“And that’s why my spot can be given to Adolphis or Riccio. It’s a great chance for them.”
Brian Sullivan had been a promising player, coming up through the youth leagues and playing in Germany and Holland before coming to Manchester. But in his second season, he tore up his knee so badly he was not able to be flexible and as fast as he was. He could still score, but he couldn’t handle the ball with the speed and dexterity he once had. The big man put his arm around him.
“Ah, Paddy, yer breakin’ me heart. The guys look up to you. You alone have started to disprove the theory that American players are sissies, pampered and way too soft. It’s because you lot have choices some of us don’t have here.”
“Yes, Coach. I understand that. But I think this is what I was made for. If it doesn’t work out, I’m not sure they’ll let me out, but if there’s a way to come back—”
“Fuck sake, Paddy. You’ll fuckin’ make those teams. You can do anything you set your mind to. I’m just pissed because I let you go to that funeral. You really ought to take some time and consider this carefully. Think about it for another year, or two. Then see. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get injured, and—”
“And I wouldn’t make the teams then. No, I want to go now. I’m healthy. I owe it to myself to try. Otherwise I’d never know. I got to do it for Ryan. He was like my brother.”
Sullivan spat into the wastebasket in the corner, due to his habit of chewing tobacco. “It’s a cryin’ shame. Then you knock some little fucktard up, and you go home and get a job as a plumber and raise a dozen kids. It’s all bad, Patrick. And for what? Not even for the money.”
“I’d like to think it was for the honor. And just to see how far I could go.”
“There comes a time when you give up Boy Scout things, Paddy. You got to grow up and be a man. Not everyone can jump out of airplanes or fight in places where they hate you. Hell, you could have that right here if you sat in the Manchester stands on game day. Wear the wrong jersey, and walk down the wrong neighborhood.”
Patrick was chuckling and reached out to touch Sullivan on the shoulder. He was careful to make sure it was a manly tap. “Coach, I know where you’re coming from. I’m going to do you and the team proud. I’ve been cultivating some bad habits. I’m about to set that aside and fly straight.”
“So there’s a woman involved. I can smell it sure as anything.”
“There is.”
“And you want to make this beautiful girl a widow then? Don’t you think that’s a mite cruel?”
“I’ve known her ever since grade school. She’s the one. And she’ll stand by me.”
“Well, that’s it then,” Sullivan said as he threw his wet towel on the floor, hiked up his drawstring pants and began retying them. “When the heart goes one way, no amount of money can get a fella to go another.” He looked up after he was done. “So make it count.” As an afterthought he leaned into Patrick and winked, whispering, “And protect your hands in case you ever want to coach when you get tired of getting your ass shot off.”
The Tottenham office efficiently processed his request, and his release became final once he paid off the balance of his contract. He was left with nearly a million dollars in his bank account, which would give him and Stephanie a nice nest egg to begin looking for a house.
Ronnie was in tears the last day of practice and could hardly look at Patrick. Even the late-night beers at the local pub didn’t help.
“Just not going to be the same without you, Paddy.”
“You’ll get another roommate, Ronnie.”
“Now I wish I’d agreed to retire after last year. I’m not going to lie. Gonna be a miserable year.”
Patrick was going to miss Ronnie, too, with his opinions on everything from women to politics and occasionally that dangerous subject, religion. In all his gruffness, Ronnie made friends for life, and if you made the grade, there wasn’t anything that would interfere.
Except leaving him behind. That was, Patrick was learning, an unforgiveable offense.
Patrick had offered to help train the young Nigerian boy, Adolphis, so he could take his spot. He gave the tall, lanky nineteen-year-old his backup pair of gloves and one set of his cleats, but he saved his long cleats and his brand new game shoes he just didn’t have the heart to separate from. He tried to give the boy one of his green keeper jerseys, but the thing practically fell off his bony frame.
“You’re gonna have to start working out,” he instructed the boy.
“I work out,” he said in his clipped English. “I run like the wind, and I can jump higher than anyone on our team.”
“Yea, but you’re a keeper. Remember that. You want to run? Go be a forward. The jumping’s good but learn how to fall. You have to get some flesh on your bones so you don’t break them next time some big German dude wants to hear the sounds of your skeleton shattering. You get pancaked, and you’re done, Adi.” He tapped his temple. “Be smart. Expect success, but plan for the worst. And you kick those guys if they come after you with their cleats up. You get their balls, and you ram them up to their necks, you hear?”
Adolphis grinned, his white teeth the complete opposite of his jet-black skin. “Yes, Boss. I can do that. I’ll start drinking more beer.”
“Thought all you Nigerians were Muslim? Besides, beer just makes you fat.”
“No Man. I was raised in a missionary school, and I was the first of my family to learn to read. My father used to put the bible up on our shelf above the cook stove, just to prove that someone in his house could read in English.”
“That’s a nice story. He come to any of your games?”
“No, Man. All dead. It was called a religious cleansing. Burned my dad’s bible. Then burned everything. Animals too. Nothing left.”
“How did you escape?”
