Pump Fake

by Michael Beck

  "I'm not faster than you."

  "Yes you were. You beat me easily."

  I shook my head.

  "I wasn't faster than you. You could move the knife just as quickly as me."

  "Then why did I lose?"

  "The trick is not being fast. It's not caring."

  "You didn't care if you stabbed yourself?" said Sam.

  I shrugged.

  "And how do you make yourself not care?" said Decker.

  "You can't."

  Decker regarded me silently for a moment. "Then in a way the person who loses is really the winner," he finally said.

  I contemplated him, surprised. Most people didn't see that. But he was right. To win at this game you needed a screw loose. Sanity and common sense were a handicap. Both of which I was sadly lacking in. No one had ever accused me of being too sane.

  "So how did you lose your finger then?" Sam said.

  "It's genetic. My mom had no thumbs."

  "That's terrible," said the pretty, Asian girl.

  "Christmases were especially bad," I said. "You know, all that wrapping and unwrapping presents."

  Her eyes grew confused and flicked nervously away from me.

  "Somehow, I don't think you were a cook in the Army," said Sam. "What do you do?"

  "Come with me and I'll show you where Liz is," said Decker, grabbing me by the arm and leading me away. "Best not to talk to anyone until you've spoken to Liz and got your story straight," whispered Decker as he led me out of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs.

  "What story?" I asked, puzzled.

  "You know, your cover story."

  "Why do I need a cover story?"

  He stopped and stared at me with annoyance.

  "Don't play dumb. Liz told me the plan last night. I think it's a complete waste of time and everyone will see straight through it, but Liz insists on going ahead with it. You know--"

  "Tan, you're here."

  Liz stood in an open doorway to my right. I felt my stomach clench as if someone had just given me a gentle punch. Yeah, I was over her.

  "I didn't expect you so early. Did you get in all right?"

  "Dancer?"

  Every time I heard her laugh or saw her I wondered if I was crazy. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. Not necessarily the prettiest but definitely the most beautiful. Not that she wasn't pretty. She was tall like her brother, Bear, with dark skin and long black hair. She had a lovely wide smile and eyes so brown they were almost black. She was warm, generous and kind to a fault. Everything I wasn't. Perhaps that's what attracted her to me.

  I never could figure what she saw in me. Harder than cutting off my own finger, was the day I decided to end it with her. Every ounce of my being wanted to be with her, love her, hold her, spend the rest of my life with her. I thought it would go away. That it would get better, easier to see her. After all it had been over three years. But the day I last held her in my arms still felt like yesterday. So how was that going?

  "I thought you'd like that. You were such a natural in high school," she said sarcastically.

  "You went to school together?" said Decker sharply.

  "Tan was a year behind me at Washington High. Troy, can you give me five minutes?"

  "Okay. But I still think this is the craziest idea ever. No one will ever believe he's a player."

  As Decker disappeared down the passageway I turned to Liz.

  "Player?"

  "Now don't go off half-cocked until you hear what I have to say." She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. We were in what I like to call the "man-room". Pool table, large-screen TV, projector, pinball machine, and shelves of trophies and pictures of Troy playing football. She pulled me down onto a black, leather couch. The leather was so soft I expected it to moo.

  "What's going on Liz?"

  "I need your help."

  "Uh huh."

  "Now don't be like that. It's really important or I wouldn't have asked you to come. Troy needs help."

  "Yeah, I can see that."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "Are you seeing this guy?"

  She bit her lip, considered me, and then nodded.

  I didn't have any right to be jealous but I've already told you that no one has ever accused me of too much sanity.

  "We've gone out to dinner a couple of times, that's all. My firm does all of Troy's contracts and I only met him a few weeks ago."

  "You like him?" I hated the way I sounded, like I was in goddam high school.

  "He's not what he appears."

  "That's good because he appears to be an asshole."

  I expected her to be angry but she sat back and smiled. "Remind you of anyone?"

