Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 20

  Mac Jenkins hooked up the huge flat screen television.

  “Any good games?” Another player said, rooting around in Griff’s stash.

  Lauren slipped out quietly. He hired me anonymously to do his house? The generosity of his move overwhelmed her. Of course, he got a great house that all the guys envy, but still. He didn’t have to do that. He could have hired anyone. I hope he likes it.

  She returned home to eat leftovers again with Spike. Her heart ached, and the quiet was deafening. She hadn’t realized how much vitality, energy, and noise Griff Montgomery brought with him. Now that he was gone, his absence made her shiver, like lack of heat in a cold house.

  * * * *

  Griff gripped his father’s arm as he climbed the front steps of his place. He had returned several times, on the sly, to check Lauren’s progress. Each time, he was more in love with the warm, masculine home she had created. It had no tchotchkes or clutter. That’s the way he liked his life—clean and orderly. He’d lived that way for so long, compartmentalizing his existence.

  Then, he had met Spike and Lauren, and it had gotten messy and out-of-control.

  “Wow. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you were redoing the place.”

  “Lauren did it.”

  “She did? She sure knows you.” Hank guided his son into the living room.

  “Actually, she didn’t know it was for me.”

  “You paid her?”

  “She needed the money. Besides, it’s her profession.” Griff sank down onto the sofa, hissing with pain.

  “Paid her rent. Paid her to redo this place. She’s one expensive woman.” Hank switched on the lights.

  “It’s not like that, dad.”

  “Then, what is it like? You shack up with this chick. If she’s so great, why don’t you marry her?”

  “She doesn’t want to get married.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “She told me before I asked.”

  “Never met a woman who didn’t want to get married.”

  “Well, now you have.” Griff pushed to his feet, with help from Hank.

  “How come?”

  “It’s complicated.” The quarterback headed toward the kitchen.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  Hank opened the fridge and some cabinets. “Not much in here. There’s soup. Chicken noodle or beef barley?”

  “You pick. Call The Savage Beast. Carla’ll send over some burgers and fries.”

  Griff handed his cell to his father before he eased himself down on a stool. The pain broke through his meds, and he shut his eyes to gain control.

  “Here. Time to take these.” Hank shook two pills out of a plastic container into his palm, and filled a glass with water. Griff swallowed them while his dad dialed the bar. After the order was placed, he took down a can and rooted around, looking for a can opener.

  Griff’s gaze perused the kitchen. With barley-colored walls, black cabinets, and stainless steel appliances, the room had a sleek, modern feel. “Nice. She’s good. Very good.”

  “Got your style exactly, huh? Without even asking you? Pretty neat trick.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing.”

  “I never shacked up with your mother, you know.”

  “Uh, TMI, dad?”

  “When you find a good woman, the right one, you marry her,” Hank said, pouring the soup into a pot.

  “The lady has to be willing.” Griff pointed to the cabinet where he kept bowls.

  His father turned to stare at him then threw up his hands. “None of my business, I guess. But you young people today. Damn, you make an easy situation so much harder.”

  Griff laughed. “So, you approve?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I think, does it?” Hank ladled soup into two bowls and put one down in front of his son.

  “Not really. Well, maybe. A little.”

  “Don’t know the lady. I’ll go along with whatever you decide.” The doorbell rang. Hank went to answer it then returned. “Right now, seems to me you’ve got a career to save,” the older man said, opening the bag and removing the Styrofoam containers.

  Griff picked up a burger and took a big bite.

  “You come home with me after the surgery, and I’ll get you back into shape.”

  “You’re a slave driver.”

  Hank chuckled. “Damn right, I am. That’s what got you to the Kings in the first place.”

  “That and a shitload of talent, maybe?”

  “That, too.” Hank smiled and picked up his burger. “This looks good.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take?” Griff asked, before shoving two fries in his mouth.

  “Don’t know, son. Depends. On a lotta things. Let’s get through the surgery first.”

