The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(20)

“His dinner invitation is to get to know me, not to get inside of me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m just more upfront about it than he is.”

“How did my pre-interview turn into you asking me questions?”

Brody leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. “Question for question.”

“Excuse me?”

“For every question you ask, I get to ask one.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Not if you want the interview.”

“Let me guess. All of your questions will be personal?”

“Only when yours are.”

“Fine,” I huffed. I’d just steer clear of personal questions. Perusing the list I had prepared, I skipped the first one that was clearly more personal than professional. “The offensive line seems to have become a second-half team. Sixty-eight percent of the scoring has been done in the second half, and the Steel have come from behind in the second half in four out of five of their wins. What happens in the locker room at halftime that makes the team rally together better?”

Brody looked pleased with my question. He spent almost a full five minutes talking about the halftime changes that Coach Ryan made during previous games. Unlike many quarterbacks, he didn’t take credit for the improvements that caused his team to win. Instead, he chalked things up to strong coaching.

“My turn,” Brody said when I finished scribbling notes.

“I’m almost afraid to hear it. But go ahead.”

“If you had to marry one man from Gilligan’s Island, which one would you choose?”

I laughed. “That’s your question?”

“It is.” He had a boyish grin on his face.

“That’s easy. The Professor.”

“Good answer.”

“Was there really any other logical answer?”

“You could have picked Mr. Howell. He’s rich and old.”

My next question was about the expanded definition of the defenseless player penalty. Then it was Brody’s turn again. “Name of your first pet?”

“I actually never had a pet.”

“Everybody’s had a pet at one time or another. Dog, cat, rabbit, snake, lizard, hamster, turtle…something?”

I shook my head. “Nope. We traveled a lot on weekends to see my dad’s games, so we never had any pets because no one was around to take care of them.”

“You know I have the urge to buy you a dog now, right? A giant one, maybe a Newfie or a Great Dane.”

“Don’t you dare.”

We sat on the roof of that church for almost two more hours. Brody’s odd line of questioning found some unusual commonalities between the two of us. Both of our mothers’ middle names were Yvonne, neither of us liked chocolate, and we both grew up in apartments with street addresses numbered three-three-three. I’d skipped over one particular question, knowing I’d have to answer a personal one of my own. It was the only one left. “Last question.”

“Shoot.”

“Available or taken?” I explained the question, trying not to be personally invested in his answer. “Every woman will want to know the answer.”

He looked me in the eyes when he answered. “Neither.”

I wasn’t prepared for that answer, so I had no follow-up question. I nodded and proceeded to pack my notes. Sitting upright, I readied myself. “Go ahead. Ask your personal question.”

Brody stood and offered his hand to help me up. “I’ll reserve mine for later.”

***

We walked two blocks up the street to a diner. Brody had said he was going to order in food for us in his suite, so I hadn’t eaten all day. My stomach growled as we sat.

“What was that?” Brody teased.

“Shut up. You told me you’d feed me and then took me to church instead. My stomach is allowed to complain.”

The waitress did a double-take when she came for our order. “Aren’t you . . . aren’t you . . . Brody Easton?”

“I am.”

“Oh my god!” she shrieked. “I’m a huge fan. But my eleven-year-old son. He’s a quarterback at his middle school. He thinks you’re the greatest.”

“Thank you. How is his team doing this season?”

“They’ve lost every game. But my Joey, he never gets defeated. Kid takes after me in height. He can barely see over the line anymore. But he has more heart than boys twice his size.”

“That’s good. He’s still got time to grow. But you either have your heart in the sport, or you don’t. He’s halfway there.”

“He’s never going to believe I met you.”

“Well, how about if we take a picture together and send it to him?”

The waitress’s eyes bulged with excitement, but her face quickly fell. “I don’t have a phone anymore. Bill gets too high with two lines, and my son really wanted one. Plus, I’m always here, and I like to be able to reach him when I need to.”

“How about we use my phone and send it to Joey then?”

“Oh my god. You’d do that? He would totally flip.”

I piped in, “I’ll take it. You two get together.” The waitress beamed as Brody stood and put his arm around her, leaning in. After I snapped off a few photos and checked that they turned out okay, I gave her my phone, and she sent the picture to her son with a cute note. As she started to hand the phone back to me, Brody stopped her.