“That makes two of us. But to return to the question, I turned running away from Jacob into running cross-country and track in junior high and high school. Luckily, I was good enough to get a scholarship so I could escape.”
Given Nick was an angel, his strength and endurance was superior to humans even before he grew into his full powers. “From what Trevor said and the medals in your room, you were quite a bit better than good enough.”
“I did well, yes, but that’s in the past. I don’t want to be that guy in Springsteen’s Glory Days song who can only talk about his big days in high school. It’s not like I was a world champion.”
The fact he wasn’t surprised me. Had Uriel meddled enough to make him good, but not too good? Angels weren’t allowed to be professional athletes because it would draw too much attention to our kind. “It’s okay to brag a little. You won’t turn into Al Bundy.”
“Al who?”
The problem with being over a hundred, was remembering to weed out pop culture references from prior generations. “He was that guy on the sitcom who always talked about scoring four touchdowns in one game in high school because he’d grown up to be a shoe salesman. I used to watch reruns as a kid with my dad.”
‘Oh right. My dad hated that show, so we didn’t watch it.”
Probably because Al Bundy was too close to home for his father. “Trevor said you were an All-American three times?”
“It’s not as big a deal as it sounds. It means I finished in the top forty at Nationals. The highest I ever placed was ninth.”
I wouldn’t call Nick broken, but he was beaten down if he didn’t think he’d done something momentous. “Jeez, Nick. Top ten in the entire country? Thatisa big deal.”
“I know, but no one remembers who came in second. If you didn’t win, you lost.”
Something his father no doubt told him to knock him down a few pegs. “It’s not about who remembers, it’s about doing your best and being proud of it. Don’t listen to the jealous bullshit your family spouted. It’s quite an achievement.”
Nick snorted. “The most fucked up part is Dad would brag to anyone who’d listen about how great I did, but around me, it wasn’t worth spit. It made Jacob hate me even more hearing Dad tell others about what I’d done.”
In a twisted way it made total sense. Nick’s father couldn’t maintain his air of superiority over his son if he acknowledged the success, but anything that made him look better, he’d run into the ground. “I’m impressed. And I’m not going to race you, but I wouldn’t mind coming along when you run. I need to up my exercise level given my new desk job.”
“That’d be awesome. I’d love to have someone to run with. And I promise I won’t try to race you. If I go too fast, let me know and I’ll dial it down.”
I hoped my acting skills were up to the challenge, because if I gave it my full effort, I’d almost certainly beat him. “Sounds good. Just remember to go easy on the old.”
“Right. Three years makes yousomuch older than me.”
The lies were starting to compound. My age varied with my task. Guarding Nick required I be about twenty-eight. Hardly an old man, even in his eyes. “They are three very hard years, let me tell you.”
“Okay, Grandpa.” Nick smiled and it made him glow.
Nick didn’t shy away from the past, but like anyone, he preferred to stay away from negative topics. The hard part about getting to know someone was their past was an important part of who they were now. I reached for something I hoped would keep the smiles coming. “Favorite sport other than running?”
“Oh, we’re going with safe topics for $100, are we?”
I knew Nick was smart, but he was also perceptive. Several times he’d caught on when I subtly tried to steer things to something less upsetting. Vicky had been right trying to keep me away from dating Nick. Unfortunately, having started down this road, if I turned around, it would make it harder to guard him. “It was that or work. Personally? My work is boring, so I’d rather not go there on my day off.”
“Fair enough. Baseball.”
Interesting. I wonder how he’d react if he knew I’d met Babe Ruth, Cy Young, Willie Mays, and almost every other superstar in the sport. “Being from New York, are you a Yankee fan?”
“Hell no!” Nick frowned as he shook his head. “The Mets, of course.”
He said it like it was so obvious. The Mets had been second fiddle in New York since they were founded. “How could you choose them over a team with twenty-seven world titles?”
“Please, they bought every one of them. Besides, I was born and raised on Long Island.”
I knew what he meant, but I wanted to hear his answer. “What does that mean?”
“Back to family for a moment, but this ends well, I promise.” Nick made a face and blew out a breath. “When I was a kid, I used to love playing catch with my granddad. Dad and Jacob were football fans and said baseball was for pussies who couldn’t take a hit. Which was in part a dig at my grandfather who played college baseball.
“Me and Grandpa bonded over baseball and his team was the Mets. He used to take me to games every month in the summer. It was easier to get to Shea Stadium, since it was on the Island. Yankee Stadium’s in the Bronx, which is way harder to get to. My grandmother would pack us a lunch. Grandpa would sneak in peanuts, and we take the train to Jamaica then hop on the subway. Just me and him. It was our thing.”
