Buddy Carruthers, Wide Receiver

by Jean C. Joachim

  The cheer was deafening. She raised her arm up high, and they fell silent. The drummer started the music, followed by two guitars. She opened her mouth and belted out her signature song “When You Need Me.” She danced out onto the apron of the stage.

  Buddy could see her glance in his direction. He stood up and waved. Emmy missed a beat, but picked it up quickly. She motioned him up. He shook his head. When the song was over, there was thunderous applause.

  She quieted the crowd before speaking, “We are very blessed to have a couple of celebrities here tonight. Stand up, Buddy.”

  He stood, feeling color flooding his face. Griff rose up too and pulled on the shirt of Trunk Mahoney. Each player yanked up the one next to him.

  “Well, damn! We’ve got the whole Connecticut Kings team here. Come on up, boys!”

  They didn’t waste any time hopping the stairs to the stage. Buddy hung back until Griff fisted his shirt and dragged him along. The men pushed Buddy to the front.

  Emmy sidled up to him and snaked her arm around his waist. “This is Buddy Carruthers. Star wide receiver for the Kings. Did you win today boys?”

  They hollered “yes,” and the audience cheered.

  Emmy kept Buddy up against her. “I think that deserves a victory kiss. What do you think?”

  The fans went wild. Emmy leaned closer.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Just play along,” she responded.

  Whistles and applause accompanied the kiss. Buddy held back until two of his teammates shouted out, “More! More!”

  Buddy caught the spirit of the night. He grabbed Emmy, bent her back, and gave her a soul-sucking kiss to numerous hoots and hollers.

  When he finally let her go, she giggled and wiped his lips with her thumb. “Do you wanna hear my new song?”

  The people chanted, “Yes!”

  “I wrote this song for Buddy.” She turned soulful green eyes on him. “Sing it with me?”

  He shook his head.

  “Come on. You know it. I know you do.”

  Again, he shook his head.

  “Do you want to hear him sing with me?” she asked the fans.

  Their applause answered her question.

  “How about if your teammates danced while we sang?”

  Buddy snickered and shot a look at the guys. They nodded.

  The band played a few bars of “Love on the Wing.” Emmy held the microphone between them. As they faced each other and sang, the audience disappeared for Buddy. Emmy was the only one in the world. When it was over, the people chanted, “Encore!” and Emmy sang the song again herself, standing close to him. The fans danced in their seats, and the football players gyrated on stage.

  As the concert hall rang with the cheers of the crowd, the players filed back to their seats. After the last song, Buddy sent a message to the bus driver to wait while he stopped off to say goodbye to Emmy. She stepped into his embrace, and they stood, clinging to each other. Buddy shut his eyes.

  Stash strolled on stage. “Nice little show you put on, Carruthers.”

  “Thanks. I love that song. She must have sung it to me five hundred times when I was laid up.” Buddy kissed Emmy then the couple separated.

  “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.” She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the button on his sleeve.

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “I’ve got to go. Early morning tomorrow. We’re on the road to Phoenix.”

  He stroked her cheek and gazed into her eyes. “I miss you,” he said, softly.

  “Me too.” She cupped his cheek, her eyes watered, and she turned abruptly and headed for the wings.

  Buddy watched her for a moment, while backing toward the stairs.

  Strong fingers gripped his biceps, stopping him cold. “Forget her. She’s going to tour Europe. We’ll be gone a year.”

  “Europe? A year?” Buddy narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t mention that.”

  “It’s not finalized yet. But we have the contracts. Just a matter of signing and returning them.”

  “Why Europe?”

  “You don’t think our little Emmy’s career is going to last forever, do you?” Stash arched an eyebrow.

  “She’s very talented. I think she’s just begun.”

  “I don’t. We have to take our opportunities where they come. Europe is a plum deal for her. Beautiful cities, traveling from country to country—all on Uncle Sam.”

  “I can’t believe she’d up and go to Europe now. And without telling me?”

