Sly Bullhorn Brodsky

by Jean C. Joachim

  With beer, food, and music, it was a party. Trunk Mahoney came stag, Lawson Breaker brought his girlfriend, Devon and Stormy, Marquel Johnson and his wife, Sherelle, Harley Brennan alone, and Buddy and Emmy Carruthers joined the crowd.

  Bull stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching his friends eat, drink, laugh, and tease each other while Samantha, Stormy, and Emmy decorated the tree. Happiness filled him up to bursting. He used to dream about a scene exactly like this. Having friends, his own family, at least a wife, and a beautiful home. He had it all now. His heart swelled.

  “Never seen you smile so much, buddy,” Trunk said, popping another beer.

  “Never had so much to smile about.”

  “She’s only one chick.”

  “She’s my whole life.”

  “What about football?”

  “That too. But when I’m too old or broken to play, I’ll still have Sam.”

  “True.”

  Bull stole a glance at his friend and spied a touch of sadness mixed with envy. “Your day will come,” he said, raising the bottle to his lips.

  “Nah. Mine has come and gone.”

  Bull slapped Trunk on the back. “Don’t give up. You’re a great guy. You’ll find your path, you’ll see.”

  “At least I have football.”

  “Damn right, you do.” They raised their drinks for a toast.

  “And I’ll look better in a Santa suit than you ever could.”

  Bull spit beer as he laughed.

  The Kid and his girl, Angela, stayed to help clean up. When all was done, Sam and Sly fell into bed, too tired to make love. She snuggled into his arms, and they slept.

  In the morning, Samantha awoke before he did. When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him. He felt his face. “Is my nose on backwards?”

  She giggled. “Just like looking at you.”

  He slid across the sheets and folded her into his embrace. “Me too, baby.” His fingers played with the ends of her long, silky hair. She bent her knee and caressed the back of his calf with her toes.

  “Someone’s frisky this morning,” he whispered.

  “Yeah? You too.” She closed her fingers around his erection.

  “Always around you.”

  He rolled her onto her back and made love to her. One glance at the clock ended their afterglow cuddle.

  “Oh, crap! It’s nine already.”

  “So?”

  “The party’s at noon. There’s so much to do. Come on, we’ve got to get up.”

  They jumped out of bed and into jeans. The action was nonstop until they collapsed at eleven in the stadium’s conference room. The bus was scheduled to pick up the women and children from the shelter at twelve.

  Samantha sat back and perused her list. Bull eyed the food on the sideboard. Ham, roast beef, and tuna sandwiches on rolls, hero bread, or in wraps were piled on platters. Carrots, celery sticks, and chips filled bowls. One table had brownies and a big sheet cake with Santa’s likeness on it in frosting. Gifts in brightly wrapped, square boxes, rectangle boxes, and bags, soft wrapped, sloppily packaged, and perfect were stuffed into a huge, canvas bag. It sat in the corner, awaiting Santa to parcel them out to the needy kids.

  “Hmm, Santa. Where’s Trunk?” Sam turned a worried expression to her man.

  “Last I saw, he was fighting with that damned padding in the locker room.”

  “Would you check on him, please?”

  “Sure.” Bull grabbed a handful of chips before leaving. He could hear the cursing as he walked down the hall and chuckled to himself. Bull leaned on the doorjamb and laughed at his friend. Trunk struggled to get a hold of the suspenders without dropping the padding. “Santa, looks like you need an elf.”

  Trunk looked up. “Fuckin’ Santa suit. Who made this thing? Some sadist? Santa needs a whole fuckin’ sleigh full of elves. Get your ass in here and give me a hand.”

  Bull shoved the remaining chips into his mouth. As he got closer, he saw sweat on Trunk’s neck and underarms. “Whoa, Santa needs a shower.”

  “I know. I don’t sweat this much during a friggin’ game!”

  “Hold still, asshole.” Bull tried to untangle all the straps.

  “I told you, this thing sucks.”

  “Take it easy. Stand still. Trunk, stop wiggling!”

  The big defenseman stopped.

  “That’s better.”

