Safety Net (43 page)

“That was bad officiating, plain
and simple,” said Mama. “But the real problem is he’s alone out there.
Absolutely alone. No one’s protecting his plays and who are his receivers? Who?”

Lowell sighed in frustration. “I
had such high hopes when they signed that wide receiver from Rutgers. Then they
said they were trading him! What the hell?”

“If they could get Jerrod Borman
out of it, that’d be one thing,” Mama said wistfully.

Erick snuck off and left for his
run, processing the fact that Lowell and Mama had bonded while commiserating
over Erick and his team’s disappointing season.

When he got back after his run, he
met Daddy on his way out. Daddy was going golfing with his friends and was
clearly happy to get away from the women for a day.

While Erick showered, Candace
brought him an iced tea and said something about going shopping he didn’t
entirely catch. He took his iced tea downstairs and surfed for something to
watch, wondering where everybody was.

Lowell came in, took the remote
from his hand, and pulled him up from the sofa. “C’mere, you,” he said, sliding
his hands down Erick’s back and over his hips.

Erick glanced around the room and
Lowell kissed his neck. “It’s okay. They’re gone. Candace, Marie, and your mom
went grocery shopping. I’ve been grocery shopping with Marie. They’ll be gone
at least an hour. Maybe longer if she can’t find the right kind of tofu.”

Lowell ran his hands under Erick’s
shirt and gazed into his eyes. “We’re alone, and if you think I can keep my
hands off of you, you’re delusional.”

Erick grabbed his neck and kissed
him hard. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said, taking Lowell’s hand and leading the
way. He was about to take Lowell to the master suite before he thought of all
the reasons why that might not be a good idea. He detoured to the extra
bedroom, too small to be the weight room and without its own bath.

He closed the door and locked it,
which would be a dead giveaway if anyone came home and looked for them, but no
more of a dead giveaway than someone walking in on them naked. Lowell pulled
his clothes off and got on the bed, on top of the comforter. Erick stripped and
joined him, sliding over him, kissing him.

They couldn’t stop touching each
other, couldn’t stop kissing. Erick had so much he wanted to say to Lowell but
couldn’t waste their precious time with words. He wrapped his hand around
Lowell’s hard-on and stroked him to climax, going as slow as he dared while
Lowell moaned and writhed. Barely catching his breath, Lowell eased him back
and shifted to take him into his mouth. Erick shuddered and pushed, and Lowell
hungrily sucked him off.

They lay in silence afterwards and
Erick listened for sounds in the house. Lowell got up and unlocked the door,
peering around before sneaking out to the hall bathroom to wash up. Erick
followed, bringing their clothes, and silently they dressed. Erick pulled
Lowell into a slow, caressing kiss.

“I miss you so much,” Lowell said,
brushing his lips against Erick’s.

“I know. Me too.”

They went downstairs and sat on the
sofa and turned on the TV with the sound low.

“Dale thinks we’re lunatics,” Erick
said.

“Dale could be right about that.”

“I’m supposed to takes notes and
video of Marie for him. He’s dying of curiosity.” Erick decided there was no
point in avoiding the elephant in the room any longer.

Lowell ran his hands through his
hair -- trimmed shorter than Erick liked, falling above his jaw.

“Marrying her was the biggest
mistake of my life,” Lowell said quietly.

Erick didn’t feel relief or elation
hearing this; he felt guilty and infinitely sad. He slid his arms around Lowell
and hugged him tightly for a moment. Letting go, he asked, “Why did you marry
her?”

Lowell shook his head. “I don’t
know. I mean, she’s pretty and smart and loves sports, loves football. And she likes
to take care of me. I think that’s what drew me to her more than anything.
Having someone taking care of me. It’s nice, y’know?”

Erick, watching Lowell, said, “I do
know, yeah.”

“I was alone out there. And you
know what it’s like. Practically all the guys are married or in long-term
relationships. The guys that aren’t are players, and that... I didn’t want to
go down that road again.” Lowell glanced at Erick.

Erick nodded. “Yeah, it’s the same
here.”

