The Checkdown

by Jamie Bennett

“Wait, what?”

  He was already turning on the TV. “Here, I have the whole game recorded.”

  “No, Davis, I don’t want to see myself!”

  But suddenly there I was, on his giant television screen. It was all cued up to me. “Here’s a surprise in the lineup!” the commentator said, as the camera panned slowly and lasciviously up and down my body. Oh, awesome. “This baby doll has been hiding inside the Nutty the Chipmunk suit!”

  “You’ve got to be pulling my leg, Herb,” the other guy in the booth said. He sounded truly shocked. “This little lady is our Nutty?”

  “Yes indeed, but when the Woodsmen Dames needed her, she stepped right in! The Woodsmen are a family, and families help each other. And look at her go!”

  The camera stayed on me for the entire dance, and the commentators continued talking about me the entire time. “Spunky!” and “Pocket Venus, that’s what I’d call her!” After a long wolf whistle, “Look at those gams,” and after a closeup on my face, “What a gorgeous pair of peepers!” Did I mention that the guys in the booth for our local broadcasts were 150 years old, each?

  “This is highly embarrassing,” I said, covering my peepers with my hand. But I’d had to admit, my dancing wasn’t half bad. I still had it.

  “They like you,” Davis told me. “Everyone thought you were one classy skirt.”

  “Please, at least mute it,” I begged. He chortled.

  The camera switched back to the game and Davis flicked off the TV. “How long have you danced?” he asked me.

  I shrugged. “I guess my mom wanted me put into a class when I was really little. She had some idea that I would go on stage, like her. But I liked it, and my grandma and grandpa kept it up.”

  “What do you mean? You didn’t live with your mom?”

  Now I laughed. “No, my mom is not really a child-care type of person. She’s in New York, still trying to make her Broadway debut while also participating in the service industry, as her résumé says. I stayed here with my grandparents, thank goodness. I did gymnastics, too, for a few years. That’s why I can do all the Nutty flips and those kinds of things. Sam was a college gymnast, even. He’s really good, but he has all kinds of old injuries. His back flared up so he couldn’t do our act for the game, and then, oh my gosh, one of the cheerleaders got caught stealing!” I filled him in while I made breakfast and then while he ate. I told him about visiting my grandma too and her witch of a roommate. “I’m afraid they’re going to throw down, one of these days.”

  Davis had eaten steadily while I talked. Now he laughed a little. I was beginning to really enjoy his funny laugh.

  “How was your date?” he asked me.

  I picked up some dishes and started filling the dishwasher. “You know, I’m going to have to figure out how to fit a dishwasher in my kitchen. I’ll never be able to go back to straight up washing after using yours without feeling a pang.”

  “That good, huh,” he stated. When I looked at him, he clarified. “The date was so good, you would rather talk about dishwashers.”

  “Oh, no, it was fine,” I said hurriedly. I just didn’t want to talk about it with him.

  “You going out again? With Mason?”

  “Probably. We should leave so we’re not late for your appointment.” I picked up my purse. “Hey, while you’re there I’m thinking of getting some more things for your kitchen.”

  “Get whatever you need.” He stood up. “Cesar is coming this afternoon. The guy with the boat.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward his beach.

  “Oh, great! Is he coming for lunch? Or maybe we could just have appetizers. Is he staying for dinner? Is he bringing anyone?”

  Davis stared at me. “He’ll come alone and take out his boat, then drink a beer, then leave.”

  “Oh. Ok. I guess I won’t do anything special. I just always want to have a party, but my house…Never mind.” We hurried out to the car. Well, I hurried, and Davis took his time. He knew that people would wait for him.

  “Maybe some flowers. It’s pretty late in the season, but we could do hardy plants in pots instead.” I saw him looking at me. “For the front porch,” I clarified. “To dress it up.”

  Davis nodded.

  “Am I bothering you, all the talking? I know you said you liked me better early in the mornings because I’m quieter then.”

  “I don’t mind. I don’t say much, but I don’t mind listening to you.”

