by Nana Malone
Asha was waiting for him when he finally emerged from the locker room.
"They said I'm good to go," he told her, calming the concern on her face. "Going to have a headache for a while, but they cleared me for concussion."
She frowned as she worried her lip. "Are you queasy at all, or do you think you could go for something to eat?" she asked, still eyeing him warily.
"Pizza," Dax said with certainty. "I want pizza. We can pick it up on the way back to the hotel, and then we don't have to worry about going out."
"Sounds…nice," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "We should each get one to take back to our rooms," she said, making a point of clarifying.
Damn. Okay. Fine. He had time. There was no rushing this.
They were in the parking garage, and Asha's rental car was in sight.
"You don't trust being alone together?" He kept his voice low.
"Do you?" she asked, the flush in her cheeks somewhat concealed by the shadows around them.
"I guess not," Dax agreed.
They called from the car and picked up their orders en route, making sure to be seen by some of Dax's teammates, getting off the elevator on their own floors with their individual orders. Dax noticed a few significant looks exchanged, but most of the guys restricted themselves to asking about how Dax's head was feeling.
"Left my ears ringing, but that touchdown at the end there was worth it," he said, grinning at them as he struggled to open his hotel room door with one hand.
He slid the pizza box onto the dresser next to the television, and stripped off some of his extra layers until he was comfortable. Why was it impossible to get hotel rooms to the right temperature?
After he grabbed a slice of pizza and the remote, he sat on the bed to watch highlights from the day's other games. His cell phone rang, and he glanced over to where he'd left it, plugged in on the bedside table. It was Asha.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, his mouth full of melted cheese.
"I was watching the highlights and was wondering if that play you guys ran in the third quarter, when you were third and six from the twenty-seven-yard line, was the same as the one you outlined for me a few weeks ago?" she asked, her words coming out rapid-fire.
Dax swallowed as he struggled to shift gears mentally. So she wasn't calling him to beg him to come to her room. Damn. "Which play?"
"They're going over it on channel…forty-nine. I had to mute the guys on the TV, 'cause they were distracting, but their diagram looks like the one you drew."
Dax flipped the station to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, there was the route they'd run in the third, where he'd managed to score a touchdown.
"Huh, they really are breaking it down."
"You sound surprised," she said. "They seem to think it was a pretty good play. 'Sophisticated', I think what's-his-name said a minute ago. How close is it to the one you showed me?"
"Well…" he trailed off, watching the muted commentators debate the play. "It's…pretty close."
"But you guys changed some things in it, didn't you? That's what they're talking about now."
"Yeah. Just a few tweaks." Ellis had been unhappy to hear something new.
The news network had their computer simulators running through the original play in yellow on the screen, and then they adjusted the play to what the Thrashers had run that afternoon in green, to highlight the differences.
"So, whose tweaks were they?" Asha asked, breaking Dax's concentration.
"What?"
"I asked who tweaked it?"
"Don't remember," he muttered, his neck getting hot from all the scrutiny.
"Liar," Asha laughed.
"You're calling me a liar, princess?"
"Yeah. 'Cause you're lying. This play has your fingerprints all over it. That little fake there in the middle? That was something you mentioned when I was asking you my questions. It's a great play, and it's yours. Own it," she told him.
Dax was glad she couldn't see him blushing over her praise. "It is kind of awesome to see them picking it apart like this."
"You need to keep it up. You've got a gift for it. Use it. If you don't want to come out with it right away, that's fine. But if you enjoy it?" She paused and he could picture her shrugging in his mind's eye. "You never know where things are gonna go. Look at those guys on the screen. They all had careers on the field, but for one reason or another, they had to give up playing. But they still found a way to work in an industry they love."
"Are you saying you think I should be on TV?"
"I'm saying you could be. Or you could be a coach someday. Or work in an organization at the administrative level," Asha listed off.
"Is this because of the hit I took today?" he teased, uncomfortable with the serious talk about his future beyond football. "I told you I'm fine and I plan on playing for a while."
"I know you will. But if you have a plan, you'll be ready for your brother's wedding, and all the questions you'll get from your family," Asha continued before he could interrupt. "It's one of those things that's bound to come up at that kind of family function, and it's exactly the kind of question that makes you go all…Dax the asshole. Anyway, you can use something like this to impress the fam and get them off your back, leaving you free to actually enjoy the day."
"My brother's wedding? Is that what this is about?" he asked. Her mind worked too fast for him. Especially when he had a headache.
"No," she said. "It's just one of the directions my mind headed in while watching them talking about the play."
"Can I ask what the other directions were? Please say my lips between your thighs, please say—"
Asha laughed. "Well, if you want to know every stop along the way… I could tell you it was your play, and that had me thinking about how to market your newfound talent. Whether the team would benefit from pushing you to the foreground that way, or if it would be more effective to keep it under wraps for a while. It fits with the marketing strategy for you, individually. Your grandfather wasn't particularly known for his strategy on the field, more in the boardroom after starting Legacy Sports. Of course, thinking about your family and marketing got me going on the issue of the bye week in a few weeks, and how it coincides with Bryce's wedding."
