The Game, page 5
I snort-laughed. “No one likes drivel.”
He smiled, and his eyes dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second. “Maybe I like you.”
I shifted in my seat to face him. “Why?”
Christian shrugged again. “I don’t know. I think you’re interesting.”
My eyes narrowed. “What about me is interesting?”
“You’re a billionaire who lives in a rent-controlled apartment over a fruit stand and tried to give the team you inherited to your grandfather. What’s not interesting about you? Given your situation, most people I know would live in a penthouse by now and take car services, not walk twenty minutes to the stadium every day after getting off the train or humping it on two buses to Queens to see a high school game.”
I raised an eyebrow, and a grin spread across Christian’s face.
“Plus, you’re hot.”
That last part made me smile. “And technically, I’m your boss.”
His grin widened. “That makes you even hotter.”
I chuckled. “Tell me about yourself, Christian. I feel like you know so much about me, but I don’t know anything about you, other than your stats, of course.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“You think I’m hot too, don’t you?”
I laughed. “Just answer the question, Knox. Something tells me your ego gets stroked enough.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”
I tapped my lip with my pointer. “What do you do in the offseason?”
“Recover. Let my body heal. Sleep. Fish. I have a cabin on a lake up in Maine. Spend time with friends. Travel. Keep up with my training.”
“That sounds so…normal.”
“The season is anything but normal when you play in the NFL. It’s tough on the body and mind. You’re on the road all the time, the media follows your ass around, women hand you underwear with their numbers written on them and sneak into your hotel room. So normal is good.”
My face wrinkled. “Women give you their underwear?”
Christian smiled. “Any other questions?”
“Am I demented if I’m curious to know whether the underwear are clean or not?”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I like the way you think.”
A little while later, Christian’s cell chimed. He slipped it from his pocket and swiped. “I promised PT I’d stop back down before they close at seven thirty for a quick recheck of my knee, so I have to run.”
I tapped the screen on my phone to check the time. “Oh, wow. I can’t believe it’s seven fifteen already. We never even talked about the players or the staff.”
“Which means I have to come back.” Christian winked and stood. “Unless you want me to come back after and we can talk over dinner?”
I smiled. “I should probably get going.”
He nodded. “Another time, then?”
“Sure.”
He walked to the door. “I’m going to hold you to that sure.”
BELLA
“Hey, kiddo.” I waved to Wyatt from the bottom of the bleachers as he ran over. He’d just kicked a forty-yard field goal to end the second quarter and was all smiles as he thumbed back toward the uprights.
“Did you see that? Where’s my contract? The Bruins gotta get them some of this.”
I laughed. “I think you should try finishing high school and college first.”
He waved me off. “Man…school’s for dummies.”
“I went to four years of college, did my master’s, and three quarters of a PhD. What does that make me?”
Wyatt grinned. “Wasteful. You own a football team. You didn’t need to do all that.”
He was teasing, so I spared him the lecture about the value of a good education. “Is your mom here? I didn’t see her in the stands.”
“She’s gotta work late again. She said she’d try to make the end of the game. But I told her not to. I don’t want her taking two trains to get here only to see the last sixty seconds. There’s a game next Saturday she can come to.”
“I’ll cheer you on for both of us.”
He waved. “I gotta get to the locker room before Coach kicks my ass. See you after the game?”
“Butt—before the coach kicks your butt. And yes, I’ll find you after the game is over.”
Wyatt ran back to join his team.
I took a seat on the bleachers and spent halftime catching up on emails from my phone. It was hard to imagine how most people in the Bruins organization got anything done with the amount of emails and meetings they had to manage. Five minutes into the third quarter, I noticed a news truck pull up in the parking lot not too far away. Then another one, and another. I really hoped they were here for the team and not me. I slouched down into my seat, just in case. By the end of the third quarter, there had to be a dozen trucks crammed into the already-full lot of cars. But none of the media had come in. They’d gotten out of their vans and were standing around waiting for something. I tried to focus on the game and pretend they weren’t there.
At one point, Wyatt’s team was behind by three, and it was third and twelve. Their offense hadn’t been too reliable making the long first downs this game, so the coach signaled for Wyatt to get ready. I watched with a smile on my face as he shot practice kicks into the net on the sideline behind his team’s bench. It seemed like only yesterday I was babysitting, and he was taking practice shots on me in front of the soccer goal.
As had been the case for most of the game today, his team didn’t convert for a first down. So Wyatt jogged onto the field to set up for a field-goal attempt. I nibbled my lip, feeling tightness in my chest as I waited for him to take his shot. I had no idea how professional players managed the stress. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, and I was only a spectator at a high school game. I might’ve held my breath as he ran toward the ball and reared his leg back for the kick.
But I jumped up and down and screamed when the ball sailed through the uprights. “Great job, Wyatt! Woo-hoo!”
