by Lynn Shurr
Prince tossed light brown dreads growing longer each month out of the way. “I’m having second thoughts about a wedding. I mean I wanted to wait until the Temple of the Dreadlocked Jesus is finished being built over on Esplanade. Being on the road, I can’t keep on those contractors. That’s where I want to be married—in my own church, but maybe not to Ilsa. She’s gorgeous and all, but not so fine when it comes to motherhood. I want to pass along my many talents to lots of children and suspect Princess will be the end of the line for her.”
“You’d better talk that over together.” Dean mastered his grin by following the tomato juice with a black coffee chaser.
“Lord Gawd no, not until she delivers and got her shape and personality back again. Only way I’ll escape alive.” With that statement, Prince cut his sausage links and began to devour.
Finished, Alix stood. Tom jumped from his chair. “You going back to the room?” What better way to spend an icy day than in a warm bed?
“Nope, I’m going to visit with my family. They’ll drive me to the airport. I already cleared it with Coach. See you then.” Blithe and unbothered, she walked away from Tom.
In no hurry to leave now, he sank back into his seat. Vince took Alix’s abandoned chair. “I really got to replenish myself this morning.” That fact was obvious from his overflowing plate, half Spanish omelet, half Swedish pancakes, both crowded by bacon and sausage links. “I can tell you now that Tille owns the hot blood in her family. I mean Alix is a great punter, but I doubt she could compete with her sister in the sack.”
Before Tom could prevent the words of defense from spilling out, he said, “Alix is fantastic in bed!” Dammit, he’d betrayed the woman he loved like some boasting adolescent bragging about a conquest. He’d never get things right. Dean raised his eyebrows, and Tom began to have a little more sympathy for the mess his brother had made of his relationship with Stacy. But they’d ended up together. He could hope.
Vince boomed out a laugh that drew scowls from hung over Sinners straggling into the dining room. “Got ya to admit it.”
“Enough. Let’s change the subject before I have to issue fines,” Dean said, riding to the rescue. “We have a bye coming up, but our next opponent is…”
Tom’s mind shut out the conversation. The only person he wanted to talk about or to was Alix and how to fix this mess.
****
On the plane, Alix took her place next to Tom, but she arrived late to board and not many seats remained so that indicated nothing in his favor. As soon as the seatbelt signs went off, she roved, visiting with Vince and Barton, and a few other teammates. She gathered compliments on her covering of the ball like a bouquet of Sinners’ red roses. Upon landing, Alix stayed with the pack, Tom right behind her. When the bus dropped them at the Dome to pick up their cars, she climbed into his SUV without comment since they’d shared the ride going out. Not much conversation as Alix shed her heavy sweater to reveal a white silk shell more appropriate to the climate and covered it with a pale pink cardigan she’d left in the backseat.
As they approached the garage, Tom said, “I’m going to park. You want me to drop you at the entrance?”
She shook her head sending that fine blonde hair flying. “No, after all that sitting, I wouldn’t mind walking down four flights and up to our place. Your place.”
“You pay your rent. It’s your place, too.”
She didn’t answer as he rounded the ramps to his reserved spot.
He pulled in, and Alix hopped out. He popped the rear, and she unloaded her travel bag. Tom came around to do the same and ran directly into the bony body of Big Lou who’d been skulking behind the adjacent vehicle. She wore large, heart-shaped Lolita sunglasses that caused her to resemble a strange stick insect. He drew back from the squishy feel of her large breasts pressed against his chest and a dirty hand that went right for his genitals.
“How about a victory celebration, Tommy? A freebie.”
Big Lou neglected to watch her rear. Alix blindsided her with a pretty good block to the shoulder and sent the vagrant sprawling into the oil stains and small puddles covering the cement floor. Big Lou howled more with outrage than pain as she pushed to her feet.
Alix shouted over her screams. “Leave Tom alone, you demented hag! Let all the Sinners alone or I’ll take you down again.”
