Hail Mary (7 page)

Nothing about the prior night with Michael sat well with her. Everything started out fine, with a modicum of promise, at least a promise of an enjoyable evening spent in the company of an attractive man who was smart and, if not charming, at least a decent conversationalist. Then, like a stink-bomb ignited by one of her students in class, the night morphed into something ugly and unpleasant, awkward in both things said and unsaid.

Before she could search for her under-used running shoes, her house phone rang. Since a whole two people had her number, she knew it had to be one of her parents before she even checked out caller ID.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Well, hello there. I was hoping to catch you.”

“You caught me. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Dad and I ran to the grocery store this morning and then we had to head over to the pharmacy since it’s the only store in town that carries those footpads your father’s so partial to. Then we went over to Ray’s and grabbed a burger. He’s taking a nap right now because we’ve got the Dukes coming over for euchre tonight and you know how hard it is for that man to stay up past ten o’clock. That’s us. What are you up to?”

Her mom’s dulcet, slightly husky tones were the balm to her frayed nerves. Hearing her voice released tension Mary wasn’t even aware she was holding in her shoulders and reminded her that she’d been delinquent in her check-ins with her parents. Never intrusive nor nosy, her parents tended to wait for her calls, but if she didn’t call at least twice a week, one of them, usually her mother, called her to make sure everything was alright.

“Nothing, much.”
Nothing other than pining after a man who wi
ll likely never give me the time of day and was a rude prick to me last night. But nothing other than that.
“I ran my errands this morning and I’m trying to figure out the rest of my day.”

“Are you going out tonight?”

“No, probably not. I had a long week so it’ll be good for me to stay in tonight and chillax with Max.”

“How is my boy?” her mother asked, her affection apparent in her voice. Her parents were about as upset as Max moving as they were to see her move.

“He’s great. Loving life.”

“Is everything okay, honey? You sound tense.”

Trust her mother to pick up on her anxiety from three thousand miles away. A lot of parents were great at a lot of things. One of her mother’s many gifts was intuition, particularly when it came to her only child, although Mary rarely confided in her about romantic topics. Men, sex, and her mother didn’t mix.

“I’m alright, just tired, Mom,” she hedged.

After saying their goodbyes and promising her mom she’d be the one to place the next call, she determined the only way to excise Michael from her mind was to push her body to physical exhaustion and hit the gym.

~ * ~ * ~

Across the country in Philadelphia that same afternoon, Michael shredded his arms with the free weights, gritting through the pain as he tried to run away from thoughts that circled in his head like sharks, striking as soon as he thought he was safe. Then, all of a sudden, he’d be struck again by what a complete and utter dick he’d been the night before to a lovely woman who’d given him way more attention and time than an ass like him deserved. Having a sense of decency was so not who he was, on any level, and certainly not where women were concerned.

His conscience rearing its dormant head was like being splashed in the face by a drunk fan. Completely unexpected and unwanted. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he woke up in the morning had stayed with him all day, like a virus he could neither ignore nor shake despite his best efforts. The more he tried to rationalize his behavior and forget about it, the more images of Mary’s smile and her kind eyes filled him and gutted him with shame.

Unlike him, Mary had probably never done a blame-worthy thing in her entire life. She’d probably never lost her patience with anyone, or lashed out at an undeserving recipient. Maybe he was putting her on a pedestal, but next to him, she was a saint. A paragon of virtue to his grim reaper.

“How the hell did I know to find you here?”

Murray’s voice boomed across the gym. Great. Just fucking great. One of the two people he didn’t want to see the most right now.

“You know, I’m not Shalvington or any of the other office staff, so I’m not going to wait around until you deign to acknowledge me, Your Highness,” Murray quipped, settling in across from Michael.

“What do you want?”

“I’d like world peace. I’d like to end all childhood diseases and find a cure for cancer. I’d like to find woman with a centerfold’s body, a CEO’s brain, and an inheritance to rival Bill Gates. But I’ll settle for five minutes of your fucking time.”

