Second and Short

by Michel Prince

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she teased.

  “Not that I mind, but why are you here?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “Because there’s a chance Dalton might meet me where I am at.”

  “If he does, I’ll rethink my view on professional athletes. He’s not the first one Bucky’s had here and won’t be the last.” Stan turned in the driver’s seat to face her fully. “I only tried to stop you because the last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt.”

  “He never hurt me. Not once. And every hurt I’ve put on him he takes in stride.”

  She got out of the truck and made her way into her cabin. Turning the heat on, she wrapped herself in a blanket. In her heart, she knew she wanted Dalton back. It was late and he’d already be on lockdown at the hotel. Meetings, food and crashing meant he might have his phone on, then again, he might not. Either way, she finally replied to his text.

  I’m home, all I need is the word and I’ll be yours today, tomorrow and always.

  “You okay?” Dmitri asked as Dalton tore through his bag.

  “Yeah, I just can’t find my phone. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

  “Nope, did you put it on the charger last night?”

  Dalton played back his night in his mind. Had he left it in a meeting room on a charger? Opening his side zippered pocket for the third time, he found his charger. “Guess not.”

  “You were kinda zoned out in meetings. You did take notes, right?”

  Reaching for his playbook, Dalton saw a few notes. If anything, he was hyper focused. Anything to push aside the fact Willie hadn’t responded to him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Bitches, right?” Dmitri said. “That’s why it’s one-night-stands, two if she can give a good blow job.”

  “I’m glad you have standards.”

  “Hey, I’m lazy. I admit it. If I can stretch out and come hard I don’t see any reason to exert myself for some bitch.”

  “Your mother must be so proud.”

  “Don’t bring her up, she thinks I need to settle down. Settle with what? Half the women are trying to be on GOGS…wait, they all want to be on there. I think one of the girls I fucked is on there as my ex.”

  “Really which one?”

  “Like I fucking remember. The twink Bryceson tried to get me to do an episode so she could work through her trust issues. Probably one of the ones I fucked in the ass. They always look shocked and shaken.”

  “Most do when an elephant dick get’s stuck in there.”

  “You been checking me out, Gresham?”

  “You know it, baby.” Dalton turned on his laptop to use his phone locator. It dinged right where he parked his truck. “Well isn’t that just my luck. I left it in my truck.”

  “You survived last night, but if you feel the DTs coming on, let us know.”

  “Because I’m a teenage girl. I’ll be okay.”

  Dmitri opened the door. “If you’re sure, we have walk throughs and breakfast.”

  Closing his laptop, Dalton made his way to the pregame ritual. He had to focus on the game. Personal life was that, personal. It couldn’t distract him from the task at hand, especially with the nation now watching. His front lawn had become news van central and he had more hits on Chicago Down and Dirty than Rome and Adrian combined. His agent was eating it up and all Dalton wanted was to get lost in the shuffle again.

  “Gresham,” Coach Tricket called when he got off the elevator in his suit ready for the bus after walk throughs.

  “Yes Coach.”

  “Look me in the eye and tell me you have no problem protecting Matty today.”

  “Not only do I not have a problem, it’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about for the last two days.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I just need to know if there’s a signal you want to give me if Worthington would be less of a liability.”

  Dalton put both hands on his coach’s shoulders. “When my leg is twisted backwards, go ahead and tap Worthington. Otherwise I should be good. You know I don’t let some piece of ass throw me off. I’m not some pussy ass receiver.”

  “Hey,” Jayden Morris protested as he walked by. “I heard that.”

  “I meant for you to,” Dalton countered the man with both a baby momma and a current girlfriend on GOGs. “What I need is for everyone to stop treating me with kid gloves.”

  “Hey, I was treating you like a leper,” Tomlinson said as he joined the conversation. “You gonna stand out here holding a Kumbaya session to make sure Dalton’s feelings aren’t hurt because he needs to change his tampon or are we going to nut up and play ball?”

  “I was going for the Kumbaya session,” Dalton joked as they went into the meeting room that was cleared of tables and chairs so they could line up and walk through before heading out into the cold.

  On the bus ride to the stadium, Dalton put his headphones on even though he didn’t have his phone. He couldn’t believe he left it in Chicago at the practice facility. What a fucking moron. Tucking the port into his pocket, he walked into the stadium for the New York Gladiators and kept his head down as reporters snapped pictures while others held video cameras for major stations and the football channels. Giving a wave, he hoped they would be satisfied.

  “Dalton, what are your lawyers telling you? What about the girl? Have you seen her? How did you feel taking down a man whose body count is now in double digits?”

  He stopped for a moment, but played it off that he was trying to not run into another player. Without his phone, he’d lost track of the Molina case. How could Willie ever love that man? She didn’t though. For her it was an awe thing, not a love thing.

  Warm-ups put him back in the right frame of mind. The routine of his life revolved around a football field. Whether it was a plot of grass on a multiuse field or a stadium filled to capacity, each one was a hundred and twenty yards long. Mist came from his lips as winter started to show its nasty side as it bore down on New York. He said hello to a few teammates from years past that now played on the Gladiators. The enemies and rivalries didn’t start until the first whistle blew and ended just as quickly. Hard feelings ate a player’s sense of self. Shaking off a play had to happen in a moment or it would consume you to the point you no longer would be effective on the field. If nothing else, Dalton could compartmentalize.

