought his foot close to his body to prop up his aching joint.
He gripped a handful of grass as he lay on his back like a hapless turtle. Touching the blades of grass helped him slow down his breathing, to focus on the here and now. In his reclined position, he attempted to catch his breath as he gazed up at the sky starting to get a dusky-pink appearance. Even though no one stood around him, it felt like that 300-pound lineman sat on his chest.
Get up, Gid. Christ, stand up. Don’t let people worry about you. Get. The. Hell. Up.
Gideon sat up in time to peer up at the scoreboard. Dennis must have made the touchdown. His team led by six points, but he couldn’t get excited. Not yet. He had watched and participated in plenty of games that had been turned around after halftime.
As soon as Gideon stood, he knew his knee had taken far too much abuse from the hit. After the field goal had been made, he walked off the field without limping or wincing, a feat considering how bad the joint felt.
Dennis managed to catch up to him as they funneled their way back down the hall. “You good?”
Gideon kept his gaze straight. “Those are some big guys, huh?” He smiled before turning to his friend. “I need a quick ice pack and I’ll be good.”
“Are you sure? I mean, we can get—”
“Drop it.” Gideon didn’t mean to snap at his buddy, but a lot rode on this game. “I apologize, man. It’s the game.”
Dennis put his big hand on top of Gideon’s helmet. “Get out of your head and get into the game. Keep getting the ball to me and all will go great.”
Despite getting the team to the Super Bowl, he knew all too well that owners and coaches liked cutting players with too many injuries. He’d come too far to get dropped now.
During the halftime show, Gideon found a quiet corner of the locker room and put an ice pack on his knee. He sat back, closed his eyes, and envisioned winning this game with his team. Once they did that, he could go home.
Going to see his mother consumed his thoughts. If he could see her, he would be happy. He would have to make sure she got through her surgery. Then he could worry about himself.
The last minute of the game tested Gideon. His knee throbbed each time he crouched down to get the ball. The Sharks got their second wind, and they seemed bound and determined to take out Gideon. Each play, they jumped on him harder and faster.
Gideon didn’t complain much, but it started wearing on him. The last few seconds of the game, Gideon pulled his team together.
He glanced at Dennis before he spoke. “Last run, fellas. We can do this.”
“The last twenty seconds, and they’re up five points.” Dennis pointed up. “Give me the ball. Once you get it in my hands, we’ve won the Super Bowl, baby!” He pounded Gideon on his back.
Relying on Dennis didn’t suit Gideon. He wanted to go in this game playing it to the very end. “Give me a 300.”
“What? That’s crazy. You’re going to run that play now when—”
“Watch my back.” No time for apologies. Gideon broke from the pack to resume his spot.
He spied the goal line. He needed to do more. After looking off to the sideline, he watched his other teammates staring at him like a savior. He saw panic and disbelief in each of their faces.
Gideon called the play. The center hiked the ball to him. The taut ball slid into his awaiting hands. Gideon watched Dennis faking out one of the larger Sharks players to coast down the field, but he never turned around to Gideon. Without seeing Dennis’s eyes, he couldn’t chance throwing the ball to him and expect him to receive it. Instead of throwing the ball, Gideon took off down the field around the outside where his team managed to corral the Sharks players and keep them in the center.
Gideon charged toward the goal line. He gripped the ball as though it contained the cure to whatever ailed his mother. He chomped down on the black mouth guard as he pushed his body to incredible limits. No one from the opposing team blocked his path. In the goal area, he saw Dennis jumping up and down and waving his hands. Too late.
Gideon kept running. From the side, he caught the image of an opposing team player catching up to him. Mustering every bit of strength he had, Gideon took a big leap over the player as soon as the man attempted to tackle him.
When Gideon landed with a crunch, his bones and muscles ached. He peered over and saw he had made it over the goal line. He couldn’t help but laugh out of sheer joy. His knee didn’t share in his happiness. He’d made it.
Dennis stood over him. “That was a dick move, man.” He hesitated before putting his hand out to him. Gideon accepted it.
“Looking out for the team.” Gideon walked alongside Dennis.
“No, you weren’t.” Dennis jogged ahead.
Gideon didn’t see his move as one to slight anyone. He wanted to see his team win. After their successful field goal kick a
nd time running out, they did win. Colorful streamers, confetti and tickertape filled the arena. The team jumped around after dousing Brick with a cooler full of a bright orange drink.