“I was playing football several kilometers away in the next village. My best friend, Mohamed, hid me with their family for three years. No more school for me. So, I played football. They helped me escape and come here.”
Patrick was grateful for the conversation. “I had no idea, my man. Then this is perfect for you. This is your time to shine.”
“And I have something for you, Patrick.” Adolphis felt inside his backpack and came out with a tin foil package not more than an inch in size. Slowly, he peeled open the foil, revealing several tiny pages from a book, with the edges charred. He took two of the pieces and placed them back in the foil. The other two fragments of the book, he handed to Patrick. “This is for you. Part of my father’s bible. I always thought if I stopped playing football, maybe someday I’d join the military and get those guys—I mean, kill those guys who wiped out the village, and my family.”
Patrick didn’t want to accept his gift, but Adolphis grabbed his wrist and held his palm up, placing the pieces of sacred text in the center. “You can be my spear. You go get the bad guys for me. And I’ll protect your box.”
The only thing Patrick could think to say was, “Deal.”
Chapter 15
Stephanie was able to find a new position in a combination preschool/Kindergarten right on the island. Carla and the girls helped her with the move and hung out at the beach for a few days before going home to Palo Alto. They settled in Stephanie’s bungalow, and Carla managed to pay enough for rent to cover her payments.
Patrick was due back at Coronado within the week and had arranged to begin physical training with a couple of former SEALs who were either retired or medically discharged. Ryan’s old LPO, Markham, was overseeing everything for Patrick until his team deployed. Stephanie was glad for his guidance, and she suspected that Patrick would have to earn his spot, but he’d get notes and useable suggestions to help grease the skids along the way.
Their telephone exchanges had kept up hot and heavy and, toward the time he was due to fly home, more and more frequent. She’d managed to find a local sensual shop, and though she was embarrassed the first time she went there, she discovered several other SEAL girlf
riends were frequent shoppers. One had a part time job working there. She was looking forward to showing Patrick some of the devices she’d purchased.
At last, their reunion day was upon them. His towering frame and good looks made him appear more a movie star than a goalkeeper. He dropped his carry-on the instant he saw her and ran to pick her up, swinging her around.
“Man, I was going crazy on the plane. Never used to take that long to fly from London and New York. I think they’ve stretched the country.”
Their long, sensual kiss drew a standing ovation from the deplaning passengers. “Welcome home, Patrick,” she whispered to him privately, suddenly embarrassed about all the attention.
“How was the move? Did Markham and the other guys help out at all?”
“Carla and the girls helped tremendously. She didn’t mind Ryan’s buddies stopping by, either. It was really funny to see. The girls loved the beach.”
“So, Ray’s completely out of the picture?” Patrick asked while they waited, hand in hand, for the baggage carousel.
“I think he may be headed to jail. But I don’t ask for the blow-by-blow. For the first time in forever, my mom is actually staying out of it!”
“You hungry?”
She slipped to face him and made sure every part that could pressed into his frame. “I’m starved.” Her hand slipped up to his neck, and she pulled his head down. He bent one knee and allowed it to massage her mound as she gasped.
“This is a pretty nice welcome. You must have been really bad,” he growled and whispered back, pinching a nipple through her top.
“No, I’m a very good girl. Compliant. Willing to do anything for you, Patrick. I only want to be bad with you. But due to our differences in experience, you’re gonna have to teach me.” Her lips grazed his. She checked her surroundings, went up on her tip-toes, and slipped her tongue into his ear and whispered, “Sweetheart, I have some things you can use. You know, some of those things you heard buzzing in the background on our phone calls?”
“I say we skip dinner and go for dessert again.”
“Good choice.”
Later in the week, they were introduced to several of the men on SEAL Team 3, who gave Patrick a hard time at first. He formed a special bond with Jameson Daniels, a young man from Nashville who had been a recording artist and had given up his singing career to join the teams. Jameson’s wife, Lizzie, was from horse country in Kentucky, and the two became close. Stephanie helped their oldest girl, Charlotte, enroll in the school’s third grade.
Jameson and Lizzie were frequent visitors to their little backyard firepit sessions. The four of them walked down the beach together and watched the sunset, allowing the girls to play in the sand and surf.
“What should I be asking about all this he’s headed to? Any special coping skills I need to adopt?”
Lizzie pulled her hair from her face and gave her a coy smile. “I’m guessing you’re good on the bedroom stuff. Funny how that takes care of so much other stress. If you can just be open and intimate, it helps. They come home with some horrible tales. Sometimes, you want them to tell you, so they can get it out, and often, I feel I could have gone my whole life without hearing it. But you do it for them.”
“I hope he gets to be on Team 3. I think Jameson is a better influence than Markham.”
“They say there never is any choice, but somehow, everything works out the way everyone who is important wants it. If Kyle and the other guys want him, he’ll make the team.”
“So, these bad stories, is that why the divorce rate is so high?”
Lizzie stared out at the ocean again. “They come home, and all they want to do is stay in bed, like they’re exorcising their demons. I think some women take offense. We spend a lot of time fixing things around the house, even the car. We help each other. But then Mr. I’m-King-Of-Everything comes home and we’re just supposed to drop our drawers and fuck until he feels right again.”