  “Then, I gotta lie around for six weeks. That might be the hardest part.”

  “I doubt that.” They both laughed.

  Griff called Lauren.

  “I’m going to New York early tomorrow. Surgery is scheduled. Christmas in the hospital.”

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Damn, Griff. I was counting on being with you. I hope you’ll be okay.”

  “As long as they don’t fuck up the procedure. Dad’s gonna get me in shape.”

  She chuckled. “Probably just what you need.”

  “I don’t know how long it’ll take. I hope you understand.”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll be gone six, maybe seven, months. It isn’t fair to ask you to wait for me.”

  There was silence.

  Finally, she spoke. Her voice was husky. “Doubt I could replace you in seven months. Call me when you get back. I’ll still be here.”

  “Yeah? I hope so.”

  “Of course, if you meet some small town beauty…well, I’ll understand.”

  “Will you?”

  “Not really. But I had to say that. Say…that’s some surprise you pulled on me. Your house, all along.”

  “You really didn’t know it was me?”

  “If I had suspected, I’d have said something.”

  “True. You’re not shy about speaking up.”

  “Thanks for having faith in me.”

  “The house is great. You did an amazing job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”

  “Probably. Can I see you in the hospital?”

  “Sure. I’ll have dad call you when the surgery is over.”

  “I love you, Griff.”

  “I love you, too, beautiful.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it. Bouncing back won’t be so easy.”

  “You can do it.”

  “I hope so.”

  He hung up. She’s not going to be around seven months from now. Beautiful women like Lauren don’t stay single for long. The heaviness in his chest centered around his heart. His dad was talking, but Griff, staring out the window, was miles away. He pictured a honeymoon suite on a tropical island, alone with Lauren. No clothes, no inhibitions, no people. A sigh escaped him. A song title came to mind. The Impossible Dream.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Griff’s surgery was done on December twenty-fourth. Hank called Lauren to tell her it was a success. Don and his family were coming for Christmas Eve instead of Christmas Day. Griff was in recovery, and Hank urged her to stay home. She planned to visit him on Christmas Day, regardless of Hank’s words.

  By six o’clock, the house was filled with noise and bodies rushing around. The activity cheered her. Lauren had lost her taste for living alone. Don made a fire while Connie heated lasagna. The kids set the table and retrieved the salad and garlic bread Lauren had prepared. They ate quickly then opened gifts.

  With her new earnings, Lauren had splurged. The kids fell on their presents like hungry wolves on an unsuspecting fawn. Soon the living room floor was covered with bits and chunks of wrapping paper.

  They watched a movie, ate popcorn, and enjoyed Connie�
�s special Christmas Coconut cake. By eleven, the brood was on the road. Exhausted, Lauren summoned the energy to take Spike out for his walk. The neighborhood was silent. Colored lights blinked in windows, around doors, and on bushes and trees. The icy wind whipped her scarf up, into her face. Spike, wearing his little coat, shivering by a fire hydrant.

  Once inside again, Lauren finished cleaning up the kitchen and made a hot toddy. She curled up with Spike on the sofa, listened to Christmas music, and watched the fire burn down. She refused to think about her future, instead insisting on celebrating each day as it came. The evening had been fun. She didn’t know what she’d find when she saw Griff in the hospital. But she’d deal with whatever came along.

  Thoughts of her first Christmas without her father weighed heavy on her heart. Sad and weary, Lauren rested her head on a cushion. The soft snore of her pug soothed her. After the last sip of her drink, she drifted off on the sofa, hearing “Silent Night” playing in her head.

  The morning was quiet. Lauren arose feeling achy from sleeping on the narrow couch. She walked Spike and fed him. Heating up a bowl of oatmeal, she dug out the box from Griff she had found in the bottom drawer. She loaded up the cereal with butter, milk, and brown sugar then sat at the dining room table. She slipped the ribbon off and tore the paper. Carefully, she pulled the top off. Inside, nestled in snowy white cotton, gleamed a gold chain.

