'I want everybody there: I mean everybody. If you want to play tomorrow night, you be at that dinner.'
It turned out a guy named Carter Peterson was sponsoring the dinner for his church supper to help raise funds for the church's Girl Scout camp. And it also turned out Peterson had a big piece of the team stock.
It was strictly chicken and peas and the place was full of mothers and fathers and all the high school athletes in the city. Binks gave them his number one chicken and peas speech.
I got my elbow up on the table and my chin propped in my hand and by the time Binks started to talk, I was fast asleep though I could hear his voice droning on and on across a dream I was having. I was coaching the Vikings. Grant had retired. I had led the Vikings to victory in the Superbowl. I had a ten-year contract.
I don't know how long the dream lasted, but suddenly Dow was poking his elbow in my guts,, muttering, 'Wake up. Wake up. He's finished talking.'
I knocked over my water glass and stood up in the applause for Binks breaking over the room. I was halfway to the door when all the chairs were being pushed back from the table and Mom and Dad were ready to go home for the ten o'clock news.
'I just loved your last game,' somebody said to me in the hall.
It was a girl. A very tall, beautiful chick, about twenty, brown hair, gorgeous tits. She was wearing a Girl Scout uniform.
'I'm Sybil Jensen,' she said.
She held out her hand. I shook it. What the hell was this luscious dish doing in a Scout uniform?
'How're you, Sybil?' What the hell did she want? I looked her over. Big-big blue eyes. Creamy skin.
'Are you busy right now?'
'I'm going home,' I said.
'I wonder if you could do me a favor?'
'I'II try.'
'Well, the church has asked me to organize a girl touch football team. I don't know any plays. Uh, I wonder if I could talk to you now.'
'The season's almost over. Kids will freeze outdoors in this weather soon.'
'Maybe just a few plays. It's for next fall. Your team changes a lot and I thought, uh -'
'You're absolutely right. I won't be back next year. Why don't we go over to your place and I'll diagram a few plays for you?'
She smiled quickly.
'I'll just get my coat.'
In the car she said, 'I just love football.'
'It's a fascinating game.'
She had a nice little apartment, very feminine decor. She asked if I cared for a drink.
'Where'd you get that outfit?' I said, looking at her Scout uniform.
She didn't say anything.
I said: 'Scotch on the rocks and a Scout dress. I don't get it.'
'Piss off,' she grinned. 'I've had my eye on you since you got into town. She unbuttoned the Scout dress down the front, left it on the floor and went into the kitchen. She came back carrying two drinks and wearing a bathrobe.
'I still don't get it,' I said, clinking her glass with mine.
'I'm a school teacher,' she said. 'The salaries are lousy.' She sat down beside me. 'I get paid for being a good Scout mistress.' We clinked glasses again.
'You've got an unlisted phone number,' she said.
'To keep away the good scouts.'
'Want to turn on?'
'Why not?'
She went away and came back with a couple of joints. We turned on. When I got her to bed, we were both turned on. She was something. She really knew how to take it out of you. A real scout. Fire by friction. I damn near went up in a puff of smoke. We were lying on the bed. She asked if I wanted to drop some acid. For about a million years I didn't say anything because I knew I had it made. I was going to get to suit up with the Vikings.
'I can't,' I said. 'I got a game tomorrow night. But if you can spare some, I'd like to take a little with me.'
'Take a little of me with you. Now.'
'I gotta have legs for that game.'
'I only want one of them now,' she said.
Chapter 20
I went home happy and I woke up happy. I thought maybe after I figured what I was going to do to suit up for sure with the Vikings, my fat-ass altar-boy conscience would start pinching my ass again. Like my being in love with Mary Cassidy. Shit. I was in love with Matt Scallen, and it was time I decided that was the whole hog business. Bullshit on romance. The thing I'd always wanted to do was play in a Superbowl. The odds were against my getting in the game. About a sixty-to-one shot, but it was a cinch right now I was going to suit up.
Tough shit, Vakos, you've had it. Maybe Graff on the Viking taxi squad might break a leg, Bob Lee might get VD just before the game and his balls would drop out, and there would be good old Matt Scallen dropping back in the slot for the Vikings.
When I started dreaming like that I figured it was time to cut it out or I'd be going on a trip with what was in my pocket from that sweet little Girl Scout troop mistress. What a lay! They ought to have her give the sex- education course to the Eagle Scouts.
One nice little sugar cube of LSD and Mr. Vakos was going to take a trip to the moon.
I figured to give it to Vakos in the locker room after we suited up. Everybody usually went back to the locker room after warm-up to crap and pee and get a little instant coffee. I was going to mix Vakos a nice cup of instant and in ten minutes he would be on an IBM to the moon.
We got taped and suited up. Kick-off was set for eight o'clock. It was colder than a nun's tit on the field. So everybody went for the coffee when we got back in the locker room. I had the cube in my hand when I picked up the cup. Vakos was over in the corner talking to the coach and Binks.
I crushed the LSD cube with one hand, put it right over the cup full of coffee and held it like that for a couple of minutes, watching Vakos out of the corner of my eye. He was jabbering away to Reed. They were both making X's and O's in the air with their fingers. Suddenly Reed walks over to the chalkboard and starts drawing X's and O's on the board. I walked over with two cups of coffee. Vakos is looking over Reed's shoulder.
I tapped Vakos on the shoulder and nodded my head at the cup of coffee in my right hand and smiled. He took the cup without looking at what his hand was doing.
I started to sip my coffee. So what does Vakos do, but stand there, letting his coffee cool.
I stepped up next to him and put my left hand on his shoulder, old buddy-buddy fashion, and said, 'May the best man win?'
He turned his head, kind of keeping one eye on the chalkboard, and he was grinning. He raised the cup of coffee like he was offering a toast, 'Youth before beauty.'
I touched the rim of my cup against his, but gently. I wanted him to get the full load. 'Shoot your best shot,' I said. 'I'm probably going to have to win this ballgame for you the second half.'
'Up your ass, Scallen,' he grinned, putting the cup to his lips. He raised his chin and drank the whole damn cup.
I slapped him on the back. 'Give 'em hell.' He knew I meant I hope you fall on your ass, Vakos. He just handed me the empty cup like I was the locker-room attendant.
I took the cup and walked away.
Like I said, it vas colder than hell on the field. The opposition kicked off. Vakos tried a couple of running plays, good for three yards. Then on a short flare pass, the opposition intercepted at our thirty-five.