“Wow.” Stephanie wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “That bad?”
Lizzie giggled. “No, silly. That good. I remember what Kyle’s wife once told a bunch of us. ‘No one will ever love you as hard as these guys do. It’s a lot of work, but at the end of your life, you’ll feel loved and needed, and they live to serve you right back.’ I think that’s pretty freaking awesome, don’t you?”
It was awesome. Stephanie hoped that the man who went off to the training would be the same one who came home. And when he returned from overseas, she could help him exorcise his demons and learn to pour out her heart like she’d never done before. That’s when she realized that his calling was really her calling, too, and in order for it to work out between them, it had to remain that way.
That night Stephanie wore her brand-new red nightie and matching bright red fuzzy slippers. She changed out the white candles to red ones and sprinkled rose petals in the bathtub after drawing water. Patrick had been talking with Adolphis on the phone in the other room, which was something they were starting to do on a weekly basis.
She poured two flutes of champagne, set them beside the bath, crossed her legs, and waited for him with two candles in the far corner of the tub. Her heart was racing as she heard his footsteps coming down the hall.
“Steph—oh my!”
He’d stopped at the doorway and knew by now there was something special in the air. His head finally peeked around the corner of the door.
“Just what are you up to, little girl?”
She extended one of the flutes to him and shook her head. “Not tonight. I’m in red. I’m not a little girl. Are you ready for some fun, Patrick?”
His eyes sparkled, and she could measure the effect her play was having by the bulge in his pants. He tossed back the champagne in one swallow and set it on the floor nearby. His eyes roamed over her body, and it made her wet. She let him see her little shudder as her legs squeezed her sex and her areolas became knots.
He suddenly dropped to his knees, moved one knee over her other, and pressed her completely open to him. “I like this view better than the ocean at sunset, sweetheart.”
She was burning up to have him touch her, but he just looked, angling his head and taking his time. At last she was so thirsty she finished off her champagne and dropped the flute to the floor.
“Tonight, we’re going to use props. Bad things. Equipment. You do like your equipment, don’t you, Patrick?”
“I like my equipment, but I like yours better. So you have been very, very bad. Is that what I’m seeing here?”
She nodded and widened her knees. He licked his lips and touched the petals on her sex. She rolled her head back, and she arched into a moan at the deliciousness of the anticipation. His thumb brushed her nub, and she gasped, moving toward his hand to press harder. After what seemed like hours, he lowered his head and washed her from stem to stern with his tongue.
He wrinkled his brow. “Cherries?”
She laughed, reaching for the bright red, penis-shaped lollipop behind her. She held it up and slowly allowed her tongue to drag the underside of the sweet candy, then put it deep into her mouth and pulled it out with as much suction as her lips could bring. It made a loud smacking sound.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. Well done, Steph. Only thing I worry about is, who’s been teaching you all this stuff?”
“I have movies now.”
He broke out laughing, which interrupted the mood slightly. She waited until he stopped without saying a thing, fixated on his eyes, placed the candy penis at her opening, and pushed it inside.
He was breathless and obviously in shock. His hand took over the reins, and he watched as the red candy coated her lips, her nub and all around her insides. Once more, with the candy still between her legs, he bent down and tasted her cherry lips, and once again, her body shuddered in pleasure at the sandpaper of his tongue.
She unbuttoned his shirt while he worshiped her sex, still on his hands and knees. She slid the collar and sleeves do
wn his bulky shoulders and corded arms. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his fly. As soon as his cock was released she squeezed it, pulling the soft skin up and down while her thumb smoothed precum over his tip. He slowly rose, all six foot four of him, towering over her, breathing heavy as she took the candy from him. Setting it aside, she slid his pants down over his hips and came to her knees, lacing her arms up his thighs and cupping his balls.
He easily stepped out of his clothes just as she took him deep into her mouth. His fingers sifted through her hair, smoothing down her back over the red filmy nightgown, seeking the top of her butt cheeks. She worked on him in a slow rhythm, feeling him pulse, become more engorged, enjoying his man-scent, and enjoying how the muscles of his abdomen constricted. She pressed her breasts against his thighs, squeezed both butt cheeks hard, and took him in deeper…all the way down her throat.
Patrick pressed her face into him, needing her tongue and lips, whispering sweet little words of encouragement the harder she sucked.
He was going to explode. She reduced the tension, flicked her tongue against his tip, and felt him lurch.
“Oh, baby, you do any more of that and I’m done.”
She giggled and drew her tongue along the underside of his cock just like she’d done with the candy.
“Oh man. I’m close, baby.”
She stood, holding his balls in one palm. Not allowing their gaze to break, she removed her nightie and shivered in front of the man she loved, stepping just close enough that their thighs touched and her nipples burned across his upper abdomen. She slowly turned while he kissed her neck and allowed him to bend her over. She gripped the edge of the tub with the scent of the rose petals filling her nostrils. Very gently, he spread her knees apart and slipped himself into the soft peach of her sex, allowing her to feel every delicious inch of him as she inhaled. Once fully seated, he pulled out only to do it again.
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