Football Hero (2008) (15 page)

“I CAN’T SEE PLAYING
this Sunday,” Thane said. “This thing is killing me. I know how it gets. It’ll take a few days.”

Ty felt the injury list in his pants pocket. He didn’t even want to ask about the other players now. They rode in silence for a while.

“Don’t be so down,” Thane said. “I’ll be back.”

“I’m okay,” Ty said.

“You look like you want to ask me something,” Thane said as they pulled past the guard shack and into the Jets’ facility.

“No,” Ty said. “I’m okay.”

Ty followed Thane as he hobbled out of his truck, through the locker room, and up onto one of the tables in the training room. Ty counted nine other players in
the room. One of them had his back to Ty, listening to his Walkman as he sat on the edge of a cold tub, dangling his ankle in the frigid water. When he finished, dried his leg, and turned around, Ty recognized Laveranues Coles.

“Laveranues,” Ty said quietly to Thane.

“Want to meet him?” Thane asked.

Coles headed their way, bobbing to the music. Ty nodded. Thane and Coles slapped hands, and Thane motioned for the other receiver to take off his headset.

“Hey, LC,” Thane said. “My little brother.”

“Hey, little brother,” Coles said, grinning big, slapping his hand into Ty’s, and shaking it hard. “You helping my man get well?”

Ty could only nod.

“Good,” Coles said. “Give me some of your magic, too, for this ankle of mine, okay?”

Ty kept nodding and Coles laughed and limped off.

“The paper said he’s questionable,” Ty said, feeling inside his pants pocket for the scrap of newspaper Uncle Gus had given him. “If you’re both out, who are they going to throw to?”

“Maybe the tight end,” Thane said. “Don’t worry. It’s a long season.”

One of the trainers came over. She had Thane lie on his back before she elevated a section of the table, raising his leg. She connected rubber pads and wires to the stim machine and got it started before pulling
a yellow rubber sleeve over Thane’s leg.

“What’s that?” Ty asked.

“The boot,” Thane said as the trainer connected a hose to the boot, bent down, and flipped on what sounded like a vacuum cleaner.

The boot inflated like a rubber raft, then hissed as it deflated, before starting all over again.

“The pressure forces the swelling down,” the trainer said. “You all set?”

“I was going to take my little brother here to dinner when I’m done,” Thane said. “Am I finished after this?”

“Just make sure you ice down when you get home and be back at six in the morning,” she said.

Thane nodded and she left them.

At Barelli’s, they ate a dish of sausage, peppers, and chicken that tasted better than anything Ty had ever eaten. But when the apple crisp came, it didn’t seem as sweet as it had the week before, maybe because he felt bad about Thane’s injury, or maybe because he didn’t know how he’d answer Uncle Gus when he asked for a complete injury update. With Thane worried about his own injury, Ty just couldn’t start quizzing him about the other players. It didn’t seem right.

He wanted to make up his own assessments based on what he’d seen in the training room, but he knew he couldn’t lie. Uncle Gus would sniff him out right away. Whenever he lied, his face turned beet red and
he began to sweat. Pinocchio had a better chance of getting away with a lie than he did.

No, he’d have to tell Uncle Gus the truth.

All the way home, Ty prayed Uncle Gus had had too many beers and fallen asleep. But when they pulled down the bumpy road and the yellow rectangle of the front window came into sight, Ty could see Uncle Gus’s shadow behind the curtain, peeking out, and waiting for him.

THE MOMENT TY GOT
inside the door, Uncle Gus grabbed him by the front of his sweat jacket and pulled him close. Ty could smell the beer, the cigarettes, and the hint of hot dogs with sauerkraut. A mustard stain on Uncle Gus’s gray mustache had caked itself into a brownish crud that matched the edges of his teeth.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Gus,” Ty said.

“Sorry for what?”

“I couldn’t get it,” Ty said.

“The injuries?”

Ty watched the look in Uncle Gus’s eyes grow wild. His hands began to shake Ty as he dragged him across the floor and tossed him onto the couch.

“Do you know what he’ll do?” Uncle Gus yelled. “He’ll
break my legs with that crowbar, that’s what he’ll do.”

“Lucy?”

“I told you who he is, what he does,” Uncle Gus bellowed, pacing the small space in front of the coffee table. “I
never
should have agreed to this. I told your aunt you were a mistake from the start.”

In a quavering voice, Ty explained why he couldn’t get what Lucy wanted.