“Damn, I didn’t see you jumping around like that when McKenzie knocked the ball in for three last Sunday right before halftime.” A man’s voice startled me.
“Christian?” I turned and blinked a few times.
He smiled. “Bella?”
I peered around him, though I had no idea what I was looking for. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Bringing the media.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said your friend’s son is a good player, but his school doesn’t get much attention. I figured I’d help out.”
My mind was still boggled that Christian Knox was standing next to me, here at the field of St. Francis Prep High School in Queens. Not to mention, he looked ridiculously sexy in a backward baseball cap, so it took my brain some time to catch up. “But how did you know there was a game?”
“You told me the other day in your office, after you hung up from your call with the kid. I believe you referred to him as Trouble.”
I shook my head. “Oh, yeah…right.”
I wasn’t used to most men listening when I said something important, much less paying attention when I mentioned something in passing. “I can’t believe you’re here. Do all those news trucks follow you wherever you go?”
He shook his head. “I had one of the team’s publicists leak where I was heading.” Christian lifted his chin toward the scoreboard. “Your boy just tied it up, huh? I saw him knock it in while I was walking from the parking lot.”
“Yeah, he’s doing great. That’s his third field goal of the game.”
The reporters huddled in the parking lot were now spread out along the sideline, setting up their tripods. Christian noticed me looking around.
“I told them I’d talk to them after the game, but to keep their eye on the home team kicker until it’s over.”
“That was so kind of you. Thank you. Wyatt is going to freak out when he realizes all of these reporters are here to see him.” I paused. “Well, they’re here to see you, but you know what I mean.”
“No problem.”
We stood side by side, watching the game for a few minutes in silence. “Is your friend here?” Christian asked. “You said it was your friend’s son.”
I shook my head. “She couldn’t make it. She had to work. I try to come to all of Wyatt’s games anyway, but I like to make sure I’m here for the evening ones because I know she often can’t be.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Wyatt and half of his teammates standing on the sideline, pointing our direction. I motioned across the field. “I think you’ve been spotted.”
Christian waved to them. “I remember the feeling they probably have right now. Coach came to all of my games. I was about their age when he brought his famous son the first time.” He smiled. “I remember running across the field after the game was over. I couldn’t wait to meet him. Halfway, I tripped over my own two feet and fell right on my face.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“I thought for sure John would never come back to another game, but he did.” He paused. “You know, Coach would probably love to come see a high school game like this. Have you brought him yet?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t. It’s kind of hard for me to bring him anywhere since I don’t drive, and he doesn’t get around so easily.”
“You know they have these things called car services now. I’m pretty sure it’s the billionairess’s preferred mode of transportation.”
“Cute,” I said.
Christian lifted his backward baseball cap off his head and spun it around forward. “That’s what the girls call me.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure they do.”
We watched the game for a while. Toward the end of the fourth quarter, the coach put Wyatt in for another field goal try, which he nailed. I clapped. “Four for four!”
“Kid’s got some leg. The soccer coach must not have been happy when the football coach nabbed him.”
“He wasn’t actually. And Wyatt’s mom was against him playing football. But Wyatt has a way of talking people into anything, especially me and his mother.”
“It sounds like you two have been friends a long time.”
I nodded. “We have. I also used to babysit Wyatt when his mom had to work. So we’re pretty close.”
“Is that before or after you started to work for Mr. Zhang and live above the fruit stand?”
“God, you even remember my landlord’s name. You have a very good memory.”
“Only when I’m interested in what I’m hearing.”
My stomach felt all mushy, which I tried to ignore. “To answer your question, it was both before and after I started working at the fruit stand. Talia, Wyatt’s mom, and I lived in the same shelter for a while when I was fifteen. That’s how we met.”
Christian’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I wouldn’t change that year because without it, I wouldn’t have Talia and Wyatt in my life. Talia was only sixteen when she had Wyatt. She and I are five years apart, so Wyatt was just four when we met. Back then, she watched my stuff while I went to school, so it would be there when I got back, and I watched her son while she worked an evening shift at McDonald’s.” I looked out to the field and over at Wyatt. “When I got my apartment above Mr. Zhang’s, they stayed with me for a while until she made assistant manager and could afford a place of their own. We’ve been close ever since. She and Miller are my family, the ones I chose.”
Christian shook his head. “I don’t get how John could have let his daughter live in a shelter with all that he had.”
“I wish I understood a lot of things about him better...”
After the game was over, Wyatt came charging across the field. I leaned over to Christian as he neared. “Glad he didn’t trip.”
“Holy crap! I can’t believe Christian Knox is here!”
Christian stretched a hand over the fence. “Nice game, Wyatt.”
Wyatt’s eyes bulged. “You know my name?”