Lowell picked at his fingernails. “I
should’ve known it was a bad sign that I didn’t call you and Dale to tell you.
I mean, I must’ve known deep down it was a mistake. But going to Vegas was
gonna be fun and I got caught up in it. Then as soon as the wedding was over, I
was like, oh fuck, this was a huge mistake. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell
her I wanted to turn around and undo it. So here I am.”

“I’d hoped you’d found your
Candace,” Erick said.

Lowell smiled a little. “Candace is
a one-of-a-kind.”

“Believe me, I know how lucky I am.”

Lowell patted Erick’s knee. “Good.
I’m glad.”

Erick rubbed Lowell’s hand. “What
are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Lowell said,
frowning.

They were watching baseball when
the women came back from grocery shopping. Mama and Daddy were leaving the next
day and Mama wanted to make pork chops, Erick’s favorite of her signature dishes.
As a concession, Marie was in charge of all the vegetable side dishes.

“And I’m in charge of dessert,” Candace
announced, grinning as she pulled a ready-made peach pie out of a bag.

Erick kissed her forehead. “Top
chef,” he murmured.

“God invented bakeries for a
reason,” she said, poking his ribs.

Daddy came home in time for dinner,
which was delicious and without drama, though Lowell was so sedate Erick couldn’t
stop worrying about him. After dinner, Daddy wanted to talk privately about
some business stuff, and Lowell and Marie had gone to bed by the time Erick
came out of the sunroom. Mama and Candace were watching TV together, relaxed
and possibly in a truce.

He sat in bed later, and Candace
massaged his shoulders and neck and said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Erick, eyes closed, trying to
unwind, said, “Not really.” He sighed and opened his eyes. “Lowell’s not happy.
He said marrying Marie was a mistake.”

“Obviously,” Candace commented. “Oh,
she’s not a
bad
person, but I honestly don’t see the attraction. She
doesn’t seem like his type.”

“No. I don’t think she is.” Erick
blew out a breath and reached back to pat Candace’s knee. “Not everyone’s lucky
enough to meet their Candace.”

Candace wrapped her arms around his
neck and kissed his cheek. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to meet their Erick.”

Mama and Daddy left the next day.
Marie made dinner that evening, rosemary-garlic chicken and grilled fresh
asparagus, and it was actually delicious. But the dinner conversation tended
toward her ideas for improving nutrition within the NFL and Lowell, as the
work-in-progress, sounded too much like her lab rat. She also angled for details
on Erick’s contract, in an unobtrusive, curious way, but Erick wouldn’t give
anything away; frustrated, she blabbed too much about Lowell’s contract. Lowell
hardly spoke and looked weary.

It was the last night of their
visit. After dinner, Lowell and Erick went out onto the deck and watched the
sunset in storm clouds passing over. Erick brought them bottles of beer, and
Lowell said, “Don’t you need a pool table to drink beer?”

Erick tapped Lowell’s forehead with
his beer bottle. “Smartass.”

“Come out to Portland,” Lowell said
suddenly. “Come visit.”

“I will.” Erick hesitated. “It
might not be until after the season’s over. Unless I can find a way to stop by
after the Seattle game, but it’s not easy.”

“I was wondering how I could see
you after we play New England.”

Erick took a small drink of beer. “I
looked at your schedule. We’re on the road that week.”

“Oh, that’s right. Shit.”

Candace slid the glass door open
and stepped outside. “Oh, it’s
quiet
out here,” she said, the hidden
meaning of which --
I’m escaping Marie’s incessant prattle
-- wasn’t
lost on Erick or, he was sure, Lowell. The three of them stayed on the deck for
a while before Lowell went back inside. Erick put his arm around Candace.

“I just want to hug him all the
time,” Candace said. “Poor Lowell.”

Erick sighed and held her close. “I
know the feeling.”

“Welcome to
NFL Countdown
.
Our top story tonight is Shane Benjamin and the New Haven Hawks. Brian, can you
tell us what the news from New Haven is?”

“Dave, today the New Haven Hawks
announced that Shane Benjamin has undergone back surgery. His doctor says the
surgery went as expected. Word from the Hawks is that Benjamin is not attending
training camp and will not be playing in any preseason games.”

