Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver

by Jean C. Joachim

  “You know where I’m going with this.”

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  Sweat collected on his forehead. He wiped his face with the napkin. Shit. “It’s time for us both to move on. I loved my time with you. You’re great, we had a lot of fun, but I need to be free right now.”

  “I heard all about you kissing Emerald. You think you have a chance with that chick?” Chrissy leaned forward, anger spitting from her dark expression.

  “Chrissy, it’s not about Emerald. You and I have run our course.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t think so.”

  “Please, baby. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  “I’ve put up with a lot of shit from you. And now this? The kiss-off? Because you’re star struck and that whore let you kiss her?”

  “She’s not a whore.”

  “Well, then, what’s she doing with you?” Chrissy sat back, her arms crossed over her ample chest.

  “Come on. Don’t do this. Can’t we part as friends, with some class?” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it out of his grasp. Tears welled in her eyes. “Water works? Oh, no. God, please. Save me. Come on, baby doll. Don’t do this.”

  She pushed to her feet, approached him, and landed a loud slap on his face. “How’s that for class?” She turned and huffed away.

  The din of voices and clink of silverware came to a halt. Buddy’s cheeks heated beyond the smack he received. The patrons glanced at him, then turned away, embarrassed. Griff pushed up and joined his friend.

  Chrissy stopped at the exit and turned. “Oh, you’ll be hearing from me, Elroy Carruthers. You can bank on it.” With that, she passed through the archway and slammed the door.

  Carla sauntered over. “Another beer, Elroy?” She attempted to muffle a laugh.

  “Elroy? Really?” Griff asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Yeah. They named me after that famous receiver from a long time ago, Elroy ‘Crazy Legs’ Hirsch.”

  “You might have been better off with the name Crazy Legs.”

  “That’s why they call me Buddy.”

  Griff eyed the door. “I hope she didn’t mean it.”

  “I’m not worried. I had to do it. I tried to be as nice as possible. I’ve been waiting for Emmy for five years. I’m not going to let anything or anyone get in the way now.”

  “Can you join us? We have a surprise for you,” Griff said, rising to his feet.

  “Another surprise?” Buddy rubbed his cheek. “Think I’ve had enough for one day.”

  “This one won’t hurt.” Griff pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table. Then, he picked up the sleeping infant in the seat and followed Lauren as she headed for the door.

  “Where’s this surprise?” Buddy asked.

  “Outside.”

  The wide receiver frowned, afraid he wasn’t going to like what his pal had cooked up.

  A yip and a bark greeted them as they neared Griff’s car. Lauren opened the backseat and a fawn-colored pug leaped out. He jumped up on Buddy then ran in circles before Griff’s wife could snatch up the leash.

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is Iggy. He’s a pug looking for a home,” Lauren explained.

  “Really? And you want me to…no way! A dog? I don’t think so.”

  “He’s wonderful. His owner died, and he has nowhere to go.”

  “Iggy? You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “You can change his name. He’s a great guy, Buddy. We’ve had him for a couple of days.”

  “If he’s so great, why don’t you keep him?”

  “With a kid and Spike, we’ve got a full house,” the quarterback said.

  “Just try him for a few days,” Lauren coaxed.

  “What’ll I do with him when I go on the road?”

  “Give him to your mom.”

  “She’ll kill me.”

  “Come on, Buddy. Just a couple of days.”

  “I know what you’re doing Lauren, Griff. You think once I have him for a few days, I’ll be hooked. You’re right, and that’s why I don’t want to take him.”

  Lauren frowned. But the dog wasn’t through. He jumped up, and Buddy caught him.

  “How old is this guy?”

  “He’s only three, completely house-trained, and has a sweet disposition. He’s very friendly.”

  “I can tell,” Buddy chuckled, petting the pooch nestled in his arms. “All right. But only a couple of days. What’ll I call him?”

  “Seeing the way he went at you, how about Blitz?” Griff suggested.

  “Blitz? Perfect. Hi, Blitz, welcome,” Buddy said, as the animal licked his face.

