Page 95 of Dirty Filthy Boy
Chapter 29
Ty
THE PRESS CONFERENCEbefore the AFC Championship Game against the Texas Roughriders demands every ounce of my patience. The shit storm that erupted after the article that rag published changes the entire tone of the conference. While the real reporters keep their eye on the ball and ask questions about our readiness for the game, physical fitness and frame of mind, most of the questions addressed to me are about what happened eight years ago at Nebraska State.
"Ty, did you know Emily Suarez?"
"What happened that night?"
I answer the two questions with the same, "No comment."
But then a reporter asks a question that makes me see red. "Ty, did you participate in the sexual assault?"
I jump to my feet, ready to launch myself at the asshole.
But Coach Gronowski stops me before I can put a world of hurt on the jackass. "Sit down, Ty." He takes a moment to rearrange the two water bottles in front of him before glancing at the reporter who asked the question. "What's your name?"
"Peters. Sean Peters with the Dallas Herald."
"Well, Mr. Peters, I'm going to give you a pass. Seeing how you're from Dallas, you probably don't know Ty Mathews very well. On the other hand, I do. I've had the rare privilege to coach him for eight years. Four at Nebraska State and four with the Chicago Outlaws. And I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, that he's the finest young man it's been my privilege to coach."
"With all due respect," the reporter insists. "You would say that. According to the same article that broke the news about Ty's involvement in the fraternity sexual assault you threatened to get a Professor Dawkins fired unless he kept Ty Mathews' name out of the school newspaper."
"You got any proof of that?"
"No."
"Then it's just gossip and innuendo, isn't it? Look, the person who wrote that article was seeking to stir trouble and get himself his fifteen minutes of fame. But that article doesn't have anything to do with this game. So why don't we forget all about that trash and focus on the AFC Championship Game and the Chicago Outlaws?"
Most of the reporters are happy to move on to actual football questions. When some are directed at me, I answer them to the best of ability. And then, thank God, we're done.
This morning we put in the last practice before the game, so after the press conference, the team's released to return to where we're staying. Coach Gronowski's not taking any chances with somebody going missing. So tonight we're sleeping in a downtown hotel with a ten o'clock curfew. As soon as I make it back to my room, I call MacKenna.
"Hi.” I get hard just from the sound of her voice.
"What are you doing?"
"Mar and I are making tacos for dinner."
"You're staying at her place?"
"Yeah, she's driving us to the game tomorrow."
"I miss you."
"Me too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I want to be with you.” I want to smell her, taste her, fuck her until she’s screaming my name, and then I want to cuddle her sweet body against mine until we both fall asleep.
"We can't be together until my article appears inThe Windy City Chronicle.You know that. It's bad enough what you're going through. If they got wind that you and I were involved, they wouldn't believe a word I said. This way we can honestly say we're not dating."
"What about afterwards?"
"We might have to wait a bit before we go out in public."