Uncle Gus froze.

“
Tiger’s
hurt?” he said in a whisper. “He wasn’t in the paper.”

“I know,” Ty said. “It was late today. It’s his bad knee. He doesn’t think he can play.”

“Not play?” Uncle Gus said, his mouth popping open, the bags under his eyes weighing heavy enough to expose their red rims.

“Laveranues Coles either,” Ty said, happy to end Uncle Gus’s tirade.

“
What
?” Uncle Gus said, his bloodshot eyes bugging out of his head.

“He was limping through the training room,” Ty said. “Thane said they’d have to throw to the tight end.”

“No one else knows this,” Uncle Gus said, stroking his mustache and turning away, pacing the room and talking to himself as if Ty weren’t there. “Without a passing game, Cincinnati should win. The spread is eight. Even if they don’t win, Cincinnati’s defense
will keep it close. The Jets will be lucky to pass for a hundred yards all day without Tiger and Coles. I’ve got to tell Lucy.”

Uncle Gus fished in his pants pocket until he came up with his cell phone. He dialed, still pacing the rug.

“Lucy? It’s me, Gus.” Uncle Gus listened for a moment before saying, “I got something even better. Tiger’s hurt. He probably won’t play.
No one
knows. It looks like Coles is out too.”

Uncle Gus nodded his head. Ty could hear Lucy’s voice leaking from the phone, and even though he couldn’t hear the actual words, he could hear Lucy’s excitement.

“Yeah,” Uncle Gus said, “I got the kid right here.”

Lucy said something.

“It’s a little late,” Gus said, “but sure, okay. I can bring him.”

Lucy said something that made Uncle Gus’s face lose its color.

“Mr. D’Amico, the boss?” Uncle Gus said, swallowing the word as if it were a chicken bone going down sideways. “Are you sure?”

Uncle Gus nodded and closed his phone. His hand trembled as he replaced it in his pants pocket. His hand came back out, jangling his truck keys. “We’re gonna take a little ride.”

UNCLE GUS GRABBED A
fresh can of beer from the refrigerator before leading Ty out to the truck. When they got to Lucy’s Bar, they drove right past. Ty began to ask why, but thought better of it and bit his tongue. Uncle Gus didn’t stop until they reached downtown Newark. He pulled up in front of a crumbling brick building just up the street from the river. Ty hopped down and stepped into the empty street. A paper cup, a newspaper, and a swirl of grit twirled past on the back of a little wind devil. At the corner, a bum slumped against a garbage can that overflowed onto the sidewalk.

Ty looked up at the building. A dead pig hung in the window, dripping blood into a bed of shaved ice. On one side of the pig hung three dead rabbits still wearing
their fur. On the other side, a row of empty hooks grinned like the teeth of a monster. A TV satellite dish hung from one of the dirty rectangular windows above. The number on the door was “37,” with the seven hanging upside down from one nail. The green and red neon sign said,
LUDI’S MEATS
.

Uncle Gus plunged through the door and started up a narrow set of stairs. Ty hesitated, staring into the butcher shop, where two men with bloody aprons made ringing sounds as they sharpened their knives. One of the men looked up and grinned at Ty with shiny white teeth. Ty jumped and hurried up the stairs after his uncle. When they reached the second-floor landing, Uncle Gus rapped his knuckles softly on the door. It opened a crack, then swung wide, releasing a cloud of cigar smoke into the hallway.

Uncle Gus grabbed Ty by the arm and led him in. Around a big oak table, eight men sat staring suspiciously at each other through the smoke as they cupped their playing cards. At one end of the room, a TV sat on a table by the window. At the other end a stuffed deer head with one antler rested above the fireplace, staring blankly at a battered refrigerator. Each man had an ashtray and his own stack of money on the red and white checkered tablecloth, but in the middle, a messy pile of twenty-and hundred-dollar bills grew beneath a low-hanging light. Finally, the big fat man facing the door slapped down a bill,
leaned back in his chair, and said, “Call.”

The big man wore a shiny black sweat suit with a tank top underneath. Something bulged underneath his arm, maybe a gun. Thick black hair covered the back of his hands and neck. He began a low, steady laugh that shook his gut. The other players slapped down their cards and groaned at the sight of the big man’s kings while he raked in the mountain of cash.