Michael set the weights down, studied his captain, and contemplated his options. He could maintain his silence until Murray disclosed the reason for his pre-dinner visit. They were at the hotel and most of his teammates had undoubtedly made dinner plans or were already off. Murray was likely already late for joining them. He could politely ask him what he wanted. Or he could tell him to fuck off.

“Yeah?” he sneered, eager for this little visit to end. The sooner Murray got off his chest whatever compelled him to break his away-game dinner routine, the better off they’d both be.

“I’m worried about Campbell. He’s not exploding off the line like he used to.”

Campbell, the Tide’s other defensive end, worked in tandem with Michael, wreaking havoc on opposing offenses.

“He’ not twenty-two any longer, Murray. I’d think a seasoned veteran like yourself would appreciate the experience Campbell brings to the position.”

Murray tightened his lips and crossed his arms. “You know this has got absolutely nothing to do with Campbell’s age or experience. Is something else going on with him that I don’t know about?”

“Well, Dr. Phil, I’m not exactly sure how he’s feeling these days, but I’m sure if you ask him, you two can have a real heart-to-heart.”

“You know, Santiago, you’re a real prick, but I don’t give a shit because you make up for it on the field and you don’t cause me any grief. Usually. But for your information, I could give less than a flying fuck about Campbell’s, as you put it, ‘feelings.’ What I was inquiring about, if you’d think with the pea-size brain the good lord bestowed on your sorry ass, was whether physically there’s something going on that you’ve noticed. If he’s got problems, you and I need to make sure we cover for him with our calls. Philly is fucking fast on the draw and the last thing we need is Campbell having delayed reactions on the field. Our hands will be full as is and the last thing we both want is giving that fuck Johnson any opportunity to play.”

Michael felt himself coloring at Murray’s well-deserved rebuke. As the team’s defensive captain, Murray looked out for all of “his players.” Due to the league’s rules along with their egos, players frequently failed to mention any physical ailments to their coaches or the trainers for fear of being replaced, particularly veteran players who were watching the recent draft selections, biding their time until it was their chance for their professional debut. In this case, the Tide had drafted Tamar Johnston to replace Campbell. But not until retirement. Certainly, no sooner.

“If there is something wrong with him, I’m not aware of it,” Michael said.

Murray looked him up and down before evidently deciding he was telling the truth. “You’re a lot of things, Santiago, but you’re not a liar. If I noticed how slow he was in practice, you can damn well guarantee Coach picked up on it. If Campbell doesn’t perform at his optimum best tomorrow, Johnson will not waste a second running Coach’s ear off about how he should be starting in his place. Think about it.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Murray? Ask him if he’s feeling alright? Jesus.”

“What I want and what I’ll settle for are two different things. Tomorrow when we’re dressing and you and Campbell are warming up, subtly try and feel him out. Fuck, I don’t know. Tell him you’re sore as shit from all that extra bullshit you do and see if he says anything. Look, you know me. I won’t out him. I won’t tell anyone, but if something’s wrong, you and I need to be prepared to defend the line and the wide-outs tomorrow and minimize Campbell as much as we can. That’s all.”

Picking up his weights again, he said, “Alright. I’ll see what I can do, but you should know, Campbell and I don’t talk much.”

“Of course you don’t, Mr. Silent. Talking to you is like paying taxes for other people. Something only to be done out of necessity and then with the least amount of effort as humanly possible so that no one will notice what you’re doing.”

Michael continued with his reps, refusing to rise to the bait.

“You know, the City of Brotherly Love has a lot of exceptional restaurants. If you joined us tonight at one of Philadelphia’s fine establishments, you might have the opportunity to use the speech muscles you keep under lock and key.”

“And I’d want to do that why? So I can hear all you fools talk about how awesome each of you are. How many chicks’ numbers you’ve received since we landed? How everyone’s gonna fuck someone up tomorrow for the Eagles? It sounds fascinating, but I’d rather trim my toe nails.”

Murray laughed, his chuckle having the same boom-like quality as his voice, amplifying throughout the gym.

“Cynical, much? Seriously, Santiago, you have no idea what we talk about at dinner because you can never be bothered to come. You don’t know anything about your teammates.”

“I know exactly what I need to know, which is what everyone’s position is and how they play.”

