by Claire Adams
“Dax—” I began and then stopped as we both tried to speak. I waited for a moment, and then took a deep breath before saying, “I’m sorry, Dax.”
“Wait, what?” he said turning to look at me. There was confusion in his eyes, but I didn’t want to stop.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I was mad at my mother and I took it out on you.”
“I see,” he said nodding. “I had no idea what had happened.”
“I know, but you really made me feel small,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because you said I don’t know anything about running a football team,” I said.
“But you don’t,” he said looking even more confused. I could feel the familiar anger and resentment rising in my chest, but this time I took a deep breath, swallowed hard and held back.
“I know, but I want to know,” I admitted. “I want to learn.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“I did! You’re just too stubborn to actually listen to me,” I countered, feeling my defensive walls begin to go up. I took another deep breath and remembered Val’s words.
“Payton—” he began as my phone went off. I turned it up and saw my mother’s picture on the screen.
“I need to take this; I’m sorry,” I said, stepping away from the living room and walking toward the kitchen. I answered the phone with a cold, “What do you want, Mother?”
“Is that any way to speak to your own mother?” she asked in a voice full of fake hurt. “It’s so rude, Payton Gale.”
“You’re not exactly the modicum of manners yourself,” I hissed. “What do you want?”
“Fine, if that’s the way you’re going to speak to me, then I’ll just say what I have to say,” she said in a voice as brittle as dry ice. “Regardless of how you feel about me, I expect that once the season starts, you will attend all home games.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Because this team is our family team and no matter how disrespectful you’ve been to me, you are still part of this family and you have an obligation to behave like it,” she said coldly.
“You’ve cut me out of the family, so I don’t see how the home games are any of my concern,” I said. “Besides, won’t everyone think it’s strange that I show up since you’ve reported me as having been kidnapped and brainwashed by the Storm?”
“Admittedly, my methods of trying to get you back where you belong were a little over the top,” she said.
“Oh, you think so?” I replied.
“Payton, you have an obligation to this family and to the Bears football team,” my mother said. “It’s really as simple as that. I expect you to be at the home games in the skybox.”
“And if I’m not?”
“Do not test me, young lady,” she warned as I pulled the phone away from my ear and hit the disconnect button. I knew I’d pay for my actions, but right now, I didn’t care.
“Who was that?” Dax asked as I walked back into the living room where he had opened a bottle of red wine and poured us each a glass.
“My mother,” I said, setting my phone down and accepting the glass he held out to me.
“What did she want?” he asked as he sipped from his glass.
“She told me I was obligated to attend home games, and that there would be consequences if I didn’t,” I said, curling up in a spot at the end of the couch with my wine.
“What did you tell her about our contract?”
“I’ve told her nothing about it,” I said sipping from my glass. “It’s none of her damn business, and besides, she doesn’t care about whether I’m there or not, only that we’re presenting a united front for the team. I’m sick and tired of it all!”
Dax observed me silently as I ducked my head and thought about how I was going to deal with the situation. Neither one of us spoke a word, but the air was thick with tension. After a long time, Dax took a deep breath and then spoke.
“Payton, do you trust me?” he asked.
“I don’t know, should I?”
“I’m serious,” he said, holding me captive with his dark eyes. I could feel something inside of me twisting and churning as I stared back at him. I wanted to trust him, and I knew that I probably should trust him, but something told me that it was too soon. I didn’t want to mistake lust for something more than what it actually was, and, as I constantly reminded myself, we had made a deal and signed a contract. And trust definitely hadn’t been a part of that.
“I want to,” I said, holding his gaze. “But I don’t know if I actually do, yet.”
A warm smile spread across Dax’s lips as he set his glass down and moved toward me. He sat down, took the glass out of my hand, and set it on the coffee table before taking both of my hands in his. He leaned forward and softly kissed my lips before he said, “I want to take you to meet someone. Will you go?”
I felt my heart beating madly as I nodded, and when I did, Dax leaned forward and kissed me again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dax
I made a couple of calls and a few hours later, Payton and I were in the backseat of the Navigator headed west to Gram’s house. The whole ride toward my old stomping grounds, Payton had simply stared out the window, watching the scenery change from skyscrapers to three-flat apartment buildings to the two-story houses that lined Gram’s street. She twisted her hand in her lap as she silently took in the landscape of the Back of the Yards. I wondered if she’d ever been out this way before, but I didn’t want to break the silence by asking, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
As we drove down 47th Street, she turned and looked at me for a moment, but said nothing. I turned away before she could ask, not wanting her to see the mixture of pride and shame that spun inside my brain. I was proud of the fact that I’d grown up in a tight-knit community that looked out for its own, even as it subjected its members to the brutality that came with belonging, and I was ashamed of what the neighborhood had become.
“This is it,” I said, gesturing to the small stone house flanked by larger, newer buildings. I ushered a silent Payton up the front stairs and knocked loudly as I called, “Gram, we’re here!”
“Good Lord, David, no need to shout,” Gram laughed as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She had dressed up for the visit, and was wearing a carefully pressed apron over her good Sunday dress. I smiled as I took in all of the details that might otherwise go unnoticed, and wondered if Payton would be able to see the care with which Gram had prepared for her visit.