  “You that desperate for pussy,” the defensive lineman said as Dalton put his hand in the dirt. “I’ve never beat a man to get to a woman. That bitch must have some good ass shit.”

  Dalton blocked the comments as Matty called out the play. When Matty hit the snap count, Dalton put his hands up and fired off the ball. His hands pushing the smart ass a few yards back off the ball. The lineman tried a swim move to get past Dalton. Extending his arm, Dalton practically clothes lined the player before locking his arm around him to stop the motion. With a shove, he pushed him down to the ground.

  “You didn’t see that ref,” the lineman crowed while pulling on his jersey. “You gotta see that hold.”

  The head line judge kept his eyes focused forward as the umpire placed the football back on the line of scrimmage.

  “You scared of him? All right, well that’s fine. I’m not, come at me bitch boy.”

  “You’ve got a big mouth for just being put on your ass,” Tomlinson said as they broke from the huddle and got into position. “You a rookie? You look like a rookie.”

  “Fuck you, fuck boy.”

  “Harvard grad I see,” Gresham laughed before firing off and taking out the rookie again. When they lined up for a new set of downs Dalton smacked at Tomlinson. “Hey watch this, he’s gonna say something stupid.”

  “Fifty-three, blue,” Matty called. “Fifty-three, blue. Texas, right.”

  Fuck me, a damn audible. In his peripheral vision, he saw the flash of dark brown and put his hands up waiting to be struck as the linemen ran into him and he pushed back. Flashes of tossing Hector made him halt for a moment. When he felt the lineman moving to his right, he
adjusted his feet to square up and shove him down, but he got past him. Dalton watched as Matty scrambled and he took off to knock him to the ground right before Matty let the ball fly.

  “Yes,” Willie screamed as she jumped off her barstool.

  “The management would like me to tell you if you cannot control yourself—” Trap had both his hands flat on the bar as he stared into her eyes.

  “Did you see that? Even with Dalton getting beat, Matty was able to connect.”

  “Matty? As in Matt Bishop? You’re on not only a first named basis, but nicknames huh?”

  “Jealous?” she asked but still wondered if she should be calling him that now. Dalton had not responded to her text. Not that she expected it during the game, but even with all he had to do he must have seen it by now.

  Trap gave her a stink eye, then acquiesced. “Yes, but no reason to call a guy out.”

  “No reason to pee in his Cheerios.”

  “This is a Mist bar you know.”

  Willie crossed her arms and took in the décor that seemed a bit new and not seasoned like a real team bar would be. No schedules from years past. In fact, no schedule for this year. Oh, her brother was purposefully now decorating in the flashy silver and white of the team that really isn’t. The Mist covered everything with their attack. Bleh. Oh, dear Lord, she’d become a fan. A real, shit talking, my team is better than yours fan.

  “If my brother can name one year without using the internet when they won the World Championship, I will concede this is a Mist bar.”

  “Randy,” Trap called and her brother opened one eye.

  It wasn’t blood shot at two in the afternoon. He seemed somewhat sober. Over the few days she was at her mother’s, Randy called to check on her. The olive branch was why she came to his bar to watch the game.

  “Your sister says you’re not a real Mist fan.”

  “That’s only because she knows me,” he replied before standing up with his arms out to maintain his balance. “Don’t you, Wee Willie Winkie?”

  Willie smiled as a glimmer of her older brother crept through the hardened exterior. “That’s a blast from the past.”

  “Winkie made you laugh when you were a kid. How long have you been here?”

  “About two hours?”

  “Oh,” he said as he eyed his barstool. “I’m weaning myself off the hard stuff first.”

  “You’re trying to dry yourself out?”

  “Dad did it.”

  “My mom took a week off work and sat with him as he puked for the first two days. Moaned in pain, shook and sweat like he had the flu.”

  “That’s why I’m weaning.” Randy yawned and waved for a beer. “I just started. Baby steps and all.”

  She placed her hand over his. “When I’m in town, I’ll be here for you a hundred percent. Whatever you need. That’s always been the way I’ve felt about you. You’re my big brother. I hate seeing you hurting.”

  “When the news first broke that you were being held hostage in Nevada I sobered. How can I hate you if you’re not around?”

  “That would be terrible.”

  “I mean, I still hate dad with the passion of a thousand flames and all, but—”

  “I’m your adorable baby sister.”

  “Pretty much.” Randy’s hand trembled as he accepted the bottle from Trap before bringing it to his lips. “I’m not about to go to some step program, but I know I owe you more than a few apologies.”

  Willie turned to the TV over the bar and watched as the Grizzly offense took over after a punt return. The camera zoomed in on Dalton as they broke the huddle and he lined up on the line of scrimmage. She watched his hands extend to stop the defensive lineman. They were wrapped around his palms, but she could see purpling on his knuckles.

  “If I would have been a better brother, you would have been able to come to me,” he said.

