Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance (36 page)

"
Y
ou're what
?"

I'm sitting in General Manager Larry Kardarelli's office, a place that I don't really like as it looks too corporate, and not enough like something connected with a football team. I'm a football player, not an executive, and I've done pretty well in playing so far, leaving the details of money and that to other people. I'm focused on the field and on making sure that if I play right, the money will come.

"Troy, here are the facts. The third pre-season game was a nightmare for us. We lost a wide receiver and our starting right tackle to season ending injuries. I'll be honest. I don't know if Mark's ever going to come back, and if he does, we might need to look at moving him. After that knee injury of his, a lot of guys lose a step."

"I’ve got that. I fully understand. But why are you looking at trading me? I've been kicking ass in the pre-season. Or did you forget the game Saturday night? Three sacks against a starting offense is the sort of stuff that gets guys selected to the Pro Bowl if they repeat it often enough."

"You’re having a great pre-season, but you also know that our linebacker corps is already the strongest in the league," Kardi says. "You add something, but right now, we need a right tackle and a wideout more than we need a fifth good linebacker."

"And if one of the guys goes down? What do you do then? Whistle for hope from the Lone Ranger?"

The man shrugs. "You're good, no doubt about it, but we can adapt. Besides, I thought you'd be happy about this. You stay here, and the best you can look forward to is splitting reps with the starters for at least another year. You go somewhere else, and you get a starting slot pretty much straightaway. No team is going to give us what we want without having a need for a damn good young linebacker. And if I can, I will get you to a team with a 3-4. I know you've played that since high school, and you're more cut out for it anyway. But we'll get you to a team with a need."

"Yeah, the guys sitting in the cellar come December always need linebackers," I reply, and yeah, I'm a little pissed off. "The Hawks have been one of the premier teams in the conference for a while now. And it's not just because we've got some stars. We've got a good team."

"Who do you think put that team together?" Kardi asks, sitting forward. "Let me clue you in. That man was me, and it's been that way for the past decade. I'm the one who makes the final personnel decisions about this team, and yes, I do take the coaches' opinions into consideration, but if I need to, I'll cut, trade or sign a contract for anyone that I think can help this team. Now, if you think I'm a bastard about this, you should count yourself lucky that you're not playing for someone else. A lot of times, you wouldn’t know until you actually got traded. Some teams have a fucking real estate agent on retainer whose whole job is to help guys clear out their houses and sell whatever they need to get sold."

"So why are you being so generous, then? I mean, you don't even have a destination in mind, you said. You just said you're shopping me around. What gives?"

The officious prick shrugged. "I figure it differently. I figure, if you know you're on the trade block, you're going to play pissed off. You're going to want to look good, because you know if you don't, we'll just cut you come next pre-season, and you can take your chances on the last year of a rookie contract and a reputation as a crybaby. You play your heart out until you get traded, though, and you go to a new team with a good rep, a starting slot, and go into the last year of your rookie contract in a strong position to negotiate a fat new contract, or at least get franchise tagged for a year and make good money. Now, what's it going to be?"

I nod and get up. "You know your answer already. You want to give me a reason to play hard? I already had that. Now you're just giving me more emotional content."

Kardi nods, then scribbles something on a sheet of paper next to him.

I shake my head. “Thanks for the heads up. Does the team mind if I still take tomorrow off to go to that wedding I asked about a month ago?"

Kardarelli waves dismissively. Football players with strange ideas are pretty much par for the course. I mean, one of my best buddies on the team currently has a collection of UFO 'inside information' DVDs that covers an entire
wall
of his living room. Another's into some wacky religion that lets him eat all the pork he can get his hands on, but he can only eat rabbit on Mondays. You try fueling a three-hundred-pound body on rabbit right before a Monday night game.

Either way, I'm small potatoes. "No problem. It's a garbage game, anyway. Hell, you want the time off, I'll ask the Coach to keep you off the dress list for the game. We've got enough guys who need to earn a spot on the roster still that you're just going to be standing around anyway."

I consider it for a moment, then nod. Might as well take what I can get from the team while I can. "You know what? I'd appreciate it. I guess I should wait until I tell her, but it seems I have a daughter. I'd like to get to know her, if it's all the same to you."

Kardarelli taps his pencil on his desk blotter, then nods. "Fine. Take the game day off. But come week one of the regular season, I don't give a fuck if you're getting married and you've got Elton John coming in to sing a revue of
The Lion King
for the reception. You're suiting up against the Phantoms."

"Deal. See you."

* * *

"
P
ush me higher
! Higher!"

"All right, Laurie, hold tight!"

We're in the park, and Laurie and I are playing on the swing set. This little girl loves to swing, I know that for sure, and even though she can pump her legs like a champ, she adores it most when I push her. Whitney, who got tired after whirling her around for a couple of minutes on the merry-go round, is sitting on the edge of the sand pit that surrounds the swings, watching us.

"Don't go too high, honey! You could fall off!"

"Troy will catch me!"

"I'm glad you think I'm Superman, but I'm just a normal person."

“I don’t like Superman!” Laurie calls back as she giggles. "You're Thor with short hair."