  “Don’t count on her. Emmy is for Emmy, Buddy. You should know that by now.” The tall, thin man dressed all in black turned and headed for the wings.

  Buddy couldn’t speak. I never thought she’d go to Europe. No way could he see her then, even on weekends. Can I ask her to stay? Should I buy a ring?

  “Hey, Buddy. We’re waitin’” Trunk Mahoney said, tugging on the wide receiver’s sleeve.

  He nodded and followed his teammate to the bus. The men were happy and singing “Love on the Wing” when Buddy got there. They laughed, talked, and slapped the wide receiver on the back. But he didn’t hear anything. His gut hurt like he’d just taken a tackle from that monster on the Tigers.

  Alone in his room, Buddy tossed, trying to find a comfortable position. He glanced out the window at the moon. Is this really goodbye, Emmy?

  Chapter Twelve

  Back in their suite at the Ritz Carleton, Emmy slipped off her sneakers and collapsed onto the sofa. Stash sat down at the dining room table with a folder full of papers.

  “I’ll pack,” Lani said, disappearing into the bedroom.

  “Want anything?” Paula asked, heading toward the minibar.

  “I’d love a Coke, if you don’t mind.” Emmy pulled herself up to a sitting position. After Paula prepared beverages for everyone, she joined Emmy. “If you wouldn’t mind, Paula, I need to speak to Stash alone?”

  Paula jumped up and headed for the bedroom. “Sure. No problem.”

  Stash looked up from the paperwork and faced Emerald. Once Paula was out of earshot, Emmy stood up. “I’m not going to Europe, Stash. And that’s final.”

  “I signed the contracts already. That’s right. I’ve been signing your contracts for months. Haven’t you noticed?”

  “I thought that one contract covered ten venues.”

  Stash laughed. “You’re either naïve or plain stupid. There’s a contract for every venue.”

  “Well, I’ll just cancel it then.”

  “And get bad publicity? I can see the headline now—‘Emerald cancels out on Europe. Is her career finished?’.”

  She pouted quietly for a moment before blurting out a response, “I don’t care. You don’t own me, Stash. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but this is going too far. Just un-sign them. I didn’t give you the go-ahead.”

  “You could get sued for breach of contract.”

  “I have thirty days to get out of them. Where are they?” She took a sip of her drink and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “I’ve got them.”

  “Bring the contracts to breakfast.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  She turned to face him, adrenaline pumping, heat gathering in her face and neck. “You say you want me to love you, but then you behave like this!”

  “I’m just looking out for your best interests. You need to make all the money you can while people still remember your name.” He sat back and gazed at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

  Anger bubbled up inside her. “I’ve got a long way to go before I disappear.”

  “That happens a lot faster than you think. Fans are fickle.” Stash pushed to his feet.

  “Not mine! Have those contracts ready tomorrow morning.”

  Stash cocked an eyebrow. “Or what? You gonna fire me?” He wandered over, towering above her. Six feet of lean man with hostility flashing from his eyes backed her against the wall.

  “No,”
she pursed her lips. “Just do it. I need to take control of my life.”

  “Really?” He grabbed her wrist, twisted it, and pulled it behind his back. “You need me. Don’t forget that. Don’t think you’re going to dump me for that asshole, Buddy, either. If I don’t have you, you don’t have him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told him you’re going to Europe. I think this is the final slap from you, chicky.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did. Get over it. He’s one guy. Emerald can have her pick. Right?” A nasty grin spread across his face.

  Emmy wrenched her arm free and slapped him.

  Stash slapped her back so hard she fell onto the couch. “Don’t do that,” he spat.

  Tears burst through. She cradled her burning cheek and gulped air. “You hit me?”

  “You hit me first.” He touched his own cheek, which was pink.

  “Don’t ever do hit me again,” she said with a trembling voice, wiping her face with her hands.

  “Then you don’t ever hit me again.”

  “You hit me much harder than I hit you.”

