"Troy, here are the facts. The third pre-season game was a nightmare for us. We lost a wide receiver and our starting right tackle to season ending injuries. I'll be honest. I don't know if Mark's ever going to come back, and if he does, we might need to look at moving him. After that knee injury of his, a lot of guys lose a step."
"I’ve got that. I fully understand. But why are you looking at trading me? I've been kicking ass in the pre-season. Or did you forget the game Saturday night? Three sacks against a starting offense is the sort of stuff that gets guys selected to the Pro Bowl if they repeat it often enough."
"You’re having a great pre-season, but you also know that our linebacker corps is already the strongest in the league," Kardi says. "You add something, but right now, we need a right tackle and a wideout more than we need a fifth good linebacker."
"And if one of the guys goes down? What do you do then? Whistle for hope from the Lone Ranger?"
The man shrugs. "You're good, no doubt about it, but we can adapt. Besides, I thought you'd be happy about this. You stay here, and the best you can look forward to is splitting reps with the starters for at least another year. You go somewhere else, and you get a starting slot pretty much straightaway. No team is going to give us what we want without having a need for a damn good young linebacker. And if I can, I will get you to a team with a 3-4. I know you've played that since high school, and you're more cut out for it anyway. But we'll get you to a team with a need."
"Yeah, the guys sitting in the cellar come December always need linebackers," I reply, and yeah, I'm a little pissed off. "The Hawks have been one of the premier teams in the conference for a while now. And it's not just because we've got some stars. We've got a good team."
"Who do you think put that team together?" Kardi asks, sitting forward. "Let me clue you in. That man was me, and it's been that way for the past decade. I'm the one who makes the final personnel decisions about this team, and yes, I do take the coaches' opinions into consideration, but if I need to, I'll cut, trade or sign a contract for anyone that I think can help this team. Now, if you think I'm a bastard about this, you should count yourself lucky that you're not playing for someone else. A lot of times, you wouldn’t know until you actually got traded. Some teams have a fucking real estate agent on retainer whose whole job is to help guys clear out their houses and sell whatever they need to get sold."
"So why are you being so generous, then? I mean, you don't even have a destination in mind, you said. You just said you're shopping me around. What gives?"
The officious prick shrugged. "I figure it differently. I figure, if you know you're on the trade block, you're going to play pissed off. You're going to want to look good, because you know if you don't, we'll just cut you come next pre-season, and you can take your chances on the last year of a rookie contract and a reputation as a crybaby. You play your heart out until you get traded, though, and you go to a new team with a good rep, a starting slot, and go into the last year of your rookie contract in a strong position to negotiate a fat new contract, or at least get franchise tagged for a year and make good money. Now, what's it going to be?"
I nod and get up. "You know your answer already. You want to give me a reason to play hard? I already had that. Now you're just giving me more emotional content."
Kardi nods, then scribbles something on a sheet of paper next to him.
I shake my head. “Thanks for the heads up. Does the team mind if I still take tomorrow off to go to that wedding I asked about a month ago?"
Kardarelli waves dismissively. Football players with strange ideas are pretty much par for the course. I mean, one of my best buddies on the team currently has a collection of UFO 'inside information' DVDs that covers an entire wall of his living room. Another's into some wacky religion that lets him eat all the pork he can get his hands on, but he can only eat rabbit on Mondays. You try fueling a three-hundred-pound body on rabbit right before a Monday night game.
Either way, I'm small potatoes. "No problem. It's a garbage game, anyway. Hell, you want the time off, I'll ask the Coach to keep you off the dress list for the game. We've got enough guys who need to earn a spot on the roster still that you're just going to be standing around anyway."
I consider it for a moment, then nod. Might as well take what I can get from the team while I can. "You know what? I'd appreciate it. I guess I should wait until I tell her, but it seems I have a daughter. I'd like to get to know her, if it's all the same to you."
