Tracy Solheim - Foolish Games

“No! Don’t hang up! I’m sorry. Despite it being the off-season, things are a little crazy around here. How are things down there? With the newlyweds? They haven’t killed one another yet, have they? I’d hate to have to go out and find another All-Pro linebacker with training camp only a couple of months away.”

Annabeth smiled. “They’re both still alive. Just sleep deprived. They’re finding out it’s a lot harder taking care of a newborn without the help of a medical staff.”

“And the baby, he’s better, right?”

“Oh, yes. My grandson is perfect.”

Hank was quiet on the phone again as Annabeth realized her mistake.

“I forgot about that,” he finally said. “You’re Owen’s grandmother.”

Yes, she wanted to scream, I’m a grandmother! I’m also an undereducated, socially inept woman who you’d eventually find lacking after sleeping with me. It was better Hank find out now, before she succumbed to his flirting and eventually ended up where she always did with men: with her heart broken.

“He’s a lucky kid.”

She didn’t like the predatory way that sounded, and suddenly she was wishing poor Sophie didn’t raise her physics grade just so she didn’t have to see Hank Osbourne again. It made her feel awful.

“I should be going. I’ve got customers,” she lied.

“Oh, sure. Just one more thing. Will’s doing okay with all this scrutiny of his former college coach, isn’t he? Things are starting to get a little ugly. Names are going to come out. I just need Will to keep us informed if any issues arise so the front office can keep ahead of it.”

Annabeth paused in restacking the scarves. She was grateful Will had been given the opportunity to get into Yale and play on their football team. It had been his escape from Chances Inlet, a town Will hated. Coach Zevalos had literally provided her son a one-way ticket out. But the man wasn’t a saint. He’d been just like all the other men who’d paraded through town, assuming Annabeth would be grateful enough to do whatever he asked.

“That’s something you should speak with Will about. Please tell Sophie I said hello. Good-bye, Mr. Osbourne.” She hung up before she heard his response.

“Sources close to the investigation indicate that more names will be released in connection with the alleged Bountygate masterminded by former Yale and New Jersey Generals coach Paul Zevalos. According to these unnamed sources, while defensive coordinator with the Generals, Zevalos maintained a secret fund to pay his players rewards if they inflicted an injury on an opponent. Twelve players have filed suit against the Generals, the NFL, and Zevalos, alleging they were injured as part of that scheme. A Senate committee has also been convened to look into how the league has handled the investigation and the ensuing lawsuits from the players injured. That’s SportsCenter in a minute. Now, back to Major League Baseball.”

“Jeez, this bounty hunt is getting pretty intense,” Gavin said before taking a swallow of his beer.

He and Will were sitting in Will’s study watching the Atlanta Braves pummel the Mets. Owen was scarfing down another bottle; his son was perpetually hungry.

“It’s nothing.”

“Really?” Gavin asked. “Because it sounds like they’ve got a lot of nothing to warrant an NFL investigation. Not to mention one in the Senate.”

“What a waste of taxpayer dollars.” Will shifted a fussy Owen to his shoulder to try to get him to burp.

“You know Zevalos pretty well, and you were with the Generals for a training camp and preseason. You mean to tell me this is all a bunch of bullshit?”

Owen cried a little harder, refusing the bottle when Will tried to give it to him.

“Come on, Owen, give Daddy a break here.” Will stood and walked around the room, grateful that Owen’s tears provided a quick distraction from the subject. Gavin was perceptive, and Will didn’t want to have this conversation with his best friend right now. “What’s the matter, little man, huh?”

Apparently, Gavin realized Will was done with the subject of his former coach because he let out a resigned sigh. “Maybe you should get Julianne.”

“No, she’s trying to nap. He’s had us both up multiple times these past few nights. She needs a rest.”

“Well, well, not just a doting father, but a doting husband.”

“Shut up, Gavin,” Will said over Owen’s screams. Doting husband was a stretch, but he did have a newfound respect for Julianne. That first night home had been a paradigm shift for both of them. Since then, they’d settled into an easy camaraderie, each of them taking turns caring for Owen. It also helped that he avoided touching her and looking at her for extended periods of time. “You have younger siblings and a niece; what should I do here?”

“I don’t know nothin’ ’bout burping no babies.” Gavin took another swallow of beer.