  “Oh, ok, good, because I have a hard time holding it in,” I admitted.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Hey, did I tell you about Trish, the choreographer? How she’s so scary nice now?” I proceeded to for the rest of the way to his appointment. While he was there, I went shopping for him and made a quick visit to my grandma, bringing her a new little fern for her room.

  “It’s hypoallergenic,” I told Mrs. Lusk, as she opened her mouth to complain. “I asked a doctor to make sure.”

  “It will probably attract insects,” she answered.

  Cesar, one of the tight ends, did exactly what Davis had said he would do. Later that day, as I was cleaning up from lunch, I watched as a guy with calves bigger than both my thighs together walked by the French doors toward the beach. “Cesar is here,” I mentioned to Davis. He was studying the directions for the new blender I had bought to make him smoothies. I watched Cesar put on his life jacket, haul up the sail, adjust the centerboard and rudder, and easily pull the little Sunfish into the water. He tacked out into the lake. “He knows what he’s doing,” I mentioned.

  “He grew up sailing in the Caribbean. Do we have any fruit?” Davis pointed at a recipe in the booklet he had been studying. I’d had no idea people actually read those things.

  “Of course we have fruit. What do you think you’ve been eating every morning?” I looked out over his head to see the little blue and red sail move out into the bay.

  “You could go with him,” Davis said.

  “Maybe I’ll ask him if I can take it out myself. Julian and I used to sail a lot. His parents had a bunch of different boats.”

  “You get a funny look, when you talk about him. Julian.”

  “Do I? I don’t mean to.” I got busy with pulling out the ingredients for the smoothie.

  “Do you miss him?” Davis asked me.

  “Yes,” I told him. “I miss him a lot.” I turned on the blender and it was plenty loud, negating any additional conversation about Julian. I hadn’t meant to mention him to begin with. I handed the smoothie to Davis. “Let’s go outside. It’s too nice to stay in here.”

  We walked out onto the porch, Davis trying very, very hard not to limp. It kind of broke my heart, how hard he was trying. We watched Cesar sail around for a while, then come up onto the beach, raising the centerboard as it scraped the sand. He pulled up the boat, waved, and walked up to us. Davis greeted him with a beer.

  Cesar was a friendly guy. I had talked to him before, when he had asked me out after practice. I swore that most of the players would put a move onto any woman who walked by at the stadium—a captive audience. “Hi,” I greeted him.

  “Nutty,” he said, grinning at me.

  “When she’s not dressed as a rat, she’s known by Katie,” Davis said.

  “Katie and I go way back. She’s turned me down at least three times,” Cesar told him, settling in a chair. “Don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

  Davis shot me a look. “Just the once,” I explained. “All the players have to try once, it’s like some kind of initiation thing to ask out the Chipmunk. Can I take your boat out?” I asked Cesar.

  “Do you know how to sail? I don’t want to have to swim and get you.”

  I nodded. “Is it ok?”

  “Sure, if you’ll go out with me.” He grinned again.

  “Take it,” Davis said, his voice deep. “Shut the hell up, Cesar.”

  I probably kept his boat out longer than either of us intended, but I had missed sailing, and the little Sunfishes were so fun
and easy. The waves were sparkling and the breeze had really kicked up. I leaned back as I came into shore, dipping the ends of my hair into the water. Cesar came down to the beach to help me pull the boat higher onto the sand.

  “Davis doing ok?” he asked as I rolled up the sail.

  I wasn’t sure how much I should tell him. Davis was so private about everything. “What did he tell you?” I asked instead.

  “He says he’s going to be back by December. I blew out my knee three years ago. I told him that December’s too soon. You going to be able to keep him off it?”

  “Me? I don’t know if I’m the one with the influence here.”

  “Yeah, well, do what you can. The team is pushing him hard.”

  I nodded slowly. “What do you think about Kayden Matthews?”

  “The backup? He’s ok. Too young. We don’t trust him like we do Davis.”

  “I heard that some players think Davis is mostly interested in his own stats.” That’s what Sam had told me, anyway.