  Chapter Three

  Before the New York concert began, the head of security at Madison Square Garden came backstage. Emmy was gulping down water.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Emerald. But do you know a Robert Carson?”

  Emmy’s hand spasmed, and she almost dropped the bottle. “Who?” She stared at the officer.

  “Robert Carson, ma’am.”

  Stash pushed by the guard and stood between him and the star. “What about him?” Stash asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “He’s outside without a ticket. Says he’s your boyfriend and insists we let him in.”

  “Don’t let him anywhere near me. Keep him out!” Her voice rose, and her eyes widened.

  “I thought I told you if there were any problems, to bring them to me. Never bother Emerald with this shit.” Stash ushered the man out of the dressing room.

  Paula appeared with a sponge and touched-up Emmy’s make-up while Lani fixed her hair.

  “Don’t worry. Don’t get nervous. Forget about this guy. Stash’ll handle it,” Lani said.

  “Yeah? It’s not you he’s after.” Emmy blotted her lipstick, reapplied it, and blotted it again.

  “Relax. You’ve got half an hour.” Paula motioned toward the stage.

  A ding signaled a text. Emmy jumped to open it, assuming it was from Buddy.

  I told you not to try to avoid me. I’ll be waiting after the show. I’ve got a gun. If you don’t come out, I’ll kill the first person I see. I mean it. You’re mine, Emerald.

  Chills ran up her spine. Her hand shook so badly, she dropped the phone. Paula picked it up and read the message. She left the room. Emmy paced, fear spiking through her. Stash returned with the man from security.

  “I’ve called the police. They said we need to sneak you out of here after the show.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “We’ve got some carts for laundry. We could put you in one and load you into a friend’s van. Know anyone who could come and pick you up?” the security man offered.

  “Nope. We’re not from here,” Stash said.

  Emmy put her hand on his arm. “No, wait. I do. I do. I have a friend. Let me call him.”

  “When you’re done, let me speak to him.”

  Stash gave her a quizzical look.

  Emmy pressed the contact button on her cell then dialed. “Buddy?” After a minute, she handed the cell to the security man.

  “Come on, you’ve got to get into performance mode,” Stash urged. Paula and Lani hovered over the star, combing, fluffing, patting, and applying lipstick and blush.

  “I will. I will.” She took several deep breaths before doing scales.

  The man returned the phone to Emmy. “We’re all set. After you take the last bow, come back here. We’ll be ready. I hope you won’t mind hiding in a clean laundry bag for a little bit.”

  “Anything to escape that lunatic.”

  The man’s walkie-talkie buzzed. He answered then turned to Emmy. “Police are here. I’ve got to go. Good luck with the show,” he said, tipping his cap before leaving.

  Both girls gave her a hug. She raised her eyes to Stash. “You can do it, baby. I know you. You’re strong.”

  She gripped his arm to steady her wobbly knees and took a deep breath. Buddy’s words came back to her. Hold
on, baby, I’m coming. Just a little while, and you’ll be safe. She did a few more vocal exercises, blew out a breath, smiled, and turned to her small entourage. “You guys are great. Thank you. Love you all.” Letting go of Stash, she strode out of the room with every ounce of confidence she could muster.

  Emmy walked onto the stage, and the cheer was deafening. Her eyes darted from one entrance to another, looking for Robert Carson. He was nowhere to be seen. She sighed. After two minutes, she relaxed and zoned in, concentrating on her music and her performance.

  The lessons from the professional dancer Stash had hired paid off. Emerald glided along the stage, dancing and singing with every ounce of energy she had. Sweat from the hot lights beaded on her forehead. When she sang the last number, the crowd refused to go home. She did encore after encore until she was spent. Twenty minutes later, when the curtain went down, Paula met her with two bottles of water, which the star drained right away.

  Emmy sank down into her chair and closed her eyes for a second. Then, she picked up her phone. Maybe a message from Buddy? There were ten. She smiled in anticipation until she realized they were all from Robert Carson.

