The Checkdown

by Jamie Bennett

  “What about me?” I asked. “What will my place be? I have a letter signed by Mr. Pauley saying that I would have a job with the Woodsmen after my job helping Davis, Davis Blake, is over.”

  Sam’s head swiveled, and he now stared at me.

  It turned out that Mr. Pauley had been let go. He had been one of the executives who had cut his own swath with the cheerleaders, according to the article. They didn’t feel that any agreement he had made with me was enforceable.

  “Not enforceable? You just made a lot of speeches about how we were going back to being a family. Now you’re using legal jargon to fire me and go back on your word?” I asked.

  They were.

  “Davis—” I started to say, but I didn’t want to pull him into it. They had promised him that I wouldn’t lose my job as Nutty due to our relationship. I wasn’t. My job was being permanently eliminated.

  Sam didn’t speak a syllable as we left the building, but when we got back to my car he had a lot to say.

  “You chicken shit! You set up a deal to leave me and take another job with the team?”

  “No! When they asked me if I would drive Davis and help him out, I had to leave my job at the warehouse. I asked for a promise that I would have another position with the Woodsmen when Davis was better. Just to cover myself.”

  “Then you planned to come back as Nutty next season too?” Sam demanded, and I didn’t answer. “That’s what I thought. You were going to drop me all along.”

  “They could always get another Nutty to perform with you!”

  Sam shook his head angrily. “You thought you had it all worked out, screwing me and moving on. But now look at you, in the same boat as me. Both of us canned.”

  I got angry too. “You’re acting like an idiot! I didn’t plan for things to go like this! You may be forgetting your part in it, Mr. Drunk and Disorderly!”

  “You’re a back-stabbing liar, just like your mother. I see that I’m on my own. I see now.”

  Neither of us spoke again. He got out of the car and slammed the door, hard. When I got back to Davis’ house, I walked straight into the studio, pushed the guitar out of the way, and sat on his lap and cried. Brokenly, I explained what had happened. “What am I going to do?” I asked him. “They didn’t fire me because of you, they got rid of the mascots completely.”

  “We’re going to figure this out.” He tightened his arms around me. “Don’t worry, chipmunk. We’ll make it ok.”

  The jarring sounds of Davis’ guitar woke me up before my alarm did the next morning. He and my grammy were leaving early and we needed to get out quickly. I was tired and fairly grumpy after a very poor night’s sleep. Davis handed me a cup of coffee and we headed to the car.

  After about half the cup, I woke up a bit. “Tomorrow we’ll celebrate your birthday,” I told him, and he sighed.

  “I was thinking about that. Getting older. Kayden might be the one taking the team into the future.”

  “Maybe. In a lot of years.”

  “I called him on Saturday. I wanted to talk about the next game. I invited him to the baby party,” Davis said.

  “You did? He didn’t come.”

  “No, he was going to New York to party because there was no game on Sunday. The stupid little fucker. In the middle of the season, when he has a mid-week game coming up, that’s what he’s doing with his time.”

  “He’s young…” I started.

  Davis exploded. “I came to this team at twenty-two, right out of college. I was the starter by my second season. I never, never would have behaved like that.” He blew out a big breath. “What the hell is he doing? He has an arm. He doesn’t have the brain to direct it.”

  I patted his knee. “He’s not you. You’re the Woodsmen quarterback. You’ll be back next season, I know you will.” I gulped. But I wouldn’t be.

  Davis held my hand to his cheek. “We’re going to make this ok, chipmunk. I mean it. Let's get through today first.”

  We picked up my grandma to bring her to the airport. She was excited to go, and happy and thankful that Davis had done this for her, but she was nervous as heck. “Why are they all taking pictures of us?” she whispered when we got inside the terminal.

  “It’s Davis. You have to get used to it,” I explained quietly. “He just ignores it unless someone gets right in his face.” Or bothered me, as a man at the grocery store had found out last week.

  I kissed them both goodbye, ignoring the people recording us or taking pictures with their phones. “Don’t get into any trouble,” I warned my grandma. “Not too much.”