Kardarelli taps his pencil on his desk blotter, then nods. "Fine. Take the game day off. But come week one of the regular season, I don't give a fuck if you're getting married and you've got Elton John coming in to sing a revue of The Lion King for the reception. You're suiting up against the Phantoms."
"Deal. See you."
* * *
"Push me higher! Higher!"
"All right, Laurie, hold tight!"
We're in the park, and Laurie and I are playing on the swing set. This little girl loves to swing, I know that for sure, and even though she can pump her legs like a champ, she adores it most when I push her. Whitney, who got tired after whirling her around for a couple of minutes on the merry-go round, is sitting on the edge of the sand pit that surrounds the swings, watching us.
"Don't go too high, honey! You could fall off!"
"Troy will catch me!"
"I'm glad you think I'm Superman, but I'm just a normal person."
“I don’t like Superman!” Laurie calls back as she giggles. "You're Thor with short hair."
"Fits better under the helmet. I’d love to carry that hammer of his during the game. Make my job a lot easier," I laugh, pushing one last time. "Okay, baby girl, you pump on your own for a few minutes. I'm going to sit down with your mama."
“Okay, but we have to go to the monkey bars soon!” Laurie orders, and I shake my head, sitting down next to Whitney. She's laughing silently, giving me a knowing look.
"I wonder where she gets her bossy side from," I tease, nudging Whitney with my elbow.
"Her Aunt Dani, for sure," Whitney replies. "Who do you think taught her all the comic book characters she knows about? They don't have Marvel Comics in Italy—well, at least they're not easy to find."
I nod, at peace with the idea that Dani knew about Whitney and about Laurie long before I did. We'd talked on the phone the day before, in between a team lifting session and my evening video review for the week one Phantoms game, and we worked it out. I don't know if she has figured out that Whitney and I are back together, or seem to be headed that way. "Hey, speaking of Dani, have you told her?"
"In general or in detail?" Whitney says in a low voice. "Because you don't want to know what she's told me in detail."
"Oh, I know," I say. "That woman was a regular Penthouse Forum when she was an undergrad. At least until she met Pete again, from what I know. I don't want details of what they do. I've had my hands in between Pete's legs too much for comfort in that area."
Whitney laughs and slaps me on the thigh. "And you say Dani's bad? Troy Wood, I never!"
"Yes you have," I tease back, and lean in. "In fact, maybe some time soon, we can."
Whitney purrs and gives me a sexy little smile. "Maybe after we tell Laurie that you and I are seeing each other. I was thinking after the wedding reception, that way Laurie won't spoil the surprise for Dani and Pete."
“Monkey bars!" Laurie calls, dragging up a huge cloud of dust and sand as she drags her feet to slow down. "Mama, are you coming too?"
"Of course," Whitney says as I heave myself to my feet. "Think you can give me a hand up?"
I pull Whitney up easily, and for a moment, she's in my arms again, her palms on my chest, and we're looking into each other's eyes before I let her go, both of us smiling to chase after our little girl.
My daughter, I think as Whitney scrambles up the jungle gym that leads to a slide with Laurie and follows her down. My daughter. The words still clang around in my head as I think of them, and I
'm laughing as Whitney thumps down in the sand, a cloud rising from her butt as her feet lose grip on the ground from the low slide. Laurie laughs along with us, and we're soon all playing on the monkey bars until Laurie's gasping for air and waving off. "I'm done! I need water!"
We go to the water fountain, where she soaks her face along with taking deep drinks. We're near the duck pond, and I see some ducks on the water, so I walk over to the vending machine the town keeps for the ducks and buy a cupful of food. "Hey, Laurie, want to take a rest and feed the ducks?"
"Cool!" Laurie yells, and she runs over, eagerly taking a seat next to me. The food floats, so we can toss it out onto the water where the ducks swim after it. "Hey?"
I look at her while Whitney takes a seat on the other side of her . . . our daughter. I exchange looks with her over top of Laurie's head, and she smiles. This has been a great day.
“What's it like being a pro football player?"