  Trunk shook his head. “The kids deserve better than me.”

  “There. Got it. They’re damn lucky to have you. Here, let’s get this coat on.” Sly brushed his palm down the fabric and turned the sleeves right side out.

  “Open a window or something. I don’t know what made me think I could do this.”

  Bull helped him on with the red garment then cracked a window. It was cold outside. “You’ll be fine. The kids’ll never know it’s you.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  “Screw it, Trunk! You’re not afraid of Horse Jackson, but your scared silly of a bunch of little kids? Don’t be a pussy.”

  “Some people are afraid of snakes. Some spiders. Me, it’s kids.”

  “Then, why did you fight me to do this?”

  Trunk pointed. “I like ’em. It’s the only thing I can do for ’em.”

  “Nah. Someday, you’ll have your own. Half a dozen, I’d guess. They’ll be crawling all over you ‘till you can’t stand it.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Trunk’s eyes watered.

  “Hey, if not with Mary, then somebody else. You’ve got a shitload of time, buddy.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Okay, okay. Where’s the fuckin’ beard?”

  “Over there on the floor. I tried. Really. I did.” Trunk shook his head.

  “You’re batting zero today, buddy. You can’t talk while I get this thing on you.” Bull picked up the white fuzz.

  “Wait, use this shit, or it won’t stick.” Trunk handed him a tube he plucked off a table.

  Bull applied the spirit gum then patted the beard over Trunk’s scruff. “This might’ve been easier if you’da shaved, asshole.”

  “Ya think? I forgot.”

  Bull chuckled. Trunk joined him.

  “There. Perfect.” Bull stood back.

  Trunk moved over to the mirror. “For Christ’s sake! You forgot the eyebrows! Santa can’t have black eyebrows and a white beard. Kids aren’t stupid.”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Where the fuck are they?”

  Trunk burst out laughing. “You sat on them. They’re sticking to your ass.”

  The two men doubled over.

  Samantha knocked on the door then stuck her head in. “Almost ready, Santa?”

  Bull answered, “Almost, babe. I’ve just got to get the eyebrows…” Before he could finish, he and Trunk collapsed in laughter again while Trunk peeled the brows off Bull’s jeans.

  “Okay, okay. Glad you’re having fun. You’re on in fifteen.” Samantha closed the door.

  “Stand still,” Bull said, trying to stop his laughter. After a couple of deep breaths, he was able to glue on the brows. “There you go. Perfect.”

  Trunk picked up the hat and pulled it low on his head to cover up his dark hair. He went back to the mirror and smiled at his image. “Ho, ho, ho,” he said. “Come here, little girl. Sit on Santa’s lap and let him tell you what he’s giving you for Christmas this year.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Bull fell into a chair, holding his sides.

  “Come on, jerk-off, let’s go.” Trunk hauled Bull up by his arm. “Thanks for helping me.”

  “Oh, Santa, you baaddd boy!” was all Bull could say. He was still laughing too hard to talk as the two friends headed for the conference room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Bull and “Santa” arrived, the room was already filled with players.

  “It’s great so many guys came out for this,” Bull said.

  “Yeah, to watch Santa make an ass of himself.”

  “Shut up, Trunk. And watch your l
anguage.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He made his way through the men to get to the bag of presents.

  “Listen up, guys!” It was Jo Sebastian, the woman who’d organized the event. “Thank you all for coming. The kids and moms are on their way. They’ll line up. Please mingle. Introduce yourselves. The kids’ll probably have lots of questions.”

  “Any hot moms?” Robbie Anthony piped up.

  “No hitting on the moms,” Jo added.

  Bull stood back as the bus unloaded. A dozen children filed in, accompanied by their mothers. Some women came alone, including Tiffany Belden. Bull’s heart sank. She didn’t bother him, but instead took a sandwich and sat on the side, alone. Samantha joined Bull. He took her hand. “Great event, Sam.”

  “You did a good job with Trunk. He looks perfect.”

  “The guy’s sweatin’ bullets.”

  The players ate with the families and sat with the kids. All of them received attention. Even Bull got a few questions, but Griff Montgomery, the quarterback, was the most popular.

