Between Sundays (5 page)

Jay groaned and stared at the rubber mat beneath his feet. After awhile he looked up. “Makes sense now.”

“Hey, man,” Aaron patted Derrick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It was a long time ago.” Derrick didn’t want to talk about Mikey. “When I’m done with football, maybe I’ll run for office. Get a bunch of programs in place so foster kids’ll have some way to transition into real life.”

They headed for the showers, and the conversation stalled. Even if Aaron made light of the idea, and despite the fact that his Friday night was booked, Derrick had seen something change in his teammate’s eyes at the mention of Mikey. Whatever caused the difference in Aaron’s expression, it was enough to give Derrick a glimmer of hope. The purpose God had in connecting him with Aaron Hill might not be something Derrick had to wonder about for weeks on end. Rather, it might be on the verge of showing itself.

For that reason, as he showered, he switched up his prayer for the starting quarterback. Rather than praying for an inroad to the guy’s heart, he prayed for something else.

An open Friday night.

S
aturday night was a disaster, and Sunday was looking worse. Now on his day off, Aaron pulled into the parking lot at the 49ers facility in Santa Clara and climbed out of his Hummer. He never should’ve taken the girl up on her offer. She was gorgeous, but she wore a low-cut shirt and too much eye makeup. The trashy kind of girl he’d been good at staying away from.

Saturday night he got careless, and Sunday the story was on the front page of sports. He pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes and headed for the side door. The meeting today was between his agent and Coach Cameron. Not that Aaron had much to worry about.

His agent, Bill Bonds, had already briefed him earlier that morning.

“How bad is it?” Aaron was standing in the kitchen when the call came in. “What’s the buzz?”

“No one’s happy.” His agent sighed. There was no hiding his frustration. “Cameron wants to bench you for the first preseason game. Teach you a lesson.”

“Great.” Aaron downed a glass of orange juice. “What about the front office?”

“They’re against the idea. A little good publicity, a batch of stories off the subject, and they think everything’ll be fine.”

“The bar girl?” Aaron leaned against his kitchen counter. He could’ve had his pick from the women that night. A sigh squeezed through his clenched teeth. “Any news from her lawyer?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for the call.” Bill paused. “I’m pretty sure she’ll drop charges, but it’ll cost you, Aaron.”

“That’s fine. Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever.” His agent gave a bitter laugh. “We’ll talk about it at the meeting today, and listen…”

He waited.

“I’ve been looking out for you since you were a college kid, Hill. Image is everything. We can’t afford this sort of thing.”

“Yeah, well…I met with my financial guy last week.” He chuckled. “Pretty sure we can afford it.”

“This isn’t funny.” Bill sounded tired. “Don’t be late today, Hill. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

His agent’s tone put a cloud over the morning, one that stayed now as Aaron walked through the door, down the hall, and into the meeting room next to the cafeteria. He wasn’t late, but he wasn’t early either. Coach Cameron, two assistants, the offensive coordinator, and Bill were already seated around the table.

His agent took the lead. “Sit down.”

“Listen.” Aaron found the right sort of tone. He took the spot next to Bill and met the eyes of the coaches. “This whole thing’s being taken out of context.”

Coach Cameron’s anger showed in the lines on his face. He stood and paced along a bank of windows overlooking the practice field. “A seventeen-year-old girl’s giving out interviews like candy, telling the press you made out with her in the parking lot and tried to pressure her into having sex in the back of your Hummer.” He stopped and stared at Aaron. “What exactly is being taken out of context?”

“Look,” Aaron sighed. “She told me she was twenty-three. A girl wears that much eye shadow and anyone would believe her.”

Coach’s forehead creased with concern. “She said you forced your hands up her shirt and pushed her toward the back door of your car.”

“Come on.” Aaron tossed out a few weak chuckles, but stopped. No one else was laughing.

“Are you saying you didn’t do those things?” Bill’s tone was kinder now, gentler. He was working the situation for Aaron’s benefit, the way he always worked it. No matter how Bill felt about Aaron’s Saturday night, his agent wouldn’t let the team know he was worried.

“Of course not.” Aaron rocked back in his chair. “I kissed the girl, okay. I invited her back to the house. But forcing her?” he huffed. “Not bragging, guys, but I’m a gentleman with my dates.” He tried a weak smile. “I don’t have to force myself. Just doesn’t happen.”

Bill shot him a look, as if this maybe wasn’t the time to talk up his off-field conquests.

Coach Cameron leaned against one of the windows. “You’re amazing, Hill. Whole world thinks you’re a hero, when you’re nothing but a jerk.”