“Try it, you titless girl. They want these, every one of them.” Big Lou raised her shirt and waggled her pendulous breasts at Tom. “All the Sinners desire me, but their women keep getting in the way.” Spit shot out from the gap in her teeth. Alix jumped aside before it hit and fell in a gob on the concrete.
“Put down your shirt, Lou.” Tom peeled off two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet. “Get a place to stay before Arturo calls the cops to take you away.”
Outraged, Alix had her hands on hips again. “Don’t encourage her, or she’ll never let you alone! Get the police to arrest her.”
“Have some compassion, Alix. She’s mentally ill and can’t help herself. I remember when you were shocked by her not so long ago.”
“Not any more! Don’t mess with me or Tom again, Big Lou. You understand?”
“I hear what you say, bitch, but I don’t have to obey you or anybody else. We don’t have a contract.” With amazingly good posture and her runny nose lifted into the air, Big Lou retrieved her shopping cart and wheeled it away, the hundreds still in her grip wrapped around the handle.
“That’s about all I can take for the day. I’m using the stairs. You?”
Tom nodded and followed. They cleared the garage before Lou made it off the ramp. Alix stopped to ask Arturo to warn the homeless woman off, tipped him, then raced up the stairs to the condo. By the time Tom caught up, Alix had gone inside and shut the door to her suite. He rapped lightly. “You okay?”
“Yes!” she shouted. “I’m going to take a nap.”
“Want company?” Tom tried to keep the hope out of his voice, so hard.
“No!”
“All right then. Rest well.”
They’d had a training meal on the charter flight, but he snuffled in the refrigerator for a snack. Each leftover reminded him of Alix: a pizza they’d shared—she liked mushrooms as much as he did, but not jalapenos—some sort of noodle dish made with tuna she’d topped with buttered breadcrumbs, the nearly empty jar of lingonberry jam. He settled on the pizza and TV to pass the time. After a while, he felt compelled to check on Alix again just in case.
Tom knocked vigorously on her door. “Anything I can do for you?”
“Leave me alone!”
“Jeez, Alix, you’ve really changed…”
She ripped the door open. Had she been more muscular, it might have come off the hinges. Wearing an old striped flannel bathrobe that looked like something her grandfather might have discarded, Alix confronted him. “Yes, I’ve changed! I work every day with big, aggressive men and have to toughen up to earn their respect. I can’t be nice girl Alix any more if I want a career in the NFL. I must be one of the boys day in, day out, and sometimes I hate that.”
“You have to leave the game on the field and be yourself off of it. That’s all.”
“You were born into football royalty, and besides you’re a guy. What would you know about it?” Alix swiped tears from the corners of her eyes like a small child pretending not to be crying.
“Maybe you could speak to Stacy or Xo about how you feel.”
“Oh, sure, they’ll just say you’re right like it’s easy. Neither one ever played football.”
“The women in my family are the first to tell any of the guys if we’re behaving like jackasses. They have been around football all their lives. Stacy once said she felt every hit Dean took on the field deep in her stomach. When you ended up on the bottom of that pile, I knew what she meant. Not jealous, only afraid for you.” Tom opened his arms to her.
“So you say.” Alix slammed the door in his face.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tom bent ove
r his bowl of cereal as Miss Krayola stuffed sheets into the washing machine in laundry area at the end of the kitchen. “You want for me to make you some eggs?” she asked as she measured out the detergent.
“I’m okay. I need to get to the team meeting.”
“You and Miss Alix not going together?”
“She went in early to have her back checked. Lots of bruising from the last game.”
Her purple and orange do-rag bright against the white appliances, Krayola nodded. “I seen that pile wit’ her squashed on the bottom.”
“She hasn’t been like herself since. Maybe she has internal damage.” That new worry seated itself firmly in his mind. Suddenly, the red dehydrated strawberries in his breakfast held little appeal.
“Naw, she bleedin’ in the regular way. I seen her panties soaking in the sink dis mornin’. Threw ’em in wit’ the sheets. They a little stained, too. Give her a week. She be okay.”