  After dessert was cleaned up, the men parted, making way for a visitor.

  “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas, kids!” Trunk waddled in, the bag of toys resting easily on his broad shoulders. The children went wild, shrieking with joy. The guys chuckled.

  “Santa, what big feet you have,” Devon Drake said.

  “All the better to kick your ass with,” Trunk replied. “Oops. I mean, all the better to walk with, young whippersnapper!”

  “Santa, Santa,” one little boy whined, tugging on Trunk’s coat. “Do you play football too?”

  “Dam—uh, darn right, I do. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Bobby. What do you play?”

  “I’m a defensive lineman, linebacker to you.”

  “What do you do?”

  “When I’m not delivering toys to kids? I’m delivering blocks to the guts of the other team.”

  “Wooden blocks?”

  “Nope, Bobby. Blocks with my shoulders.”

  The men laughed and patted Santa on the back.

  “He’s a natural,” Samantha whispered to Bull.

  “He’s hysterical.”

  Toys were handed out, and wrapping paper flew through the air. Stormy and Sam gathered it up, chasing each child as they ripped open their toys. Once it was cleaned up and the brownies were finished, the kids sat down to play. Lyle Barker entered the room.

  “Attention, please! This is Lyle Barker, owner of the Kings. He’s the man responsible for this party. Can we give him a cheer?” Jo announced.

  The children hollered ‘thank you,’ and the adults applauded.

  Lyle raised his hands. “Thank you, folks. It’s a pleasure to have you here as our guests. I hope you enjoy the party.”

  Again, cheers rang out.

  “One more thing. We have a special guest here…”

  “More special than Santa?” Bobby asked.

  Lyle smiled despite himself. “Well, maybe not more special, but special nonetheless. It’s Harvey Miller, the Mayor of Monroe. Harvey, come on in here.”

  Lyle stepped aside for the older gentleman. Harvey carried something in a bag. He was followed by a cameraman. “I have a special mission today. Kinda like Santa. We had something happen, something bad, and now we have a hero. A month ago, someone tried to break into the shelter. But Ms. Samantha Drake fought him off. Her refusal to give him the key and her clever call for help saved everyone.

  “Ms. Drake was injured in the fracas, but fortunately, it wasn’t serious. She’s here today, one of the team who put this event together. We’re very proud of her and thankful for her bravery. The city council and I have voted to give her the key to Monroe. Miss Drake? Please step up.”

  The applause was thunderous. Samantha, caught by surprise, blushed, and then teared up.

  “Go on, honey. You deserve it,” Bull said, nudging her forward.

  A cameraman began shooting pictures.

  Tiffany was the first to stand and applaud. Everyone else followed her lead. Sam went up, took the key, shook the mayor’s hand, and nodded her thanks to the audience.

  “Time to pack up and say goodbye,” Jo said.

  The moms corralled their kids, thanked Jo, Lyle, and Samantha, then filed onto the bus.

  Robbie Anthony shook his head. “A couple of fine looking women here.”

  “Keep it in your pants,” Harley Brennan said.

  “Like you didn’t notice?”

  “Sure I did. I’m just smart enough to keep my mouth shut.” Brennan chuckled.

  Robbie gave him a friendly shove.

  Devon grabbed his sister by the arm. “I’m proud of you, Sam.”

  “Thanks. Wish I could stop dreaming about that monster.”

  Tiffany approached. “I wanted to thank you again. Clyde is still in jail. I’m leaving for Ohio this afternoon. My mom wanted me home before Christmas. Bull’s right. That’s probably the safest place.” She turned to face Bull. “Thanks for testifying. They came in with a self-defense verdict. So, I’m free to leave.”

  “That’s great. Good luck, Tiffany.”

  “Same to you. Don’t let him get away, Ms. Drake.”

  “Oh, I won’t.”

  They shook hands, and Tiffany boarded the bus. The men filed out, except for Bull and Devon, who helped with cleanup. Trunk returned, fanning himself with the hat.

  “You were great, Trunk. A natural Santa,” Jo said, as she cleared up the last of the debris.