  She lifted it out. A charm bracelet! Putting down her spoon, she fingered each charm. A tiny football, a football helmet, a pug, an artist’s palette, a book, a little football player, and so on. The fourteen-carat gold trinkets depicted their time together. At the end, there was a heart. On one side was etched Griff, and on the other, Lauren. Tears welled up in her eyes. She turned it around and around. The sentimental present choked her up.

  She fastened it on her wrist, checked the time, and jumped in the shower.

  Lauren didn’t expect the train to be packed with people going to see the sights in New York City. She arrived just as it did and almost didn’t find a seat. Alighting at 125th Street, she descended the station stairs and caught a taxi to the hospital. She got Griff’s room number and walked through the long, winding hallways to find the right elevator. He was in a private room. The door was open. Griff was in the bed, asleep. Hank dozed in a chair by the window.

  She stopped to gaze at her lover. It was a bit shocking to see such a strong man look fragile, pale, and innocent. The neck collar forced him to sleep sitting up. The thin, off-white blanket rose only to his waist. His hair went every which way, and his face was scruffy. He looked adorable. Wishing she could cradle him in her arms, she tiptoed closer. He’s too big to put in my lap.

  Sleepy eyes cracked open. His parched lips moved, but no sound came out. Lauren slipped into a seat close by. She picked up a Styrofoam cup of water with a straw in it and held it to his mouth. He was wan, looked tired, and his eyes reflected pain. While he drank, she combed his hair back from his forehead with her fingers. She whipped a ChapStick out of her purse and rubbed it over his lips.

  He smiled. “Is it you, or am I dreaming?”

  “Merry Christmas, Griff.” She leaned over to kiss him gently.

  “The Christmas I’ll never forget.” He laughed, until the vibration brought pain.

  A nurse entered. “Time for medicine,” she said, handing him a tiny, paper cup with two tablets in it. Lauren held the water for him. “Haven’t had anyone famous in here for a bit. He’s calm for a celebrity.”

  “Is he a good patient?”

  “So far.” The woman stuck a thermometer in his mouth then held his wrist while she checked her watch.

  By now, Hank was awake. He stood up and stretched his lanky frame. “How’s he doin’?” He nodded at Lauren before turning to the nurse.

  “Fine. Dinner will be here at five thirty.”

  “Any food restrictions?” Hank asked.

  “Today, he has to eat what we serve, but if he’s doing well, tomorrow, he might be able to bring in some food from the outside. Mr. Montgomery, anything you need?”

  Griff shot a look at Lauren then shook his head.

  “I see.” The woman chuckled. “You have everything you need right here.”

  After fifteen more minutes of conversation, Griff began to fade. Hank suggested Lauren join him for a bite at the hospital cafeteria. They closed the door, leaving Griff nodding off, and found their way downstairs.

  Settling at a table near a corner, Hank brought his gaze up to meet hers. His eyes were questioning, probing, his brows knitted. “Why won’t you marry my boy?”

  “What?”

  “Griff says you won’t marry him. Says you don’t want to marry anyone. You gay?”

  Lauren choked on her coffee. “I beg your pardon? How is that any business of yours? And, no, I’m not gay.”

  “You’re shacking up with my son. But you won’t marry him?”

  “He hasn’t asked me. And I don’t see how that concerns you. Really, Hank. This is hard enough without a third degree from you.”

  Hank took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed before responding. “I’m sorry, Lauren. I want to see the boy happy. And tomcatting around doesn’t cut it. Know what I mean?”

  “You’ll have to ask Griff what he wants. At this point, I’m not sure he knows.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Tell me how you plan to train him, bring him back to where he used to be.”

  “All depends on how well he heals,” Hank said. He sipped his drink then cracked a smile.

  As he spoke, Lauren could see that he warmed to his subject. His chance to help his son.