“Thanks for the information. Gotta go.” He had to wonder if Miss Krayola would also be reporting that to his mother. Just because Dean had screwed up by getting a woman pregnant didn’t mean he would, too.
Tom called for his car and figured he had time to whip around to the coffee shop and get a pastry since he didn’t feel like finishing the cereal. Going into the place only reminded him of being here with Alix and Beck. He bought two chocolate croissants and went out only to meet Xochi entering. Undoubtedly on her way to work, his sister wore a variation of the Anchi Translation and Interpreting Services uniform Stacy devised, but in a deep shade of purple more flattering to her brown complexion. She’d accented it with a bright scarf in Mardi Gras colors, purple, green, and gold.
Xo quirked her black brows at him. “What, no ebelskivers today? Where is your Swedish chef this morning?”
“Went in early.”
“But that’s not all.”
Damn, how did she do that? “No. I think we’re breaking up, but I don’t know why. Could you speak to her?”
“Sure. That’s what sisters are for, at least in the Billodeaux family.”
“Appreciate it. Talk her out of leaving, huh?”
“It’s that serious. What did you do?” Xochi tilted her head, her big, brown eyes inquiring.
“Nothing. Nothing that I didn’t apologize for profusely.” His ears burned. He certainly wasn’t telling Xo about his remark. Alix could do that. “Thanks, have to run.”
****
Alix found herself hemmed in by Vince and Barton, her special team buddies, by the time Tom arrived for the meeting. A smear of chocolate on his freckled cheek, he skimmed in with seconds to spare and plunked down beside Dean in the front row where she couldn’t read his face. Coach droned through the post-game analysis, but singled her out for a compliment toward the end. “I think Legs, here, saved our beignets by giving us another chance to possess the ball.”
She received a round of applause and back pats from Vince and Barton and whoever sat behind her. Handling it like a modest man, Alix ducked her head and uttered a simple thanks when she truly wanted to leap into the air like a cheerleader and shake her pompoms. The discussion moved on to Dean’s last play and why they hadn’t gone for the field goal. Tom’s head nodded in understanding.
As they went over the lighter training schedule for the bye week, a time to heal from sprains, strains, bumps, and bruises, she relaxed into her chair and immediately sat up again. Her back sported enough sore black spots for a plague victim, and she had a few around the front where her shoulder pads dug into her flesh as the dog pile grew. The trainers had given her some analgesic creams and meds for her menstrual cramps, a first for that they’d joked among themselves. After the meeting, she intended to do a brief workout. Exercise always helped to get rid of that bloated feeling. She’d let her aches and pains get the best of her last night in a major eruption of bitchiness. Maybe she should ask Tom to come to the gym with her, but no, he’d vanished in the first wave of men out the door. Evidently, he’d had his fill of Alix Lindstrom at her worst.
Alix took her phone from a pocket and turned it on hoping to catch him before he left the complex. Coach Buck brooked no interruptions during his meetings even if he had been cajoled into using tablet computers during games. A voice mail from Xochi appeared. “Lunch today at Johnny’s, eleven thirty. Sound good to you?”
Knowing Xo wouldn’t answer if she were with a client, Alix texted back. “Great. I’ll see you there.” At least she knew her way around the French Quarter now without Tom and could walk there from the condo.
Realizing Tom had put his sister up to it she simply didn’t care. In all of New Orleans, Alix possessed no close female friends. In the past, she’d had teammates who knew all about cramps and bloating, young women she could lounge around with eating chocolate and greasy, salty foods until the urge passed. Not any more. Surrounded by men, she needed someone to talk to and didn’t think Dr. Funk filled that bill no matter how sympathetic.
Alix completed her workout, showered in her private stall, hot water coursing over her bruises and puffy belly like a miracle balm, the scented soaps and shampoo making her feel womanly again. She set out to meet Xochi with time to spare.