Dennis, although he celebrated with his team, kept his distance from Gideon. In the loud arena, the silence from his friend drowned out everything else. He would have to get Dennis alone to tell him why he did what he did.
He had to call his mother and Gunnar first. He had to hear their voices. After getting his cell phone, he called his mother’s house.
“Queen’s not here,” Victor Dabu, one of his mother’s trusted employees at her flower shop, said. “She’s at the hospital.”
Gideon covered his free ear with his hand to make sure he had heard what Victor said. “What? Did you say hospital?”
“Yes. She’s fine.”
Gideon breathed a sigh of relief. He imagined that his last play may have caused her to have a heart attack. He glanced at Dennis, who now busied himself doing an interview with a popular female sports journalist.
“Why is she at the hospital?” Gideon hated shouting over the crowd, but he had to have this conversation.
“Gunnar was shot. He’s in surgery now.”
The sounds of the crowd faded away. For a moment, the movement around Gideon slowed down. Shot. His brother had been shot.
“Hey, son, the president would like a word with you.” Coach Brick held up the phone to Gideon.
“I can’t. I got to go home and see my mother.” Gideon ran from the sidelines and tried making his way through the throngs of people now on the field.
Gideon didn’t care how it sounded. He knew he had to make it home before he lost his family.
Chapter 2
“Ugh, turn that off.” Janelle Gold moved a large glass vase filled with bright red roses that sat by the front door of her flower shop, Flowers Galore, next to the front counter. “That’s why I got into flowers and plants, to stay away from meathead jocks who can’t tell the difference between a tulip and a rose.” To illustrate her point, Janelle held a yellow tulip in one hand and a rose in the other.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant scents swirling in the air. Besides the smells, Janelle fell in love with the vibrant colors all around her. Reds, blues, yellows, oranges, greens. Beauty in every place she looked. Every day felt like she had fallen into a Monet painting that she never wanted to escape. Too bad her bank could be the turpentine that might erase her from her dreams whether she wanted out or not.
“Come on, Janelle. It’s the Super Bowl. I mainly watch for the commercials anyway. They’re hilarious.” Penny, one of Janelle’s employees and a friend since elementary school, stayed glued to the TV as she watched the Virginia Beach Wolves celebrating. “Look at that. Our home team won! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Not really.” Janelle locked the front door. “So a local team won. It won’t get customers in the store.” She pulled a dozen roses with baby’s breath from a vase and wrapped it in green paper so that the flowers trumpeted from the large open end.
“Maybe if you’d done like I asked and made a Wolves bouquet filled with red, yellow, and black roses.” Penny shrugged.
Janelle cocked her head. “Black roses?”
“I would have added dye to their water or spray painted them.”
Janelle laughed and shook her head.
Penny continued. “The point is, I made a suggestion and as usual, you turned it down.”
“I wouldn’t have turned down your suggestion if it was a good one.”
Penny screwed up her face and stuck out her tongue before staring at the TV screen.
Janelle shouldn’t have even bothered opening up and staying late on a Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday no less. No one wanted flowers then. No, her time would be in a couple of weeks when Valentine’s Day rolled around. She’d already gotten some orders in by phone and e-mail.
Although she didn’t want her friend Elizabeth Sommerville to be sick, she’d thought with Elizabeth being out of commission for a while, perhaps sales at Flowers Galore would go up a little. They hadn’t.
Janelle needed her business to turn around if she had any chance of making it. She’d only had Flowers Galore open for less than two years. Opening it up so close to Pick ’N Clip, Elizabeth’s business, hadn’t seemed like a wise thing to do, but the cost to lease the space had been right. The location worked for her.
As soon as she’d opened her doors, Elizabeth had come over, introduced herself and bought a bouquet of roses. Janelle never forgot how supportive Elizabeth had been, then and now. Elizabeth had become an unexpected mentor.
“You know I love seeing those men in their tights.” Janelle’s sassy friend grunted a sound of approval through her nose. “High and tight.” She lifted her hands and curved her fingers as though she could grab one of the guys’ backsides through the TV screen. “You could bite one.”
“No, you can do that.” Janelle had found all through school that guys hadn’t gravitated to girls who loved learning.
