I gave her a kiss goodbye just to remind myself that I was alive. If you don’t feel alive kissing Jennie Wesleyan, then you’ve checked out. I might be aroused for weeks with just the memory of our kiss. It was a good thing that we had so much physical distance between us, or we may have done something stupid eventually. I could see why Mark made his desperate play for her.
Tami did well for a first date. She knew that my swearing off girls would be a temporary thing. That was why she didn’t fight it. Heck, my parents even rolled their eyes when I proclaimed I was done dating. I would give it until Wednesday, and then call Tami to set me up.
I felt a little sad when Jennie drove away. I wouldn’t turn down a fling with her. Maybe a weekend getaway was in the offing. She could bring her sister. It would almost be as good as doing twins. I would have to work on Tami to help make that happen.
WHEN I GOT TO THE GARAGE apartment, I checked my emails. There was one from Kendal who wanted to meet this afternoon. I called her and set it up. I still had on my clothes from last night when she showed up. When she came in, she gave me a smirk.
“What’s is the little smirk for?” I asked raising an eyebrow.
“Looks like someone did the walk of shame this morning.”
“Laugh it up, Chuckles. If you’re going to give me shit, I’m going to go change.”
I went into my bedroom and changed into shorts and a t-shirt.
“Better?”
“You look fine. I wanted to talk to you about some interview requests. We’ve been putting them off, but they’re starting to get insistent. Tracy said you’d probably tell them to take a hike. I wanted a chance to convince you that the right press is good for you.”
This was something I wasn’t comfortable doing. Too many guys messed up their careers by spouting off their opinions to the press. Tracy taught me scripts about teamwork and praising the other team that seemed to work. I know I sounded like the biggest hick doing it, but the fans want the All American boy-next-door being their sports hero. About the only thing I didn’t do was thank God. Tim Tebow messed up any possibility of talking about your faith without being labeled a nut.
“Okay, give me your pitch.”
“I’ve received three kinds of requests. The first group is fan-website reporters for the different colleges. These sites are run by rabid fans with huge egos. Most of these guys want to get some kind of scoop so they can look like they’re insiders. It’s funny to read the posts calling them out. I’d suggest that you avoid these guys unless it’s a school you’re interested in attending. There’s normally a staff member at the college that monitors the sites. It’s a way to raise their interest.
“The second group is area sports reporters. For the most part, they’re fans as well, but at least these guys will play it straight and they actually do have access. This group you need to court. They are the ones you can go to when you need help setting the record straight.
“The final group is the national guys. This is the biggest risk and potential reward. Until you’re established, I would avoid making any comments to them. They’re normally jaded and just looking for a controversial angle. Look at Johnny Football. He was the first freshman to win the Heisman. They loved him. One report of signing sports merchandise and making money, and they’re all investigating him.”
“What’s your plan?” I asked.
“I would like to set up a weekly conference call where we can control access and content. I’d like to do this on Wednesdays at 12:15 for thirty minutes.”
“Great, no lunch that day. Set it up.”
“Quit your complaining. We’ll make sure you’re fed, you big baby.”
“Hey, do you have any of the ‘Double D’ shirts left over?”
“We have a couple of boxes. How many do you need?”
“Could I get a dozen? I have some fans I want to give them to.”
I was thinking of the Wesleyan girls and the Phillips family.
“No problem. I’ll drop them off tomorrow.”
“No hurry, I want them for the final regular season game when we travel south.”
“I’ll get it taken care of.” She pulled out her tablet. “You’re getting a lot of interest in this week’s game. It’s also the last home game. We’re planning another band and cookout for the press, recruiters and fans. We have a local bank and car dealership sponsoring the event.
“The school is getting additional bleachers for the north end zone. We’ll have to set up in the parking lot. The practice field will be used for overflow parking,” Kendal added.
“Thanks for organizing all this. The last one was a huge hit. Are you planning anything for the seniors?”
“You know, we haven’t, but that’s a good idea. I’ll talk to the girls,” she said, and then caught herself. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit. I’ll talk to the team and see what we can come up with.”
“Remember, this is almost a bigger deal for the parents. Make sure if they have any younger brothers or sisters to get them involved also.”
“Alright. Good meeting.” She pulled out a small shopping bag. “I hear you’re an uncle. Tracy said you’d forget to get a gift. We had a ‘Double D Fan’ baby jumper made. We want to see pictures with Kyle in it.”
That had to be the most thoughtful thing anyone had done for me in a long time, which got me a little choked up. Angie and Kyle were coming to dinner tonight. I couldn’t wait to see the newest member of the family. Greg had sent me a ton of pictures over the last few days. I think I surprised Kendal when I hugged her.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Seeing the look on your face was worth it.”
Her whole demeanor shifted in the span of a few moments. She seemed really genuine, and I wished I were eight years older; I would make a serious play for Kendal.
She put her things away and we said our goodbyes. I was a lucky guy to have her help. If I ever made it big, I wanted her on my team. I would want someone I could trust, and she fit the bill. She made some mistakes, but I liked that she learned from them. You can tell a lot about a person when something goes wrong. If they point fingers and try to cover their ass, you don’t need them. If they work to solve the problem, those are the ones you keep. Once Kendal recognized a problem, she came up with a solution. I admired her for that.
SUNDAY DINNER WAS A family affair. That meant two cooked and the other two cleaned up. Tonight, Mom and I cooked. Since we were having guests—my future sister-in-law and nephew—I knew Mom was going to put on a spread. I didn’t expect her to want me to do the cooking. Not that my cooking was a terrible; I’d been doing it since I was eight or nine. If Mom and Dad ran late, Greg and I would switch off cooking.
Greg or I were never in charge of Sunday dinner. When Mom saw me come in, she cornered me.
“What are you cooking tonight?”
I was shocked. I went to the refrigerator and saw that we had a family pack of chicken thighs, leftover smoked ham, and Swiss cheese. I was thinking Chicken Cordon Bleu. From that, Mom and I could come up with a menu. When you were the head cook, you got to decide who did what. I put Mom in charge of deboning the chicken.
I noticed she was having some trouble and seemed to be in pain.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“I banged my arm getting out of the car, and it’s a little stiff. I took some aspirin for the pain.”
She had on a long-sleeve shirt, and I could see she was hurting. I’d had my share of bumps, so I was getting pretty good at treating them.
“Where did you bang it?”
She pointed to her bicep.
“Let me see. You know football and me. They taught me some tricks that might make it feel better,” I said.
The sleeve on her blouse wouldn’t go up far enough, so she had to unbutton it and slide it off her shoulder. My breath caught. Not only was her bicep deep purple, but there was evidence of prior bruising in several different areas.