When the big man’s eyes flickered over Ty, his laughter went dead. The others turned to see. That’s when Ty realized that Lucy had been sitting with his back to them, not realizing he and Uncle Gus had entered the room. The raspberry scar flashed like a bicycle reflector as Lucy jumped up and spun around. He put a long, bony arm around Ty’s shoulder and led him toward the table. The men frowned and wrinkled their brows with uncertainty.

“That the kid?” the big man asked.

“My nephew, Mr. D’Amico,” Uncle Gus said, wringing his hands. “Tiger’s little brother.”

The big man, D’Amico, hardly glanced at Uncle Gus before turning his attention to Lucy.

“Well?” he asked.

Lucy faced Ty.

“Tell us about your brother’s knee,” Lucy said in a sweet but oily tone.

Ty shrugged and repeated everything he’d seen and heard, sick to his stomach at the way they all leered
when they heard Thane’s name.

“You guys are using this for fantasy stuff, right?” Ty asked.

“Sure, kid,” Lucy said.

“And what about Coles?” D’Amico rumbled, scooping up the deck of cards and snapping through them to break the deck so that he could shuffle. “He hurt, too?”

Ty nodded.

“How bad?”

“Thane, my brother,” Ty said, the words spilling out of him even though something inside said to be quiet, “he said Laveraneus won’t play.”

D’Amico snapped the cards down on the checkered tabletop, shuffled them, and grinned, nodding. “You want a sausage sandwich or something, kid?”

Ty shook his head. His stomach turned at the thought of the dead pig hanging downstairs in the window.

“I can’t offer you a beer, but you did good,” D’Amico said before he turned his attention to Uncle Gus.

“You’re the uncle?”

Uncle Gus clasped his hands together, nodding wildly.

“Well, you take good care of him,” D’Amico said in a quiet voice that scared Ty more than if he’d yelled.

“You remember Man o’ War?”

Uncle Gus stared, working his lips with no sound coming out.

“The racehorse,” Lucy said.

“Yeah, that,” Uncle Gus said. “I remember.”

“I never lost a bet on that horse,” D’Amico said. “I made a lot of money on that horse. It made me real happy.”

The big man began dealing the cards, flicking them across the tabletop, a small wheezing sound coming from his chubby lips. When he finished, he narrowed his eyes at Uncle Gus. “I had a feeling when I saw that horse, a good feeling, like he was gonna do good things for me.

“And I get the same thing when I look at this kid.”

TY HAD PRACTICE THE
next morning, and Coach V asked him what his problem was.

“I don’t feel so good,” Ty said.

“Yeah,” Coach V said. “You look a little pale.”

Uncle Gus picked him up from practice with Charlotte. At the donut shop, Ty cleaned the bathroom, then helped Charlotte in the kitchen. Uncle Gus sat at the counter, eating a donut as he dug through a stack of papers and entered figures into a notebook. Ty began to mop the floor behind the counter as Charlotte took the trash out back to the Dumpster.

“You know what I’m doing?” Uncle Gus asked him, a gleam in his eye.

Ty shook his head.

“Figuring how much money I can get my hands on,” Uncle Gus said with a wink. He bit into the donut, leaving a blob of jelly and some powdered sugar on his mustache as he chewed. “I’m gonna bet it all. Every cent. Something like this? It doesn’t come around too often. The planets are all lined up on this one with the point spread at eight. Why do you look like you ate a bad piece of fish?”

“Fish?”

“Something rotten,” Uncle Gus said. “You’re all green.”

Ty’s mop slowed to a stop. “I thought it was all fantasy football. That’s what you said.”

“So?” Uncle Gus said, lowering his voice to a whisper and leaning toward Ty. “You gotta grab life by the horns. You get an opportunity like this? You take it. Everyone does. Presidents. Rappers. Movie stars. Even your brother. They all catch a break and they take it. This is my break.”

“It’s gambling, right, Uncle Gus?”

“Not illegal,” Uncle Gus said in a harsh whisper.

“You can bet in Vegas. Atlantic City. We’re not getting into any trouble.”

“But it’s not right,” Ty said.

Uncle Gus widened his eyes and smiled before he let a gust of air blow out from under his mustache, rousting up a tiny cloud of powdered sugar. “Don’t be a
fool
.”

Sunday morning, Ty woke to the sound of Uncle Gus’s voice on the phone. He gripped the covers and pulled them tight, then rolled over until his nose touched the cool surface of the washing machine.