  “A slap is a slap.” He walked toward his bedroom, but stopped at the door. “Breaking up is painful, Emmy. It’s a big mistake. I loved you and you used me and tossed me out.”

  “You got very well paid for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Not everything is dollars and cents.”

  “You knew I loved Buddy before we went on the road.”

  “I thought you’d get over it. Thought you could love me the same.”

  “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love Buddy. I’m sorry, Stash, if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I thought we could make it. Be a couple. Maybe even get married. But it wasn’t meant to be.”

  “That’s a fucking cliché. You never gave me a chance.”

  “I did. Just didn’t happen for us. I’m sorry.” Emmy took a deep breath. “If you ever hurt me like that again, you’ll be gone. Instantly. And I’ll press charges for assault.” Her pulse rate doubled, and sweat formed on her palms. She bit her lip.

  “Fuck you,” he said, slamming the door behind him.

  A sob escaped her throat. If Buddy had been there, he’d have taken Stash apart for hitting her. She retrieved some ice and a washcloth and soothed her face. She had another show in two days and needed the swelling to go down quickly.

  When she felt better, Emmy undressed and slipped between the sheets. In the three bedroom suite, she had her own room. She lay in bed, chewing a nail as she stared at the moon. Her stomach knotted when she thought about her future. She had two choices—let Stash make all the decisions or face loneliness, fear, and uncertainty without him.

  The loss of control over her own life scared her. Stash had hit her. Would he do it again? Would it be worse next time? For the first time, she dreaded being alone with him. Yet, how could she fire Stash? Though that might be the right thing to do, her career would come to a screeching halt without him.

  She didn’t know what he did or even how to contact the people she needed to help set up at each venue or play backup when someone got sick or bailed. The idea of moving ahead without Stash threw her nerves into overdrive. Yet, how much longer could she afford to give him the helm and let him run her life? She’d lose Buddy, especially if Stash was in charge. I have to make Buddy understand I’m not going to Europe.

  She rolled over and grabbed her phone. She dialed Buddy, but the call went straight to voicemail.

  * * * *

  As the jet soared East, carrying Buddy and the other Kings players and staff back to New York, the wide receiver grabbed his phone. He’d picked it up to call Emmy a dozen times and put it down. Reception in the sky wasn’t great, and he didn’t want his teammates to hear his conversation. Even more than that, he didn’t know what to say. Tell her not to go. I can’t do that. It’s her career. Do I have the right to tell her what to do? No. She’s not my wife. And even if she was, could I tell her what to do? No.

  The stewardess came by with a tray. Buddy looked over the healthy, high-protein food on his plate and made a face. With his stomach in knots, his appetite had gone south. He asked for a second ginger ale and sipped that as he stared out the window. His mind pondered the big questions for the millionth time. Why didn’t I marry her in college? Anger pumped through him. He made a fist and slammed it down on the armrest.

  Griff slipped into the empty seat next to his friend. “Whoa. Don’t break that. They’ll fine you for sure.” Griff put his hand over Buddy’s.

  “I’ve been such an idiot. I should have married her in college. I should have done something.”

  “Did she want to get married then?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t want to leave, but she wanted to sing. I let Stash move in. Then, I believed him.”

  “And you’re believing him again, aren’t you?”

  “Stash and Celebs ‘R Us. She made page two.”

  Griff scowled. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “There must be something you can do.”

  “Short of gunning down Stash, I’m not sure what.”

  Coach Bass called a meeting. Buddy and Griff joined the others.

  “We’re playing the Gamblers this weekend. Sweetwater had a bad hamstring, but he’s gonna be playing. So, we’re increasing practice. Be there at seven thirty, and we’ll get out at four thirty. The extra hour might be enough for us to call their bluff.” Coach smiled at his little joke.

  The men hissed and booed.

  “Okay, okay. Not everyone is a great comedian.”

  “That was lame, Coach Bass. Stick to coaching,” said Trunk.

  Pete Sebastian stood and raised his hand. “All right. No more stupid jokes for today. Be on time to practice this week or be fined. And that’s for real.”

