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“Are they going to let you leave now?” she asked.
“After the press conference, for sure,” I told her. She nodded. I was glad she got it, but there were still things here and there I felt a little bad for making her put up with. Someone came up behind me clapping me on the back.
“Good game, Rome,” Marcus, our wide receiver, said to me.
“Don’t lie to him,” another guy, Luther, said. He played tight end. “Veronica, tell your man if he lets it get that close again, it’s his ass,” he said. She laughed. A number of the guys knew her from practices and games; she’d come with me to parties they had at their places sometimes. They’d give her shit, some would flirt with her, but she ran with it.
“I don’t know. He played pretty well from where I sat,” she said. Luther was holding the game ball, passing it between his hands.
“I think we need to start looking for a replacement. How’s your throwing arm?” he asked.
“Mine?” she asked, catching the ball as he tossed it to her.
“Now we know you can catch,” he said, grinning at her. “Come on,” he said, walking backwards, “give me your best throw.” She looked at me, holding the ball in her hands.
“Go on. Show us what you got,” I challenged. The ball looked huge in her hands. I was going to say with some confidence that she’d never tossed one of those in her life. She threw it, straight and long right at Luther. He caught it and came towards us.
“Damn, and that’s with no practice?” he said, gassing her up. Veronica laughed.
“Watch out, Rome. I might have a career in this,” she said, looking at me. Luther tossed the ball at me. I handed it to her.
“You know if that happened I’d be your biggest cheerleader.”
“Would you wear the little shorts?” she asked, grinning. I laughed.
“A skirt would be better, don’t you think? Easier access.” She laughed, and I kissed her. We cleared off the field and met up again after the press conference. We had come in separate cars since I had had to be at the stadium before her.
A few of the guys were going out to celebrate, but we had plans already. The team’s owner, Peter Goldman and his wife had asked to have dinner with us that night. He had chosen a place where a lot of players went often, so of course, dinner was half actually eating and half talking to fans and signing autographs.
We got back to the apartment, finally, at almost midnight. I had been on a high earlier, just after the game, but now, I was just glad to be home. Ron had walked in before me and was already bee-lining it for the bedroom. I followed her. She was in the bathroom when I fell face first into the bed. I rolled onto my back hearing her come out. She had tied her hair up and from what I could see through her clothes, taken her bra off. She crawled onto the bed and lay on her back next to me.
"You okay?" I asked her.
"I should be asking you that," she said, rolling onto her side, leaning her head on her arm so she could look at me. "How's the hip?" she asked.
I shrugged. I had strained my right hip a little a week or so ago and had been getting it looked at, and though it wasn't really getting worse, it wasn't really improving that much, either. I could walk, run, play on it, but anything that hurt and kept hurting was bad news.
"I asked for this. It's my job."
"You always say that."
"It's true."
You did good today. How did that feel?"
"I think I deserve something nice for it."
"Something nice? Like what?"
"How generous are you feeling tonight?" I asked. She sat up and straddled me. I held her hips and lined them up with mine, grinding up into her.
"Generous enough to offer whatever you want," she said, grinning. She leaned down and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her into my chest.
"I have everything I want," I said when she pulled away. She ran her finger down my chest.
"Really? Everything?"
"The list isn't that long. I have my job. I have you. We won our last three games."