  “I still may need you,” she said as she let out a sigh.

  “No man walks into a place with armed men for shits and giggles.”

  “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  “Does he have your mother’s number?”

  “Well…” Willie thought about it. “No, but—”

  “What do you expect? Him to track you down? The man who did that tried to kill you. The man who did that is in police custody. No way in hell would a man do anything like your previous boyfriend. Shit, I dated this one girl and I had to give up slasher films. Her ex would torture her for days after.”

  Willie tried to relate the two, but didn’t want to hurt her brother’s feelings since he was trying to give her brotherly advice. “He’s keeping his distance to avoid smothering me like Hector?”

  Her brother took another swallow of beer. “What do I know? These guys work one day a week. How busy could he really be?”

  That she did know the answer too. Dalton’s schedule was packed most days. She could have found him in the hospital. She should have. What had she been afraid of? Not Dalton. Not in the least.

  “Why don’t you buy me dinner?” Willie suggested. “We can catch up for real. Maybe even tell you some tricks dad used when he was having cravings.”

  An overtime win that required the defense to hold after all Dalton and the offense could do was get a field goal. It may be fun for the fans, but stressful for him. Overall the Grizzlies were eight and three, which put them in the running for the playoffs. The problem Dalton saw was they weren’t dominating teams. They were squeaking out wins that wouldn’t sustain them when the pressure was high.

  “Rook, get up,” Rome said as he tapped Myron to move from beside Dalton as they were about an hour into their flight home.

  “I’m not a rookie,” Myron said a bit rebuffed. “This is my second year.”

  Rome cut his eyes and Myron turned to Dalton for help. “Go find another seat. We’ll talk about screen passes later.”

  Myron got up mumbling about putting his time in.

  “Why do you have a puppy?”

  “He’s a good kid. Still trying to get up to professional speeds. It’s not the easiest thing to do.”

  “I would have no idea. I was built for this shit.”

  “Right,” Dalton said as he flipped a penny in the air, caught it and slapped it on the back of his hand. “That’s why you come in early and stay late.”

  “Hey, you okay?” Rome said as, “Any chance you want to tell me why you’ve been flipping a penny for the last half hour?”

  “I didn’t have a quarter,” Dalton replied as he flipped the copper coin in the air again.

  Rome snatched it midair and held it tight in his hand. “That makes sense. If you were to say have a quarter, would you be playing chance games with it?”

  “Probably.”

  “You want to tell me what heads means?”

  “Why? Can you tell its heads?”

  Rome twisted his fist a few times before knocking Dalton’s forehead. “No. Jackass. How would I know that?”

  “You’re the one who mentioned heads,” Dalton said as he held his hands upturned.

  Rome slapped the penny in Dalton’s palm and shook his head. “This penny have anything to do with Willie?”

  “Maybe,” he replied like a five-year old.

  “You’re letting fate decide your future.”

  “When doesn’t fate control our world?”

  Rome gave him a shrug. “I know you’ve got my woman working double time. Should I tell her Abe Lincoln handled all your issues?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know man, I’ve been trying to get in touch with Willie all week. They wouldn’t let me near her at the hospital. When they finally said I could talk to her, she was gone.” Dalton leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “Don’t make me look like a fool. That’s all I ask. Do I look like one?”

  “That depends. How many times have you called her?”

  “Since I left Reno?”

  “That answer scares me,” Rome replied.

  “When she first disappea
red in Denver, I sent her quite a few texts.”

  “That’s acceptable,” Rome reasoned.

  “Since then, only three.”

  “And you called her?”

  “Twice.”

  “No response?”

  “My phone is in my truck back at the practice facility.” Dalton shook his head. “Now if she did respond, it will be like I’m the one playing games.”

  “What was your last text?” Rome asked.

  Dalton sat back and stretched his legs out happy to be on the teams plane so he could. “We have a phrase, it’s between us.”

  “And there’s a chance she responded two days ago?”

  “Yep.”

  “Tell me this, when you called did it go straight to voicemail or did she ignore you?”

  “Straight.”

  “I bet she doesn’t even have her phone anymore. It might be in evidence or got destroyed.”

  The pressure building behind Dalton’s left eye eased at the thought she never saw his message. She may not think he’s a total asshole.

  “How do I go after a woman like Willie?”

  “She’s still the same women you already planted your flag in, I think you know how to go after her.”

  “Arrive drunk on her doorstep so she feels sorry for me.”

  Rome turned in his seat then let out a loud laugh. “Please say you had a little more game than that?”

  “The body doesn’t hurt,” Dalton said as he rubbed his belly then stroked his beard. “And the beard—the women cream for the beard.”

  “Keep deluding yourself on that one, white man.”

  “All kidding aside, should I? She’s not damaged, but drama is going to trail me through next season at least. I don’t see this punk taking a plea.”

  “Should you? Man, I don’t know. I do know you’ve seemed happier since she came around. Is that your changing thing you’ve been working on with Dani or is it Willie?”

  “A little of both. You know how it is when you meet a woman. You never know what they really want.”

  “How about when you met Willie?”

  “I insulted her a few times, she stole my man card and I haven’t wanted a day without her since.”