  "If you say he reminds you of me I will have lost all respect for you. Besides, I may be an asshole but the difference is I'm a likeable asshole. He's as likeable as a third testicle."

  "Tan, I realize he's not perfect, but would you ever approve of anyone I might date?"

  "There's always celibacy, Liz. It's a very under-rated life choice but I highly recommend it for you."

  "And for you?"

  "Liz, that's getting personal, isn't it? That's my private life."

  She sat back and smiled. She really was beautiful. "You really are an asshole, Tan."

  "Likeable asshole," I corrected.

  Her face grew serious. "Tan, I need your help. Have you been following the Turbos this season?"

  I looked at her.

  "Sorry, stupid question. But even you must have heard something about what's been happening to Troy?"

  "He's been hitting the bottle and been missing training, hasn't he? Didn't he get fined or something?"

  "See? Even you believe what you read. The papers would have you believe he's got a drinking problem but it's not true. He would never jeopardize his career. It means too much to him. But the whole football world thinks that he has alcohol and mental issues. You know he got mugged a week ago after leaving a nightclub? Did you see the bruise on his face? His leg is also so bruised he hasn't been able to run on it since. The media and public are crucifying him."

  I didn't say it but my expression said it all. Where there's smoke there's fire.

  She leaned forward and grabbed my hand. "But, Tan. That's not the worst. They're trying to kill him."

  "Liz, you're over-reacting. It was just a mugging. If they wanted to kill him they could have done that easily, judging from what you said."

  "It's not just the mugging. Three weeks ago he missed training because he was blind-sided while he was stopped at a light. The driver fled and left the car, which was stolen. The police never found him."

  I lifted my arms helplessly. "Liz, that happens every day. This is New York. He was probably lucky the driver didn't mug him before he fled. What does Decker say?"

  She rolled her eyes. "He says not to worry. That they were just accidents. But he can be just as annoyingly macho and careless about his safety as you. And I don't believe him when he says they were just coincidences. You didn't see his face. He was scared."

  "Of course he was scared. He'd been beaten up. That's only a natural reaction."

  She shook her head adamantly. "No. You haven't seen him play. I've seen him get sacked by three hundred pound defensive ends and get up and play as if nothing happened. I've never seen him scared. Never."

  I thought back to the knife game in the kitchen. Yes, I thought he was a jerk and smart ass, but scared? He hadn't struck me as someone who would scare easily. But then again I'd seen plenty of tough, mean Army recruits dissolve at their first taste of combat. You never really knew what someone was like until they were put to the test.

  "So what do you want me to do? I can check into the mugging and car crash if you like?"

  She sat back and considered me. Her brown eyes, if possible, seemed to grow larger.

  "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you're about to say?"

  "Tan, Troy's career is going to go down the toilet
if things keep going this way. Troy comes out of contract at the end of this season and, at the moment, his own team is thinking twice about re-signing him. The press has had a field day. There is constant innuendo about his drinking and being out late at night. And even his own team is starting to question his commitment because he has missed training sessions. And now, with this injury, he can't even prove himself on the field."

  "I'm sure once he gets fit and back playing things will turn around. There's nothing like winning to make people forgive and forget."

  "You're right. That's where you come in." She paused. I could tell by the way her forehead screwed up I wasn't going to like what she said next. "I need you to help train Troy and at the same time watch over him."

  "I suppose I could do that," I said, surprised. I thought she was going to ask something hard.

  "Yes, well the thing is, the media can't know. They'd have a field day if they knew you were Troy's bodyguard."

  "I could pretend to be one of the coaches."

  "No, you need to be with him all the time; travelling to training, on the field, in the changing room. A coach wouldn't do that."

  "The only person who would do that would be--" I stopped as understanding flooded over me. I stared at her and she flinched at what she saw. She reached forward and took my hand.

  "Tan, it's the only way. Any other way and it would arouse suspicion. You need to be a player."