  But Cesar was shaking his head. “Naw, not Davis. I don’t think he looks at his own numbers. I never met anyone who wants to win more than he does. He gets all over guys for not going hard in practice and he doesn’t care about having enemies. I know he had problems his first few years at the Woodsmen, trying to take over the team and get them to play his way. But we’re all on board. We may not be friends, but we’ll take him as our quarterback any day. I’ll tell you one thing,” Cesar said, smiling. “It’s his way or the highway. You’re either with Davis Blake, or you’re against him. There’s no middle ground.”

  “I’ve noticed that some.” I saw Davis standing at the edge of the deck, watching us. I turned to walk back up towards him.

  “He’s pissed that I asked you out,” Cesar mentioned.

  “What? Why would he care?”

  “I told him you weren’t kidding, I wasn’t the only one.” Now he laughed.

  “Yeah, you guys are desperate.”

  “Sure we are.” We had made it back to Davis on the deck. “See you Sunday?” Cesar called to him.

  “See you then,” Davis answered.

  “I’ll send Kayden your regards,” Cesar said, and laughed again. “Let’s see how long he can make it without throwing a pick.”

  “Cesar was just telling me that you want the team to win,” I said to Davis, as Cesar disappeared around the side of the house. “So doesn’t that mean Kayden Matthews too?”

  Davis didn’t answer me.

  “Are you going to the game?” I asked him.

  He sighed. “The coaches want me to, to show my support for the team. Ethan, my agent, wants me to. Make sure no one is forgetting me.”

  “You don’t want to.”

  “I don’t know,” he told me, and rubbed his eyes.

  I reached out to pat his shoulder, but pulled my hand back before I touched him. “Are you worried that they’ll see you limping?”

  He picked his head up, full glare on. “What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t want to use your crutches. I can see you trying to walk so carefully.”

  “Stop watching me,” he growled, and stood up to go inside. He took one step and turned back to see if my eyes were on him, and I cracked up. After a moment, Davis did, too.

  ∞

  “Happy to be back, Nutty? Or do you miss those tight-ass shorts?”

  “You better not have been looking at me in those shorts, pervert,” I told Sam, giving him a withering look.

  “You were shaking your booty on television. You can bet that I was looking. You surprised me,” he said.

  “I surprised you because I shook my booty on TV?”

  “No. Because you weren’t half bad,” he said begrudgingly.

  “Don’t make me blush or anything,” I said. I studied him as he gingerly bent to pick up his Hank head. “Are you sure you’re all better?”

  Sam sighed. “I’m as good as I’m going to get. Fucking old age.” He turned from side to side, stretching a little, and wincing.

  This was the first time since he had been laid up that Sam had been ready to put the Hank costume on and really do our dances—and it was game day, and the first game of the regular season. Not the ideal time to jump back into things, especially in front of a national audience. And he really didn’t seem entirely up to par to me, but there was no stopping now.

  The Dames were looking strong. Marie was back on the field after missing the last game with what sounded like a truly disgusting case of food poisoning. Trish had been working with Rochelle and the other cheerleaders to restructure their routines to one woman down, with Abbi permanently absent after getting escorted out of the stadium and accused of stealing. The retiree Dame with acne had been put on a skin-clearing regimen so that she could come back onto the squad ASAP, so by the next game, they’d be up to their complete roster.

  There was an enormous roar from the crowd and both Sam and I glanced up at the giant screens from our hiding place back in the tunnel. My heart gave a big flutter. Davis. They showed him walking slowly, no limp, up the sideline. He waved to the crowd and the roar increased. All the Woodsmen players were surrounding him, shaking his hand and patting his back. He had his mirrored aviators on in the bright sunshine, and his longish hair looked like he had just run his fingers through it.

  I clenched my fist inside my Nutty paw. I found myself wanting to run my fingers through it, too. I watched anxiously as he approached Kayden Matthews, his replacement. Kayden had his helmet on already and I couldn’t see his face, but the cameras showed Davis talking to him. I hoped Davis wouldn’t make him pass out in fear before the game.

