Chapter Two-1
2006 Words
Chapter Two––––––––
The next morning, Sunday, the stadium
Trunk headed back to the locker room. His teammates were out on the field practicing.
Coach caught up with him. He patted the defenseman’s shoulder. “How you doin’, Trunk?”
“I’m okay. Sorry about the locker room. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s all fixed. I get it. I got divorced once myself.”
Trunk nodded. “Right.”
“I hope you’re going to continue to see Dr. McMillan. Her services are free. The team picks up the tab.”
“I’m thinking about it.” Trunk didn’t want to admit he’d already made another appointment. Hell, he had enough to be embarrassed about without adding going to a shrink to the list. But there was something about ‘the doc,’ as he called her, her sympathetic tone, or the way she looked at him, that made him feel better. So, he had agreed to a few more sessions.
“Well, that’s up to you. I know it’s private. I won’t ask. Come on. Tuffer needs to see you in action,” Coach said, heading toward the field with Trunk right behind. This was what the linebacker needed—physical activity.
He lined up, and when the defensive coordinator blew the whistle, Mahoney went to work. He harnessed his anger into action. Bullhorn Brodsky, his best friend, blocked him from the quarterback, and Trunk let loose. He elbowed the offensive lineman, who backed up. Al charged hard, butting Bull in the solar plexus, throwing him to the ground.
Brodsky didn’t move. The whistle sounded again. Bull wrapped his arms around his middle.
“What the f**k are you doing, Mahoney?” the coach asked, before attending to Bull.
Within minutes, Brodsky was back up. “A bit pissed off today?” The offensive lineman c****d an eyebrow at his friend.
“I’m sorry, Bull.”
Coach Bass signaled, and Trunk trotted over. “You missed our warm-up run. Take a couple of laps. Get it out of your system. I can’t have you killing Brodsky. We need him.”
“Got it. Sorry.” Trunk stretched and began to lope around the field. As he warmed up, rage grew inside him. Slowly, he increased his pace to keep up with the fury in his gut. He did the last mile running as fast as he could. His lungs screamed, his legs strained, but he didn’t care. He pushed his body to the limit. When his feelings cooled down, he slowed then stopped to collapse to his knees on the track, panting. He sat back on his haunches, leaning over to facilitate better breathing.
Pushing to his feet, Trunk regained control. He ran back onto the gridiron to join his teammates. “I’m okay now,” he said to the defensive coordinator.
“Okay, let’s try that play again.” He blew the whistle, and Trunk ran left then right then left again, trying to get around Brodsky, who had him stopped at every turn.
When the exercise was over, Trunk bumped Bull on the shoulder. “No one’s getting to Montgomery today. You nailed it.”
“I hope you’re right. We need to win.”
“Damn right.”
“We will. Look at the guys on our team. We can’t lose,” Bull said.
“That’s what I thought when I married Mary,” Trunk muttered.
Bull patted Al on the back. “You can handle this. You’ve got friends. Look at it this way. Now, you don’t have to feel guilty about going to strip clubs on the road.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“No penalties, guys. Remember. Please. Roughing the passer is fifteen yards. That’s enough to lose the game. Okay?” Coach Bass interrupted.
“Don’t worry, Coach. We won’t hurt him...much.” Trunk and Bull laughed as they headed back to the line of scrimmage.
I can do this. I have to.
The coach blew the whistle and something primitive in Trunk responded. His focus returned. Years of training kicked in, and he went straight to beast mode. The goal to get to the quarterback took over his mind, shoving out all emotion, directing his body to find the man. When his hands touched Montgomery’s arm, the linebacker stopped.
“Way to go, Trunk,” called Coach Bass from the sidelines.
“I’m back,” the defenseman murmured, smiling at his teammates and lining up to do it again.
* * * *
After practice, Trunk went home with Bull. They hung out, watched a movie, and rested before game time. The Kings were playing the night slot. The men didn’t eat at Bull’s place because the team would put out a spread at six.