  So that's what Decker had meant. What had he said? That it was crazy. That no one would believe I was a player? He was right about the crazy part but not because of what he thought.

  I dropped Liz's hand and leaned against the pool table and aimlessly began to roll balls around.

  "Tan, I know it's terrible of me to ask but it's the only way. You wouldn't have to play, just train alongside Troy and take him for training when you're not doing team sessions. In fact, you wouldn't have to do much at all. There are two other quarterbacks so you probably wouldn't even have to touch a ball. Just stay near Troy and keep him out of trouble."

  I was silent as I wandered over to a glass cabinet holding Decker's football memorabilia: a photo of him in a playoff game against the Steelers when he threw three touchdown passes to win the game; the game ball from his first NFL game; his first Turbos jersey. Surprisingly, there were more memorabilia items than trophies. The only trophies were his NFL rookie of the year trophy from three years ago, two Turbos offensive player of the year trophies and two from Syracuse University. Strangely, there were no high school trophies.

  "Tan, say something." Liz kept hold of my arm.

  "Liz, you know I gave football away. You know why. I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

  "Tan, you wouldn't be breaking any promise. You don't have to play, just watch Troy. I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind, they would want you to move on."

  "Yeah, excuse me while I go and ask them."

  She drew back, clearly shocked at the venom in my voice.

  I grabbed her hand. "Liz, I'm sorry."

  She was inches from me, her eyes like black pools. She reached out and touched my cheek, which was when Decker walked in. Liz dropped her hand and moved away. Decker watched her, his face tight.

  "Troy, I was just telling Tan about when you were attacked. Do you want to tell Tan what happened?"

  He shrugged. "What's there to tell? I was beaten up by Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck."

  This was like an open whisky bottle to an alcoholic. I showed restraint and nodded wisely.

  "Troy," Liz said.

  Decker sighed. "Two guys with Loony Tunes' masks mugged me outside the Heat nightclub. I'm sure he's read all about it. Everyone else has."

  "Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck?" I said. So that's what Hawk's snide remark about Donald Duck referred to.

  "Yeah, okay, bring on the jokes. I've heard them all already. The papers have had a field day with it. My favorite was, 'Donald Duck decks Decker'."

  "Were there any witnesses?"

  "That's the whole trouble. There were none. What made it worse was nothing was stolen. I had over a thousand dollars on me and they didn't touch it. Everyone thinks I made it up, even the police. They think I was drunk and fell down the stairs and fabricated the story to cover myself. Who the fuck would make up a story that they were attacked by Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck?"

  "Plus Troy has been fined twice over the past couple of weeks for missing training sessions," Liz added. "The press has been insinuating that it was because Troy had been drinking. If Troy's injuries weren't bad enough these rumors are wrecking his career. He can't afford to lose the trust of his coach, no matter how good he is."

  "Had you been drinking?" I said to him.

  "No."

  "Well, why did you miss two training sessions?"

  Decker shook his head tiredly and glanced away.

  "Tell him, Troy," said Liz.

  He glared at her, clearly exasperated. "What's the point? No one believes me."

  "Tell him."

  His mouth twisted into a grimace as he spoke. "I missed the first because someone cut the power to my house and I slept through the alarm and the second because someone dumped a truck load of cow manure on my car."

  I pondered what he said. "Why would some cow manure stop you driving?"

  "I drive a convertible."

  "Oh. Did you report it to the police?"

  "Yes, but it didn't matter. The press inferred I made up the stories to cover a drinking problem. Do you believe me?"

  "I don't think anyone who is trying to hide something would make up those stories. But why was everyone so quick to think you were drunk?"

  "Fucked if I know."

  "Troy." Liz eyeballed him.

  Decker was silent for a moment as he leaned against the memorabilia cabinet. His gaze flicked over the spoils of his career. Strangely, rather than pride, he seemed sad. Perhaps he was realizing that his career hung in the balance.

  "Okay," he finally said. "The truth is I have some history. I was fined last year by the club for getting drunk at a team function."