  “I didn’t tell her about my job,” I whispered to Davis. He nodded. “Take good care of her.” I felt the tears start prickling my eyes.

  He held my face in his big hands. “Don’t worry about anything.”

  I just nodded at him, my emotions in a big lump in my throat. Davis kissed me again.

  I watched them as they went off toward the gate.

  “Are you Nutty? Are you Davis Blake’s girlfriend?”

  I turned to look at the woman speaking to me. “Yes. But that article wasn’t all true.” I steeled myself.

  She studied me. “That picture didn’t do you justice. It’s really her,” she said in a loud voice to the small crowd behind her. “The stuff in the article wasn’t true.” They looked disappointed, but dispersed. “It will all blow over,” she told me.

  I wanted to cry again. She was right. “Thanks,” I said, and smiled for the first time since the meeting yesterday. “That was nice of you to say.”

  “Go Woodsmen!” she answered.

  “Go Woodsmen.”

  I called Sam on the way home but he still wasn’t answering me or responding to my texts. When I saw him at rehearsal that afternoon and said hello, he was cold and aloof.

  “Sam, come on! I hadn’t fully decided if I was going to stay on as Nutty. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me at the time, getting them to sign that letter about another job in the future. I was trying to be smart about things. I just wanted to make sure I was going to be employed!”

  He ignored me.

  The practice was a holy mess. The Woodsmen Dames—I guessed I should start practicing saying “Woodsmen Dancers”—were practically tripping and falling, they were doing so poorly. I wasn’t sure what they had been told in their meeting, but they were definitely shaken up. Trish looked like a zombie and barely spoke. I tried to do my stuff, but Sam was glaring at me and swearing under his breath the whole time.

  Finally, Rochelle stood up. “You guys, we still have a game tomorrow!” she yelled. To my surprise, Sam spoke up, too.

  “If you Dames want to be Dancers next season, you have to show them now what you can do. This next game is make it or break it. Let’s go.”

  I saw many heads nodding. The next number they ran through was much improved, not up to Trish’s standards, but better. Trish herself was still standing practically mute, kind of staring into the distance. I guessed that her meeting hadn’t gone well, either.

  I went to the airport straight after practice to pick up Davis and my grandma. They had both been texting me (her a lot more than him) about their appointments. Davis’ had gone well and my grandma had also been pleased. “Maybe another surgery,” she had written, and that made me cold with fear. I didn’t want her to go through another one.

  I held up the small sign I had made that said “Grammy” and Davis wheeled her over to me. We hugged, then I hugged and kissed him, too. “I’m glad you’re home. Really glad. Thank you again for taking her and doing all this.” It felt so good to hold on to him.

  In the car, we discussed more about what their doctors had said and what else they had seen and done. My grandma had enjoyed everything about the trip. It sounded like maybe she had started to like traveling a lot more than she used to. And then she said something weird. She mentioned how Davis had driven her to Dearborn for lunch and how delicious it was. She found out that she loved Middle Eastern food.

 
“Wait, how did you get there?” I asked.

  Neither one of them answered at first. “I drove,” Davis said. “I thought it would be easier to have a car.”

  “What about—is that ok? Did you hurt your knee?”

  Again, he didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve been cleared to drive for a few weeks.”

  I was stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me that you don’t need me anymore?”

  Now he didn’t answer at all and we drove in silence into the Lakeside Cottage parking lot. I walked my grandma inside. “Don’t be angry at him,” she whispered as Mrs. Lusk pretended to sleep.

  I faked a smile at her. I was angry. I didn’t like lying.

  He was still waiting for me in the passenger seat and I walked around to that door. “It’s your car. Go ahead, take the wheel.”

  “Chipmunk…fine.”

  He got out and went around to the other side. He was absolutely fine driving, no problem at all.

  “I’ll look for another job tomorrow,” I announced angrily.

  “No.”

  I turned to him. “What do you mean, ‘no?’ You don’t need me anymore—”

  “I don’t need you to drive.”

