Griff Montgomery, Quarterback Page 3

  He shook his head slightly. I’ll be like Alice, after she took the growth pills, squeezing myself into this mini-house. Its charm will be gone by the time my place is done. Still, he viewed it as an adventure and a detour from his usual style. Kathy would approve.

  * * * *

  Rhode Island

  “I’m sorry, Annette, I don’t know when I’m coming back. We’re moving my dad to a nursing home. I can’t do that overnight.”

  “The Carpenters need you to work with the architect this week. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

  Lauren took her lower lip between her teeth. “Do what you gotta do.”

  “Della is available. I have to give it to her. I hope you understand.”

  Lauren sighed. “I do. I get it.”

  “I’m sorry. Hope everything goes well with your dad.”

  “Thanks.” Lauren put her cell back in her purse. So much for that commission. She returned to the waiting room at the hospital.

  Her big brother stood up and stretched. “How’d that go?”

  “Not great.”

  Don tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

  “No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Can my life get any worse? I hope Bob left me enough money to pay the mortgage for a couple of months. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach, making her queasy.

  “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved,” Don said, moving toward the hallway.

  “You go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

  He extended his arm, reaching for her hand. “Come on. You don’t have to get anything, but I hate to eat alone. Besides, enough moping.”

  Lauren pasted a grin on her face for her brother’s benefit. His warm, dry hand squeezed hers, sending comfort through her. Whenever they’d had to get shots when they were kids, Don would always hold her hand. He’d kid her that she couldn’t make him say “ouch.” She’d focus on squeezing him so hard he’d have to yelp. The shot was over before she could panic. Afterward, he’d feign pain, moaning and groaning, gripping his hand. His antics made her laugh.

  Don had always been there for her.

  But adult problems couldn’t be handled so easily. Don was married with three sons and a daughter. He had his own stresses and strains. Besides, Lauren knew he couldn’t fix her life, no matter how hard he tried. Still, she was grateful for the concern he showed and the time he carved out of his tight schedule to devote to her and their father.

  They sat down to two burgers and Cokes in the hospital cafeteria and talked about the options for their dad, looking over the pamphlets and discussing the advice from the social worker. Next step was visiting the recommended places, picking one, and trying to get him accepted.

  That burden would fall on Lauren’s shoulders. Don had to get back to work. He sold cars and couldn’t miss so many days. He had a family to feed. Lauren only had herself and her pug, Zander. Now that she was losing the fat commission on decorating the Carpenter’s house, money would be tight.

  She and Bob had been married such a short time that they had agreed to forego alimony. Lauren had gotten the house, Bob had gotten whatever furnishings he had wanted, and they had called it quits. Clean and easy, he had said at the time. She frowned, remembering that conversation. Clean and easy for you, maybe.

  There’ll be other commissions. Annette’s place is well known. I’ll survive, even if I have to sell the house. Dad needs me now, and I’ve got to do this right. After lunch, Lauren took her notes, hugged her brother, and met with the social worker one more time.

  She spent the next several days listening to doctors, visiting the homes, and reminiscing with her dad. After one week, the hospital gave her the green light to move him. Lauren had filled out the paperwork and waited to hear if the place she liked most would take him.

  While she relished the time she spent with her father, looking at him, so shrunken and weak, was upsetting. He had played professional baseball, used to be strong and handsome. Now, he was a shadow of the man she had known, and it made her sad.

  She rose early on Wednesday, the day she was to move her dad into the Springfield Residence. She hated the idea. Facing a plate of bacon and eggs at the diner down the block from her motel, her appetite went south. A lump gathered in her throat, closing it to food.

  Don breezed through the door, his brows furrowed, his face grim. He slipped into the booth across from her. “Today’s the day.” He motioned to the waitress. She brought a pot of coffee over and filled his mug.

  “Yep.” Lauren’s eyes filled.

