Devon Drake, Cornerback

by Jean C. Joachim

  As the years passed, their battles had simmered down from frequent to occasional. Sam had moved with Devon to Connecticut when he had signed with the Kings. She had been cooking his favorite foods ever since. Love for her swelled in his heart.

  Between bites, Samantha and Stormy chatted about plans for the New Life Shelter. The women asked Devon questions about the upcoming game.

  “We’re playing my old team. They’re good. They’ve got Jeremiah West. He’s huge, known for messing guys up on purpose. Everyone’s afraid of him. He’s done some pretty nasty stuff.”

  When they finished the main course, Stormy brought out the double chocolate cake she had made. The icing was so dark it was almost black. “This is a dark chocolate frosting. Never made it before.”

  “Looks great.”

  “How can you have room?” Samantha asked.

  “Easy. Bring it on.” Devon patted his stomach. He had eaten too much, but the treat was alluring. “I can squeeze in a piece. But I’m reserving another one for later.”

  Stormy grinned at him. “This is the same cake my mom used to make.”

  “Really? Fantastic.” Devon’s mouth watered at the memory of Mrs. Gregory’s chocolate cake. She’d send it over from time to time to help out Mrs. Drake, who was sometimes overwhelmed by her six children. Dev remembered being extra good on those days to make sure he got a slice. “How are your folks?”

  There was quiet as they tucked into the luscious confection.

  Devon watched Stormy eat and avoid his stare. “Well?”

  “They’re okay, I guess. Haven’t heard otherwise,” was her clipped response.

  “Don’t you talk to them?” he asked.

  “Haven’t in a while.”

  Sam shot him an angry look and put her finger to her lips.

  “I’m just being polite, Sam.”

  She smacked her forehead with her hand.

  Stormy patted her friend’s arm. “It’s okay. They’re not speaking to me right now. We had a falling out.”

  “What happened?” Devon put a forkful of cake in his mouth.

  “I helped out a friend, and they didn’t like it. End of story.”

  “Sounds like the beginning,” Devon mumbled, eating the last morsel on his plate.

  “Coffee, anyone?” Samantha asked, scowling at her brother. Devon stood up and helped clear the table. Stormy hustled into the kitchen and began washing dishes.

  “Let’s watch While You Were Sleeping,” Samantha said when they were finished, picking up the remote.

  “Old chick flick. No way.” Devon reached for it, but Samantha dodged him. He grabbed again, and she eluded him once more. The chase was on. Samantha shrieked, and Devon pursued. She was no match for his speed and quickness, and he soon had control over the television. “What do you want to see, Stormy?”

  The young woman glanced at her watch. “Time for me to go. Thank you both so much for the fantastic dinner. It was nice to see you.”

  Samantha sank down on the sofa.

  Dev checked the TV listings. “Nothing on ’til nine. I’ll drive you.”

  “I’ll take a taxi.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the least I can do after that massage and the cake. Come on.” He fished keys from his jeans pocket and headed for the door. The women hugged.

  Outside, he opened the car door for Stormy. She snuggled down into the luxurious, leather seat. “Just like old times, being with the two of you.”

  “Yeah. You were like another sister.” He knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing.

  “If it wasn’t for the kindness of your parents, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Things weren’t so pleasant at my house.”

  “I shouldn’t’ve said that. I meant it in a good way. It was nice to have you around. Kept Sam from poking her nose into my business all the time.”

  Stormy chuckled. “She sure is a busybody, sometimes. When Samantha wants to know something, look out.”

  “Damn right.” Devon pulled up in front of one of the houses where some of the abused women and children stayed. With the money raised at Buddy and Emmy’s wedding, New Life was going to put up pre-fab housing to provide permanent shelter for women and kids. He cut the motor. “Really great to see you, again, Stormy.”

  “Same here.” She opened her door. The light over the entrance cast a dim glow on the path.

  Devon waited. He never left a woman until she was safely inside.

  As she got halfway to the house, a large man stepped out from the shadows. “Hi, Stormy.”

  Chapter Two

  “Edgy, what are you doing here?” Stormy’s pulse jumped.

  “Came to wish you happy holidays. Aren’t you glad to see me?” Edgy Mason, former defensive linebacker for his high school football team, was a big man at six two, two hundred and fifty pounds.

  “Stay away. I have a restraining order against you.”

  “In Illinois. This is Connecticut.”

  “Don’t come near me!” She backed up. Her heart was beating so loudly, she almost didn’t hear the car window open. In fact, she’d forgotten about Devon Drake altogether.

  “Stormy! Get back in the car.”

  She looked at the vehicle, her breath coming faster. Edgy loomed over her. The car door opened.

  Devon stepped out and gestured. “Come on.”

  She turned, but Edgy slipped closer.

  “Get back, Mason. Let her by.”

  He trained his gaze on the cornerback. “Fuck you, Drake.”

  While his attention was diverted, Stormy scooted past and slid into the front seat. Devon followed and locked the doors. Edgy raised his fist, but Drake was too fast and pulled away before the big man could damage the Mercedes SLK roadster.

