Touchdown (10 page)

Startled, Goldie held up her hands as if to ward off the shouts. “Well, as a nice fellow from Atlanta once told me: ‘Whoa, lady, calm down!'”

Leigh took a deep breath. “Okay, now you sound like Clay,” she said. “Here's my phone. You don't have a sister, but you do have two brothers and two parents who are very worried about you and want you to call them. I'm going to go around back to get the car. But don't you budge.”

Goldie grabbed the phone and saw Clay's face reflected on the cheap plastic cover. “Oy! I look like that boy!” she shrieked. “I mean, not my type, but what a handsome ponem!”

“What a what-um? You're speaking gibberish. I know concussions have weird symptoms, but I can't understand a word you're saying.” Leigh shook her head in disbelief, and cut across the grass to the parking lot.

As she waited for Leigh, Goldie flipped open her phone and dialed.

“Hello, Mindy?” Clay's deep voice resonated through the air. “It's me, Goldie.”

“Oh, all you broads are nothing but trouble.” Charlie suddenly appeared in front of her.

Goldie, startled, dropped the phone into a puddle.

“How do you keep doing that? It's so annoying!” She bent down to retrieve it and cleaned it off with the bottom of Clay's shirt.

“You want to talk about irritating? How about the one dame I have to protect disregards every law of nature because she's just not in the mood to go to heaven?” Charlie exclaimed with his hands folded flat against his chest.

“Oh, that means I have a spot up there?”

“There are no guarantees in life, honey . . . or death, for that matter,” Charlie replied with a chuckle.

Goldie noticed the glints of sunlight caught in his hair in the morning light. “So how did you know I was me, anyway?” She motioned to Clay's masculine build. “I can't say I'm looking my prettiest.”

“I see through things that most others cannot.” Charlie raised his right eyebrow. “Including all your malarkey.”

Goldie smiled at Charlie. “Well, I can't help it if you're angry at me for not wanting my life dissected and judged by a committee that thinks my mother is a perfect angel, or that there is any justice to a bride getting killed on her wedding night,” Goldie replied.

“Listen, sweetheart, I don't make the rules,” said Charlie. “And if you want to whine about the unfairness of it all, save it for a chump who actually pretends to be interested. But that's not me.”

“I'm not asking for your pity,” Goldie replied. “I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, you're not,” Charlie said. “And you never were. If you don't head back to the tribunal ASAP, you're in danger of forfeiting your shot at heaven, and spending eternity walking this earth alone.”

“I won't be alone,” said Goldie. “I'll have Avner.”

“And what about when your Romeo dies? And when your sister dies? And your dad? What were you thinking? Even that kid—they'll all be in heaven without you. You'll be alone and stuck here, watching everyone live their lives. Forever.”

“Well, if you put it that way. I guess I could consider it . . . Can't I just borrow this body long enough to stop Chumie from getting to Avner? She doesn't even dress well and he could do so much better.”

“It's not your body to borrow. What you've done is evil,” he said, his eyes boring into hers.

“No, it's not!” Goldie protested. “He gave it to me!”

“Then he's a fool,” Charlie said.

“And I'm a good sister.”

“No, you're not,” said Charlie, “You're a dybbuk.”

“What?” Goldie sputtered. “Impossible! I'm no creepy spirit.”

“You are extremely difficult—but you couldn't be creepy if you tried,” Charlie agreed. “However, you should know that your careless behavior is putting my wings in jeopardy.”

“So you are a guardian angel!” Goldie squealed.

Charlie didn't answer.

“So come join me down here,” Goldie said and winked. She gestured to the crisp green grass and expanse of clear sky. “We can enjoy eternity together.”

Charlie froze. “I've heard that before,” he said quietly. He stared deep into her eyes, an unreadable expression gracing his dashing features. “There's no going back now.”

Goldie paused. “So you really think I should just leave? Let Chumie do what she wants? Abandon Avner and Mindy and Daddy? They can't survive without me. They barely know how to navigate New York traffic, let alone manage their own lives,” Goldie said, her voice rising in panic. “It's cruel to even think about abandoning those helpless creatures.”

“They're tougher than you think,” Charlie cut in.

