“You’ve definitely given me something to think about,” Dan Dorbeek told me. “I’m impressed by your thoroughness.”
“I can send you my proposal,” I said. I’d been working on it a lot, both at night where I could discuss it with César and also some on my computer at the winery during the day, which wasn’t very fair to them.
“Do that.”
“Um,” I hesitated, “one more thing. If you do decide to hire me, I would just want to be sure that it wouldn’t be due to my…uncle. Due to Warren Wilde.”
“Warren?” Dan seemed surprised. “No, it wouldn’t be. As you already know, he’ll be taking a much-reduced role with the team, and he won’t be involved in our day-to-day operations. This appearance was really his last hurrah before he moves to Arizona.”
Ellie had told me that his move was still hypothetical; apparently, it was a done deal. “Well, that’s good,” I said, forcing my voice to be hearty. “That’s great.”
“I’ll be in touch soon,” Dan told me, and I said again that it was great, and thanks. Then I continued to sneak around the practice facility, avoiding my father and looking for César.
“Boo.” Two hands gently gripped my waist and the voice spoke right in my ear. I wasn’t scared, because I knew who it was. No one else would be so careful with me.
“Hi!” I told César, turning around. “Wow, I never saw a better defensive end! You should think about switching positions.”
“I think you meant that you never saw anyone so talented at both positions I played today,” he told me, laughing. “Like, you were going to say, ‘César, what perfection, what—’”
I put my hand over his mouth. “You were great. Can I just say that?”
His lips moved against my palm, almost like he was kissing me. “Yes, that’s enough, and thank you.”
“How are you ready so fast? I thought I’d be waiting forever for you to change.”
“Well, the water in the showers is warm, but the locker room still sucks. And I didn’t want you to stand around in the cold.” His face turned serious. “I thought you might be upset about what happened at the end of the game.”
“With my father?” I asked, and he nodded. “I left the stands when I realized that he was coming out to play. I didn’t want to see the continued adulation of Warren Wilde.”
“So you didn’t see him on the field?”
“No, but I’ll tell you who I did see. Dan Dorbeek, and I tried to talk my way into a job.”
César’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Did it work? Is he going to look at the proposal you’ve been working on?”
“You know, I think he is. I think it went well! I used to love to argue people down but today I was trying to persuade him, and it worked better.”
“You, argue? I can’t believe it!” César scoffed sarcastically. “Come on, let’s get in the car and keep you two warm.”
“You’re the one who gets cold,” I told him.
“Is that the persuasion you mentioned, or the arguing you’re so good at?” he asked, and laughed.
In between him talking to fans and signing autographs as we walked to the parking lot, I asked more about the game and how Davis had been feeling.
“He seemed fine,” César answered. “He didn’t start crying in the huddle about a hangnail like your old pal Morgan. No, I think he was really ok. It was great to have him there again, after last season, and I like the new coach so far. Man, I was doing everything I could to be traded last year until we heard that Coach Trener was going.” He glanced over at me. “I know it sounds stupid, that I was getting paid so much to play a game and I was moping around about it.”
“I didn’t notice you moping. You always seemed to be trying your hardest, even when you weren’t getting the ball. That was what Ellie said, too.” At least, that was what I had noticed until I had gotten so sad that I couldn’t watch the team anymore.
“I was trying hard. But then I acted out so stupidly, too, so—”
I knew he meant me, and this was going to turn into another conversation about what a huge mistake he had made in sleeping with me, so I changed the subject. “I got invited to a party. Do you know a player named Freddy?”
“Freddy Uchida? The guy I see every single day? Yeah, I know him,” César said, and smiled. He slung his arm over my shoulders. “He asked me to drop by his house. Are you up for it?”
“Definitely,” I told him. “I want to change out of my thirty layers of clothing, brush all the tangles out of my hair, and then I want us to go.”
“I want you to have a good dinner, rest some, and then I want us to go. Fair compromise?”
“I didn’t hear those magic words…”
“Foot rub?” he asked.
I nodded. That was what I was looking for. “You know that’s the key phrase in any deal I’m involved in.”
“Fine. And you can rub out my aches and pains, because I was the one just involved in a brutal game of football.”
I came to a dead stop. “Holy shit, are you hurt? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Cammie, I’m fine.” He tugged me along. “I’m teasing you. We weren’t really hitting each other and I played for what, fifteen minutes?”
Cammie? He called me honey sometimes, too. I smiled at him. “Ok, good. You’re not allowed to get hurt, ever. Never.”
César saluted and we went home.
And nothing looked right, nothing. I tried on almost every article of clothing in my