"That sounds exhausting. How can you think of so many things at once?" He laughed and crossed to the coffee table where he'd left the pizza, to grab another slice.
"It's a blessing and a curse. Anyway, back to the subject of Bryce's wedding," she continued, redirecting the conversation. "Do you know who'll be covering it? Big bosses are looking for a few different plans on how to handle it. Obviously it's the bye week, which means you won't miss play time, but it also means there won't be as much team news and they don't want to be getting fed stories or watching the standings. They want to be making stories."
"And my family is the story they have in mind?" He couldn't keep the defensive tone from his voice. "So much for not trading on the Coulter name," he muttered.
"Come on, Dax," she laughed. "Give me more credit than that. I already told them the angle they wanted wouldn't fly. Most of them are married, and they know better than to try and take focus away from the bride and groom on their wedding day. But apparently, they needed to be reminded by a woman before they agreed not to do it."
He heard her scoff and he relaxed. "So what do you have in mind?"
"Make it about your brother and Tami," she said. "Emphasize that you're there to be his best man and that it's their day. It's already going to be covered by the sports media. And probably the larger media as well, given the Legacy Sports connections. So let them deal with it. Leave you in your role as your brother's best man and emphasize that. That this is a family thing and when you're with them, that's who you are. A brother, a son, not just the football machine they turned you into. Your whole family gets marketed for athleticism and the business side of things but you guys are still a family, and your professional achievements aren't your entire li
ves."
Dax snorted. "Good luck telling that to Gramps," he muttered.
"Okay, sure, not everyone can turn it off, but that doesn't mean we can't turn it off in how we present you," she admitted. "Anyway, I wanted to have a direct contact to whatever media people might be there so I can worm my way in with them to…guide them…and maybe get dibs on some of their candid shots from the wedding. From what I gathered of Tami when I met her, she's going to be sure there's a tight leash on anyone there who might be inclined to publish random details and pics. So I didn't want to go stepping on toes to try and get anything specific. Shots of you with your brothers, or during your best-man speech, or whatever."
Suddenly, he remembered. The speech.
"Shit! What am I supposed to do for that speech?"
"I can listen to whatever you come up with, if that helps," she offered.
"Actually, that would be good." he agreed. "But I've got to come up with something first. Maybe if I ask Echo… She'll have an idea of where I can start…"
"Got any funny stories about Bryce from when you were little?"
"What?"
"You know, pranks he played on you, pranks you played on him, that sort of thing."
"Maybe. You think funny is the way to go?"
"I think funny is always a good way to start," Asha explained. "It's also how everyone will expect you to start. And then you segue into something more sentimental and deep, and you've got everyone eating from the palm of your hand."
He sighed. "Funny I can probably manage. Sentimental…"
"You can be very sweet if you put your mind to it. Just, sometimes, you come off as…"
"What? I come off a little what?"
"Distant. Or flippant. The sentiment is there, but you could use a little…finesse." The hesitation was still in her voice. "I don't mean to be too blunt, or mean, or anything. I can be the same way a lot of the time—especially when it comes to talking about…you know…personal stuff. Feelings and all. But if you wanted to bounce your ideas off me, I can help you find that right balance, you know?"
"Actually, I think I do." There was a pause during which he could hear her chewing on her pizza while he chewed and swallowed a few more bites of his. Dax pondered his next step, before taking the plunge.
"So, how about instead of getting you Tami's information so you can ask her about the wedding thing you wanted, pictures or whatever, how about you be my date and get them yourself?"
Silence…then chewing and swallowing on Asha's end. Probably buying herself time, he thought as he suddenly became very aware of the way his heart was pounding in his chest. I shouldn't have said that—shouldn't even have thought it. She's off-limits. I promised I wouldn't say or do anything—
"I'll have to clear it," she finally said, breaking the silence and exhaling, long and hard. "But if I frame it the right way, they'll probably okay it. They'll be more comfortable with someone there to keep an eye on things and give a full report, and I am the one assigned to you."
"If you're not comfortable—" he said, backtracking instinctively.
"Well… I mean…it's not that I'm not comfortable or that I don't want to go. Your family were all really nice—er, random insensitive comments notwithstanding. But if you don't think it's a good idea…"
"I asked you, remember?"
She sighed. "And I want to be there with you…but I'm not sure we should."
Dax stayed quiet, waiting. She was probably right. They shouldn't do something like that when they didn't even trust themselves to have pizza alone together. But they wouldn't be alone. There would be a country club full of family and friends who would be watching everyone and everything. Surely they could trust themselves when there were witnesses around… Built in chaperones, as it were.
Asha might have been thinking along the same lines, because she finally broke the silence. "I'll talk to them tomorrow. It's still three weeks away. If we change our minds…I can fake the flu."
Dax grinned. "I'll let Bryce know."
Seventeen
Getting approval for attending the Coulter-Ivey wedding from her bosses was easy. Asha simply suggested one of them should go. Take on babysitting and get what she needed. They'd immediately offered her up as sacrifice.