  "And?" prompted Liz.

  Decker sighed. "And I may have urinated in the fountain. Doesn't he know all this? Where does he live? Mars?"

  "We have a new invention on Mars. It's called a toilet."

  "Tan doesn't follow football," Liz said.

  "Well isn't he a perfect choice then? And you want me to pass him off as a player? How about we do something really crazy? Like, actually find someone who knows a little bit about football."

  "Tan knows football."

  "Oh, yeah, I forgot. He played in high school. No, wait. He didn't just play. He was actually the star quarterback. Well, all of the colleges must have been falling over him. Everyone would have wanted to sign up this amazing high school star. Now which college did you say he went to? What was that? None? Great idea, Liz."

  "Troy, shut the fuck up. You've got no idea what you're talking about." Liz's cheeks were white and her fists were clenched at her side. Troy's mouth opened in surprise.

  "Liz, he's right. Hire a bodyguard or someone who knows football," I said.

  "He's not right. He hasn't got a clue what he's talking about. Troy, how many people do you think are out there who could actually pass for a quarterback, have a fitness qualification and who could actually save your dumbass if it needed saving? You think they grow on trees? Where do you think you're going to find one? And I don't care what you say, you need protecting. Tell Tan what the muggers did at the end. Go on. Tell him."

  "What's the point if he's not going to be around?"

  "Troy, tell him."

  Decker rolled his eyes. "Okay. After they'd beaten the crap out of me and while I was busy puking up Donald said, 'Is he right or left handed?' Then Bugs Bunny said, 'I don't know. What did the guy say?' Then Donald said, 'He couldn't remember.' So then Bugs says, 'Fuck it. Let's just break both.'"

  We were all silent for a moment then Decker spoke, his voice slightly husky.

  "But then, just
as one of them was picking up my hand, they heard some people coming down the stairs and took off." He grinned at me. "I got off lightly. See?" He pulled up the bottom of his pants to reveal a massive bruise on his calf.

  "You see, Tan? It wasn't a random mugging. They were out to hurt Troy," said Liz.

  "Hurt not kill," I pointed out.

  "Right. For now. But who knows where it might lead to? Tan, I need you. There's no one else I can ask."

  She held my eyes with hers.

  I sighed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jade and I arrived as a light snow began to fall. I could see Bear standing in the doorway of the converted factory. It was forty degrees and a strong, bitter easterly wind blew. Most people would be doing something like jumping jacks to keep warm. Bear just stood there unmoving, without a coat, in his jeans and Special Forces Fitness sweatshirt, like an Easter Island statue. He didn't even have his hands in his pockets. Showoff.

  "We're here, Jade. Come on."

  I did up Jade's jacket, pulled the hood up over her long, blonde hair and took her gloved hand. I skirted the many puddles, as I knew Jade would just walk straight through them. I was surprised to see quite a few cars in the parking lot.

  "I thought we weren't opening until tomorrow?" I said to Bear. The sign above the doorway said, "Special Forces Fitness Centre ".

  Bear picked Jade up like a two-year-old and hugged her.

  "Hi, Jade. Good to see you." He placed her gently back on the ground while still holding her hand. "Angie got a late booking which she couldn't knock back. The place, as you'll see, is ready. What do you think?" He gestured, taking in the whole of the building.

  "It's a lot better than when I saw it last."

  That was two months ago before we bought it. Back then, the place was a shambles. Most of the windows had been broken, the walls had needed replastering and the whole place had to be refurbished.

  He nodded and held his hands out, catching snowflakes in his hands.

  "And this is exactly why we need it."

  We had always held our classes outside so we really took a hit from New York's weather. Where necessary, we rented indoor space or sometimes the company we were working for might have an indoor venue. Bear and Angie had decided we needed a place of our own. I wasn't so keen. I didn't like the thought of being tied to a mortgage, but once Angie got an idea in her head she was impossible to stop.