The black Continental glided almost silently through the dark, narrow maze of streets. It was almost as if whoever had laid out the city of Grosse Pointe Farms had wanted to make it difficult for a stranger to find anything. Perhaps that had been the intent.
Bobby Cobb, however, knew where he was going. He’d been there many times. Usually, as was the case now, for a postgame party. It didn’t much matter whether the Cougars won or lost; there were postgame parties virtually all over the Detroit area. The prestige of these parties could be measured by the quantity and quality of real-life football players in attendance. Obviously, it was the fate of most parties, given the relative paucity of players, to remain plebeian.
The Continental began encountering a solid series of parked, mostly luxury cars. He was nearing his destination.
Several attendants blocked the semicircular driveway at the Lake Shore address. They were there to block entry to anyone but the arriving Cougars and to park their cars. Nonplayer guests might have to park quite a distance away. But the players had run as far as they would be required to for this day.
Cobb slid gracefully from his car, leaving the motor purring. A young attendant, newly hired for this job, held the door for him. Admiration was evident in the attendant’s eyes. Quickly, he studied Cobb as thoroughly as possible. It would be his responsibility to describe the famous quarterback to his fellow students at the University of Detroit Dental School tomorrow. They would want to know all about Cobb. And the attendant would tell them. About Cobb’s sharply chiseled features; his chocolate-colored face and hands; his closely cropped, kinky black hair with the trace of gray at the temples; the blue turtleneck, maroon blazer, and gray slacks, none of which could hide the rippling muscles beneath; and those huge hands, which, when wrapped around a football, made it appear to be no larger than a grapefruit.
Cobb was aware in general of what the attendant was thinking. It was not an uncommon reaction to his presence. In a few moments, the same sort of phenomenon would occur at the party inside this mansion.
Cobb understood the phenomenon. He not only understood it, he utilized it. As he did with almost everything else that suited his purpose.
Professional football players, particularly the stars, or, as they were more commonly called in the game, pheenoms, were celebrities. Their photos appeared in the newspapers. They were interviewed on television. Stories were written about them in magazines. Most important, on Sundays, occasionally on the other days of the week they performed.
Detractors tried to disparage their work by claiming they were paid extremely well simply to play a child’s game. Further, that their IQs qualified them for little more than children’s games.
There was no denying that some, the pheenoms, were paid exceedingly well. But their profession had developed into a science of precision and perfection, with physical and mental rigors that few with smug intellects could have met.
In any case, they were certified celebrities. Their fame was equaled by few aficionados of their sport. And those few fans who could match the players press clipping for press clipping nearly always lacked the players’ physical presence. The players, almost all of them, lived up to the description “bigger than life.”
All of this subliminal self-awareness accompanied Bobby Cobb as he entered the mansion.
“Hey! Hi, Bobby! What’s happenin’?”
Damn! He couldn’t see who had greeted him. He couldn’t see a thing. Long ago someone had decreed that to be intimate, luxurious and stylishly pretentious rooms had to be kept so dark that it required half an evening for one’s eyes to grow accustomed to the dimness.
“Yeah,” Cobb responded blindly, “how’s it goin’ with you?” He hoped there was no hand raised for a high five. If there was, he certainly could not make it out.
Cobb remained near the door, waiting for his vision to adjust, and noncommittally returning salutations to blurry figures, all of whom seemed friendly. Gradually, he was able to see sufficiently to chance leaving his island of security.
An arm fell heavily across his shoulders. Cobb tensed instinctively but briefly, then smiled. People shouldn’t do that to an athlete, especially during the playing season. If Cobb had been a lineman or a linebacker, the gentleman standing next to him might be flat on his back nursing some broken part of his body. All a matter of conditioned reflexes.
“Bobby, how’re you doing?”
“A little sore, sir. But I guess that’s to be expected.”
Cobb recognized the voice instantly. Senior partner in one of Detroit’s most outstanding law firms. And important to Bobby Cobb, who was only a few scholastic hours and a bar exam away from becoming a lawyer.
“Waiter,” the attorney beckoned, “get Mr. Cobb here a drink, will you? What’re you drinking, Bobby?”
“Dewars on the rocks.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Cobb.” The waiter hurried off.
“That last series of plays this afternoon, Bobby, that wasn’t like you, keepin’ the ball on the ground.” The lawyer, arm entwined in Cobb’s, tried to steer him off into a corner.
“I’m not the coach, sir.”
“So it wasn’t your idea.” The lawyer seemed gratified.
“No, sir.” Cobb tried to communicate the impression that he could take orders, which was the truth.
“What would you have done if you were the coach? What would you have done if the coach had given you your head?”
“Crossed them up. The Towers were bunched up tight. The last thing they were giving us was the run.”
“So?”
“We needed a play-action pass. Fake a run up the middle, flare out, and hit the S receiver along the sidelines. He could easily have gone all the way. Even if he hadn’t, the Towers would have been so deep in their own territory they could never have come back and scored.”
“You’d take a chance on an interception?”
“No, sir, I wouldn’t. Not as long as I was throwin’ the ball.”
The lawyer smiled again. Cobb had demonstrated that he was a take-charge guy with plenty of self- confidence. Just the kind of personality one might want in one’s law firm.
In Cobb’s plans for himself was a partnership in this prestigious law firm; building and enhancing his reputation. Then a jump to the political arena. Mayor of Detroit, if that were possible without a term on the city council. Then, bypassing Lansing, on to the House, and eventually the U.S. Senate.
It was all well within the realm of possibility. He had the talent. All that was needed was promotion. He needed every headline, every moment on camera that he could get.
His only competition for the limelight was that damned Hunsinger. The Hun with his strong local popularity. U of M to the Cougars. A playboy lifestyle that kept him in the forefront of everything from the sports pages to the nightly news to the gossip columns. Hunsinger could catch a football. Outside of that singular accomplishment, the Hun wasn’t worth a pile of crap.
The waiter slipped Cobb’s drink into his hand, measuring the enormousness of that hand against his own. All this was so that tomorrow he could describe to his friends, with a little embellishment, the legend of a quarterback’s mitt.
“You’re coming up for the bar pretty soon, aren’t you, Bobby?” The lawyer turned to face Cobb.
“Yes, sir.”
“Listen, why don’t you come see me after the season? Just give my girl a ring. Maybe we can do business together. Would you like that?” He knew the question was rhetorical.
“Yes, sir, I would. Very much.”
“Hey, Bobby, c’mon over here!” One of the other Cougars was calling from across the room.
“Would you excuse me, sir?”
“Of course.” The lawyer patted Cobb’s arm and directed at him a benevolent paternal look that carried the unspoken bromide, Be good, but if you can’t be good, be careful. “Go on, now. Have a good time. God knows you paid your dues this afternoon.”
Cobb inched his way across the room. With the wall-to-wall crowd, each person was a new obstacle. Almost everyone wanted to talk to him. Several asked about the conservative play of that last series. Each time, he passed the question off with a brief, flip explanation. The only person in the room entitled to a detailed explanation was
