'You want to know the truth? There's not much to destroy. I'm a civil servant and an unfaithful husband.'
'If you're looking for pity, forget it.' Ally stood up. 'Just figure out how to get Jon out of jail. And figure out a way to get me fifty thousand dollars.' Kerrigan looked shocked. 'And don't waste your breath telling me you're a poor civil servant. Your wife and your father are rich. Get them to give you the money or get it someplace else, but get it.'
Ally pulled a minicassette from her pocket. 'Cheer up, Timmy. I give value for my money. You should know that.' She held up the cassette. 'When I get the money, you get this. It'll make your career.'
'What is that?'
'A recording of a conversation I taped at Senator Travis's fund-raiser. It's got some interesting information on it about the way the anti-cloning bill was killed in the Senate. You'll be able to make headlines with this tape that will make everyone forget about Jon Dupre. See you soon.'
Ally held the gun on Kerrigan while she moved toward the door.
'How will I get in touch?' Tim asked.
'Don't worry. I'll call you.'
The door closed behind Ally. Tim didn't move. The desk chair was uncomfortable but he didn't notice. An image of a toppling house of cards flashed in his head.
The last time they had met in this motel room, Jasmine had asked him what he wanted her to do to him and he had told her that he wanted to be punished. It would have been more accurate to tell her that he needed to be punished, that he deserved to be punished.
Kerrigan closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He was a prosecutor. His job was to make certain that criminals suffered the consequences of their acts, but he had escaped the consequences for his worst act for so long that he'd deluded himself into believing that he would escape punishment forever.
* * *
The weeks before the Rose Bowl had been a blur. The press was everywhere and the practices had been intense; and compounding the confusion were the discussions of his wedding to Cindy. It was almost impossible to find a place where he could be alone and think. Too many people wanted a piece of him, and Cindy wanted to be with him every second of the day. Tim was sharing a house with Hugh Curtin and two other players that was a nonstop party.
On a wet and cold Thursday, a week and a half before the big game, Tim had escaped to a dark booth in a workingman's bar off the interstate. The tavern was only three miles from campus but it catered to hard drinkers and had none of the ambience that attracted a college crowd. It was a place where the Pac-10s star running back could drink without being noticed.
By two in the morning, empty shot glasses were lined up in front of Tim on the scarred wood table. He'd made a solid dent in his sobriety, but he was no closer to solving his personal problems. Cindy was expecting him to marry her, but did he want to get married? He was young and he had his life ahead of him. How did he know that Cindy was The One? One thing he knew for certain-- Cindy would be crushed if he broke off their engagement. But wouldn't a momentary tragedy be better than a lifelong one?
It was well past the curfew set by the Oregon coach. If he was caught here, drunk or sober, Coach could suspend him. Tim looked around. The bar was emptying out and he still had not decided what he was going to do. Fresh air might help.
Tim pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. A gust of wind blew cold darts of rain into his face. Tim's car was in the lot but he knew better than to drive. He'd have Huge drive him over tomorrow morning. The walk back would give him time to think and sober up.
Tim had no idea how long he'd been walking when a car slowed down and paced alongside him. It was new and expensive, a rich kid's car-- the kind the sons and daughters of the Westmont Country Club crowd drove. The passenger window rolled down.
'Tim. Hey.'
It was a girl's voice. He stumbled over and ducked down so he could see the driver. She was alone.
'It's me. Melissa Stebbins.'
Tim placed her immediately. She was one of Cindy's sorority sisters. Melissa had a reputation for doing drugs, drinking, and sleeping around.
'Get in,' Melissa said.
Tim thought about refusing, but the rain had sobered him up enough to make him feel miserable walking in it. The dome light switched on when Tim opened the door. It had given Melissa a chance to see his pale face and bloodshot eyes. It had also allowed Tim to notice Melissa's breasts outlined beneath a tight sweater. He had the beginnings of a hard-on by the time he sat down.
'What are you doing out?' Melissa asked. 'Don't you jocks have a curfew?'
'I had something to do. Coach said it was okay.'
Melissa could smell the booze from across the car, and Tim looked like shit.
'Right,' she laughed. She saw the concern on Tim's face. 'Don't worry. I won't turn you in.'
The car swerved and almost went off the road.
'Whoops,' Melissa laughed as she brought the car back to the pavement. Tim realized that he wasn't the only drunk in the car and that they were heading away from his house.
'I'm over on Kirby,' Tim said.
'Fuck Kirby,' Melissa laughed.