“Yeah, as tough as the poor little fluffy kittens on the Lifetime channel . . . abandoned and up for adoption!”

“They don't need you to micromanage their lives, Goldie,” Charlie said in a dry voice.

“What? Of course they do. Haven't you heard a word I said?”

“They miss you. They love you. But, honey, they don't need you,” said Charlie. He grabbed her hand. “Come back upstairs with me. Now.”

At his touch, an electric charge surged through her body. Heat rushed to her face. She ripped her hand away.

“Well, I . . . I don't know,” she said, and clutched a tingling hand close to her chest, suddenly feeling very confused. “I mean, Avner must be waiting for me.” She stared at the angel before her. “Oh, I feel so . . . dizzy,” Goldie murmured, and abruptly her vision went black.

Leigh's car rolled up to the grass and she jumped out. “Come on, Clay,” she said, leading him toward the open car door. “Let's get you home.”

Clay stared at her, disoriented. “What are you doing here? I thought you were mad at me.”

Leigh shook her head. “I am angry at you. But I couldn't leave you smashed, alone in a field!”

Clay slowly exhaled. “I wish you'd have let me be.” Then he suddenly remembered that crazy dream about that Goldie lady and was relieved he was back on earth with Leigh.

“Oh, cut it out with your morbid self-pity, Clay. Pressure from the games is no excuse to go behaving the way that you've been.”

Clay shook his head. It was throbbing. “I'm sorry for what I said earlier.”

Leigh shrugged. “It doesn't mean anything to me, Clay. I know you're a moron who'll do and say anything to look like a big macho man in front of his team.”

“So why are you still nice to me?”

“Because I also know that underneath all that cool jock thing going on—you are a good soul.”

“Sometimes I think you're the only one in the world who can really see me,” Clay said. “I don't deserve a friend like you.”

“Ain't that the truth.” Leigh nodded. “But don't push it, okay?”

Clay smiled at her. Even when she was mad at him, she was kind and didn't hold a grudge like other girls might . . .

A light breeze stirred the swings and Clay noticed where he was sitting. “What are we doing at the airplane park?” he asked suddenly, as he looked around at the slides.

Leigh let out a deep sigh and brushed her bangs from her eyes. “Oh, dear Lord. Not this again.”

“Leigh,” Clay confessed slowly. “I have to tell you, I had the craziest dream. There was this girl in heaven—”

“Of course there's always a dream girl.” Leigh sighed. “Let me guess: she was a sorority girl and her name was, oh, hmm—Carolyn? Bet you're already planning the wedding, I know—”

“What are you talking about?” Clay shook his head, vaguely remembering that he was supposed to break up with her but couldn't go through with it. “No way am I marrying Carolyn. Anyway, Leigh—in the dream, the girl, she was from up north, New York, I think . . . ”

“So you're done with the local girls,” Leigh muttered under her breath. “I really don't want to hear about it. But I do think we should stop by the hospital.” Leigh tried harder to move Clay's solid body to the car.

“Why?” Clay asked, still confused.

Leigh paused and looked up at Clay incredulously. “Well, there's the small matter that you almost died,” she said in a snarky voice. “Don't you ever put me through this again.” She met his eyes, a stubborn set in her chin.

“What did I put you through?”

“The stupid party? The heavy drinking—even when you know what it does to you? How about having to perform CPR 'cause for a moment there, it didn't seem like you were breathing? It's one thing to help you out, Clayton. But this drama? I can't take it.”

“So don't!”

“No. Don't give me that. I'm not going to let you harm yourself.”

“But I'm not asking you to. It's not about you.”

“Yes it is! When you drag yourself down—don't you realize what that does to the people who care about you?”

Clay shook his head. “It's my responsibility. I can take care of it.”

“Clearly you cannot.” Leigh shook her head. “I'm tired of cleaning up after your messes. And for what?” she yelled to the surrounding area and her voice broke. “For what? So I can watch you kill yourself?”

Clay looked down at her, a haunted look in his eyes. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Look, I'm sorry, Leigh,” he said softly. “Truly. I didn't realize what drinking so much would do to you. I thought it was just about unwinding and all. I swear, I wouldn't have done it if I had known.”