“Yeah, fifteen thousand,” Uncle Gus said, his voice seeping in from the kitchen. “What do you mean? That’s everything I’ve got. Trust me, I wish I had more. I thought maybe you could loan me ten.”

Uncle Gus harrumphed, leading Ty to believe the person on the other end of the phone didn’t want to lend him the money.

“Yeah, well, just remember,” Uncle Gus said in a mutter. “What goes around comes around.”

Ty heard the kitchen phone slammed down onto its hook, leaving a little ring in the air. Ty picked up the clock he kept next to him on the floor and saw that it was nearly time for him to go. He slipped out from under the covers and tipped his mattress up against the wall. From the milk crate where he kept his clothes, he removed the Nike sweat suit Thane had bought for him and pulled it on, along with his Pro Shock sneakers.

When he peered around the corner, Uncle Gus looked up from the kitchen table, where he’d spread his papers out underneath a steaming mug of coffee.

“What do you think your brother would say if I asked him for a loan?” Uncle Gus said, taking a sip of coffee and considering Ty over the rim of his mug. “A small one.”

Ty felt his stomach tighten. He took a box of cornflakes out of the cupboard, filled a bowl, and got out the milk. He sat down at the table, as far from Uncle Gus as he could.

“He’ll probably say to ask Morty,” Ty said, studying the cereal.

Uncle Gus slapped his palm on the table. Ty jumped.

“That’s what I thought,” Uncle Gus said. “But this is a sure thing. I can’t tell him that, but it is. I could make so much money for him, for all of us.”

Ty wolfed down his cereal and wiped his mouth with a napkin from the dispenser Uncle Gus had stolen from the Breakfast Nook.

“Thane’s funny about money,” he said.

“He can afford to be funny,” Uncle Gus said. “He didn’t get an extra mouth to feed dumped on him when things were tight already.”

Ty got up and put the milk away before he washed off his bowl in the sink. “I could ask him for some money for my food. I’m sure he’d do that.”

“
Money for food. Money for food,
” Uncle Gus sang in a mocking tone. “That’s all you can say? A lot of people are going to get rich on this game today and I want to be one of them.”

A horn sounded from out front.

“That’s him,” Ty said, drying the last bit of his bowl, putting it away, and running for the door.

Uncle Gus followed him. When Ty tore open the front door, Thane was already standing there.

“You didn’t have to get out,” Ty said. “Your knee.”

Thane flexed his leg up and down. “Man, it feels a lot better.”

A little choking sound escaped Uncle Gus’s throat, and Ty turned to see that he’d lost all his color.

“You’re hurt, right?” Uncle Gus said.

“I’m a lot better,” Thane said, smiling.

“But you can’t play today, can you?” Uncle Gus said, ending his sentence with a squeak and grabbing hold of the door frame to steady himself.

Thane massaged his knee, considering it for a moment before he shrugged and said, “Doubt it. They don’t want to take a chance. We’ve got two divisional games coming up, Miami and Buffalo, and they want me ready for them.”

Uncle Gus sighed and let go of the door frame.

“That’s smart,” he said. “You have to be careful. Uh, Tiger, I wanted to ask you something.”

Thane put a hand on Ty’s shoulder. “Okay.”

“If I have a business proposal,” Uncle Gus said, fidgeting with his stubby fingers, “I need to talk to Morty, right? I mean, that’s still the protocol?”

“Yeah,” Thane said.

“Okay,” Uncle Gus said, nodding and holding up his hands in surrender. “That’s what I thought. I got something that’s like an immediate opportunity, a
can’t-miss thing, actually. No time to get with Morty on this one, so I thought I’d just check.”

Thane stared at their uncle for a minute, then said, “Okay, well, I gotta go. See you after the game.”

Uncle Gus clamped his mouth tight and nodded as he watched them go.

When they reached the highway, Ty said, “Sorry about that.”

Thane waved him off. “Don’t worry. I get stuff like that all the time. I can handle it. Here, look at this.”

Thane fished his hand into the compartment between the seats and came up with a glimmering emerald card with letters embossed in silver. It said:

JETS
vs.
BENGALS
, and below that:
OFFICIAL
, and below that:
ALL ACCESS INCLUDING LOCKER ROOM
.

“What?” Ty said.

“Your pass,” Thane said. “You’re with me today.”

“Even in the locker room?” Ty asked.

“Everywhere,” Thane said. “You know that HBO show they have?”

“
Inside the NFL
?” Ty asked.

“This is the
real Inside the NFL
.”