just as if she hadn't heard me, her voice cool and detached: 'If you tried, you could be quite decent.'
'I bet if you turned around you'd see how decent I am.'
'Why don't you bring your own date?'
'I don't know any girls.'
'Maybe you ought to meet one.'
'I'm just a shy country boy.'
'So I've heard.'
'Has it all been that good?'
'Run along, little boy, and drink your beer.' She walked straight away, across the room, to where her husband was leaning against the wall, talking to MacDonald, a new guard from Alabama.
Screw you baby, I thought, Scallen's going to run a big play right over you yet. Goddamn, she had a beautiful ass and legs.
Leighton looked bigger than I remembered. He had been All-American at Wisconsin, then a dislocated shoulder in his senior year, that wouldn't mend right after an operation, kept him out of pro-football his first two years after college. Then he'd played two years of pro-ball with me. After I was fired, he'd been injured again, traded, and now he was trying to work his way back up. He sat back in a chair and lifted his two big feet up on the writing desk and looked at me.
'Well, well,' he said.
'How goes the battle?'
'What the hell are you doing here?' he said.
I put both hands behind my head and leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed.
'Same thing you are.'
'Cut out the crap.'
I didn't say anything for a long moment. I just looked at him. He sat there staring at me.
'I'm going to need your help Saturday, Jack,' I said.
'You gotta be kidding.'
'No, I'll start if Vakos doesn't come out of the hospital.'
'Like hell. We gotta a kid -'
'I'll start,' I told him.
'And you want me to. make you look good?'
'I'll make you look good, too.'
'Nope,' said Leighton. 'I hope they break your neck.'
'Maybe I ought to tell the coach.'
'Tell him. I don't give a damn.'
'Come on. It's all over,' I said.
'Bullshit,' Leighton said.
'She's dead.'
'You ought to be dead,' Leighton said.
'All I need is one good game.'
'You think you can come back?'
'Wanna bet?'
'You're outa your mind,' Leighton said.
'It was an accident,' I said. 'Don't you think I paid enough for it? I didn't mean to kill her.'
'You were drunk. With my wife. Remember?'
'O.K.'
'What happened to this stock business?'
'I want to play football.'
'What have you got left? Maybe five years. You're no Blanda.'
'I'm throwing well. You'll see.'
'You look like you're in shape.'
'I feel great.'
'So does Hogan. Don't crap me you're the same after that accident and all that booze.'
'What about yourself?'
'O K.,' he said.
'Come on,' I said. 'They're holding you together with tape and piano wire.'
'I had a good year.'
'On a taxi squad,' I said. 'And now you want to work back up to the taxi squad. Why'd they send you down?'
'You're over the hill,' Leighton said.
'Well, let's see if you are. I'll put that ball right in your hands.'
'You don't know the patterns.'
'Drop a few and see where you'll wind up.'
'I'll catch 'em.'
'That's all I want to know.'
'Care for a drink?' said Leighton.
'No thanks,' I said. 'See you in the morning.'
I sat on the edge of the bed, then stood up as he turned the doorknob. I felt things were going to be O.K. Leighton had a great pair of hands. If he dropped the ball or screwed up the patterns he'd only shaft himself, not me. I hoped he was O.K. physically. Above all I hoped the offensive line could hold a block.
Chapter 4
I got undressed, climbed into bed, turned the light out and tried to go to sleep. It wouldn't work. I kept thinking about her, how it all started, and the worst part, how it all finished. No, don't think about that, I told myself, think about making love to her, think about the sweet times.
But that only made it tougher to sleep, and it was no use not trying to think about her at all, no matter how hard I tried. I was all alone with her again in a dark motel room.
Joan Leighton. There, I'd done it, let myself say her full name. I started getting a hardon thinking about her. I felt my cock getting harder and harder against the sheets, the damn shaft was straight up.
How long ago was it that she had stopped ignoring me? When had it first happened? Not the second time Leighton was in the hospital. No, it was the first time, in Pittsburgh, when he'd busted a couple of ribs. I went to see him and she was there in the room with him.
'Matt, I don't think you've ever met. This is my wife, Joan.'
I looked at her, straight into those big blue eyes that just went on looking right through me.
'Oh, I think we've met,' I said. 'The team party.'
'I don't remember,' she said.
'How's it going?' I asked Leighton.
'Hell, I'll play in a week. Flying back tonight?'
I nodded and looked at Joan. I didn't expect to see her here. I figured she'd be back in Minneapolis with all the other Viking wives. Leighton must have seen my puzzled look because he said: 'Joan's folks live just out of Pittsburgh, in Chatsworth, so she flew down for the game.'
'How nice,' I said.
'It was,' she said. There was an edge in her voice.
'Ah, come on, honey,' said Leighton. 'I'm only in the hospital overnight.'
'I know. I know,' she said. 'Then next month you'll be in again.'
'Lay off,' Leighton said in a weary voice.
'He'll be okay,' I told her and she turned her face away and looked out the window while Leighton and I