“Will he be able to play in the
regular season?”

“We don’t have any word on that,
but I spoke to some sports medicine experts and they said it’s unlikely. The
exact nature of Shane’s surgery hasn’t been released yet so we don’t know the
details. But according to the experts any kind of back surgery is a major thing
to come back from.”

“Well, we wish Shane Benjamin all
the best for a healthy recovery. But Brian, this is a golden opportunity for Erick
West, who many commentators have written off as a bust.”

“That’s right, Dave. Though as I’ve
said before, I think the judgments on Erick West have been premature. He
started in only two games for the Hawks last season. One of those was a win
over Philadelphia, who finished with a nine-and-seven season. This will be a
great chance for Erick West to show why he was the number one draft pick last
year.”

“A lot of pressure on West. Can the
New Haven Hawks be turned around by a change in quarterback? When the
exhibition season starts next week, we may find out. Coming up on
NFL
Countdown
, we go to Cleveland to take a look at another team trying to be
relevant again.”

-----

The first thing Lowell did after
the divorce was get a dog. He’d been drawn to pit bulls because of Lucy but
when he went to the no-kill rescue shelter George’s dog-sitter lady
recommended, he fell head over heels for a Boston terrier. He named him Bean,
because when he was curled up sleeping the shape reminded Lowell of a kidney
bean.

It was kind of crazy, Lowell knew,
because it was the middle of the season. But they were home for the next two
games and their bye week was after that. Annie from Player Relations had found
Lowell a nice apartment in a pet-friendly building a couple of the other guys
lived in. George’s dog-sitter lady hooked him up with another one -- Lowell
imagined a whole underground network of dog-sitter ladies stretching across the
state.

Bean was the best dog ever. The
shelter had rescued him from a puppy farm when he was just a week old and had
raised him well and given him some training so he could be adopted. Lowell took
him to a dog park a good workout walk away and played with him, and Bean did
funny things and attracted other dog lovers, so Lowell met a lot of friendly
people that way. One guy even recognized him as being on the team, though he
didn’t remember Lowell’s name or position until Lowell told him.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’ve
been playing with Jennings sometimes.”

“And with Pell a couple of games.
We’re trying out different line-ups.” In actual fact, the coaches were trying
to determine who’d make the best TE duo: Pell and Lowell or Jennings and
Lowell. Lowell had, seemingly overnight, become the starting TE.

Jennings was cool with things. Said
he’d predicted as much when Lowell was signed. He didn’t say so, but Lowell had
a gut feeling that Jennings was thinking about retiring. Pell had once
mentioned Jennings’s daily doses of painkillers and he hadn’t been
exaggerating.

The main factor in Lowell becoming
a starter was Kellen Forrester’s confidence in him, though Forrester had never
said anything about it directly to Lowell. But word got around and Pell had
heard about it and had told Lowell, resentment mingling with respect.

Being starting TE, however, meant
more pressure and more schedule, which did sort of argue against getting a dog
during the season. But Lowell didn’t want to put it off because he really
wanted a dog and because he didn’t want Marie to think she was right.

Lowell and Marie had been married
for eight months. Eight months longer than it should have been, Lowell
admitted. He’d known it was a mistake as soon as they left the chapel. The
attraction, the distraction, of Marie had fallen away in that moment, and he’d
started seeing her as she truly was and not the ideal of the caring girlfriend
he’d invented.

Living with her, finding ways to
cope with his mistake, had been tolerable until they went to New Haven. It wasn’t
just seeing Erick again and wanting him more than anything. It was seeing Erick
with Candace and how funny and awesome Candace was. Hell, even seeing Mr. and
Mrs. West together, observing how they played off each other, had made Lowell
see just how fucked-up his marriage was.

Marie wanted to take care of him
because it was her way of controlling him. She wasn’t evil; she wasn’t even
aware of being a dominating control freak. But she could, Lowell thought, kill
him with her good intentions. The things she did and thought were so wonderful
were the very things driving him up the wall.

There had been rocks in the road
before New Haven. After New Haven, Lowell wanted out. He figured out all her
buttons (her personality made it easy) and pushed them repeatedly until he was
driving her crazy. By the time he asked for a divorce, she reacted with relief.