  “Exactly.” So now I was out two jobs in two days. Had to be some kind of record. I gave an irritated huff in my seat.

  “How was your practice?” Davis asked me.

  “It sucked. Awful. The worst. Sam hates me for trying to secure another job with the team through Mr. Pauley and Trish has checked out completely. The Woodsmen Dames, sorry, the Woodsmen Dancers have fallen apart. We have the morning to get it together before the afternoon game, which should be very interesting.” I wiped my cheek with my coat sleeve.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, too bad.” I wiped again and looked out the window the rest of the way back to Davis’ house. And we went to bed that night not really talking. I turned on my side, away from him, hurt that he wouldn’t tell me that he didn’t need me. I thought that he had kept me on the payroll because maybe he felt sorry for me, after I had complained about my grandma’s medical bills and needing both jobs to pay for her living situation. It was nice, that he would keep paying me even though I was superfluous, but I didn’t care for the lying. I was still completely awake when Davis took me around the waist and dragged me across the bed to spoon up behind me.

  “I know you’re still mad.” He kissed my neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have told you.”

  “Ok.”

  “No, you’re not ok.” He kissed the nape of my neck and I shivered involuntarily. His hand slid over my hip and under the waistband of my undies. Then down farther, and I shivered again.

  “Are you using sex to get me on your good side?” I asked. I gasped as he cupped my butt and squeezed.

  “Is it working?” Davis pulled off my underwear and tugged my tank top over my head. He caressed my breast.

  “Hm.”

  “I’ll keep trying.” His fingers massaged my nipples and then traced down my stomach, coming to rest between my legs. “I can feel that you want me, too.” He rubbed back and forth and I moved restlessly against him. Two thick fingers slid up inside me and I moaned. He bit my ear gently and moved his fingers in and out. “Now is it working?”

  “Touch me…”

  “Where, Katie? Tell me where.” I took his thumb and moved it to my clitoris, and he laughed softly against my ear. “Hard or soft?”

  “Hard. More,” I panted. He pressed harder, and I rolled my hips, wanting even more.

  His fingers slid out and I gasped, “No!” But Davis was turning me onto my stomach, moving me onto my hands and knees, and rolling on a condom. Then his cock glided into me, wider and longer than his fingers, stretching me deliciously. I fell onto my elbows and sighed in pleasure into the mattress. He held my hips steady for a moment then bent over my back, cocooning me.

  “Katie,” he breathed in my ear. I clenched my muscles inside, around him, and he moaned my name again. He moved his hips slowly and I took his hand and put it where I needed it. Every time he pushed inside me, he flicked his fingers lightly over my clit. I rocked back against him to take him deeper and he flicked harder. I was closer and closer to orgasm. “Now,” he told me. “Now, come now,” and I did, breathlessly shaking. Davis pushed hard into me again and called my name.

  He pulled out and we rolled back onto our sides, breathing hard. Davis cuddled me to him again, and this time, I fell asleep.

  ∞

  Game day. Game day.

  I tried to rev myself up. It was game day, and it was Davis’ birthday. I had tried to wake up before him that morning but as always, he was up first. I had joined him in the shower and tried the thing that Lindy had told me about—the thing with her tongue. Davis liked it. A lot. Happy birthday!

  I had made him a birthday breakfast, and then when he drove himself over to do PT, I drove over to the stadium. Game day! Woohoo! I tried to replicate the excitement and anticipation I always felt, but came up empty and flat. Game day. Yuck.

  The mood was crackling in the locker room. As the Dames got dressed, Trish came in.

  “Ladies, circle up,” she said, and they reluctantly approached her. The way one would approach a lion in the wild. “I have some exciting news!” Oh, Lord. Scary happy Trish was back. She glanced down at the big index card she was holding and bared her teeth at us. “Knowing how gossip flies around here, I wanted to let you know, straight from the horse’s mouth, that I won’t be returning as the head choreographer next season. I’ve decided to…pursue other opportunities.” She checked the notecard in her hand and it must have said to smile, because she bared her teeth again. “The team is looking to fill the position now, isn’t that exciting? I think it will be wonderful to have some new, uh, talent here working with you all.” Teeth again.