  “Once he gets the okay from the doc, we’re heading out.”

  “To Indiana?”

  “Yep. Driving him in that fancy car.”

  “Doesn’t look too comfortable.”

  “It’s fine. Besides, all the flights are booked.”

  “Why don’t you stay in Monroe? His house is plenty big enough.”

  “Got the training stuff in my basement.”

  “Griff has a gym in his basement, too.”

  “That’s just a gym. He needs special stuff. I got it at home.”

  Sensing she couldn’t win, Lauren clammed up. Go ahead. Take him. Take him away from the big, bad, loose woman. Checking her watch, she realized she’d only have time for a quick goodbye, if she wanted to make the five o’clock train. Spike was at home, waiting for dinner.

  Griff was awake when she popped in. Hank waited in the lounge, giving them some privacy.

  “Thank you for the bracelet. It’s beautiful. I love it,” she said, swishing it so the gold charms clinked together.

  “There’s one missing. It’s at the engraver. Guess it’ll have to wait.”

  “Did you get my gift?”

  “The sweater? Yeah. It’s great. Perfect for an Indiana winter. Thank you.”

  Hissing with pain, he pulled her closer to plant a kiss on her lips. They spoke in low tones and kissed again, longer this time. The clearing of a throat brought their attention to the door. Hank stood, shifting his weight from foot to foot and gazing at the floor.

  Lauren stood, shook Hank’s hand, and blew a kiss to Griff before leaving for the station. She gazed out the train window on the gray, cold December day, slightly cheered by colored holiday lights in windows. She fingered the chain on her wrist, convinced she had seen Griff Montgomery for the last time.

  * * * *

  At Griff’s insistence, Lauren and Don continued to attend the Kings’ football games. They bundled up more and more each week as the thermometer plummeted, but no amount of clothing or blankets enabled them to stay beyond the third quarter. Even then, it took Lauren ten minutes to thaw out in a warm car.

  Tony Hastings took over as quarterback. Lauren tried to get into the spirit of the game, but every time she looked at Tony, she wished he was Griff. Her lover’s record got the team into the playoffs. He was pleased. Sadly, the Kings lost in the first round to t
he Delaware Demons.

  January turned into a busy month. Annette called to give her the good news—she had a bunch of new clients. Several of Griff’s teammates had hired her to do the same for them.

  “Can you do two at once? Buddy Carruthers is first, but then Max Jenkins wants his done right away. Is this too much to ask? Should I give it to someone else?

  “Didn’t they ask for me?”

  “They did. But we have other talented people, too.”

  “Those are my clients, Annette. You can’t do that.”

  “This is my company. I can do whatever I want,” she huffed.

  Lauren called Griff. Since he was still sitting around recuperating, he had plenty of time to talk.

  “Fuck her. Start your own company. The guys’ll go wherever you go, baby. Screw her. Why should she get anything? She didn’t bring in that business. You did.”

  “You’re right. They’re my clients.”

  “You’ve got the talent. Don’t let that bitch steal your thunder. Hang out your own shingle.”

  “I could do it. I’ve inherited some money.”

  “Go for it, baby.”

  Lauren grinned. “Thanks. Your support means a lot.”

  “I’m proud of you. Wish I could be there for you.”

  “Get better. And come back to me.”

  “I’m tryin’.”

  After exchanging “love you,” they hung up. Lauren called Marcy Chase, the lawyer she had used to defend Griff’s old charges of animal neglect, and started her own company. Once she began the process, her life became one giant, never-ending, to-do list. Papers to sign, bank account to open, office space to find, and bills to pay was the easy stuff. She also had to forge relationships with a truckload of retailers.

  Between the driving, planning, looking at paint and wallpaper samples, and making drawings, Lauren barely had time to eat and sleep. She opened accounts with the hardware store, paint and wallpaper companies, and local furniture outlets. She attended art gallery openings and hawked small gift boutiques for just the right decorative pillow or candy dish.