The things Lowell had to do to end
his marriage had made him a person he didn’t like. He didn’t want to be that
person ever again. In his mind, he pictured a list of things to do in life and
checked off “marriage” and moved on.

It was another reason why he got
Bean. He wanted to be good and kind and caring to someone again, and he could
be that with Bean and Bean wouldn’t lay any heavy relationship drama on him in
return.

Lowell, divorced dog owner and
starting TE, was more or less content this season, until they went on the road
to play Cleveland.

-----

It was December and there was an
early cold snap followed by a storm front, leading to a respectable downfall of
lake-effect snow. Lowell, growing up near Lake Michigan, knew all about
lake-effect snow. Cleveland was grey and dreary, and it made Lowell restless.

The other problem with Cleveland
was that Ryan Hutchinson was their new QB. Lowell hadn’t seen or talked to Ryan
since Ryan left Crocker. Erick had told him about the phone call, had been
impressed with Ryan as a changed man, but Lowell wasn’t convinced. He’d never
forgotten how Ryan made Erick feel like shit throughout freshman year.

Annoyingly, Hutchinson was a better
QB than Forrester. The rest of Cleveland’s offense, Lowell wasn’t sure about.
He hoped Portland’s D could pound them into insignificance. He didn’t want to
lose to Ryan Hutchinson.

In the end, they didn’t lose,
though it was a near-run thing. Cleveland’s offense made more penalties than
they should. The Knights’ defense made the most of it and rattled them as much
as possible. But Forrester didn’t have his best night and neither did Lowell,
fumbling one catch in the second quarter, and getting a rough tackle in the
fourth. In the third, Lowell did manage a touchdown reception, which ended up
being the Knights’ last score of the 17-14 game.

Usually after a game, especially on
the road, exhaustion hit him as soon as he left the locker room. Today the
restlessness didn’t leave him, and his mood wasn’t helped by meeting Ryan after
the game. Ryan sought him out and took him aside and shook hands, wanting to
talk about Crocker and make amends. Lowell resisted pushing him away and
walking out -- there were some reporters hovering not too far away -- but he
honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Ryan Hutchinson becoming a born-again
decent guy. Too little, too late. He tried to smile as Ryan wished him well.

Lowell didn’t feel like going back
to the hotel so he went to a club with Pell and their cornerback Joachim Winter,
who was one of the team’s tomcats. Winter said it was a gentleman’s club; in
reality it was a high-end strip joint with hostesses in lacy underwear serving
drinks and sitting on laps while plastic-enhanced babes danced on a low-lit
stage. Pell and Winter got into it, but it was exactly not the kind of place
Lowell wanted to be in, so he begged off early, saying he was exhausted.

He caught a cab back to the hotel
but on the way, he asked the driver if there was a decent, quiet bar nearby
where he could watch some sports. He stressed
quiet
. The driver was a
young guy from Lebanon and tried his best to be helpful but clearly didn’t have
an intimate knowledge of Cleveland’s nightlife. After calling his dispatcher
for some ideas, he took Lowell to a fancy downtown hotel, saying the hotel’s
bar was very good and very quiet. Lowell, dubious, paid him and went inside.

It turned out to be just what he
wanted. It was an old-fashioned, low-key hotel bar with dark wood and big
leather chairs and booths. Lowell sank into a chair in one corner where he
could see one of the TVs, ordered an expensive beer, and sat back to unwind.
The TV he was facing was running college football. He watched USC play Oregon
and felt a wistful nostalgia.

The place wasn’t busy. A few people
with conference name tags sitting at a table, an older dude by himself, and at
the bar was a young guy drinking beer and occasionally watching the closest TV.
He was dressed nicely and there was something about him that made Lowell sneak
another look. He had a friendly face and vaguely reminded Lowell of Kevin
Babcock, who liked to be friends with everybody.