During the next two weeks, she and Dax continued to carry on their professional relationship predominantly via phone. Yes, okay, so totally a chickenshit thing to do, but given that she could feel him simply when he walked into a room, it was probably for the best. They talked about everything from work, to team gossip, to what they each thought of the newest pizza place to pop up in town. The fact that her parents planned to come for a visit. In all that time, if she didn't call, he would. Sometimes with a family anecdote, or just to hear her voice. More than once she fell asleep to the mellow timbre of his words.
They only met in person on game days, when it was necessary to do so, and they managed to make sure that other people were present, so they could make a point of publicly demonstrating their professionalism.
The locker room rumors about what might or might not be going on between them were still circulating, but the teasing air about them had dissipated. And as far as Asha knew, the rumors hadn't gone beyond the players themselves. Everyone had other things on their minds. Winning was having a positive effect on all their spirits. Back from their road trip, they'd played two home games—both of which were solid wins against division opponents, increasing the Thrashers' chances of making it to the post-season. The fact that anyone was even talking about them in conjunction with the post-season had sent an excited buzz through the organization. Attendance was up during both of those games. The second markedly higher than the first.
For their next road game they were only headed to Miami, so even though it was technically away and they had to travel, the shadows weren't required to follow and keep an eye on them.
The freedom and aura of an improving season sent many of the players out to the clubs, even though their curfew was still in place. Instead of going out, however, Dax called Asha.
"You're forgoing a night out?" she asked, adding an incredulous tone to her voice. "Are they making snowballs in hell?"
"Shut it. I'm too busy talking to you, and trying to comprehend why you would ever ruin Nutella with bananas."
She giggled. "It's delicious."
She paused, thinking. It was probably a bad idea to bring it up, but something had been bugging her since she'd gotten off the elevator with some of the team earlier that morning.
They'd been all talking about where they were headed that night. Ignoring her, like they usually did, they happily chatted about where to go to pick up women, and which one of them was going to get laid. She should have been more affronted, but the truth was, she was used to it. Most people ignored her, or deliberately left her out of conversations. This time she was glad to be left out. Until Ellis mentioned Dax.
His name alone was like a forbidden flame, and like a moron, she flew directly into it. Every. Damn. Time.
And one of the comments had stuck with her all damn day. She'd overheard Samuels say, "Don't bother asking Coulter. It's like the dude doesn't even smash anymore."
Dax's voice was soft. "What? What is it? You seem like you want to ask me something, but you're afraid to. I can tell."
Asha sighed. "I'm just thinking about something Samuels said."
"Oh yeah?"
Now or never. Stop being a coward. She cleared her throat. "He said, uh, that you don't smash anymore."
Dax coughed. "What?"
"Smash. I assume it means you're not sleeping with anyone. Or maybe that you don't party."
"He said this? In front of you?"
"I was in the elevator with them. I'm invisible to those guys, remember?"
"I—" He hesitated. "He means I don't hook up anymore."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Hold up, now. "Why not?"
He swallowed before putting the lid back on the tub of Rocky Road. "What you said at
the beginning of all this mattered to me. I want to change the image of what people see. Besides, I haven't been all that interested."
"Again, why?" She had no idea what the hell she was doing, or why she was even asking. There was no way this conversation could go anywhere safe.
"You ever do something because it's a habit? It's just what you've always done, so you keep doing it and doing it, and somehow, you wonder if you ever liked doing it in the first place?"
"Oh, I've seen the great Dax Coulter in action. You like the party."
His words tripped out slowly. "I do… Though for a while now, it's felt like a habit instead of something I really wanted to do. The women, the drinking. I think we can both agree it's not been working in my favor. I figured I'd try my hand at something new. And I realize, I kind of like it."
"Good. I like this version of you." Wisely, she refrained from adding more. The problem was, she liked this version of Dax a lot. As in, she was starting to fall for him. He was funny. Sensitive and sweet. She liked being his friend. Liked being around him. And she had a feeling that developing a soft spot for him was going to get her hurt.
"Nervous about the wedding?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Well…yeah, just a bit. I don't mind being in front of people, but I'm not a huge fan of talking in front of them," he confessed.
"You do fine in the post-game interviews," she assured him.
"That's football talk. I can talk football 'til I'm blue in the face and never get tired of it or run out of things to say. This…this is serious, and it's a big deal. Bryce actually trusts me. I'm not screwing this up."
"You won't screw up." She leaned back against the cushions of her sofa. "You'll be fine. Just look for me when the time comes, and I can mouth the words to help you along if you need it. Like a cue card or something."
"More like a bad high school play," he said, laughing.
"It won't really matter that much in the long run—everyone will be paying attention to Bryce and Tami, and as long as you don't put your foot in your mouth, which is impossible with that speech, by the way, you'll be fine. Just don't worry about sounding like a robot, or reciting it off notecards, because it's clear you put a lot of thought into it, and everyone will be able to see that and will appreciate it." She reached for her soda and took a sip. "As long as you make either the bride or groom cry good tears, you'll be a success."