  Don reached over and squeezed her hand before he lifted his cup. “I know, Ferret,” he said, using his childhood nickname for her.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He smiled. “Knew I could get a rise out of you. Finish and let’s get this thing over with. Then, let’s get blasted.”

  Lauren took a forkful of eggs, finished the bacon, and wiped her lips with the napkin. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Don grabbed the check. They piled into his car and drove to the hospital.

  * * * *

  After four Savage Sunrises, Griff forgot where he was living and walked back to his old home, which was all sealed up. He turned around and headed to Mott Street, where the little Victorian rested. On the way, he passed a dark house and spied something moving by the back door.

  A groundhog? A large rat? Curiosity coupled with alcohol emboldened him to move closer. The figure shifted, turning to face him. It uttered a low, threatening growl.

  Griff stopped short. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out the form of a small dog. He took another step, and the pup started to bark. He peered into the shadows and made out the stubbed nose of a pug. By now, the canine was barking furiously. Griff backed up. As he continued on his way, the animal quieted and lay down, still watching him.

  The next morning, he threw on his running gear and returned to the empty house to see if the pooch was still there. Curled up next to the back steps was the pug, which jumped up and began barking at Griff again. He looked in the windows and didn’t see any signs of life. There was little furniture, and no car in the driveway.

  He frowned. “Went off and left ya, did they?”

  The racket continued then the little creature sat and panted.

  “Bet you’re thirsty.” Griff ran back to his place for a bowl and a bottle of water. He approached carefully, stopping about halfway to set up the dish. The pug eyed him with suspicion. Griff filled the bowl and backed up. The dog sniffed and took a step toward the offering. The quarterback stood frozen, completely still, watching as the canine approached slowly and took a long drink.

  “Probably hungry, too.” He tossed a piece of bread at the bowl and laughed when it bounced away. Not exactly a bullet pass. The wary pooch took another drink then carted the bread in his mouth to a corner by the back steps. He scarfed it down, keeping his large, brown eyes trained on the footballer.

  “Who leaves a dog outside to fend for himself?” Griff muttered under his breath. He shook his head and went back to his run.

  Later that day, at the grocery store, Griff added dog food to his cart, determined to keep the feisty pug alive. He showed up at the house with more water and some food. This time, he didn’t back away, but filled the bowl and crouched down. The starving dog approached cautiously, sniffing the air. When he got to the feast, he chowed down quickly.

  Griff inched closer until he could reach out and touch the pooch. The animal lifted his gaze and growled. The football player put his hand out. The pug sniffed it then went back to eating. When he finished, he licked his chops and looked up at the quarterback, allowing the human to creep closer. Griff stretched out his hand and touched the furry head, then petted the dog. The creature sat up, allowing the man to continue.

  After two meals, the dog, who Griff named “Spike,” came right up when the man arrived with food. After a couple of days, since there was no owner in sight, Griff decided to take him. Spike allowed the man to put a harness and leash o
n him and trotted along behind the football player home.

  After a bath and a good meal, man and dog settled down on the sofa to watch television. Spike rested his head on Griff’s leg and closed his eyes. The quarterback smiled and petted his new friend. This is what I need. A dog. Although the animal couldn’t replace a family, he saw Spike as a first step toward having the life he wanted.

  When Griff told Buddy about the new companion, his friend raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A dog? Really? You got a dog?”

  “A pug. Named him Spike. I rescued him. I can’t believe he was abandoned.”

  “How the hell are you gonna take care of a dog when we’re on the road?”

  Griff put down the weight he was lifting and frowned. “Hadn’t thought about that. Guess I’ll have to board him.”

  “What a fuckin’ pain in the ass. What were you thinking, man?”

  “I couldn’t leave him there to starve, could I?”

  “Toss him some food and call the A.S.P.C.A.”

  “I didn’t think of that. He’s a good dog.”

  “He’s still a pain,” Buddy said, shaking his head. “What’s happening to you? You’re getting domestic on me.”