"There are a lot of good things, and a lot of bad things," I say. "On the good side, I make a lot of money, and I love playing football. It helps a lot with my inner demons."
"You have demons inside you?" Laurie asks, her voice dropping in fright.
I shake my head, remembering the she has spent most of her life in a Catholic country. "What I mean is, when I was younger, I had a lot of bad things happen to me. I could have become a very bad person if I let those things take control of my life. But football was one of those things that let me control the feelings that came from what happened to me."
"What else?" Laurie asks innocently, and I look over her head at Whitney, whose eyes are dark and full of meaning.
"A very special person," I say softly before looking down at Laurie and smiling. "But yeah, football helps too."
* * *
After I drop Laurie and Whitney at their home, I drive back to my house, troubled. Today was such a perfect day, and I'm worried. If the team trades me soon, I'm going to have to leave Silver Lake Falls, at least for the season, and I'm just starting to re-establish my relationship with Whitney, and I’m making the beginnings of a relationship with Laurie. How could I ask them to uproot and move to some other part of the country when they're just getting settled in again?
Maybe after some time has passed, I think. I mean, first of all, while we've got injuries, you never know who might become available after the last round of cuts to the fifty-three-man roster. Maybe a good right tackle or wideout could fall through the waiver wire, and then the Hawks could sign them without having to trade me.
I decide to hold my tongue on the potential trade until I know more about it. There's no reason to stress out Whitney or Laurie—not right now. Instead, I check out my suit, already looking forward to tomorrow. After all, it's not every day that two friends get married, and if what Whitney told me is true, then we can go public then too.
I'm just wiping down my shoes, putting a fresh coat of Kiwi wax on them, when my phone rings. Picking it up, I see it's Whitney. "Hey, it's good to hear from you. Is everything okay? Did you leave something in the car?"
"Not at all, and everything was nearly perfect today," Whitney says, her voice warm and loving. "Laurie's taking a bath right now before dinner, and I just wanted you to know she hasn't stopped talking about you since getting out of the car. She thinks you're the best. And so do I."
"Thanks, I happen to know that you're the most beautiful, special woman in the world, and Laurie's the best kid. I'm not joking when I say I love her already."
"I know you're not," Whitney replies. "There was only one thing that would have made this day better."
"What's that?" I ask, shifting around as I hear the desire in her voice. Even over the phone line, her voice sends shivers down my spine and tingles through my body.
"If I could have gotten a kiss before you drove off," Whitney says, "and maybe a little more?"
"Tomorrow you’ll have all you want,” I reassure her. "I love you, Whitney."
"I love you too, Troy. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Chapter 19
Whitney
The church is crowded, but thankfully, someone made the decision before everyone even started showing up to turn on the air conditioning. It's a hot late summer day, easily ninety-five or so, and the idea of trying to sit through a wedding without air conditioning makes my legs quiver at just the thought.
Or maybe my legs are quivering because of Troy. We are standing on opposite sides of the altar, him as one of Pete's groomsmen while I get to be a bridesmaid. He's absolutely ravishing in his black suit and silver tie, and more than once during the ceremony so far, I've lost track of what's going on as I just stare at him. Troy's noticed and returned my look with the burning intensity of his own passion. I can't wait until the reception, when we get to make it public.
We aren't serving as best man or maid of honor, mainly because he’s too busy with the Hawks and I, well, I’m a bit of a surprise to a lot of people. Some of the people in the church didn't know that I was back in town, and even fewer knew that I had a daughter, even though I've never hidden the fact. Laurie is sitting with Mom in the third row on the bride's side, shifting around a little bit as the adults go through their boring ceremony, and she has to wear the Easter dress that she hates, the one with the lace and frills on her socks. Mom's discovered that she's a natural as a grandmother, even if she is the same age as some of the other moms in town. I think she's enjoying the experience again, now that time and financial security are on her side.
