The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(39)

“I was in the neighborhood, so thought I’d stop in and check on things.” Grouper tried to play off his visit as casual.

“He turns on my television every week before we play. I don’t really like football, but we play checkers, too, so I don’t say anything.”

“Is that so? The old bastard even comes in on his day off, huh?”

“That’s not nice. He’s not a bastard. He’s just old and moves sort of slow. And a little hard of hearing, too.”

I grinned at Grouper. The only thing I was looking forward to in aging was being able to say whatever the hell was on my mind and getting away with it.

Grouper gave me the evil eye. “It’s quiet in here this Sunday without any games to watch.”

I should have known I was going to hear shit from him about getting suspended. “I’m not happy there’s no game today either.”

“You should be unhappy. Waste of perfectly good talent to not be playing a game today.”

An hour later, I was sitting across from Marlene, and Grouper was looking on as the two of us played checkers. Five minutes into the game, half of her black pieces were kings, and she’d stolen half my reds. She pulled a double jump I didn’t see coming. “What the hell? You’re a checkers shark?”

Grouper chuckled. “You were sitting there thinking I was letting her win, weren’t you?”

“Actually, I was thinking you weren’t capable of beating her. That’s why I joined in. Give Marlene a little challenge.” I actually had thought Grouper was letting her win.

“Only one who ever gave me a run for my money was my Willow.” Marlene slid her piece into my home base. “King me.” Grouper and I looked at each other. Both of us were silently waiting to see what would come next. The last time she’d thought about Willow hadn’t gone well.

“Go easy on me, lady. Or see what happens the next time you want a pastrami on rye from Heidelman’s.”

She waved off my comment. “Tell Willow to bring the wooden checkers set from the bottom cabinet of the china closet in the dining room.” It blew my mind how she could remember where she kept a game board, but couldn’t recall her only granddaughter hadn’t been here to see her in three years.”

“You got it.”

“She said she’s been busy but is coming to see me on my birthday.”

“Oh yeah.”

“And tell her to stop by Zen Garden. They have the best wonton soup.”

Grouper piped in, “The salt in that stuff isn’t good for you.”

Yeah. No worries there. I was pretty sure Willow wasn’t coming.





Chapter 19


Delilah

My normally jittery nerves were anxious as I boarded the flight back to New York on Monday afternoon. The team and most of the reporters had headed back after the game last night, but I’d had to stay for an interview with a local college running back who was thought to be the number-one draft pick next season. Brody had acted fine when I spoke to him earlier, but I imagined the team’s loss yesterday weighed heavily on his shoulders. The second-string quarterback had thrown four interceptions, any one of which cost the team the loss.

The captain’s voice came overhead to tell us bad weather to the east had takeoffs backed up, and we were returning to the gate, although we wouldn’t be disembarking the plane. We should sit back and enjoy a complimentary beverage. Sure. Easy for you to say. These tin cans obviously didn’t have the same effect on him. Why did every flight I was on lately have to mention bad weather or some other potentially catastrophic scenario?

Once we parked and the seatbelt sign turned off, I made a quick trip to the ladies’ room, then dug in my bag for my cell to tell Brody I was running late. The screen illuminated, then immediately flashed a lightning bolt with a drained battery and proceeded to power down. “Damn it.”

“You need help with something?” My seatmate was probably in his late sixties. I thought about asking him to use his phone, but I had no idea what Brody’s number even was. I’d never actually dialed it before.

I held up my phone. “My phone died, and I don’t know the person’s number. I’m supposed to meet him at my apartment, and I’m guessing we’re going to be late since they just shut off the engine.”

“Ah. Cell phone withdrawal. The effects can be just as daunting as heroin, they say.”

“You don’t have one?”

“Nope.”

“Is someone picking you up at the airport when we land?”“

“Yes. My wife.”

“Does she have a phone?”

He shook his head, mildly amused.

“How will she know we’re delayed?”

“I supposed she’ll pick up the phone and call the airline, as she has for the last forty years. I take it whomever you are meeting won’t do that?”

“Definitely not.” I smiled and tucked my bag back under the seat. “So how do you pass the time without Candy Crush, then?”

“Candy what?”

For the next half hour, I explained the intricacies of a game that didn’t sound as riveting as it was while being played. My new friend returned the favor by explaining the art of cognac. When the flight attendant came to offer us a drink, he requested only two cups. Then he pulled out a bottle from his bag, and we proceeded to sample the liquor. It tasted like crap, but one small glass mixed with my flight medication, and I was out like a light.