“Coming to The Beast tonight, after the game?” Trunk asked Samantha, Bull’s wife.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Good luck, guys.”
Bull kissed her then got into Trunk’s car.
“I want what you have,” Al said, pulling away from the curb.
“What?”
“What you and Samantha have. Mary and I never had that.”
“Why’d you marry her, then?”
“I don’t know. Seemed the right thing to do. I wanted to settle down. Have a house, wife, kids. Someone waiting for me when I got home from the road. Four years later, I got nothing.”
“You’ll get there. Hell, look at Coach. He’s divorced and found a really smokin’ chick who’s his biggest fan.”
“Took him fuckin’ forever. Where am I gonna find someone like her? Or Sam?”
“You’re right. Sam’s one in a million. You’ll find the right chick. Trust me.”
“Dating! Even the word gives me pains. Making stupid small talk to get a girl into bed.”
“It comes back to you. Like riding a bicycle.”
“I hope so. Hey, honey, how was your job today? Wanna f**k?” Trunk said in a fake voice.
Bull laughed.
“How do you even meet chicks in Monroe?”
“Maybe Sam can fix you up. I’ll ask.”
“I gotta do something. I hate being alone.”
“You’ve always got Carla at The Savage Beast.”
Trunk snorted. “Yeah, right. Like anyone has Carla, ever. We’re friends.”
“That’s a good place to start.”
“She’d never be interested in a bum like me. And now that I’m gonna be broke? Forget it. She’s out of my league.”
“Mary gonna soak you for every dime?”
“Probably. Wouldn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t. But I’m not a woman.”
“I noticed. And it’s too bad, or I’d go after you myself.”
“Really? At six three, two fifty?”
“Maybe not. You’d have to be a whole lot shorter and weigh a whole lot less. Oh, and having t**s might help.”
That cracked up Bull. Trunk pulled into the lot and parked in his space.
Bull unbuckled his seat belt. “I’m here, buddy, if you need me.”
“Thanks.”
The men headed for the locker room.
“Wonder what they’re serving today?”
“I hope they have Swedish meatballs. I love those,” Trunk said.
They piled plates with lean protein, like grilled chicken, and healthy carbs, like baked potatoes. Milk and juice were served too. Trunk ate quietly, listening to the others talk about their lives. He never had had much to talk about. He and Mary had never seemed to gel, be on the same page at the same time. Not like the other couples on the team.
They hadn’t even bought the house together. He’d already picked it out. He’d met her while applying for a mortgage at the bank. When Mary had moved in, she had been vocal about things she wanted to change. They’d argued about it, and the changes had never been made. Now, he wondered if his reluctance then had been a foundation for their divorce.
Three of the Kings had pregnant wives. The men anxiously awaited the arrival of their children. That would never happen for him, and now, he didn’t know if that was good or bad. A divorced man with no girlfriend was the odd one out. So, he watched and listened, fighting off the depression hovering around him like a dark cloud.
Coach Bass gathered the team. He went over the notes he and the coordinators had been gathering on the Sidewinders for the past two years. The Kings had lost to them in the last Super Bowl, but they had beaten them in the first game of the season. Now, they were coming head-to-head again. But this was for the big time—a chance to play in the Super Bowl. Coach knew the Sidewinders would be pulling out all the stops. The Kings would have to be in top form.
“Listen up! Anderson Boyer, the St. Louis quarterback, is good. We need to take him out at every opportunity. Are you listening, Trunk and Demson?” The two nodded. “Norville Lucas is their hotshot wide receiver. And Bear Trent is someone to look out for. He’s number 23. He’s huge and fast. Bull, he might have to be double-teamed. Breaker, are you up to this?”
When the Coach finished prepping the men, they chugged some water and headed for the field. This was their last home game for two weeks. Trunk wasn’t sorry to be leaving town. It was one way to get away from his problems.