Dani is resplendent in her white, sleek bridal gown, all silk and satin. She'd decided against a veil, finding the idea a little silly, but the gown itself hugs her body well, and her hair is pinned back with pearl and diamond studded combs. She's been smiling and crying most of the ceremony, but they've been just a trickle, adding two little gleaming trails that glisten in the sunlight coming through the stained glass windows that light up her face.
"And so do you, Peter Vasily Barkovich, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in good times and in bad, to love, honor, and cherish, for as long as you both shall live?"
I can hear almost everyone hold their breath as Pete swallows a lump in his throat, I guess the product of too many Lifetime movies or something, but Pete's just trying to lubricate his vocal cords, and he nods before speaking. "I do."
The priest smiles and turns his attention to Dani, who's beaming now, barely able to wait to reply. "And do you, Danielle Carlotta Vaughn, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold—"
"I do, I do!" Dani nearly yells, cutting the priest off. She blushes, and everyone in the crowd has a little relieved and warm laughter at her enthusiasm. "Sorry. Go on."
"Oh, I don't think I need to," the priest ad-libs. "I'm pretty sure the answer is going to be the same. Okay then, the rings."
The exchange of the rings goes without a hitch, and as the new couple retreats down the aisle, I can't help it. Looking at Dani in her dress, her hair golden in the sun and Pete looking so handsome and happy in his tuxedo, I want it to be me there. My mind wavers, and I see me, my own dark hair instead of Dani's blonde, and instead of Pete . . .
"Hey, it's our turn," Rita, Dani's friend from State who is serving as bridesmaid, whispers, jogging my elbow. "Come on."
I follow Rita while Pete's brother leads the groomsmen down the aisle, Troy to my left. "You were daydreaming," Troy whispers as we head into the foyer of the church. "What's up?"
"Oh, you know . . . just a girl being a girl," I reply, not quite ready to say to him what I was really thinking. It's too fast, and I don’t want to frighten him. I mean, I already dropped a bomb on him with Laurie, even if he is head over heels about her.
The way he and Laurie played in the park together yesterday, and the way he looked at me . . . maybe there is hope that things can turn out right this time. Getting changed out of my bridesmaid dress and into my burgundy cocktail dress that I'm wearing for the reception, I can't help i
t. I'm looking forward to the future.
Laurie is glad to be out of her Easter dress, and Mom surprises me when she says she is skipping the reception to take Laurie home. "There's going to be drinking, and while I’m glad that Danielle is getting married, this is a party for you and her. Besides, I've got work tomorrow, and a certain little girl should go to bed early. Have fun."
"Mom . . ." I say, trying to find the words. "But—"
"I know," Mom says simply, smiling. "You think Laurie chewing my ear off for two hours about her time in the park yesterday didn't give me all the clues I needed? It's okay, we'll talk about it later. Just know that I . . . I'm okay with it."
"I love you, Mom," I say, and give her a hug. "Oh, and one more thing. No Froot Loops before bed, no matter how much Laurie begs this time. She can't have all that sugar."
"You did okay on Froot Loops," Mom grumbles good-naturedly, then leaves, Laurie in hand, the two of them talking and getting along. I’d been worried, but five minutes together, and Laurie was ecstatic to be hanging out with her grandmother.
I drive to the reception, which is being held at a house along the river. Apparently, the Barkovich family knows some people who can afford houses in the best parts of Silver Lake Falls. The house overlooks the actual Silver Lake itself, just a little way up the Silver River close to Slater's Point, and it’s big enough for the entire party.
Troy's still wearing his suit, I notice, as he gets out of his car. When I first saw him in town, I figured him for a sports car or maybe a gaudy SUV, like so many other professional athletes, but Troy's the complete opposite, driving a two-year-old Nissan Altima that looks like any other four-door sedan. Still, as he makes his way across the grass of the parking area, he cuts a path just by his natural charisma and presence. Well, that and being six foot two, two hundred and thirty-two beautiful pounds of athletic manhood. I am soooo lucky.
Anaconda: A Sexy Romantic Comedy Page 35