  Great show. Can’t wait to congratulate you in person.

  RC

  That green outfit is very sexy. I’d love to peel it off you. Maybe tonight?

  RC

  Each message got more and more raunchy and angry. She dropped her cell like it was a burning coal. “Robert Carson,” she hissed and backed away.

  Stash picked up the phone. The look of disgust on his face said it all. “This asshole is crazy.”

  “Where are the police?” Emmy asked.

  “We don’t need bad publicity.”

  Her phone rang. Emmy shook her head, and her eyes grew wide.

  Stash answered it. “Listen, asshole, if you don’t leave Emerald alone, I’m calling the cops. You’re a fucking sick dude. Get some help.”

  Emmy heard an evil laugh coming from the cell before Stash clicked it off. “I’m not leaving.” She turned to Stash. “He’s out there somewhere.” She trembled.

  “I’m going to check the auditorium,” Stash said, patting her arm before he left.

  “Get dressed. Remember the plan.” Paula rubbed her palms on Emmy’s bare arms. Lani unzipped her costume, and Paula laid out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Emmy stripped off her clothes and put on her street outfit. Paula popped a bottle of Coke and handed it to the star.

  The door opened. Emmy jumped back.

  “It’s just me, Miss Emerald,” said the head of security, as he entered, followed by Stash. “Are you ready?”

  Emmy nodded. The burly man opened up the white laundry bag. Emmy stepped in. Then, she put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Is Buddy here?”

  “He’s waiting outside.” The guard smiled. She crouched down, and he pulled the cotton sack up over her head and tied it loosely. Emmy heard Stash wheel in a cart, and then the two men lifted her in. The scrape of the door opening and the sensation of being picked up told Emmy that she was in the van. As they squealed away, she could make out shouting, gunshots, and horns honking over the noise of the engine. Inside the bag, she curled up, trembling, as fear raced through her. She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.

  * * * *

  Buddy was lying in bed, thinking about Emmy, when her call came. Blitz was snoring peacefully, curled up at the bottom of the bed.

  “Buddy, I need your help.”

  He sat up. “What’s wrong?”

  She explained the details.

  “Hold on, baby, I’m coming. Just a little while, and you’ll be safe. I’m on the way.”

  “But you need a van.”

  “Bullhorn has a van. I’ll borrow his. I’ll be there soon.”

  Buddy got directions from the security guy before he called Bull.

  “I need your van, Bull. It’s an emergency.”

  “What the fuck? It’s late, Buddy. What’s up?”

  Buddy filled him in.

  “Shit. You can’t drive a van.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  “I’m going with you. Always wanted to see Emerald up close and personal anyway.”

  “I can do this alone.”

  “It’s the van with me, or no van.”

  “All right, all right. Pick me up in five.”

  Buddy sent a text to Emmy then threw on jeans and a T-shirt.

  Bullhorn Brodsky pulled up right on time. Buddy jumped in and slammed the door.

  “Drive, Bull.”

  The big man pushed down on the gas pedal and steered the car onto the highway.

  Buddy recounted the story, as much as he knew, while they drove.

  “Good thing I don’t hate you, Carruthers, you twerp.”

  “We’re teammates, Bull. That’s all that matters.”

  “You got that. Cuts through all the shit. Now, you owe me. I’m gonna get an autograph, too. And maybe a kiss?”

  “I wouldn’t count on the kiss, but you never know. Just get us there in one piece, okay?”

  “Will do.” Bull directed his gaze to the road, following the white lines.

  “Traffic’s light. Good thing,” Buddy said, tapping his foot on the floorboard. He couldn’t control his nerves and kept trying not to think what would happen if they arrived late.

  “It’s Wednesday, ten o’clock. What did you expect?”

  “Tense, ya know?”

  “I get it.”

  They continued the ride in silence. Bull maneuvered the vehicle through the streets of New York. He pulled up to the side entrance on Thirty-First Street. Once Emmy had been loaded in the back, they took off. One bang on the back of the van and a resulting scream from Emmy, and Bull floored the gas.