“Listen.” Bill was on his feet. “We didn’t bring him in here to call him names. He was out having a little fun, and he’s allowed that much.” He returned slowly to his seat. “I’m expecting the girl to drop charges today.”

“Four days before preseason?” The offensive coordinator shook his head. “I’d like to think my multimillion-dollar starting quarterback was home studying plays on the weekend. Not hitting up girls at the local bar.”

Silence hung over the room. Coach Cameron finally drew a long breath and took his place at the table again. “The penalty holds. Derrick’s starting at quarterback the first preseason game.” He leveled a look at Aaron. “Maybe for the first two games.”

“Look.” Aaron felt a flash of anger rip through his gut. “That’s ridiculous. I told you the girl’s—”

Next to him, Bill Bond’s cell phone rang.
Good
, Aaron thought. Maybe it was the girl’s attorney.

Bill stood and excused himself. While he was gone, Coach Cameron talked about his plans for the season, his dreams. “We have no room for this kind of garbage, Hill. Not a minute of it.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “You’re not the only guy on this team.” He gestured toward the window. “We got guys who’ll get cut if things don’t go well this year. Guys whose future depends on you. Ever think of that?”

Not even the slightest regret rattled around in Aaron’s head. He shrugged, his tone light. “I didn’t think I was on the clock.”

“You need to start thinking.” Coach sneered at him. “You’re the quarterback of this team. You’re always on the clock.”

Before Aaron could think of another way to defend himself, his agent returned. Victory screamed from his expression. “Done!” He held up his cell phone as he took his place at the table. “She dropped the charges. Her official statement’s going to say she must’ve misunderstood Aaron’s intentions.”

“What’d that cost you, Hill?” The offensive coordinator shot him a look.

“If you paid her off, the press’ll find out.” Coach Cameron glared at him.

The team had nothing to worry about. Bill had paid off women before. No one would ever find out. Besides, he really had thought the girl was older. She lied to him, trapped him. Now she had what she wanted. She was a snake, and Aaron should’ve seen through her. But it didn’t matter now. The incident was behind him.

“Hey, listen.” Aaron kept himself from smiling. This wasn’t the time to act smug. He never meant to hurt the team. “I’m sorry, Coach. Really.”

Bill looked surprised and somewhat relieved. He cleared his throat. “Exactly, gentlemen. Aaron meant nothing by this. Taking away his starting position at the beginning of the season won’t be good for him or”—he looked straight at Coach Cameron—“for any of you.”

“It’ll be my decision.” Coach’s answer was quick. He stood, and the other three coaches followed suit. “We have another meeting. But we’ll be watching.” He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t have a team marked by moral failure.”

Aaron wanted to ask him whether the front office agreed on Coach Cameron’s definition of morality. “Can I say something?”

“What?”

He could feel the warning look from his agent, but he didn’t care. “I never asked to be defined by my moral character, only by my play on the field.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t want or deserve my reputation as a good guy.” His voice filled with intensity. “The fans did that, not me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Coach Cameron uttered a bitter laugh. “You’re unbelievable, Hill.” He walked to the door, stopped and looked back at Aaron one last time. “Rather than complain about your good reputation, maybe it’s time you start earning it.”

The coaches left the room and Aaron turned to his agent.

“Way to go.” Bill raked his fingers through his hair. “You don’t tell the head coach it isn’t your fault people like you. Fan support is huge to the 49ers.” Bill exhaled hard. “I spend my whole career investing in you, Hill. But you still don’t get it, do you?” He stared hard at Aaron. “You shatter the image, and it’ll all disappear. The fans, the endorsements, the autograph parties. All of it.”

Aaron stared out the window at the stretch of grass beyond. An image, that’s all he was. He knew it and Bill knew it. The coaches knew it. Maybe it would be easier if the fans knew it too. Derrick Anderson’s words came back to him.
It’s what you do between Sundays. That’s what really matters.
That was fine for guys like Derrick Anderson, but Aaron had already had his chance at doing things right. Way back when Amy Briggs was still in his life. Since then, the only thing he wanted to do between game days was push himself harder in the weight room, faster on the field, always looking for the edge.

“Look”—Aaron turned to his agent—“I give everything I’ve got on that field. The 49ers aren’t paying me to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d like to take a look at this.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a few pages stapled together. “AOL did a vote last night over a six-hour window.” He moved the document close enough for Aaron to see. “They asked the public if the story about you and the teenage girl lowered their opinion of America’s favorite quarterback.”