The jocks had thought calling her a brainiac and nerd had hurt her feelings. She didn’t care about them. They might get million-dollar contracts, but Janelle knew in a few years they would bust up their bodies or lose the rest of their mediocre brain cells. Janelle would have her business and be doing something she loved, tending to her plants.
“You don’t find these guys hot?” Penny twirled her newly dyed red hair around her finger.
Janelle’s pale friend licked her lips. At one point, Janelle thought she’d caught Penny sliding her fingertips down the screen as though stroking a potential lover. Janelle shook her head.
“Athletes are blessed with great hand-eye coordination and halfway decent bodies.” Janelle tapped her finger against her temple. “The brain. That’s the sexiest organ.”
“You are such a nerd.” Penny shook her head.
“Thank you.” Janelle bowed her head and smiled as though her friend had given her a compliment.
“Let high school go. You’re a hot business owner.” Penny stopped and scanned Janelle from head to toe. “Strike that. You’re a business owner.”
“Hey!” Janelle picked a rose stem from her bouquet and threw it at Penny. “Not nice.”
“Look at you. Yes, it’s February, but you’re in a million layers of clothes.”
Janelle turned and stared at her reflection in the front door glass. Her long cardigan sweater went almost down to her knees. The pockets on either side looked like they drooped down out of exhaustion. She loaded her pockets with shears, rubber bands, pens, and tags.
Under her cardigan, she wore a black turtleneck sweater and jeans. She had to be comfortable in what she did, although she always wondered how Queen Elizabeth could work in a full skirt suit, high heels, and a face full of flawless makeup.
Janelle didn’t need a mirror to see she didn’t wear anything on her face. Applying tinted lip balm had been her only beautifying product. Her sneakers squeaked over the brown tiled floor.
She ran her hand over her naturally curly hair that she had styled back from her face with a hair clip on top of her head. Shortly after starting college, Janelle had stopped putting chemical relaxers in her hair to allow the natural texture to come through finally. Back then, she’d done it because of low funds. Now other African-American women adopted the look to be trendy.
“What I wear is appropriate for where we work. No one is looking at me to be some fashionista.” She held her hands up like a game-show beauty. “People come here to see these flowers and plants. They’re the stars.” She exhaled as she gazed around her business. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
Penny leaned forward to turn off the small flat-screen TV that sat behind the counter when she stopped. Local news broke to talk about a shooting not far from Janelle’s business.
“Police are on the lookout for a suspect who broke in and shot an employee at Press ’N Curl, a hair salon in Virginia Beach.” The news a
nchor spoke slowly, making sure to emphasize certain words in a dramatic fashion. “The victim is none other than MMA champion Gunnar Wells.”
“Holy shit.” Penny covered her mouth.
Penny could best be described as dramatic. Their differences in their races didn’t matter. Back then, their tastes in boys matched. Now Penny kept up her admiration for the jocks, but Janelle had decided to expand her horizons and go for a well-rounded man with goals and ambition.
“Isn’t that horrible?” Penny shook her head. “What’s the world coming to?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.” Janelle went behind the counter to retrieve her coat and purse. “It’s a shame though. Press ’N Curl is one of Queen Elizabeth’s businesses. She owns, like, three or four of them.”
“Okay, so what in the world is a champion MMA fighter”—Penny glanced at the screen again—“a fine one at that, doing in Queen’s business? Don’t tell me he’s there getting his hair done.”
Janelle laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? He would never live that down.” She wiped under her eyes. When the idea that a man had been shot registered to her again, she sobered to the situation. “Seriously, I hope he’s okay.”
“Any tips on this crime, please contact Virginia Beach police. Now we’ll return you to the Super Bowl, already in progress.”
The screen switched back over to the game, or rather, the end of the game. The Virginia Beach Wolves celebrated. Colorful streamers filled the screen, and screams filled the inside of Janelle’s store.
Janelle didn’t care to look at the screen until she heard a woman attempting to interview the team’s quarterback.
“Gideon! Gideon! Congratulations on the win. I understand the president is on the phone for you.” The savvy African-American journalist managed to get her microphone up to Gideon’s face.
Janelle finally glanced at the screen. She froze. The football player, covered in sweat with his blond hair stuck to his face, kept her hypnotized to the screen with his incredible blue eyes. No one’s look had rendered her immobile since her days in high school.
Forget Me Not Page 3