Griff lost the toss, setting the team on edge. They considered winning it to be good luck. But the Sidewinders elected to receive, so it was as if the Kings had won. Trunk felt relief. He went out for the kickoff.
The ball ended up in the end zone, an automatic touchback to the twenty-yard line.
Devon Drake joined Trunk. “Lucas is okay. I’ve shadowed him before.”
“Go get him.”
The men took their places, and sure enough, the first pass was aimed at Norville. Drake was on his tail, and they both went up for the ball at the same time. Devon caught it, reaching in front of Lucas, but never touching him. An interception! The fans went wild.
The turnover was a good omen. The Kings scored on that play. By halftime, it was fourteen to three, in favor of the Kings. Their lead had been hard won, as the Sidewinders refused to make it easy. The players sucked down juice during the break.
The Kings started the second half receiving. Bullhorn Brodsky was clearly pumped. He and Lawson “The Kid” Breaker protected Griff Montgomery, their quarterback –who got off three passes for a total of fifty yards.
A couple of reverse plays confused the Sidewinders, allowing Harley Brennan to run for a touchdown twice. The Kings were hot, and the players sensed it. Everyone was tired, but they refused to give up. They needed to trounce the Sidewinders so it was clear who the better team was this year.
Trunk was in the zone, chalking up three sacks on Anderson Boyer. The game ended with the Kings scoring thirty-eight points to the Sidewinders’ fourteen. After shaking hands, the men cleaned up to head for The Savage Beast. This was going to be a big celebration—they had beaten St. Louis, and they didn’t have another game for a week.
They’d be hitting the road to Texas to play the Houston Riders the following Sunday. In the meantime, Trunk intended to tie one on and celebrate until the wee hours.
* * * *
In the locker room, Trunk noticed Griff slapping something on his face.
“You’re married. Still use that stuff?”
“Drives Lauren wild. Not that she’s in any condition to be wild, right now,” Griff said, referring to his wife’s pregnancy. “But she likes it, so I use it.”
“What’s it called?”
“Midnight for Men. Now that you’re single again, better get used to using this s**t. Women love it. Try it.” He passed it to Al.
Trunk finished shaving, wiped the shaving cream remnants from his face, and opened the bottle. He took a whiff. “Nice. Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Just stay away from my wife, will ya?”
Trunk laughed. “Deal.” He poured a little in his palms, rubbed it around, and then stroked his cheeks. He raised his eyebrows and smiled as the scent met his nostrils. “Geez, this stuff is great. I might have to make a pass at you myself,” he directed to the quarterback.
“Forget that, Trunk, I smelled him first,” Bull put in.
Trunk pulled out a pair of brand new jeans he’d found in the closet. They were still in the bag with tags on. He slipped them over his hips and snapped. Next was an aqua blue T-shirt. Mary had always said the color intensified the blue in his eyes, making them glow. He took more care combing his short, brown hair than usual.
A glance in the full-length mirror told him he looked good. His strong jaw, straight nose, sexy eyes, and wide, white grin gave him devilishly good looks. Why do I care? I’m going to The Beast with the guys. So what? Might be a chick there, though.
Then, it hit him. Carla would be there. He blushed simply thinking about her.
“I think a couple of cheerleaders are coming to The Beast tonight,” Robbie Anthony said, wrapping a towel around his waist.
“Yeah? Who?” Trunk pulled his watch out of the locker.
“Ellie and Davida, I think.”
“Davida? What kind of name is that? Guess her parents wanted a boy. Had the name David picked out and just slapped an ‘a’ on the end.”
“There’s nothing male about this chick.” Robbie gestured with his hands on his chest.
“Big?”
“Gotta be double ‘D’s.”
“This I gotta see. Don’t remember seeing her on the squad. How can she cheer with all that in the way?”
“Trunk, you’ve been married too long, buddy,” the kicker said, patting Trunk on the back.
- Writer