His heart beat a little faster than before. “They did that?”

“Look at the results.”

Aaron peered at the columns beneath the question. Sixty-three percent said the story had harmed the way they saw him. He winced. “Who verifies that garbage?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bill flicked the paper. “Everyone who reads it takes it as truth, and in the process it becomes truth. Whether it’s true or not.”

“What’s the second page?”

“Two faxes from your top sponsors. They’re advising you to clean up your image or else.”

Aaron flipped the first page and stared at the first fax. “They’re threatening to cut me? Because of one story?”

“They can do that.” Your sponsors are in the business to sell tennis shoes and sportswear. They make their money on a clean-cut image. The good kids, the athletes—they wear the stuff.”

Aaron understood. He pictured himself sitting at the table with his offensive line Saturday night. The blonde vixen had lured him into the parking lot in no time. But who could’ve seen it leading to this? He sighed. “So what’s next?”

“Damage control.” He pushed the papers toward Aaron. “Keep that as an incentive.”

“Meaning what, an autograph session after practice?”

“You’re supposed to be doing that anyway.” The stress showed in the shadows on Bill’s face. “I was thinking more like this pizza thing Derrick Anderson is doing. Helping out with foster kids.”

Aaron tightened the muscles in his jaw. Derrick Anderson. The coaching staff had run the acquisition by him before they hired him: “He’ll be like a mentor, Aaron. Someone to help ground you a little.” From the beginning Aaron didn’t like the idea. Derrick was a legend. He would hardly go quietly into the night, so what place did he have on the 49ers? Aaron was the star quarterback of this franchise.

But the front office suits had their minds made up, and in the end Aaron had little choice except to make the best of it.

Aaron rocked back in his chair again. “So, go to the next pizza party with him? That’s what you want?”

“It’d be easy. The team hosts the Bears Thursday night, so Friday’ll be light practice. Spend the evening with a bunch of kids at a youth center, and people will think a whole lot more of you than they do today.”

Hanging around a bunch of kids no one else wanted? He had nothing to offer kids like that. He could think of a dozen ways he’d rather spend a Friday night, but the letters from his sponsors were serious business. He didn’t care about being good, but he cared about his sponsors. He could go with Derrick once, couldn’t he? Put in an appearance.

Bill was moving ahead, talking about the logistics. “I’ve already asked Derrick. He says you can join him, no problem. Once you commit, I’ll tip off the media. Tell ’em if they want to see the real Aaron Hill, they can catch him by surprise at the Mission Youth Center.”

“Won’t they see through that?” Aaron didn’t like the idea, but there was no other way. If the stunt was going to work to improve his image, then the media had to capture it.

“This city loves you, friend.” He gave a wary laugh. “Even now. Give them a reason to catch you doing something good and it’ll be front-page news. I promise.”

Aaron didn’t need long to think about it. He had no choice. “Fine. But just once. If I need a charity, it’ll be something less personal, raising money for a Little League park, something like that.” He raised one eyebrow. “Kid charities are for the married guys, right? That’s what you always told me, right?”

“That was in your first few years.” The lines at the corners of Bill’s eyes looked deeper. “To be honest, you’d be better off meeting a nice girl and settling down. You stay single much longer and people will peg you a playboy. I told you that last year, remember?”

Bill was probably right. He usually was. The agent had been with Aaron from the beginning, back when he was a sophomore in college. Bill couldn’t legally sign Aaron until after college, but he hung around, handing out free advice and connecting Aaron with the best trainers and dieticians and financial planners. His UCLA coach warned him about Bill and anyone else too anxious to step in and help Aaron make decisions. But by the time he graduated from UCLA, Bill was more a father to him than his own dad.

Which was why, when Amy called and said she was pregnant, Aaron talked to Bill first.

Good thing. Bill did some checking and found out Amy was seeing other guys on the side. Aaron was shocked, stunned. If Bill hadn’t had exact times and places where she’d been, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. He had loved Amy, and the news crushed him as nothing else ever had.

Bill apologized for bringing the truth to light, but Aaron didn’t fault him. In fact, after losing Amy, the hint of doubt Aaron had harbored about Bill and his motives disappeared. Aaron moved into his pro career trusting Bill Bond completely. Everything Bill said made sense. And Bill had a lot to say—especially about Aaron’s private life.

“You’re better off single,” Bill had always told him. “More marketable. A relationship will threaten your role as America’s heartthrob.” And always he would add, “Whatever you do, Hill, don’t get someone pregnant. It’d be a death knell to your image.”