“Hello, Mrs. Connor,” Payton said with a smile as she held out a bouquet of lilies. “It’s so good of you to invite me to visit your home.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Gram exclaimed as she took the flowers from Payton and pulled her in for a hug. “Please, call me Sally — or Gram. Mrs. Connor was Bull’s mother and she never liked me very much.”
“Okay, Sally, but only if you’ll call me Payton,” she said as she smiled warmly at my small grandmother. I felt relief flow through my body as Gram took Payton’s arm and led her to the kitchen.
“Are you two hungry?” Gram asked as she bustled around the room, stirring a pot on the stove before cracking the oven to check on what was inside. The kitchen was full of delicious smells, and I could feel my stomach rumbling knowing that Gram had probably made most of my favorite dishes.
“I’m starving, Gram!” I interjected.
“Oh, you sit down and be good,” Gram chuckled as she threw a potholder at my head. “When are you ever not hungry?”
Payton laughed aloud at this, making both Gram and I grin. I could feel Payton relaxing and I followed suit as I sunk down into one of the dinette chairs. I nodded as I gestured toward the chair across from me as Gram swiftly smacked the back of my head with her hand.
“Ouch! What’d you do that for?” I protested holding a hand to where she’d hit me.
“Get your ass up and pull out her chair, you lazy bastard!” Gram scolded. “I love you mo
re than life itself, but I’ll not tolerate rudeness in my home! It’s as if your grandfather and I never taught you any manners.”
“Jeez, Gram,” I pouted as I got up and pulled out a chair for Payton and waited for her to sit down. The wide smile she wore made me resentful about being scolded in front of her, but I didn’t want to let her know so I leaned over toward Gram and said in a loud whisper, “Is that better now? You happy with how your trick pony performs?’
“Oh, get over yourself,” Gram laughed as she reached up and pulled my face down so she could kiss me on both cheeks before smacking my head, lightly this time.
I grinned at Payton as Gram sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. Payton giggled as she watched the two of us.
“He’s always been such a dramatic one,” Gram said as she lifted a lid on one of the pots and stuck a long, wooden spoon into it so she could stir the contents. “God bless him, don’t get me wrong. I don’t know what we would have done without him, but Lord, he’s always been a handful.”
“Has he really?” Payton asked as she perched on the edge of her chair and waited for Gram to continue. She’d taken a great deal of care in dressing to come visit, though by all accounts she didn’t look much different than she normally did. Her long, blonde hair had been carefully gathered into a low ponytail as the nape of her neck and she’d used a minimal amount of makeup on her pretty face. Her cornflower-blue dress had a modest scoop neck and flared out from her hips, giving her a retro look that I hadn’t seen any woman pull off quite as well as she did.
“Oh Lord, yes!” Gram said as she spooned up a bit of the sauce in the pot and tasted it before adding a pinch of salt and a dash of something that looked like hot sauce. My mouth watered knowing that she was making cabbage rolls, one of my favorites. “He was a handful from the time he could walk! And before that, if my memory serves me right. He was scooting around on his bottom looking for trouble, and then one day he discovered that he could pull himself up with help from our dog, George. From then on, it was the two of them off and running together.”
“You had a dog named George?” Payton asked excitedly.
“Yep, he had big floppy ears and a tongue that never stopped coating me in spit,” I grumbled.
“Oh, stop it,” Gram laughed as she aimed another potholder at my head. “That dog was your best friend for the first eight years of your life. I knew that if I couldn’t find you, all I had to do was call George’s name and I’d have your whereabouts in a jiffy.”
“What happened to George?” Payton asked. The mood turned dark as Gram and I exchanged a look.
“Oh, you know, dog stuff,” I said, waving a hand as if to erase the memory of George’s demise and hoping that Payton would accept the answer without probing further.
“Dog stuff?” she asked looking back and forth between Gram and I.
“He escaped from the fence one morning and met a sad end,” Gram said, neatly wrapping up the narrative so that no more questions would be asked.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Payton said covering her mouth with her hand. “That must have been awful for you.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admitted, shooting Gram and grateful look. “But we survived.”
“Let’s talk about something happier,” Gram interjected. “Tell me about your family, Payton.”
“Well, I’m not sure that’s much happier than losing your dog,” Payton said as she cast me a look asking for help in steering the conversation to lighter topics.
“Gram, Payton’s mother is Joanna Lasky,” I said knowing that Gram would get the message.
“I see,” Gram nodded before turning and looking right at Payton as she added, “She’s quite a bitch, isn’t she?”
I froze. Afraid to look over at Payton, I swung around ready to scold Gram when I heard laughter coming from the other side of the table. I turned and found Payton with her head tilted back laughing open mouthed with her arms wrapped around her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she laughed. “You know my mother!”
“I met her at the franchise ceremony,” Gram chuckled. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to say. Your mother is a beautiful woman, but she’s not entirely pleasant.”
“No, you were right the first time,” Payton laughed and then quietly said, “She’s pretty awful.”
