former lush?'
'Me?'
'Why not? I'll draw a helluva crowd, win or lose.'
'Maybe they never heard of you in Des Moines.'
'They heard of me a year ago if they stay awake here for the ten o'clock news.'
'Okay… if Vakos isn't ready.'
'How much?'
'Nothing if you lose. A contract if you win.'
'Crummy.'
'Take it or leave it. I'm answerable to top management.'
'Five hundred?'
'Nothing if you lose.'
'If I win?'
'Contract and five bills.'
'Okay. Who are the guards?'
'Post and Preston.'
'Never heard of them.'
'Tackles?'
'Neiman and Norton.'
'Good boys.'
Well, I thought, I won't get killed from the inside if the guards are as good as the tackles. Norton was a big hill billy and Neiman was just as big, about six-five, good enough for this league, and if they kept working they both might make it back to an NFL taxi squad.
'Right end?' I asked.
'Leighton.'
'No thanks.'
'He's the best we've got.'
'I don't want him.'
'You'll take what you'll get.'
I looked at Binks, straight into stoney eyes.
'You know about me and Leighton.'
'He'll work no matter who's in the pocket.' 'That's what you think.'
'If he doesn't, I'll kick his ass off the field,' Binks said.
'He'll make it look like he's working.'
'You're asking for the chance,' Binks said. 'Do you want it or don't you?'
'Haven't you got somebody other than Leighton?' I asked, feeling I was losing my grip. 'He only has to slip up once and I'll get my head torn off.'
Binks stared at me, fish-eyed.
'Why don't you go over to Peoria and see if they'll give you a chance?' Binks said.
'Come on,' I said. 'You don't get to the Vikings via Peoria.'
He stared at me.
'Chicago has a nice club,' he said.
'O.K.,' I said. 'Where's the play book?'
'You won't need the whole thing,' Binks said. 'Remember the seventy and eighty series?'
'Open right, 25, Charlie B, on four,' I said.
'Here's the play sheets you'll need,' Binks said. 'Nine o'clock sharp. Get to bed early.'
'Right on,' I said. I started out the door. 'Where's the team?'
'Thunder-Bird Motel,' he said. 'Get to bed early.'
'What if Vakos is out of the hospital before Saturday?'
'You won't play,' Binks said.
Chapter 3
I went outside to my car. It was a cool, sunny October afternoon. I drove across town with the top down. The motel looked big and new. I got a room and asked the switchboard to ring Leighton's room. No answer. I left a call. I went downstairs and ate dinner and bought the papers and tried Leighton's room again. No answer. I was half-asleep with the paper over my face when Leighton called wanting to know what the hell I was doing in town.
'Come over and I'll tell you,' I said.
'Are you sober?'
'Come over and see.'
Just hearing Leighton's voice reminded me of his wife's voice. I tried to put the sound of her voice away, but it wouldn't go away. I lay there on the bed thinking of her, waiting for Leighton. There was a hell of a lot to remember when I started thinking about her.
How she had looked at me that time in practice camp, straight through me as though she were looking two thousand years beyond me, as if I simply didn't exist. She was standing on the side of the field. It was August, hot and muggy and the coach had been driving hell out of us because we were going to open against Baltimore in a non-scheduled game, and everybody was out of shape and the coach was sore as hell. But one thing you got to say about Bud, he never showed it, just a look, that's all he needed to give you, just a look at your guts or legs and you knew what he meant.
Her hair was shining, golden, and she had a beautiful body. I could see every curve, breasts, thighs and legs, beautiful, smooth as a racing sloop. I walked past her and gave her the eye and she looked straight at me. I thought maybe she was just being polite because I probably stank worse than a dead mule after a two hour scrimmage. I got about five steps past her. Those tits did it. Not her blank eyed stare. I wanted to know who owned those beautiful tits. I turned and went back to her and tapped her on the shoulder. She knew even then who it was. She didn't turn. She didn't move.
'Yes,' she said. 'What is it? What do you want?'
'I thought maybe you were looking for somebody.'
There were always young broads around training camp and on the road. Not as good as in baseball where you don't get whacked around like in football and can hardly lift your cock to pee out of after a tough game, but always broads some place.
But none of them quite this classy.
'I am looking for somebody,' she said.
'That's funny,' I said. 'So am I'
She still hadn't turned around.
'Sorry I can't help you,' she said.
'I think you could,' I said. You should have seen her ass. Beautiful.
'Goodbye,' she said. 'I'll tell my husband I just met the quarterback.'
I got the hell out of there fast. One thing I always try not to do is get my meat where I get my potatoes. I didn't want to get mixed up with anybody's wife from the team.
But that didn't stop me from thinking about her, and now waiting to see Leighton again I went on thinking about her, remembering her…
How her body was not only beautiful but pleasant, how I met her the second time at a team party and walked up behind her and spoke to her in a voice that was neither soft nor a whisper, but only loud enough for her to hear, standing a few inches behind her shoulder: 'I don't care what anybody else says I think you've got the best shape in the room.'
She didn't even turn. The rim of the glass against her lip did not move as she spoke, looking straight ahead,