Xo stood in the line halfway out the door of the venerable po-boy shop even at this early hour. She eagerly waved Alix to join her despite a few grumbles from people behind her. As they inched their way toward the counter, Xochi suggested they get their food to go and take advantage of a beautiful autumn day. Since the din of the lunch counter made conversation difficult, Alix nodded before placing her order for a fried shrimp po-boy, sweet potato fries, and a jumbo soft drink, not the lo-cal kind. Xo sighed and asked for a chef’s salad and an unsweet iced tea.
Clutching their go-cups and bags, they cut through Jackson Square where the banana trees bore autumn-shredded fronds, the crepe myrtles shed their small red leaves, vagrants hustled tourists, and artists displayed their wares on the wrought iron fence. They climbed the steps to the levee and found a bench in the sun to ward off the slight chill of a breezy, brilliant fall day. The Mississippi rolled by, a mighty giant tossing in its bed. Pigeons and gulls lurked expecting handouts.
Alix unwrapped her sandwich about the size of a football and ate it with fried shrimp tumbling out onto the wrapping and the dressing dribbling down her hands. “Hungry,” she explained between mouthfuls. “Didn’t eat much breakfast today.”
“Neither did Tom.” Xo picked at her salad with a plastic fork and eyed the sweet potato fries.
“He had chocolate croissants, his go-to when I don’t cook.” Alix took a gulp of her drink and set it down again before the wind made off with the sandwich papers. “Have some fries if you want.”
Xochi pinched a couple between her fingers and closed her eyes to relish the moment. “I wish I could eat like you, but with my size and shape I’d be up to two hundred pounds in no time.” She picked a piece of boiled egg out of her salad and ate it with regret.
“Work out with the Sinners every day and you don’t have to worry about your weight. I guess that’s one advantage. But your figure is nice, all soft and round. Men love that.” Alix tossed down a handful of orange fries.
“You and Tom are so much alike.”
“Because I eat like a guy?” Alix said, her back already up and ready to claw.
“No, because you both go at everything with gusto. That’s enviable. Remember when I told you I see auras?”
“Right. How am I doing?” She held out her arms and a shrimp fell from her po-boy to be snatched by a gull.
“Brilliantly blue and growing stronger. Tom, on the other hand, that candle-like glow of his is dimming. I noticed this morning.” Xo crumbled the crackers that came with the salad and flung them to the pigeons. “I don’t need the carbs.”
“Yeah, I figured Tom put you up to this.”
“He did ask me to talk with you. A pale yellow aura means jealousy, Alix.”
Alix pointed a finger at Xochi and lost another shrimp to the birds. �
��I knew it. He’s afraid that I might be a better kicker than he is. It was bound to happen, that we’d become competitors.”
Xo shook her head, and the wind carried the long, dark stands of her hair over her shoulders. “No, it’s not his nature to be self-centered. He’s played second fiddle to Dean all his life, and with the exception of the split over Ilsa, never complained except in a joking manner. I think he’s afraid that football is taking you away from him after bringing you together.”
Alix contemplated her short, clean nails coated with clear polish and sucked a bit a mayo off one of them. “I’ve been leaning on Tom. I should man up and move out, get my own place, and prove I can make it on my own.”
Xochi waited until Alix raised her eyes again. “If that is what you really want, he’ll let you go, but Tom is intensely loyal. He’d wait for you as long as it took.”
“The three years of my contract?”
“Certainly.”
“What if I want to remain a kicker for the next ten years? I mean I did this at first to please Morfar and get over losing a spot on the national soccer team. Now that I know I’m good, I’m doing it for myself and maybe for other women who want to try the same thing. If I just shack up with Tom and forget about my career, won’t I be letting everyone down, including myself?” Alix picked out a shrimp and tossed it into the air for a gull to catch on the wing. Despite the breeze, one of the birds succeeded in getting the offering before it hit the ground.
“Why would you have to give up your career for Tom?”
“Because he’s so afraid I’ll get hurt. I got a little chippy with him after I covered the ball because he mother-henned me. And then he said…” Alix pointed a limp sweet potato fry at Xochi to make her point. “He said he guessed I must be on the rag!”
