.~* * * ~.
The afternoon passed by in a fog asT.J. packed up essentials, notified his insurance agent, and arranged to havehis Hummer driven to Denver. Details in a list longer thanSanta’s naughty roll.
Stripped to his boxers, T.J. was heading for the shower whenhis phone rang. Finally, the call from his agent he’d been waiting for. Hepicked it up before the second ring.
“Herb.”
“T.J. How’s my favorite client?”
“The trade’s a shock, though I can’t say I’m surprised. It’sno secret Coach Rogers hates my guts and blames the whole May thing on me, eventhough he orderedthe hit.”
“Well, you’ll have a clean slate now.”
“Not exactly, Herb. This is my second stop in Colorado. Andthey suck.”
“You’ve played in Denver before, but you haven’t played for this team.Management’s changed, and they’ve hired a new head coach since you were there.”
“Yeah. Marty LeBrun. I know theguy.”
“But you’ve never played for him. From management down, thisbunch is focused on winning. They’ll do whatever it takes. Look, I’m not going to bullshit you, kid.I just found out the Earthquake was shopping Nelson before his contract was up.They wanted to get some value for him while he’s still hot. But as part of thatdeal, whoever got him had to take you.”
“Wow, now I don’t just feel like shit, I feel like shit’sshit.”
Herb chuckled. “Well, don’t. Coach LeBrunwanted youjust as much as he wanted Nelson, so cheer up, buttercup. Someone out therelikes you.”
T.J. snorted. “Kevin May is a Denver son, and I doubt anyonewill hand me the key to the city. I’ll probably get booed the first time I takethe ice.”
“You’re used to it.”
“Not on home ice.”
“So you’ll grow a thicker skin. Besides, you’re not takingthe ice until next season. It’ll all have blown over by then.”
Good old no-nonsense Herb, whose favorite expression was,“Don’t whine on my dime.” T.J. decided to keep on whining because Herb hadearned a lot of dimes off of him over the years. “If by some miracle I win myappeal, it won’t matter. The Blizzard’s got no shot at the playoffs this year,unlike the Earthquake.”
“It’s called rebuilding, T.J., and you’re a key piece. Thinkhow Nelson feels. He’s going to a non-contender and he’s gonna move from a first-line center to the thirdline. Plus, he’s never played for another team. He’s not just stupefied; he’sin another galaxy because his ass got launched into outer space.”
T.J.’s temper fired up an impulse to snap at Herb. Why, hewasn’t sure. Par for the course. On a deep inhale, he admitted inwardly Herb was right. T.J. had seenthe look on Nelson’s face as they’d cleaned out their lockers. Stupefied? Morelike zombified. Nelson didn’t make friends easily.Slick as an eel on the ice, he was a quiet sort who slipped out of bars andparties early and alone, looking as though he preferred anything to socialtime. Hell, the only time T.J. had seen him with a woman was when a bro, or abro’s significant other, bullied him into it.
With his family all living in the Bay Area, he seemed tospend most of his downtime with relatives. Tight-knit family. Wonderwhat it feels like? T.J. envied and pitied him all at once. Therewas a lot to be said for having no one but yourself torely on.
.~* * * ~.
An hour later, T.J. stood at Julia’sfront door, fatigue bunching and twisting his muscles like the spirals of anautilus shell. He needed to unwind. Finger poised to jab the doorbell, hehesitated as though a magnetic field encased his hand.
What was holding him back?
So many things. Like Julia cookinghim a meal. It wasn’t the potential state of his digestive system worrying him;it was the intimacy of her effort. The box marked “Home Cooking” rested besidethe already checked off “I-miss-you” box, and both were squarely under theheading marked “Warning Signs of a Relationship Headed into Class V Rapids.”
Danger!Turn back before you’re towed under.
She wanted to ramp things up; he wanted to maintain thestatus quo.
Would she expect to follow him to Denver? Julia was a smartwoman—way smarter than him—which begged the question,why would she want to hitch herself to him? Did he want her to? A powerful “no” surged.
Running a hand through his hair, pulling in a deep breath,he rang the doorbell and got an immediate, “It’s open,” so he stepped inside.
“Right here.” She was on her white couch, in her whiteliving room, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. One leg pulled up, chin restingon her knee, her eyes were glued to the TV. Without looking at him, she pointedtoward the bar. “Heard about your trade. The Jameson’s over there.”
“Well, hello to you too,” he mumbled.
She flapped her hand at him, shushing him.
A savory aroma wafted from the kitchen, making his mouthwater as he scanned the bar. He took in two bottles of Chopin vodka—onehalf-empty, one full—that he’d never noticed before. Julia’s poison of choicewas either Don Julio or champagne.
After fixing himself a drink, T.J. ambled over to the couchand plopped down beside her, then glanced at the TV. He rolled his eyes. Chick flick.
He cupped her shoulder, his thumb stroking small circles.“Don’t I get a hello?”
She leaned over and pecked his cheek without looking at him.“Hello.” She returned to the same position on the couch, eyes still fastened onthe TV.
“Something smells good,” he offered, slightly annoyed.
“Just a little longer,” she whispered. Her blue eyes werebright with tears. Had he ever seen her cry before? He darted his gaze back tothe TV, where a man in a wheelchair was smiling at a young woman curled up inhis lap.
A little alarmed, he whispered back, “What are we watching?”
She didn’t answer. Just kept her brimming eyes riveted onthe screen. The man was saying something that made the girl cry, and Juliashook her head.
“We’re watching MeBefore You. It’s almost over.” She shot hima guilty sidelong glance and scooted a little closer without touching him.“Sorry.”
Sipping his
