Page 27 of Hell Bent
Silence for another minute, then, “Guess that shows me. You didn’t look me up at all.”
“Wait,” I said. “What?”
“I’m telling myself,” he said, “that this will be OK, because I’m not any kind of big star.”
“No. You’re not an NFL player. Not possible. You’re not big enough, for one thing. I thought you were an investor!”
“I am. Or I might be. Kristiansen dragged me along. How did you think I knew him, when you knew I just got to Portland? And excuse me? I’m not big enough to be an NFL player? You cut me deep.”
“I didn’t think, I guess. But you’re not a star. Probably about to be cut from the team, or whatever it’s called, so I shouldn’t be intimidated. That it?”
“Well, let’s hope not. I just got here.”
I shoved my damp hair out of my face. That sense of ridiculousness was cropping up again. “How have I somehow gone from Tech Bro to NFL player, when all I was looking for was normal? If I was looking at all, which I wasn’t?”
“Well, to be fair,” he said, “youarea princess. An ersatz one, but still. And I’m sure it’s bad to say, asshole-wise, but you’re pretty hot, too.”
“Right. In my various deranged disguises.”
He laughed out loud this time, and I asked, “So where areyou? Getting ready to play, or what? I have no idea what football players do.”
“Football players practice,” he said. “And play. And eat. That’s about it, during the season. In Baltimore, that’s where. Hotel room after dinner with the team. Getting my mind right to play the Ravens tomorrow.”
“So is that hard? A hard game?”
“Not unless you’re intimidated by playing the team with the second-best record in the league.”
“Oh. Should I watch? Or will it make me not like you once I know you’re a loser?”
He laughed again. “See, now, I thought you didn’t like me because I was too much of a winner. Can’t seem to find the happy medium here.”
“Mm.” I snuggled up a little better under my blanket as the rain beat on the metal roof. “You haven’t told me about the dog. What happened? Tell me you didn’t dump her at the pound.”
“Are you kidding? That’s pretty much the best dog in the world. Of course, I really shouldn’t keep her, not being on the road half the weekends and gone all day, but I’m kinda selfish that way. I want what I want.”
“Come on,” I said. “I’m not going to believe you didn’t do the right thing by that dog.”
“Maybe. She’s probably about eight or nine, the vet said, got some white on her muzzle, and she had a big old lipoma on her side. Malnourished, too, which was why her coat was so rough. She’s had a bath and been groomed now, she’s eating all kinds of fancy dog food and catching up on her sleep, and the lipoma’s been taken care of. Fortunately benign. That’s why she was moving slow, though. It was almost in her armpit, hurt her to move.”
“Who’s taking care of her? Aren’t you in a … a hotel or something, if you just got there?”
“The team helped me find a place. Condo. The neighbor lady works from home and has a thirteen-year-old daughter, and I worked out a deal where they take her out during the day and keep her when I’m gone. She’s not real spry while she’s recovering, because that was a pretty good surgery, but she’s getting there.”
“So who helped you buy a dog bed?” I had to tease, somehow. “Tell me you didn’t pick up some lunatic woman in Target again.”
“Nope. I did it all by myself, through the magic of the internet. Lexi now has a super-deluxe orthopedic memory-foam dog bed. I hate to admit it, but it’s purple. Not a manly look for me, but she insisted, and I have to admit that it looks good with her hair. It’s also monogrammed. Is monogramming allowed if it’s on a dog bed and not my shirt?”
I was smiling so hard, my face was probably cracking. “Monogramming is definitely allowed. Lexi? How did that happen?”
He cleared his throat. “See, I found her, and then I found this woman. It was an eventful night.”
“You did not name your dog after me.” I was so touched, my hand was actually on my chest.
“I can’t decide if I should say yes or no,” he said. “All right, she has funny hair and she’s old and was limping a little, but …”
“But she’s the best dog ever. You should say that you named her after me, because that is the sweetest … that’s the …”
“Oh, good. We’re getting somewhere. Listen. I have to go to sleep in about half an hour, because there’s this game tomorrow, so I’m going to have to go for it here. Come to Christmas dinner with me at Kristiansen’s.”