  The seatbelt light went on, and the men returned to their seats. Griff pulled out his IPad and went over two new plays with Buddy, Caleb Turner, and Homer Calloway. Turning his attention back to football eased tension within Buddy. His stomach relaxed as Griff explained the strategy and how they could adapt it for The Gamblers. Homer drew a diagram, and Caleb asked questions. Buddy’s appetite returned. He gobbled up the sandwich on his tray.

  The next day, the offensive coordinator drilled Griff and his receivers. The Kings were facing a big game with The Nevada Gamblers. Darvin Sweetwater was the nemesis of the Kings, so Coach Bass worked them extra hard to prepare. For an hour after their showers, they watched play films of The Gamblers last game against the Kings.

  November winds made the field chilly, so Buddy broke out his thermals. The football season moved forward rapidly. The holidays loomed, drawing closer each week. Buddy forced thoughts about celebrations out of his mind. He had been hoping to celebrate with Emmy, but now that she was headed across the Atlantic, he had abandoned the idea.

  Buddy walked with Griff to the parking lot after practice.

  “You and your mom are invited to join us on Thanksgiving,” Griff said.

  “Thanks. Mom always visits her sister in Virginia. Aunt Mary isn’t well, and Mom doesn’t want to miss a holiday with her.”

  “How about you then?”

  “Nah. I’m not in the mood.”

  “If you change your mind, even at the last minute, it’s okay. Come on, Buddy. We’ll have a good time. And the food’ll be amazing.”

  Buddy laughed. “That, I can believe.”

  “Connie and Lauren are the best cooks.”

  “You have a lot to celebrate this year. With the baby.” Buddy lounged against his car.

  “I do. I’m a lucky man. Little Hank is a blessing. I wasn’t sure we’d get him.”

  “Close call, wasn’t it?”

  “Damn right. Even with bed rest, the little guy came a couple of weeks early. But he’s catching up just fine.”

  “Glad to hear that. He’s pretty cute. Gets his looks from his mom.” Buddy shot a snarky smile at his friend.


  Griff punched Buddy’s shoulder and chuckled. “He does.”

  Buddy took his time driving home. Without Emmy to return to, his house had an empty feeling. His heart hurt remembering how her scent, her presence, had filled every room. Now she’d be gone, maybe forever. Better get used to the quiet.

  The piney scent of cleanser met Buddy’s nose when he opened the door. Gert! Coming home to a freshly cleaned house, laundry washed, folded, and put away soothed his nerves. There was a meat casserole waiting for him too. Gert, you’re an angel.

  The long day had made him hungry. A growl from his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten much. So, he turned on the oven and grabbed a beer. When the food was warmed through, he took a plate to the dining room and sat by the window. Although it was cold outside, there was activity at the bird feeder.

  Last minute nuthatches and juncos stuffed themselves in preparation for the winter. Learn from them. Fill up with football. Forget Emmy. We have to win this game. When he finished eating, he pulled up Griff’s plan from email and studied it again. He could control football a little. Practicing, getting in shape, eating right, and sleeping put him in top form.

  He put on a movie then went to bed early. He couldn’t control his dreams, and Emmy was the star. Restless, he woke up the next morning and resolved to focus on the game and forget any social life. He was motivated, and ignoring his broken heart was the only way to go.

  * * * *

  The atmosphere on the way to Phoenix was tense. Emmy didn’t speak to Stash. The swelling on her face had gone down. No one would ever know he had hit her, but it was something she’d never forget. She avoided him, settling in on the opposite side of the vehicle, but kept an eye on him. He spent most of the time on his laptop, typing away.

  Although curious about his activities, wariness kept her planted at a distance. Her heart hurt, as Buddy had not responded to her text message or calls. Too embarrassed to keep leaving pleas for him to respond, she closed her phone and looked out the window. In the beginning, Emmy had loved traveling. Hitting the road was an adventure. For longer distances, she flew, while the girls commandeered the bus.