  The vehicle lurched forward and sped up. It weaved through a red light, causing a traffic jam with a million horns honking. They heard the curses from the man chasing them, but didn’t stop.

  “I can pull over, and we can take him out, Buddy. Just say the word.”

  “Your football career, Bull. But thanks.”

  The big man nodded and sped ahead, snaking through traffic at an amazing speed until he hit Forty-Second Street. A quick left-hand turn, and they were on the West Side Highway, beating it out of Manhattan at sixty-five miles per hour.

  The noise of someone rolling around alerted Buddy. Blitz barked. His owner released him from the seatbelt harness.

  “Hey, baby, you okay back there?”

  A muffled sound was his only answer. He unbuckled his seat belt and crawled into the back. Two hands pushed open the drawstring on the laundry bag. He saw her struggling to get free.

  “Where is he?” came from inside.

  “Long gone, sweetheart. You’re safe.” Buddy yanked it open wider and pushed it down. Emmy crawled out. Thrown to the side when Bull changed lanes abruptly, she banged her elbow. Blitz went flying too and let out a yelp.

  “Ow!” Rubbing the sore spot, she inched toward Buddy.

  “Take it easy, Bull,” Buddy shouted.

  He pulled them into the backseat, petted the dog, and then folded Emmy in his embrace. His chest muffled a sob as Emmy let go. She cried against him. He smoothed her hair with one hand and held her tight with the other. Blitz licked her arm.

  “She okay?”

  “Yeah. You can slow down, Bull. Let’s not get killed before we get home, eh?”

  “Oh, okay. We left that asshole in the dust.”

  Buddy detected the note of pride in the linebacker’s tone and chuckled. “Yeah. You did good.” He could almost hear the man smile. Buddy pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and gave it to Emmy. She wiped her face and blew her nose. Blitz panted and sat, awaiting attention.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, honey.” Buddy kissed her hair.

  “Thank you for driving. What’s your name?” Emmy directed toward Bull.

  “Oh, sorry. This is Bullhorn Brodsky. He plays defense. It’s his
van.”

  “Bullhorn?” Blitz nuzzled her with his tiny nose.

  “Yeah, because of his loud voice.”

  “The name’s Sylvester. After Stallone.”

  “Almost as bad as mine,” Buddy chuckled.

  “Nice to meet you, Sylvester. Thank you so much for saving me.” She petted the pug who circled, lay down, and put his head on her leg.

  “My pleasure, Miss Emerald.”

  They pulled up to Buddy’s house. Emmy signed an autograph and planted a big, fat kiss on Bull. The big man blushed all the way to his ears and grinned before leaving.

  “I can’t stay. I don’t have anything,” she said, crossing the threshold.

  “I’ve got a T-shirt you can sleep in and an extra toothbrush.” Buddy unsnapped the dog’s harness.

  “Extra toothbrush?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “It’s not what you think. I change brushes every couple of months. I buy these on sale.”

  “I bet.”

  Buddy began to sweat. She doesn’t believe me.

  She wandered through the foyer, into the living room. “Nice house.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her cell rang. “Stash.” She moved into the kitchen. “What do you want?”

  Buddy tried to get busy, but she didn’t have any luggage for him to carry. He kept running in circles. Returning to the living room, Emmy put her hand over the phone and looked at him. “Wine?”

  “Beer?” He responded.

  She nodded then spoke into the phone, “No. I’m fine. What do you want?”

  Buddy headed for the refrigerator. He didn’t want to hear the conversation. He popped two beers and washed the dishes in the sink. The running water kept him from overhearing. His muscles relaxed, and he hummed a favorite tune. When he finished, he picked up the dish towel.

  “Don’t clean up on my account. I’m not gonna be here that long.” She shoved her cell into her back pocket and joined him.

  Buddy handed her the bottle of beer then raised his. “To reunions.”

  She smiled then took a long draught.

  “Bet you made the news.” Buddy took her hand. He clicked on his sixty-inch, wide screen television and plunked down on the sofa.