Page 43 of Quarterback Sneak

“We still have a deal on the table,” Howler reminded.

“Do I? Have you called them?” Sam blew on the hot liquid before he took the first bite. Unfortunately, with the menthol, the only thing he could taste was the noxious scent. The soup might as well have been must from the flavor he could discern. The situation mimicked his own predicament at the moment and he shoveled more into his mouth.

He could tell by the way Howler avoided answering the question he had and the news wasn’t any more promising. “It’s a waiting game,” Sam said.

“At this point it is. I can’t believe the sucky timing of this. When they were so close to signing. You must have pissed off the saints because they’re pissing on your parade.”

“It would appear so, yes. I’ve hiked the same trail a hundred times and never had any issues. Yesterday wasn’t my day.”

Howler began to chuckle, the unwelcome sound causing Sam to lower his spoon and glower. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not but I would have paid a grand to see you fall down the embankment into a bed of stinging nettles and even more to be the one to post the video on line.”

“Then it’s fortunate Ivy was with me and not you.” That part of the hike hadn’t been idea but what happened afterward at the lake stood out in his memory. Ivy straddling his lab, her nipples peaked to his touch, and the throaty moans she emitted with every movement of her lovely hips. He shifted in his seat and a twinge of pain shot across his knee, bringing him back to reality with a bang.

“Too bad she didn’t get it on film. I’d have liked to see it.”

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” Sam finished off the soup and pushed the dish aside. He peered into the nearest container, anticipation at the sight. It was the ravioli topped with Vicenzo’s famous red sauce, the same meal Ivy had made for him a few nights before, his new favorite. Except he still couldn’t smell anything. Damn, menthol cream. “This pasta is excellent. Are you sure you don’t want to try it?”

“And blow up like a balloon? You know I’m allergic to the damn tomatoes.” Howler shoved a mouthful of romaine into his mouth.

Lips quirking, Sam scooped up a ravioli with his fork. “I doubt I’d be able to tell the difference.”

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny.” Howler’s phone sounded, indicating a new email. He wept the phone face with his knuckle, glanced up at Sam and laid his hand over the message.

But not before Sam saw the header on the email and recognized the address. His stomach dropped. “It’s from the Pioneer legal team.”

“Sorry, it’s not about you.”

Careful to keep his voice calm, Sam set his fork down, every fear and insecurity beating at the door of his defenses. Was this the end of his career? He’d known it was coming just not this lightening fast. “If he’s not emailing you about me, then who? We’re both aware it’ll be breaking news in about an hour. Put me out of my misery. Who are they replacing me with?”

The very fact that Howler said nothing told Sam everything. His agent was torn between their friendship and his obligation to his other client. Sam admired the quality and understood his struggle but this was his life under discussion.

“It’s not a replacement by any stretch. They’re offering Jake Paulson a four-year deal. I’m sorry Sam. I have to advise him to consider it. He’s still a rookie. This doesn’t mean they’re withdrawing their offer to you.” Howler stood and grabbed up his phone, the lines around his mouth pinched. This wasn’t any easier for him than for Sam.

“It’s a great opportunity for him. It’s business and I appreciate your candor.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed the ravioli container. They’d started out together and although Sam would eventually retire, this was Howler’s life, his destiny, and he had to guard his own future.

“While I’m at the meeting, I’ll see what I can find out from the sharks about Miller’s whereabouts. In the meantime, follow doctor’s orders and don’t do anything strenuous. If you have the urge to bang your girlfriend, make sure she’s on top,” Howler said.

Sam allowed a smile for his friend’s sake and waved him away. “Go. I’ve got a lot of reading to do before my webinar on waste water management.”

“I don’t envy you. Boring as hell. I don’t know how you do it.” After squeezing Sam’s shoulder, Howler strode across the room.

“Because it’s not boring as hell to me,” Sam said, grateful for something to do. If not for his proposal, he’d be wallowing in self-pity, a place he never wanted to find himself.

Ever.

Sam adjusted the computer screen to avoid the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows in Ivy’s apartment. After hours of reading dry documents, he was almost finished with his grant proposal. Shifting in his seat, he stared at the bottom of the screen when the image before him began to spin. He closed his eyes against the uncomfortable sensation. His phone chimed and he blindly reached for it. Opening his eyes, he gazed down at the screen. Beth. Why was she calling? Was something wrong with Ivy? He hit the accept button. “Hi Beth.”

“Sorry, it’s not Beth. I’m using her phone after some groupie stole mine last night. You know how it is.” Shouts sounded from the background, muffling Aaron’s voice, a bar from the noise level.

“Sure.” Not. Sam followed the link to the webinar, a rush of impatience souring his mood. He had things to do and speaking to Aaron wasn’t high on his priority list. Apparently, Aaron was the type who didn’t require much conversation on the other end because he kept talking, adding to Sam’s irritation.

“Beth wasn’t too happy but hey, I can’t help it if the ladies can’t keep their hands off me. I’m an Aussie and a musician, a deadly combination if you get my meaning. That’s why I got into music in the first place, to get laid. It worked wonders in Queensland and in the States…let’s just say I’m never with out.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the overt bragging and regretted it. His vision blurred and nausea churned in his gut. Something hadn’t settled well with him, perhaps the medications? He’d refrained from taking the pain meds until the throb in his knee had forced him to. Except he’d taken them all night and hadn’t experienced any nausea.

“Of course, as a football player, you probably have no issue scoring…get it, scoring?” Aaron chuckled at his own joke.

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