Page 97 of Dirty Filthy Boy
Chapter 30
MacKenna
"MACKENNA. Glad you could make it." Kissing my cheek, Oliver welcomes me to the box set aside at the Super Bowl for the owner of the Chicago Outlaws and his guests. He's seemingly cool as a cucumber, but he's got to be nervous as hell.
"Thank you for inviting me. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Marigold, so glad to see you." He shakes her hand, but other than that, he doesn't acknowledge her in any other way.
I'm not quite sure what they are to each other. Although they did have that hot and heavy weekend, they now act more like boss and employee than anything else. Maybe they decided they weren't right for each other. And maybe they're trying to cover up their affair.
But I can't think about that right now. Too nervous about what's about to go down on the football field. The place has been decked out with the team names at each end of the field. The players will stream unto the grass through entrances decked with the team logos. The Outlaws mascot, a western desperado on a horse, stands at one of the field while the San Francisco Pirates' mascot, depicted by a pirate aboard a ship flying the skull and crossbones, stands at the other end. The cheerleaders for both teams are lined up in front of the entrances, ready to welcome the players as they run out into the field.
"It's something else, isn't it?" Oliver asks.
"Yeah, it is."
"Did you have a hard time getting here?"
"It's insane out there. Thank you for sending a limo to pick us up. Otherwise, I don't think we would have made it before half time."
"My pleasure."
Somebody calls out his name and he excuses himself to greet the new guest.
"Something to drink?" A waiter asks me.
"I'll take a coke," I say. I've been trying to cut down on the sodas, but I don't think I can get through today without having at least one.
"A glass of filtered water for me. Thanks," Mar says before leaning toward me. "Don't want to start the alcohol consumption just yet. Might jinx the outcome."
"Got that right."
Soon the teams are announced and the players burst into the field. First the Pirates and then the Outlaws. My heart bursts with pride as I spot Ty running out. He looks up, pounds his chest over his heart and points to our box. And I melt.
"Was that for you?" Mar asks.
"Yeah. Last night, he told me he was going to do that."
"You know. I had him all wrong."
"Me too." That's all I can say because there's too big a lump in my throat.
The game is a nail biter with the lead switching back and forth between the two teams.
"Well, at least it's not a blow out," Mar says.
My stomach's in knots. "Right now, I'd take a blow out."
"Yeah. Me too."
By the fourth quarter, Mar and I have given up all pretense to coolness. With the Pirates ahead by two points and thirty seconds to go, we're holding each other's hands as tightly as we can. But the Outlaws have possession and they're forty yards out. Ty throws to Ron, but it's just out of reach of his finger tips. The next play he gives the ball to one of the running backs who runs enough yards to get a first down. Coach Gronowski immediately calls a time out. The game clock is down to ten seconds. Does he have time for one more throw or do we chance a 47 yard field goal with a second string kicker?
When they line up for a field goal, I close my eyes. I can't watch this. Deafening noise erupts in the next second and I open my eyes to see Ty running with the ball.
"What happened?"
"They faked the punt and Ty took off with the ball."