  “I’m sorry, so sorry,” Stormy said.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “If we could just drive around for a couple of minutes, he’ll probably leave then you can go back.” Don’t take advantage.

  “No way. You’re coming home with me.”

  “But it’s—”

  Devon stopped short. “Are you fucking crazy? There’s no way you’re going back there. That’s it. Edgy Mason the guy who beat you up?”

  She nodded. Relief flooded her body. Too afraid to return to the shelter, but reluctant to over-stay her welcome, Stormy opted to jeopardize her safety rather than ask for favors. Now, Devon had taken that decision out of her hands. She blinked away tears of fear.

  “He’s not getting within ten feet of you again.”

  She sighed. “Thank you.” When he pulled into the garage, Stormy spoke up. “Maybe you’d better take me back. I don’t have anything here. No toothbrush, clothes.”

  “Sam’ll fix you up. You’re not going back there. Case closed.” Dev followed her inside.

  Stormy stared out the window while Devon told Samantha about Edgy. Once she had washed up and slipped one of Devon’s old Sidewinder’s jerseys on, the two women reminisced over a cup of tea.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll go pick up your stuff from the shelter.”

  “I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “You’ll stay until that asshole leaves town.”

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen Devon.”

  “High school graduation, right?” Sam asked.

  “I think it was after the last football game, freshman year.”

  “Weren’t you around for his graduation?”

  Stormy shook her head. “Don’t you remember? I went to sit with him at the victory dance. But he told me to leave. That was the last time I saw him.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. While the experience was embarrassing for her—to be called out and made fun of in front of the whole team—Samantha had been equally upset. She’d found Stormy sobbing in the bathroom and had taken her home.

  “He wasn’t very nice for a while. He got a big head playing high school football. But they cut him down to size in college. I think he was sorry for the way he treated yo
u at the dance.”

  “Forget about it. I have,” Stormy lied. She’d never forgotten the sting of humiliation that had penetrated to her bones. Devon’s making fun of her and chasing her away while his friends laughed had crushed her heart. He’d called her a baby and told her it was naptime and to go home to her mother and get her diaper changed. She cringed inside at the memory.

  At fourteen, she had fancied herself in love with Devon Drake, brother of her best friend, and a friend on his own. He was smarter, funnier, and better looking than any of the other boys in school. But his cold, derisive, sixteen-year-old attitude had sent a chill through her she had never gotten over. He had burst her bubble in public. With maturity came forgiveness for the brash, arrogant young man. But the memory lingered, the pain still as real as if it had happened yesterday.

  “Remember those Monopoly games? He was so competitive,” Sam said.

  “Guess that’s why he’s so successful. I’m grateful he’s letting me stay here. I’ll be back at the shelter tomorrow.”

  Sam placed her hand on Stormy’s arm. “You’ll stay until it’s safe to leave.”

  But the last thing Stormy wanted was to hang around Devon Drake any longer than necessary. He had filled out since high school with pure muscle. Like Chutes and Ladders, Devon Drake had taken the big ladder from handsome to gorgeous. Hanging around might mean the revival of old feelings, leaving her vulnerable to rejection again. It was destined to happen, since he had a hot, high-powered girlfriend. Stormy needed to watch her step. He wasn’t available, but nobody had told her heart that.

  They cleaned up the kitchen. Samantha found a new toothbrush for Stormy, and the women went to bed. Once safely between the sheets in the guest room with the light out, Stormy let out a breath. She said a prayer for her good fortune. Devon Drake has changed. Why not? It’s been a long time. Still, she didn’t trust herself around him. The allure of those smoky, blue eyes, dark hair, and broad shoulders might be more than she could resist.

  She resolved to begin her job search the next day. She needed money to find a new place, one Edgy Mason didn’t know about. If he gave up and went back to Illinois, maybe she could make Monroe her home.

  Devon’s dating a supermodel. I can’t stay here hoping he’ll be interested in me. But it’s a nice town. Maybe I’ll meet someone. Always the optimist, Stormy wished on the first star she saw out her window then fell asleep.

  The next morning, Samantha stopped by the shelter and packed up Stormy’s meager things. Devon offered to drive her to the library to check out their local job board. She dressed in her best outfit, a dark brown suit and white blouse. A professional nutritionist has to look the part, she figured. Devon nodded slightly as she approached. She smiled at his approval.

  “You look good.”

  “Professional.”

  “I’d hire you,” he said.

  He accompanied her inside the brick structure. While she perused the notices tacked up on the board and spoke with the librarian, he flipped through the thrillers on the new arrival shelf.

  She tapped him on the shoulder when her discussion was over.

  “Any luck?” Devon asked, as he held the door for her.

  “Nope. But she’s going to keep my resume. She did give me a couple of people to call.”

  “What exactly do you do?” He strolled next to her down the street.

  “I’m a nutritionist. I had two part-time jobs planning meals at senior residences in Illinois.”

  “Two part-time jobs?”

  “That way neither one had to pay medical for me.”

  “That sucks.”

  “I know. But I liked the people I worked with. Seniors can be fun,” she said. Her mind wandered to Bill McLean, the manager of the Alton Senior Center in Bolton. She had dated him before she’d fled for her life.