Murray shook his head. “If you didn’t make more than me, I’d almost feel sorry for you, Santiago. With a world view like yours, you’re going to end up a lonely, bitter man. Your teammates are a lot more than the sum of their parts on the field. If you took five minutes, you’d know that. You might even decide you liked them. I know, actually
enjoying
something is so not who you are, but your career is a gift numerous men would kill for. You should appreciate it because before you know it, retirement will be staring you in the face, unblinking and unrelenting. You should think about it now and think what you want your future to look like.”

“First Dr. Phil and now Oprah. Thanks for the pep talk, Murray, but I’m doing just fine on my own. So, unless you want to discuss my performance on the field, why don’t we just call it a night?”

Murray inhaled a deep breath and then spoke. “Because you’re younger than me, I’m going to ignore the blatant hostility in your tone and chalk it up to professional jealousy. No one’s saying you need to make your teammates your best friends. Hell, no one on this team is anyone who’s going to stand up for me at my yet-to-be-planned wedding. The point is, we’re in this city together, tonight, all away from home and if you gave your teammates half a chance, you might find out they’re not as bad as or as self-centered as you think. You might surprise yourself and have a halfway decent time. You
know
I know my way through the culinary experience in this town.”

Michael considered him briefly before responding. “Johnson’s an asshole.”

“Hell, yes, he’s an asshole. Everybody knows it. You ever think that maybe if you came out and socialized with him, you’d be able to put the little monster in his place and remind him that he’s a fucking rookie who isn’t fit to tie your cleats? You ever consider how much pure fun you could have fucking with that little douche bag? You could have a helluva time totally messing with him. And because it’d be coming from you, he wouldn’t expect it nor know how to handle it. Shit. That might possibly be the most entertaining event I have yet to experience.”

The visual Murray planted in his mind held a certain appeal, but hanging out with his teammates had never been a part of his social life. Fuck, he’d never had a social life.

And he liked it that way. Things were better the way they were. No changes. No additions. No female distractions. No girlfriends. No expectations outside of his professional career and the goals set by him, his coaches, and his teammates. That was enough. It had to be.

“I’m going to finish my workout, but you enjoy yourself,” Michael said, turning away, deliberately telling Murray their meeting was over.

“You change your mind, you’ve got my cell. Text me and I’ll tell you where we’re at. Don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath,” Murray said as Michael watched him in the mirrors exit.

As his captain, Michael’s relationship with Murray was complicated. Murray was one of the toughest teammates Michael had ever played with. He demanded a lot of himself and his teammates, which he respected the hell out of. For years, he’d been trying to convince Michael to socialize with him and others, but it wasn’t his way. Never had been, never would be.

Mary would love him
, he thought, hating the fact that she’d immediately popped into his head after the short respite Murray’d provided. If this continued and she still distracted him from the task at hand tomorrow, he was seriously screwed. Not since he was an adolescent had he been unable to completely put something out of his mind, especially when he needed to perform on the field. Ever since he’d left her the night before, it was as though Mary had dug in and planted herself firmly at the forefront of his cerebral cortex and refused to budge.

During the entire flight to Philadelphia, he’d mentally replayed all the offensive plays the Eagles held in their arsenal and the expected defensive calls. But bit by bit, her expressions and her face would pop in, intruding, reminding him of his behavior the previous night.

Stubborn, beautiful female.

Chapter 5

Sunday afternoon, Michael realized at the beginning of the third quarter against the Eagles that they had their work cut out for them. The Tide was down twenty-seven to ten, not an insurmountable lead, but given the way Philly was playing and the Tide’s own serious errors, it felt like forty-five to three. The team needed to put this one in the “W” category any way they could, be it solid, beautiful, or ugly. The Eagles were doing everything to prevent it, from the never-ending blitzes against Johansen, to their special teams having already blocked two punts. The Eagles were locked in a battle for the top spot in the NFC East division while the Tide was battling to stay alive in the NFC West. It was do-or-die for the Tide. They had to win this game in order for them to have any hope of post-season action. A loss would almost certainly eliminate any hope for reaching the playoffs.