At one point after the guy had
ordered a second beer, he glanced around the bar, checking out the other TVs.
His attention rested on the USC-Oregon game for a moment, and Lowell got a
better look at him. He was handsome, with high cheekbones, alert eyes, and
sensuous lips. Lowell was appreciating the look when the guy’s eyes met his.
They shared a moment -- no more than a look passing between them -- and Lowell
didn’t believe it could mean anything. What were the odds of coming across a
random guy who’d be interested in him? It was nothing more than strangers
noticing each other.

The guy got up from the bar,
carrying his beer, and came over to Lowell’s table. Standing he said, “How’s
the game?” and nodded toward USC-Oregon.

“Pretty good. But USC’s winning.” Lowell
looked into his eyes, still not believing this meant anything.

“Not an SC fan?” The guy returned
his look before briefly glancing at the TV.

“No. I went to Crocker University.
We’re kind of rivals.” Lowell made a neutral gesture to invite him to sit and
the guy took the seat next to Lowell so he could see the TV.

“Crocker. That’s a great school.” The
guy watched the screen but it had gone to commercial. He gave Lowell a long
look. “Isn’t Crocker’s rival one of the U.C. schools?”

“Not a U.C. California University
Rockridge,” Lowell corrected with a smile. “They’re our biggest rival. But all
the PWAC schools are rivals, and USC and Oregon gave us trouble on the football
field, so...” Lowell trailed off and drank the last of his beer.

“Would you like another one?” the
guy asked, already signaling the waitress.

“Thank you. By the way, I’m Lowell.”
He reached over to shake hands.

The guy met his eyes again. “I’m
Jackson. Nice to meet you.”

Jackson bought Lowell another beer,
and they talked about football while watching USC beat Oregon, 35-31. Jackson
was in Cleveland for business. He was a sales rep for a medical equipment
company based in Houston.

“A salesman, huh?” Lowell said,
inwardly disappointed. That explained Jackson’s interest in a stranger.

Jackson smiled and ran his fingers
along his beer glass. “Guilty as charged. But it’s not high pressure sales, not
like being a used car salesman. Most of my job is going to hospitals that are
already our customers and getting them to either upgrade their old equipment or
purchase some of the other instruments we make. It’s more like stopping by and
checking on friends than trying to talk them into spending their money.”

Lowell arched an eyebrow. “Hm. If
you see it that way, I have to wonder how good you are at it,” he joked.

The look Jackson gave him was
steady and filled with warmth. “Oh, I’m good. I’m really good.”

Lowell licked his lips. Maybe he
hadn’t been mistaken after all. His skin flushed from the rush of sexual
desire.

“And what brings you to Cleveland,
Lowell? Or do you live here?” Jackson’s warm gaze didn’t leave him.

“My job,” Lowell said. “I live in
Portland. I’m here for work.” Lowell glanced away briefly and noticed that they
were the only customers left. The bartender had moved to sit in front of the
bar and was watching TV.

“What do you do?” Jackson asked.

“Oh. Um.” Lowell hesitated. He
couldn’t come out and say,
I’m an NFL football player
. Not if the
situation was shaping up the way he thought it might be. “I work in the
sporting industry.”

Jackson’s look was intrigued but he
didn’t press further. He said, “Are you staying here?”

“This hotel? No, actually, I’m
across town. I came here to get away from my coworkers.” Lowell took a drink of
beer and watched Jackson. “They took me to a strip club. Not really my scene. I
asked the cab driver to take me somewhere quiet and he dropped me here.”

Jackson looked around the empty bar
and said with a low laugh, “It’s certainly quiet.”

“Dead might be another word,” Lowell
said.

Jackson’s look again made his skin
flush with heat. “Would you like to go somewhere else?”

“Sure.”

As they left the bar, Jackson said,
“Do you mind if we stop at my room?”

“No, that’s fine,” said Lowell,
licking his lips again.

They rode the old-fashioned fancy
elevator up to the fourteenth floor and Lowell followed Jackson down a hushed
hallway to his hotel room. Jackson opened the door and stepped inside. Lowell
came in after him and let the door close and stood next to it, his hands in his
pockets. Jackson wandered into the room, taking off his suit jacket and hanging
it up neatly. His shirt was a striking teal color, shiny without being tacky,
and looked great on him. Lowell noticed he had a killer physique and wondered
if he was athletic. Maybe he’d played football in school.