Page 7 of Serve
He looked into Tyler’s eyes, inches from his own. The athlete gripped his shoulder, then let go of him.
“I’ll be fine.” Tyler lowered himself to the sofa with a soft groan.
Chip scanned the room with a sense of awe. A glass case on one side held over a dozen glittering trophies, while the furniture alone probably cost what he made in ten years. Why didn’t he know more about this guy? His aunt never spoke of him, and after all this time, it made little sense.
“Here you go, boys.” Aunt Dixie placed the tray on the table and poured them each a cup. She hurried back to the kitchen and reemerged with an open bottle of beer for herself.
“I don’t drink on the job, but tonight called for it.” She took a swig and fell into the seat next to Tyler. Chip sat in the chair across from them, feeling more and more confused about his aunt and the man she worked for.
“What’s wrong, Chip? You look like a kitten yanked from its momma.” Dixie peeled the label from her beer, placing the shreds on the coffee table in a neat pile.
“Well, I guess it’s just confusing. I mean, you’ve worked with Tyler for a long time, but I had no idea who he was. I’m not used to sneaking bona fide celebrities out of hospitals in the dead of night. Can I have one of those?” He pointed at the beer. Dixie raised a brow and nodded, then pointed toward the kitchen.
When he returned, the two of them were whispering. He sat down, then his aunt spoke.
“I’m sorry, Chip, but you know I can’t talk about my job, don’t you? The reason you know little about him, or my work, is that I signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement. I’m not allowed to talk about it.” She turned to her boss and teased him. “Hey, Tyler, give me a raise! I don’t even talk about you to my favorite nephew!” She punched him in the shoulder, cackling. Tyler winced, then laughed along with her.
“You’re more than worth it, Dixie.” He looked at Chip’s aunt with unabashed gratitude. They were almost like a married couple, their body language perfectly in sync.
Chip stared at the two of them, then took a sip of the beer. He didn’t drink often, and winced at the bitter flavor. He placed the bottle on a coaster and glanced up to see Tyler staring at him.
“You might as well get used to Chip, Tyler. Now that you’ve met, you’re going to be seeing more of him. I’m going to be here a bit more now that you’re not feeling up to snuff. You two can have a play-date, plus I might need his help with a few things.” Aunt Dixie drained her bottle and placed it on the table.
“My injuries aren’t that bad. Just bruised ribs and a concussion. You don’t need to come back full-time, just help out as needed.” Tyler replied, his gaze now focused on his lap.
“Tyler, you think I want to be here all the time? I’m supposed to be semi-retired, not slaving away over you. I will be here as long as it’s necessary, then I will return to part-time. Unless you decide to go back on tour, of course. Have you decided about that yet?” She placed a hand on his knee and squeezed.
“No, I was going to talk to Grant about it, but obviously I was delayed. Shit, I never called him. Will you remind me to call and apologize tomorrow?” Tyler asked Dixie.
“Sure, if you want I’ll do it, and leave a message with his receptionist.”
Tyler nodded, and Dixie made a note on her phone.
“In fact, Let me take care of something else while I’ve got my mind on it.” Dixie pressed a few numbers in, then stood up, and spoke, “Sania? It’s me, Dixie. How ya doing, sugar?” She walked into the kitchen to continue their conversation.
Chip had never seen his aunt in her professional capacity and was impressed. She seemed to be much more than a housekeeper.
“Who’s Sania?” He asked Tyler, who had his face in his hands.
“My agent,” Tyler sighed. “I’m glad Dixie’s here, because I didn’t want to make that call. Sania’s not thrilled with me at the moment.” Tyler stretched in his seat and winced.
“Maybe you should get some rest. You’ve had quite a day.” Chip wanted to reassure the man, make him feel better. Instead, he felt tongue-tied around the athlete, out of his depth.
Tyler stared at him and shook his head. “I wish I was you.” Tyler muttered, glancing away.
Chip didn’t want to tell the man how boring his life was, especially when he was in so much pain. He might have nothing to say, but he could be there for him. He sat down next to him on the sofa and placed his hand in between his shoulders. The muscles were knotted. He gently pushed in, feeling them loosen under his fingertips.
“I’m sorry you feel bad, and I wish I knew what else to say, but any friend of my aunt is a friend of mine. I’ll do what I can to help you out.” Chip whispered. Tyler said nothing, didn’t have to. His shoulders shook, and Chip realized the man next to him, who had everything you could ever want in this world, was crying.
“It’s too late. Sania says she saw something on Twitter. Famous athlete in Texas, hospitalized. She was waiting for one of us to call. She’s going to want you to give a press conference to squash any rumors.” Aunt Dixie sat down and opened up another bottle of beer.
“Fine. At least we tried. I’m not doing the press thing for a couple of days. I’ll call Sania tomorrow and have her prepare a statement. Lord knows, they’ll make up something, anyway. ‘Champion on drinking binge in drunk-driving accident!’ I hate my life.” Tyler said in a monotone voice.
Chip shook his head, shocked that a man with so much could feel such self-pity.
“Tyler, you are so damned spoiled, sometimes it kills me.” Dixie smacked him on the arm.
He looked at the older woman suspiciously.
