Page 86 of Dirty Filthy Boy
Chapter 26
Ty
WITH THE FIRSTGAME OF THE PLAYOFFS WON, we turn our sights to the next team—the Texas Roughriders. They're mean sons of bitches who'd just as soon tear my head off. But I have a first rate offensive line who'll do whatever they have to do to protect me. Still, my legs have to do more of the work. I'll have to move around in the pocket, in order to find an open receiver, maybe do a dash myself to get the first down. We ended up winning the game 24 to 16. A little too close for comfort. But then we gave our fans a thrill.
After the pep talk in the locker room, we're released. Although a few players decide to attend the party at a nearby hotel, most opt to go home to nurse their aching bodies. I haven't felt much like celebrating lately. Mainly, because all I want to do is go home. Not to the house I own, but MacKenna. But I still have to get through the post-game interviews.
So, after I shower and dress in my street clothes, I do what's required of me.
"Ty, how does your shoulder feel?" Some one asks.
"Fine. Better than fine."
"No problems with the rotator cuff, then."
"None whatsoever." I give the shoulder a roll just to show that it's working quite fine.
"So you'll be ready for San Francisco. They have the most quarterback sacks this season."
I spit out the line that's expected of me. "San Francisco is a great team and they have a great defense. But I have all the confidence in the world in my offensive line."
With the press conference over, I drag my sorry ass to my car. I may be all confidence in front of those reporters, but here, in the privacy of my Cherokee, I face up to the truth. I ache all over, and my shoulder throbs like a son of a bitch. Thank God tomorrow is rest day, and I can keep the shoulder immobilized all day.
My phone rings. Fuck? Who could it be? When caller ID reveals it's the woman who's haunted my dreams every night for the last two months, I can’t hit the connect button fast enough. "MacKenna."
"Ty. I saw the game. Congratulations."
"Thanks." Fuck if my voice doesn't emerge rough and needy, but then I've never had much control around her.
"I was thinking—"
"Yes."
She lets out one of those tinkly laughs of hers, the ones that sound like sunshine and rainbows. "You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"I'm so glad you called."
"Me too. It's been too long." A couple of beats of silence occur. "So, I made a pot of beef stew. Too much for me to eat, really. There's just no way I can eat all the leftovers. So, I was thinking—"
"Yes." This time the single word makes sense. "Yes, I can come over for dinner."
"Great. It'll be ready in an hour."
"I'll bring some wine."
"See you then."
"See you."
I don't think I can wait an hour to see her, but rather than rush right over to her place, I stop at mine to pick up a couple of bottles of wine. A bordeaux and a cabernet sauvignon. I manage to make it to her place only fifteen minutes early. In other words, right on time. Even though I've cased the place several times from the outside, I've never seen the inside of the building. Except on the internet that is. And I'm happy to see it's quite an improvement over the POS place she lived in. Little does she know it, but I paid off the last nine months of her rent to that bastard of her landlord so he wouldn't bug her again.
She's left my name with the concierge, so I have no problems getting in. I'm buzzed up the elevator to her floor. She waits for me at her door, holding the leash to that Golden Lab she's dogsitting.
The Lab's pretty laid back when I approach, not barking or anything. She introduces us, I let him smell my hand. Satisfied, he gives my hand a nudge.
"He's pretty friendly."
"I can see that. How are you?" I haven't been this close to her in two months, but it seems like forever.