“Sure. I came to watch you play.” He lifted his chin to the reporters still positioned along the edge of the field. “So did they.”
“Really?”
“Yep. But if your coach is anything like my high school coach, he’s not gonna be happy that you’re over here. So why don’t you go back and join your team for the end-of-game talk. I’ll come over and say hello in a few minutes.”
“Okay!”
Wyatt bolted back toward his team without even glancing in my direction.
“I don’t think he noticed I was standing here.”
Christian’s eyes swept up and over me. “Trust me, he’s the only one.”
I felt my cheeks heat. “You know, I am your boss.”
“Not right now you’re not, and there are about six layers of coaches and management between us, so I’m not worried about it anyway.” He gestured toward the media. “I gotta go give them some time for coming. You want to join me, or do an end run and go the other way?”
I normally avoided the media at all costs, but I appreciated them being here today, and one hand washed the other in the world of business, so I decided to walk over with Christian.
The first reporter we stopped at was Reggie Carter. He was older and more polite than a lot of the young guys. “Ms. Keating? I thought that looked like you. Damn, this must be an important kid for both of you to be here.”
Christian looked to me to answer. I smiled. “He is. And I appreciate you coming to see for yourself.”
He dug a small notebook from the leather satchel at his feet and flipped to an open page. “Tell me a little bit about him…”
“So what do you want to major in at college?” Christian glanced in the rearview mirror, speaking to Wyatt. After more than an hour of throwing the ball around with the team, he’d insisted on driving us both home.
Wyatt was so busy tapping away on his phone, he didn’t respond.
“Wyatt?” I said. “Christian asked you a question.”
“Oh…sorry. My Snapchat is blowing up because of the pictures I posted of Christian and me having a catch.” Wyatt lowered his cell. “What did you ask?”
Christian smiled. “What are you thinking about studying in college?”
Wyatt shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to play football. Whatever is easiest, I guess.”
“You know, a lot of excellent players never make it to the NFL. But even if you do, every time you step out on that field, you risk having your career end because of an injury. You should take some time to think about what you’re interested in and pick something that offers you a solid future. Every smart player has a backup plan.”
“What was your major?”
“Archeology.”
Wyatt’s face wrinkled. “You mean like the bones of dead people that you dig out of the ground?”
“That would be the one.”
“I don’t know what I’m interested in, but it’s definitely not that.”
Christian chuckled. “You don’t have to like what I like, but you should try to figure out what you have a passion for.”
A giant grin spread across Wyatt’s face. “I already know. Pizza, girls, and football.”
Even I had to laugh at that response. When we got to Wyatt’s home, Talia was still at work. She must’ve had to stay even later than she’d expected. I walked Wyatt in but didn’t stay long since Christian had double-parked out front.
“What are you doing for your birthday?” I asked at the door. “It’s only a few weeks away.”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“How about if we have a little party in the owner’s box at Bruins Stadium? You can invite your team for a game.”
“The whole team?”
I mussed Wyatt’s hair. “Sure. There’s enough room.”
“Will Christian be there?”
“Christian will be down on the field with the team.”
“Oh.”
“But maybe I can get us a field pass, and we can go down and say hi before the game starts, or after.”
“Really?”
I pointed a finger. “If you give some thought to what Christian said in the car. Come to the game with five subjects or jobs you think you might be interested in, and I’ll get you down to the field for at least a few minutes. Deal?”
“Deal.” He nodded.
Even though I was pretty quick, a traffic cop was at Christian’s car when I came back out. I got in on the passenger side, expecting the officer to be harassing him, but the cop—a woman—was all smiles.
Christian signed his name across the face of a parking ticket. “You’re not going to forget to void this, right?” He handed it back to her.
“I got you.” She took the ticket back. “This baby is getting framed, not going into the system.”
“Thank you. Have a good night, Officer.”
After she walked away, Christian looked over at me. “You ready?”
“I am. But did you just smile your way out of a ticket?”
“She recognized me and offered. I didn’t ask.”
“What else do you get for free?”
Christian looked over his shoulder before shifting into drive and pulling away. “It actually makes me uncomfortable when people won’t take my money at restaurants and stuff.”
It was nice that he didn’t feel entitled. “I can see that. I’ve never been very good at taking a handout.”
Christian glanced over at me and back to the road. “You might be genetically similar to Tiffany and Rebecca, but the resemblance stops at DNA.”
“I still can’t get over Tiffany making me give you a lecture on sexual harassment. I think she’s going to hate me forever.”
“I think that little stunt was aimed at both of us, not just you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t been on Tiff’s good side lately.”
“Oh? How come?”
He was quiet for a few seconds, as he seemed to consider his answer. “Let’s just say, I don’t always take the free stuff offered like I did getting out of that ticket with the cop.”