  Sam and I were too busy doing our own things for me to pay much attention to what Davis was up to on the sidelines, but I found myself distracted, knowing that he was there. I was hoping that they had gotten a chair for him, and that he hadn’t been too macho to take it. When we ran behind the players, I was looking for him so much that I wasn’t watching where I was going and almost fell. I was sure Trish had spotted that mistake.

  The Woodsmen Dames put on a big halftime show with some of the local dance troupes, including one from the dance academy I had attended as a little girl. The older kids were really good, and the youngest ones were so adorable I could hardly believe it, doing their turns and bouncing off each other sometimes by mistake. I spotted one little girl standing off to the side, totally scared by the crowd and the cameras and crying a little. I came out from where Sam and I were clapping along, waiting for our turn, and picked her up, and she and I danced together. She was laughing by the time I put her down and she gave me a high five. What a little cutie. Their dance teacher smiled and patted my fur head as I ran off the field.

  Davis didn’t come out for the second half. I looked everywhere, but he wasn’t with the team. Of course, my vision was a little impaired by wearing the Chipmunk head, but I was fairly certain that he had left. Sam and I kept up our act until the last minute of the game. The Woodsmen had lost, and I was supposed to be crying while Hank comforted me. I bent over, rubbing my eyes with my paws. The loudspeaker blared out, “Nutty, it’s ok! We’ll get ‘em next time.”

  Sam leaned over, patting my head, as he always did.

  “Shit!” He froze, and I did too.

  Luckily no one in the stadium could hear our vocals. “Sam, are you ok?”

  “My back went out,” he said, and swore some more. A lot more.

  “Put your arm around me, like we’re consoling each other.” I put mine around his waist and we walked slowly back into the tunnels. I was practically carrying him; his feet were dragging.

  “What the hell was that?” Trish demanded, charging up out of the darkness.

  “We need the trainer,” I told her, my voice muffled by my costume. Sam’s cursing was coming through loud and clear, however.

  I waited to hear how he was doing. I could hear him continuing to swear through the door to the training room and Trish came out.

  “Go h
ome,” she said, and I waited for a moment to make sure she was talking to me. “We have two weeks until the next home game. They’re hopeful they can get him back on his feet by then.”

  “On his feet, or on his feet and being Hank?” I asked. The sour look she gave me in response made me think the chances of a recovery were poor.

  This was not good. Not good at all.

  Chapter 8

  I didn’t bother to shower at the stadium; I just wanted to leave. Sam was in bad shape. I was worried about him, and I was worried about my job. As I’d said before, there was no need to have a Nutty if there was no Hank the Hunter. For 30 years, Sam had been that guy. There wasn’t any way that Trish and her team were going to be able to find a temporary replacement for him and train that person in the two weeks before the next home game. And what if Sam was out for good? What was he going to do then?

  What was I going to do? Damn.

  “It’s the rat.” I looked up to see Davis sitting in one of the armchairs in the lobby at the exit.

  “Why are you still here?” I asked him. “I thought you left after the first half.”

  “I went up to the owners’ box. I was tired of standing.” His hand went to his knee.

  I knew it!

  “How about giving me a ride home?” He looked at me closely. “You all right?”

  I almost started crying. “Yeah. How did you get over here?”

  “Cesar picked me up. But he’s long gone. Can you drive me?”

  “Sure,” I said listlessly. All I wanted to do was go home, take a much-needed shower, tell Julian about my problems, and crawl into bed. “There wasn’t anyone else?” He shrugged in reply, and I started for the door. “We’ll have to see how you’re going to fit in my car.”

  We walked out to the parking lot together and I put the seat all the way back for him. He still had to crunch up and I was sure the car was dipping down on the left side. Mason had managed not to look like a sardine when he rode with me, but even though he was tall, he didn’t have the breadth that Davis did. It made me smile a little, until I saw him wince when we went over a bump.

  “Damn it, Davis! You shouldn’t have stood that long at the game,” I told him. “I knew they weren’t going to be smart enough to make you sit.”