Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,54
if I can’t get off a pass, then I run with the ball.
“My folks thought playing college football was just a phase until scouts from the NFL starting showing up to watch me. They panicked when I was selected as the Heisman Trophy runner-up and lost it completely when I was drafted in the first round. I witnessed my father losing his temper for the first time. When he threatened to withhold my trust fund until I turned thirty, I called his bluff and signed with the Giants. Meanwhile, my mother took to her bed. How was she going to explain to her fake-ass friends that her son had given up a plum position with his family-run real-estate company to become a common ballplayer?”
“When did you declare a truce?”
“It was just before I was scheduled to play my first pro game. I’d moved into an apartment near Battery Park, and my mother called asking if she and Dad could come to see me. Of course, I said yes. We reached a compromise. They would respect my career choice, and they wouldn’t pressure my brothers and sister to join Wainwright Developers. And I promised once I stopped playing ball I would consider joining the company.”
Ciara smiled up at Brandt from lowered lids. “That’s a nice compromise.”
“You win some and you lose some. But for me it’s a win-win.”
“What happened to your friend Earl?”
“He turned pro, but retired after five seasons because of too many concussions. He married a girl from New England, is the father of twin boys and went into business with his father-in-law. They own and operate a dairy farm in Vermont.”
“It looks as if Earl found his happily ever after.”
“The last time I spoke to him he said he was happier than a pig in…slop. Gotcha! You thought I was going to say shit, didn’t you?”
Ciara held out her hand. “You played yourself, Wainwright. Pay up. You now owe the cuss jar ten dollars.”
“How much do you owe?”
“Not ten dollars, that’s for sure. You can only run a tab for just so long,” Ciara drawled, smiling. “Now it’s time to pay the piper.”
Brandt’s hand moved up and covered her breast. “What if we negotiate an equal trade?”
She frowned. “Don’t tell me that a man of your means doesn’t have ten dollars on him?”
“Oh, I have a lot more than ten dollars.”
“Where is it?”
“Come with me.”
Ciara slid off Brandt’s lap and walked alongside the chair as he rolled out of the kitchen to the elevator. She followed him off the elevator into his bedroom and to the walk-in closet with racks and shelves filled with suits, jackets, shirts and shoes.
Reaching up, he placed his right hand on a metal plate with a dimmer switch that changed from red to green. A panel on the far wall slid back to reveal the steel door to a safe. Brandt punched in the code and opened the door. “Plants are my hobby, but I’m also a collector of antique firearms and swords.”
Ciara moved closer, peering into the open safe. “Is one of your swords a Katana?”
“Yes. I went to Japan and saw one being made, and I knew I had to have one. I placed an order and it came a year later.” Brandt opened a metal box and took out a stack of bills. He counted out five one-hundred-dollar bills. “I think this should cover me for the next month.”
Not hesitating, Ciara took the crisp bills. She pushed them into the apron’s large patch pocket. “I have to decide whether to donate this to your favorite charity or mine.”
“You know about my charity?”
“I may not follow football, but I do know you’ve set up a foundation for high school kids where every complete pass is worth five hundred dollars and touchdowns are a thousand.”
Brandt closed and locked the safe. “I’ve been accused of being self-serving, but I really don’t give a damn. Fans come to the stadium to see the Viking, and whenever I suit up I try and give them their money’s worth. I didn’t go into football to make money, but to entertain. Sporting events are entertainment, just like the circus. We wear costumes and put on a show for the spectators who come to see us perform.”
“Have you always been this cynical about football, or have you changed since the accident?”
Brandt smiled, flashing straight, white teeth. “Aha! Now I get to see the psychiatric nurse in action.”
“I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you, Brandt. I merely asked a question.”