  Griff laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Man whore no more?”

  “Damn! Don’t say that.”

  When Griff got home after his workout, he was greeted with ferocious barking. When Spike identified his new owner, he quieted down, licking Griff’s hand and trotting behind him into the kitchen for dinner.

  * * * *

  After a tearful farewell with her father at the nursing home, Lauren slipped behind the wheel of her car and headed home. She tried to concentrate on the road, but sadness welled up inside her. That may be the last time I see Dad. The idea was too upsetting to think about. I’ll have to come up here more often. She focused on the road, sweeping disturbing thoughts from her mind.

  Lauren chewed her lip as she wondered what would be waiting at her office. Is there any work for me? Annette set up her company differently. Everyone brought in business and used her resources. She also parceled out accounts and paid her decorators as consultants instead of employees. This arrangement meant Lauren didn’t receive a salary or health insurance.

  When she had been married to Bob, it hadn’t mattered. Now, the tenuous work situation preyed on her mind. She needed to get back and check her bank balance. Anxiety made her depress the gas pedal. All at once, it hit her. Why am I rushing? There’s no one at home. No one will miss me or wonder if I’m dead if I’m an hour, or ten hours, late.

  Loneliness engulfed her. To get rid of the silence, she switched on the radio. Lauren loved quiet time to read, sketch, or think. Now, she dreaded filling the empty hours. Thank God for the Girls’ Night group, or I’d have nothing. Her last conversation with Don came to mind.

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  “Dating? Really, Don. I’m divorced a couple of weeks.”

  “So? Never too early to get back on the horse.”

  “Wonderful analogy.”

  He grinned and shrugged.

  “I’m not dating anyone, and just the idea makes me want to throw up.”

  “You’re pretty, Laurie. Go for it. Get a real guy this time. Not some jerk.”

  “Nice to know you approve of my taste in men.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Don laughed at her remark and took her hand in both of his. Then, he changed the subject, leaving her relieved.

  In the car, every song screeched about love—unrequited love, unspoken love, great love, sexy love, lost love—until she wanted to scream. Doesn’t anyone ever sing about anything else? She turned off the radio. Love wouldn’t be high on her list for some time. Maybe never. Once a man finds out about me, he’ll run for the hills.

  Lauren decided to channel her energy into her work. Build up a clientele. Work my butt off. Then, maybe I can open my own company and not need Annette anymore.

  It was four o’clock when she rolled into her driveway. Feeling buoyed by her decision to become a workaholic, Lauren stopped on the threshold of the house. She put her suitcase down and took a deep breath. It’s empty. Bob said he’d leave the bed and the couch. Be prepared. Warm summer air caressed her face. Why rush in? There’s no one there, anyway.

  She sank down into a wicker chair and propped her feet up on the small table. Moving her dad had been exhausting, draining her emotional, as well as physically.

  Picking up her cell, she dialed Canine Condo, where her Zander had been staying. Thank God Bob agreed to let me keep him. Maybe it’s not too late to get him tonight.

  “No, Lauren. Zander’s not here.”

  “What? You sure? Bob was supposed to drop him off.”

  “Nope. We have room. Is he coming now?”

  “No, thanks. I’m home.” She closed the phone. Tears pricked at her eyes. He lied. He took Zander. Why am I surprised? She pulled out a tissue. Don’t be a wimp. Call him. Get your dog back!

  “What’s up?” Bob sounded preoccupied.

  “Why did you take Zander? Was telling me I could have him just another lie?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have the dog. You dropped him at Canine Condo.”

  “What? You were supposed to do that. It was on the list, remember?”

  “What list?”

  “The one I gave you. That you balled up and refused to read.”

  “Well, if you saw I didn’t read it, why didn’t you drop him there?”

  “I couldn’t do everything, Bob.”

  “He’s your problem now.” Her ex-husband hung up.