  As they turned the corner and headed to the parking lot, a flash blinded her. When she looked up, her hair fell away from her face and the camera flashed again.

  “Devon Drake?” the camera-toting man asked.

  “And you are?” Dev replied.

  “Did you beat up this woman?”

  “What?” Devon’s eyes widened, and he stopped short.

  The cameraman backed up, fear evident on his face. “Obviously, someone used her as a punching bag. Were you pissed your girl had been out with some other guy?”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “What’s your name, miss?”

  “Look, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Stormy said, shielding her face with her arm and trying to move past the persistent man.

  “How much did he pay you to say that?”

  Devon shoved him out of the way, and Stormy quickened her pace as they headed to the car.

  “He shoved me. Did you see that? He laid hands on me. Seems we have another violent football player with an anger problem.” The man was yelling to a small, but growing, group.

  Stormy yanked open the door and jumped in. Devon threw the vehicle in gear and pulled away as fast as the thickening crowd permitted.

  Stormy hid her face in her hands as tears gathered in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dev.”

  “It’s not your fault that guy is an asshole,” he said, steering around a woman and child crossing the street. He turned onto an empty road and stepped on the gas.

  When they arrived home, Stormy went to her room, changed, and then began calling the numbers she got at the library. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m a liability. This is going to cause Devon grief, and it’s my fault. Crap. I need a job.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Devon got up early, showered, shaved, and headed for the stadium. He didn’t want to see Stormy or his sister. He had a meeting with Coach Bass at eight, and his nerves were on edge. He knew he wasn’t performing well. Are they going to release me? Mumbling a prayer, he climbed the stairs, only to bump into Bullhorn Brodsky in front of the coach’s office.

  “What are you doing here?” Devon asked.

  “Meeting at eight. You?”

  “Same.” Dev let out a breath. He wasn’t going to be let go while Bull was in the room. Must be about something else. His pulse returned to normal.

  “I drove by your place yesterday and saw you with a couple of good-looking chicks.”

  “One’s my sister. The redhead’s a friend.”

  “Friend?” Bullhorn raised his eyebrows.

  “My sister’s friend. We were kids together.”

  “She’s pretty hot.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Stay away from my sister.” Devon wagged his finger in the big man’s face.

  “She underage or something?”

  “She’s my sister. And if I find you messing with her…”

  “What are you gonna do about it?” Bull stepped closer to Devon.

  Before the discussion could get any hotter, the door opened. “Ah, gentlemen. Right on time. Come on in.”

  The footballers sat facing the coach’s desk. Bull spread his legs and tilted his chair back. Devon rested his palms on his knees.

  “You’re probably wondering why you’re here.”

  The men nodded.

  “Bull, we’re concerned about your elbow and will be giving you less time on field so you don’t reinjure it. Devon, your performance is not what we had expected. You both have something in common.”

  What can I have in common with Bullhorn Brodsky?

  “It’s a weight issue, guys.”

  Devon’s eyebrows rose. “Weight?”

  Coach Bass stood up and paced in front of his window. “That’s right. Devon, you’ve packed on twenty pounds since you left the Sidewinders. Bull, you’ve got three inches hanging over your belt already. How much will that increase if you play less?”

  “So, you’re putting us on a diet?” Bull asked.

  “Not exactly. But we do want you to monitor what you eat.”

  “How?”

  “Write it down.”

  “Every
thing?” Devon asked.

  “Everything. Especially the chocolate covered donuts, pizza, and ice cream,” Coach Bass said. “If working out doesn’t take it off, we’ll have to get a professional in.”

  “What kind of professional?” Dev asked.

  The coach waved his hand. “I don’t know. Someone who knows something about food. I forget what they’re called.”

  “A nutritionist?” Dev offered.

  Coach clapped his hands together. “That’s it. A nutritionist. And you guys’ll have to pay for this joker yourselves. So tighten those belts. Devon, I want to see seriously improved running time within the next week.”

  “A week? How much can I lose in a week?”

  “Don’t know till you try. Don’t starve yourself or anything. Just eat right.”

  “Got it,” the cornerback said.

  “I’m not fat,” Bull stated.

  “Bull, one inch, okay, but three is too much. Bring it down.”

  Brodsky grumbled and looked away.

  “You boys understand?”

  They nodded and filed out the door.

  “So, you’ve got the redhead, but no one’s dating your sister?” Bull wondered.

  “I don’t have the redhead, and no one, especially not you, is dating my sister.”

  “Why aren’t you with that cute little chick?”

  They headed for the locker room.

  “Jackie Lawrence is my girlfriend.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “She’s a supermodel. Don’t you know her?” Devon whipped out his phone and pulled up a revealing picture.

  “Holy fuckin’ shit. You’re dating that?”

  Dev smiled.

  “Beats that little chick out by a mile.”

  Devon frowned. “It’s not a competition. Stormy’s really nice.”

  “Good. Then you don’t mind if I move in on her?”

  Devon held up his hand. “Leave her alone. She’s going through some shit right now.”

  “Why don’t we let her decide?”