Leigh stared at him. “You really had me scared, Clay. I thought I'd lost you there for a moment.”

Clay stared into her eyes and gently stroked her cheek. “I don't know what's gotten into me. Don't waste your time on me. I'm a mess.”

She looked at him for a long time, and then gently led him to the car. “Well, you sure are a mess. But I have to waste my time on you. You're the only friend I've got,” she said as she climbed into the car and attempted a smile. “So, can I take you to the hospital?”

“No. I've got a killer headache, and my shoulder hurts, but otherwise I'm all right,” Clay said. “I have to pick up my car. Could you help me find it? Carolyn might have driven it back to the sorority house; I can drive myself back from there. Got to get together with the team and watch the film from the game and do stretching and stuff.”

“Yay,” Leigh said in a sarcastic tone. “Can't think of a better way to end the night.”

He was about to defend Carolyn and say that she wasn't so bad, but thought better of it. Though she usually was all right, they sure didn't work well together. And if they'd been driving and partying out here—why on earth did Carolyn just leave him in the park for Leigh to find him like a discarded can of beer?

Clay stared morosely at the dashboard and tried not to think. He rubbed his throbbing temple as Leigh kept driving. The long silence was pierced with the sound of her Green Day ringtone.

“Hello?” Clay answered. “Mindy who? No, I didn't call you. Just a sec . . . ” He turned to Leigh, puzzled. “Leigh, did you call a Mindy Fischer in New York?” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “She seems really upset,” he whispered.

Leigh shrugged, at a loss.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, I have no idea . . . ” Clay returned to the phone. “Now wait a sec . . . whoa, lady, calm down. No one's messing with you.” Clay paused, thought about it, then amended, “Not on this phone anyways.”

Leigh glanced at the phone. “Oh, Clay, just hand it over.”

He complied and Leigh spoke into her cell phone. “Hey, I'm sorry, my friend just had a concussion and he's not really himself. I apologize for him if he called you . . . ”

Leigh listened to Mindy. “Um. Hold on.” She turned to Clay, bemused. “Clay, she's pretty upset. She says that she is sure that a man called from this number asking about her sister Goldie who just died. That's just awful. You wouldn't happen to know a Goldie, would you?”

Clay felt his face go white. He slowly collapsed back against the moth-eaten seating. “Oh, God, no. This can't be happening.” He shook his head in disbelief.

Suddenly a police siren pierced the air. “Pull over, please,” a gruff voice rang through the amplifier.

Leigh cursed, and snapped the phone shut. “Clay, put this away now,” she said. “I can't believe this.”

Clay stashed the phone between the cushioned seats.

Leigh pulled over to the side of the road, and Clay watched through the side view mirror as a squat police officer waddled over to the side of her window. He bent over to be at eye level with Leigh, attempting a form of paternal-like intimidation.

Leigh smiled sweetly. “Hi, officer,” she said politely. “Is there a problem?”

“Were you talking on that cellular device while operating a vehicle, young lady? Because that's against the law,” he said through his thick brown mustache.

Leigh looked nervous. Clay knew she didn't like being on the wrong side of the law—and neither of them could afford to pay a hefty ticket.

Clay piped up. “Officer, could you please forgive us? She was just pulling out and was going to turn it off once we started driving on the highway.” Clay pointed to the road. “There's nobody around here now. Could you help us out, please?”

The officer sighed. “Let me see your IDs.”

They handed them to the cop and he reviewed Clay's. A glint of recognition sparked in his eyes. “Clayton Harper. I recognize you. You're number thirty-four for the Bullfrogs.” The cop smiled admiringly at Clay and put out his hand for a shake. “I'm Officer Brady, and it's an honor to meet you, son.”

Clay shook his hand, dazed.

“So, young man, are you doing okay now?”

Clay scowled. “What?”

Leigh glared at Clay. “Yes, officer, please enlighten us.”

The officer started playing with his badge and chuckled. “Aw, you know how you football players get—all rowdy after the big games. Clayton, I'm sorry to tell you this, but you got a little carried away. You nearly got a DUI. What's your girl's name?”