  “Thanks. It’s fun. The kids are great.”

  “They sure have a good time.”

  “Thanks for giving me the job, Ms. Coach.”

  Jo grinned. “You’re welcome. It’s yours every year, if you want it.”

  “Come on, Trunk. I’ll help you get outta that thing,” Bull offered.

  ****

  Christmas Eve

  Samantha could hardly contain her excitement. Though she didn’t have a lot of money to spend on gifts, she had purchased thoughtful ones for Bull, her brother, and Stormy. She couldn’t wait for Sly to open the box that contained the cashmere scarf she had knit for him while she had worked nights at the shelter.

  The yarn had been very expensive and cost most of the money she made working her second job. But it would be worth it. The scarf would keep him warm on the blustery, winter days of Connecticut. He didn’t wear a topcoat, so she picked camel color, because it was neutral enough to go with all his suits. Buying a gift for Sly was an impossible task. He had enough money to get himself whatever he wanted. She had very little to spend, so she had opted for something that required her time.

  She’d bought Devon the newest album from his favorite country group on CD. For Stormy, she’d gotten a DVD collection of romantic movies.

  Tonight, they were eating at Sam’s house. Tomorrow, a light supper for the foursome would happen at Devon’s place. As she wrapped presents, Sam played her favorite carols and watched the tree lights twinkle. Bull was working out at the stadium. Practice had been canceled.

  She painted a spiral-cut ham with maple syrup then put it in the oven. Potatoes sliced thin with a food processor were bubbling along in a cream sauce in the oven. Time to make the salad.

  Happiness poured through her. Christmas was the beginning of her new life. An almost-wife, she had already shouldered many of the wifely duties. Her dreams of a hot, handsome husband, beautiful home, and family were on the way. Children would come when they were ready. She sighed then joined in with Frank Sinatra singing “Mistletoe and Holly.”

  Bull had hung her key to the city on the top of the Christmas tree. Dr. McMillan, the team’s psychologist, had told her the nightmares of her encounter with Clyde Belden would begin to fade. A month later, she noticed only one or two nights a week did she awaken, scared and sweaty.

  Bull was always there to pull her close. His big arms wrapped around her brought peace, enabling her to go back to sleep. They still needed to work out space arrangements
and the fact that Sly would have to change his routine now that he was living with a woman. No more underwear and empty beer cans all over the house. Agatha came once a week to clean, but Samantha wasn’t going to tolerate that mess for the rest of the days.

  Bull balked at some changes. She had to remind him that getting married was all about change and he’d have to compromise. They’d had a few spats, but when she threatened to throw his underwear in the fireplace, he listened.

  He returned, brushing the snow off his shoulders. He sank into a chair, put his head back, and closed his eyes.

  “Sly, you’re home!” Samantha bustled toward him, bristling with energy.

  His eyes became slits. “You’re making me tired just watching you.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Do we have to have company? Dev’s probably as wiped out as I am.”

  “They’re not coming for an hour. Here, put your feet up.” She slipped off his shoes. “Now, over to the sofa. I’ll wake you when they come.”

  Like a little kid, he followed. Once he was stretched out, she covered him with an afghan and lit the fire in the fireplace while he watched. Smoke started to fill the room.

  Sly bolted up and sprang off the sofa. “No, no! You’ve gotta heat the chimney first.” He stamped out the fire with his fist and opened the flue. Then, he rolled up some newspaper, lit it, and held it up there. In a few seconds, he lit the paper under the logs. “See. No smoke in the house.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know that. I’ll open a window.”

  “So much to learn, living with a woman.” He sighed, returning to his spot on the couch.

  The doorbell rang at five. Samantha kissed Sly to wake him up.

  He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down on top of him. “Com’mere, beautiful,” he muttered, kissing her neck.

  “Dev and Stormy are here.”

  “Shit. Really?”

  “Come on. We can do that later. Get up.” Is he always going to be grumpy on holidays?

  He sat up while she went to get the door. Her brother pushed the bell again.

  “Coming, coming.”

  “Put your pants back on, Brodsky, and open the door,” Devon yelled.