"Fits better under the helmet. I’d love to carry that hammer of his during the game. Make my job a lot easier," I laugh, pushing one last time. "Okay, baby girl, you pump on your own for a few minutes. I'm going to sit down with your mama."

“Okay, but we have to go to the monkey bars soon!” Laurie orders, and I shake my head, sitting down next to Whitney. She's laughing silently, giving me a knowing look.

"I wonder where she gets her bossy side from," I tease, nudging Whitney with my elbow.

"Her Aunt Dani, for sure," Whitney replies. "Who do you think taught her all the comic book characters she knows about? They don't have Marvel Comics in Italy—well, at least they're not easy to find."

I nod, at peace with the idea that Dani knew about Whitney and about Laurie long before I did. We'd talked on the phone the day before, in between a team lifting session and my evening video review for the week one Phantoms game, and we worked it out. I don't know if she has figured out that Whitney and I are back together, or seem to be headed that way. "Hey, speaking of Dani, have you told her?"

"In general or in detail?" Whitney says in a low voice. "Because you don't want to know what she's told me in detail."

"Oh, I know," I say. "That woman was a regular
Penthouse Forum
when she was an undergrad. At least until she met Pete again, from what I know. I don't want details of what they do. I've had my hands in between Pete's legs too much for comfort in that area."

Whitney laughs and slaps me on the thigh. "And you say Dani's bad? Troy Wood, I never!"

"Yes you have," I tease back, and lean in. "In fact, maybe some time soon, we can."

Whitney purrs and gives me a sexy little smile. "Maybe after we tell Laurie that you and I are seeing each other. I was thinking after the wedding reception, that way Laurie won't spoil the surprise for Dani and Pete."

“Monkey bars!" Laurie calls, dragging up a huge cloud of dust and sand as she drags her feet to slow down. "Mama, are you coming too?"

"Of course," Whitney says as I heave myself to my feet. "Think you can give me a hand up?"

I pull Whitney up easily, and for a moment, she's in my arms again, her palms on my chest, and we're looking into each other's eyes before I let her go, both of us smiling to chase after our little girl.

My daughter
, I think as Whitney scrambles up the jungle gym that leads to a slide with Laurie and follows her down.
My daughter
. The words still clang around in my head as I think of them, and I'm laughing as Whitney thumps down in the sand, a cloud rising from her butt as her feet lose grip on the ground from the low slide. Laurie laughs along with us, and we're soon all playing on the monkey bars until Laurie's gasping for air and waving off. "I'm done! I need water!"

We go to the water fountain, where she soaks her face along with taking deep drinks. We're near the duck pond, and I see some ducks on the water, so I walk over to the vending machine the town keeps for the ducks and buy a cupful of food. "Hey, Laurie, want to take a rest and feed the ducks?"

"Cool!" Laurie yells, and she runs over, eagerly taking a seat next to me. The food floats, so we can toss it out onto the water where the ducks swim after it. "Hey?"

I look at her while Whitney takes a seat on the other side of her . . . our daughter. I exchange looks with her over top of Laurie's head, and she smiles. This has been a great day.

“What's it like being a pro football player?"

"There are a lot of good things, and a lot of bad things," I say. "On the good side, I make a lot of money, and I love playing football. It helps a lot with my inner demons."

"You have demons inside you?" Laurie asks, her voice dropping in fright.

I shake my head, remembering the she has spent most of her life in a Catholic country. "What I mean is, when I was younger, I had a lot of bad things happen to me. I could have become a very bad person if I let those things take control of my life. But football was one of those things that let me control the feelings that came from what happened to me."

"What else?" Laurie asks innocently, and I look over her head at Whitney, whose eyes are dark and full of meaning.

"A very special person," I say softly before looking down at Laurie and smiling. "But yeah, football helps too."

* * *

A
fter I drop
Laurie and Whitney at their home, I drive back to my house, troubled. Today was such a perfect day, and I'm worried. If the team trades me soon, I'm going to have to leave Silver Lake Falls, at least for the season, and I'm just starting to re-establish my relationship with Whitney, and I’m making the beginnings of a relationship with Laurie. How could I ask them to uproot and move to some other part of the country when they're just getting settled in again?

Maybe after some time has passed, I think. I mean, first of all, while we've got injuries, you never know who might become available after the last round of cuts to the fifty-three-man roster. Maybe a good right tackle or wideout could fall through the waiver wire, and then the Hawks could sign them without having to trade me.

I decide to hold my tongue on the potential trade until I know more about it. There's no reason to stress out Whitney or Laurie—not right now. Instead, I check out my suit, already looking forward to tomorrow. After all, it's not every day that two friends get married, and if what Whitney told me is true, then we can go public then too.

I'm just wiping down my shoes, putting a fresh coat of Kiwi wax on them, when my phone rings. Picking it up, I see it's Whitney. "Hey, it's good to hear from you. Is everything okay? Did you leave something in the car?"

"Not at all, and everything was nearly perfect today," Whitney says, her voice warm and loving. "Laurie's taking a bath right now before dinner, and I just wanted you to know she hasn't stopped talking about you since getting out of the car. She thinks you're the best. And so do I."