“Well, sweetheart, don’t despair,” Gram said as she moved around the table and patted Payton’s shoulder. “Everyone’s got a cross to bear, and yours just happens to be your mother. At least you know what you’re up against!”
Payton nodded, but said nothing. I shot Gram a look that tried to convey just how much I wanted her to steer the conversation to any other topic, but she just shook her head and said, “David, could you go out to the garage and get me the big boiling pot, please? It’s on the top shelf over your Pop’s tool wall.”
“What do you—” I began.
“Just go get it,” Gram said sternly. I pushed my chair back and reluctantly stood up. Gram repeated, “Go get it.”
It took me ten minutes to haul out the ladder and locate the exact place where Gram had had Pop store her boiling pot. I pulled it down and blew off the dust, wondering why she suddenly needed this now and not before when she’d been cooking for all the neighborhood kids. I put the ladder away and carried the pot into the kitchen where I found Payton helping Gram set the table and put out all of the food.
“Go wash up, David,” Gram said cheerfully. “We’re almost ready to eat.”
“I thought you needed this. Why did you have me get it down?” I asked, feeling confused about what was happening and pissed that I’d gotten myself covered in dust and dirt for no good reason.
“Oh, that old thing?” Gram said. “I need to lend it to Mrs. Polaski for the church supper. Thank you for getting it down for me, David. Now go wash up!”
I set the pot down and headed toward the back bathroom where I washed up and did my best to get the dirt off of my shirt. As I scrubbed my hands, I wondered what Gram had said to Payton in my absence, but as I dried them, I decided that it was probably better that I didn’t know.
Dinner was a lively affair as we sat around the table eating Gram’s borscht, cabbage rolls and fresh bread. I loved the tangy beet soup and the thick tomato sauce covering the soft cabbage rolls filled with ground beef, peppers, and all the spices that Gram used. I scoop everything up with slice after slice of the warm, crusty bread, and even when my stomach told me I’d had enough, I kept eating.
Gram spent the meal quizzing Payton about the Bears, their history, and their chances of winning the championship this season, stopping only when I protested that she wasn’t allowed to root for opponents of the Storm.
“Pshaw,” Gram scoffed. “I can root for whoever I choose. I’m a Chicago native and the Bears are my team!”
“What about family? Blood loyalty?” I protested loudly. “What about supporting your grandson?”
“It’s the Bears!” Gram and Payton cried in unison.
“You two are useless,” I laughed as I helped myself to another slice of bread. “However, I expect you both to come to the game on Sunday.”
“I’ll be there,” Gram said. “I wouldn’t miss the opening game for the world!”
“And you?” I asked turning to Payton.
“Of course, I’ll be there,” she smiled warmly. There was something about the way she was looking at me that told me her talk with Gram had helped ease at least part of her burden, and that made me feel relieved.
We stayed for dessert: a rich chocolate silk pie covered in thick whipped cream, and dark Turkish coffee, and by the time we headed for the door, we were groaning because we were so full. Gram smiled as she handed Payton a bag with some leftovers tucked inside, and then pulled her down for a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, dear,” Gram said before turning to me and giving me a big hug and a kiss. “And you, too, David.”
Gram stood on the porch waving until we were out o
f view, and when I looked over at Payton, I saw she was smiling as she looked out the window. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but instead I reached out and took her hand. When she squeezed my hand, I knew, at least for now, things were going to be okay.
#
Four days later, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I stood staring out at the Storm’s brand new stadium ready to be put to use for the first time. It was a magnificent venue that offered all kinds of modern touches that Soldier Field, even with its high-priced renovations, could not. The seats were all padded and were equipped with warming devices that would make winter games in Chicago more tolerable. The concession stands were spaced so that every section had plenty of access to food and drinks, and there were twice as many bathrooms as any other stadium in the country. It had been a tough order to fill, but the bathrooms had been the deal breaker for many design firms.
As I looked out into the stadium, I could see people filling the stands and I was happy to see that many of them were wearing the Storm navy home jersey with the Kelly-green lettering and white numbers. I hoped that we’d manage to fill the stands for this first game against the Detroit Lions, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. We were just starting and I couldn’t afford to be overly optimistic about attendance.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Finn said as he slipped into the skybox through the side door. He was wearing a navy polo shirt and Levi jeans with green Jordan sneakers. I shook my head. He grinned, “That good, eh?”
“What the fuck were we thinking?” I asked as I kept staring out at the stadium. “I mean, seriously.”
“We rolled the dice and decided to see how far we could go,” Finn said. “That’s all we were thinking.”
“I’m sick of it already,” I sighed as I turned and faced him. “What’s happening with the project?”
“It’s moving along nicely,” he said as he ran his hand over the leather seats that occupied several raised rows on the far side of the room. The suite had been outfitted with every luxury we could think of, and had everything from its own fully stocked bar to a full kitchen off to one side where a chef and several staff members would cook throughout the game. There were two full bathrooms complete with showers, and a staff on duty to press clothing or shine shoes should the need arise. I hadn’t created this suite for me, but rather as a selling point for the next potential owner. Personally, I found all of the amenities pompous, and even tacky.