Will swore at his friend.

“Hey, not in front of the baby.” Gavin laughed.

The door leading into the house from the verandah burst open, and Will expected to see a wild-eyed, frantic Julianne. Instead, Brody Janik stood on the threshold.

“Dude, are you sticking pins in that baby?” Brody shoved his sunglasses onto his head as he waltzed into the room, infuriatingly cool, impeccably dressed, a wrapped gift in his hand.

Will stood with a screaming baby in his own hands, spit-up decorating his Yale T-shirt, and a two-day growth of beard on his face. He was used to Brody’s unexpected appearances, but today his jarring perfection pissed him off. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve been married a week and I haven’t given you a wedding gift,” Brody said as he gingerly tossed the gift onto the sofa. “Apparently, I got here in the nick of time. Let me have that baby.”

Will pulled Owen in closer to his body. It only made the baby scream louder.

Brody held his hands out. “Dude, I can fix this. Trust me.”

The last thing Will wanted was Brody Janik in his house, much less holding his kid.

“Give him the damn baby!” Gavin yelled over Owen’s cries.

Reluctantly, Will handed his son to Brody, who sat down on the sofa and immediately plopped Owen facedown over his knees. He firmly rubbed the baby’s back, then patted, followed by more rubbing. After a few minutes, Owen released a belch that would make a locker room blush, his crying subsiding almost immediately.

“Damn!” Gavin raised his beer in salute. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Two nephews and a niece.” Brody rolled a delirious Owen up into his arms and gently rocked him. “Hey, little dude. Lucky for you that you don’t have your daddy’s ugly mug.”

Will ran his fingers through his hair, relieved that Owen had calmed down. “Thanks. Now tell me again why you’re here. And skip the crap about a gift because you know it wasn’t that kind of wedding.”

Brody looked shrewdly at Gavin before turning back to gaze at a sleeping Owen. “Your wife. I’m here to see her.”

Something in Will’s gut clenched, but he kept his expression cool. He didn’t like the way Brody looked at Gavin, as if he didn’t want to reveal the real reason for his sudden appearance. “What could you possibly want with my wife?” The words came out in more of a growl than he would have liked. Let Brody think what he wanted.

“I need a wedding gown.”

Gavin chuckled. “You’re a pretty boy, Brody, but I never pictured you in a wedding gown.”

“Funny.” Brody shot a lazy grin at Gavin. “You didn’t tell me your wife was a wedding gown designer to the stars, Will.”

“I don’t recall telling you anything about her at all, Brody.”

“Yeah, well my sister Tricia is getting married and she’s desperate for a gown designed by JV Designs. Tricia’s been calling the London office for several months, but they keep saying the designer is not taking any new commissions. When the story leaked that you two were married, I’ve been bombarded by all the women in my family to ask your wife personally if she’ll do this.”

What a load of crap. Brody never bowed to pressure from his sisters. He generally just made himself scarce, which might explain his appearance in North Carolina, but Will didn’t think so. More likely, there was more chatter in the locker room about Bountygate and Coach Zevalos’s involvement. Media and players were beginning to connect the dots and—if ESPN could be believed—names were being whispered. Brody was a smart kid and could connect the dots faster than most.

The tight end was also under the misguided delusion that he was Will’s self-appointed wingman and could somehow help. But Will kept his own counsel. He didn’t need anybody’s help. Especially not Brody’s. All he wanted was his teammate out of his house before he started prattling to Gavin about the situation. His best friend was already asking too many questions.

“I’ll be sure to ask her.” Will scooped Owen up from Brody’s arms and placed the baby into the portable crib in the corner of the room. “Thanks for the help with the baby. I’ll call you and let you know what Julianne says.”

Brody casually stood. One thing about the kid, he wasn’t slow; he got the hint the first time.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He strolled toward the door leading out to the verandah. “I’m actually in town for a few days.” He gave Will a pointed look. “Deep-sea fishing and stuff. I’m staying at your mother’s B and B, Gavin. Maybe I’ll see you around there.”

“No doubt,” Gavin said as Brody walked out the door.

Will sat in the chair Brody had just vacated and grabbed his beer, taking a long pull at the bottle. Brody’s gift was still on the seat beside him.