  The cheerleaders just stood there, looking at her. Not one of them said a word about how they’d miss her, or that they were sorry to see her go. Rochelle shrugged and went back to her locker, and all the other Dames did the same. As batty as I thought Trish was, and as pissed as I’d been to bear the brunt of her anger, I thought it was cold. She had done good things, too—I had learned a ton from her, and so had the rest of the Dames. So I said that, loudly.

  Trish visibly swallowed. “Thank you, Katie.”

  I nodded back, picked up my towel and water bottle, and went to find Sam. We had some practicing to do.

  “Did you hear about Trish?” I asked him as we jogged around the field before stretching.

  I didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “Uh huh. Lyle told me,” without looking at me.

  “She told us in the locker room. No one said a word, they just all stood there looking at her then walked away.” We rounded another pylon and he still hadn’t spoken. “Sam, I want you to know that I’m happy that you’ll still have a job here, even if you’re really mad at me. I tried to be a good friend to you, and to your family, and I think I have been. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I wanted to switch jobs. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work out and it seemed so far away at the time.” I had to stop talking and take in some oxygen for a while. We were going at a pretty fast pace.

  “I get it. I’m sorry I flew off the handle. It was hard to hear what they told us.”

  “No shit.”

  “I took it out on you. You have been a good friend.” He nudged me and I almost went flying but saved myself. “Even if you are a snooty bitch sometimes.”

  “That’s why you love me,” I informed him.

  “Yeah, well, that’s why I was upset about you leaving me, Nutty.”

  “Even if we’re not Nutty and Hank, we’ll always be Katie and Sam.”

  “That’s stupid,” he panted.

  “Yeah, it sounded better in my head.” Making up with Sam lifted a hundred-pound weight off my shoulders.

  “Now can we stop running?” he complained. “Quitting smoking made all this exercise harder. I can
’t breathe right anymore.”

  Sam and I kicked butt in our on-field rehearsal and the Dames, perhaps inspired by the imminent loss of their coach, were way better than the day before. I started to think that maybe we wouldn’t make idiots of ourselves later in the game. When we took a break for a late lunch/early dinner, I saw a message on my phone. I listened and my jaw hit the floor.

  “What the hell’s bells is the matter with you?” Sam asked me, as I stood with my mouth open, staring at my phone.

  “I got a message the Kunstwollen Gallery in Los Angeles,” I told him slowly.

  “The what?” He squinted at me. “I thought you sneezed.”

  “It’s a really important gallery. They’re internationally known—I mean, even I know about them, and I’m not exactly a high flier in the art world. They want to represent me. They said they’re always on the lookout for emerging talent.”

  “Why would they call you?”

  “Because I’m good, you ass! Because I’m a good painter.” A huge smile spread across my face. “I’m an artist.” I felt like I was going to burst with pride. I wanted to tell Davis—this had to have come about because of his mom. And I wanted to tell my grandma, because she always thought I was the second coming of Mary Cassatt. And Lindy, too. I wanted to tell everyone!

  “Congratulations,” Sam said, his mouth full.

  I did a few cartwheels.

  “Fucking show-off,” he muttered, but he picked up my water bottle for me as we went to get into costume.

  I thought that Davis was going to be on the field, and sure enough, I heard the roar of the crowd as Sam and I were on the sidelines doing a bit about me taking his car keys and wallet (oh, so, so corny). I glanced up on the giant screens and saw a giant Davis. He was back wearing his sunglasses but I could tell…oh, damn. Kayden ran by and Davis’ big arm shot out and stopped him with a clothesline across his chest. He grabbed Kayden’s jersey and leaned down to put his face in his.

  “Nutty!” Sam dangled the keys in front of my face and I made a swipe for them. I looked up to see Davis shoving Kayden out onto the field, still yelling at him. Wow. Wow!