  Her heart beat quickened. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She opened the front door and called the dog’s name. No answer. She ran outside and repeated the action. No answer. Panic rose in her chest, her pulse thumping in her ear. No whimpers or barking broke the quiet of the summer day. He’s gone. A sob broke from her throat as tears cascaded down her cheeks. Zander, where are you?

  Chapter Three

  After three days of leaving a crying dog at the door, Griff tucked Spike under his arm and strapped him in the backseat of his fancy car. Once he got to the gym, he wasn’t sure what to do, so he fastened the leash to a machine by the door.

  The pug curled up and was snoring, until three teammates walked in. Spike jumped, barking at the men, startling them. They laughed at the little dog, with the fur on the back of his neck standing up and his little legs stiff.

  Griff put down the barbell and took hold of the lead. “Whoa, Spike. These are friends.”

  “You can’t have a dog in here,” Bullhorn Brodsky, offensive lineman, said.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like dogs?” Griff asked.

  “Hell, yeah, I like dogs. Not in the training room. What if he takes a shit in here? It’ll stink up the whole place.” Bullhorn wrinkled his nose in anticipation.

  “He just did, Bull. Not likely he will again.”

  “You’d be surprised. My dog takes a dump three times a day.”

  “You’ve got a Rottweiler. Big dogs, big shit.”

  Devon Drake, the cornerback, crouched down and extended his hand to Spike. The dog sniffed it then gave him a lick. “He likes me. I say we keep him. He can be our mascot.”

  “Just so he doesn’t shit in here, Montgomery,” Bullhorn said.

  “Speaking of shit, ever smell yourself after a game, Bull?” Griff made a face. “Makes Spike’s smell good.”

  The men laughed as they chose their machines. Buddy joined Griff in the weight area.

  “You’re keeping this dog, eh?” Buddy asked, adjusting the weight on the apparatus.

  “Yep. Gives me a reason to go home.”

  “How about a warm, naked, female body under the covers?”

  “Got someone in mind?”

  Buddy chuckled. “I wish. I guess a pooch is better than nothing.”

  After working out, Griff took Spike out to the field to run
with him. The small dog sprinted for a bit then trotted over to the cool grass that had recently been watered and lay down, panting.

  “Is that a dog or a rat? He’s got no stamina,” Brodsky said, as he started a lap.

  “He’s a little guy. Leave him alone, Bull.”

  “You’re worried about me hurting his feelings? Bullshit! He’s an animal, Griff.”

  “I know, I know.” Griff couldn’t account for the protective feelings he had for the pug. Maybe it was the fact the canine had been abandoned and starving that touched the quarterback’s heart. Whatever it was, he had become insanely attached to the creature, quickly. Although he’d never admit it, he guessed that he and Spike had an understanding about loneliness, about being deserted, and had formed a silent pact to have each other’s backs.

  Spike needed Griff, and it felt good. Maybe only in a small way, but it was a beginning, a tiny step back to the life he had lived.

  “He’s full grown. Where did you get him?” Bull asked, approaching the snoozing pup.

  “I found him, starving, hanging around an empty house.”

  “So, he’s not yours?”

  “He is now.”

  The footballer picked up the pug and headed for the showers. Spike slept on the floor of the locker room until his master was dressed. They got in the car and drove to town to get some errands done. Griff intended to check out the local dog-boarding place. He needed to arrange for doggie daycare when he went to training camp.

  After spending more time than he cared to in the pharmacy and the grocery store, Griff cursed out Kathy for leaving, for the umpteenth time. She used to do all this shit. Fuck. Why couldn’t she find a guy who lived here?

  The downtown section of Monroe was quaint. Some of the buildings had distinct New England flavor, with colorful shingles, white trim, and black shutters. He made his way down the street with Spike trotting alongside. They stopped at Canine Condo. A pretty redhead sat at the front desk. She greeted Griff with a broad, warm smile. He had to ask for information on their services twice, as her attention shifted to Spike.