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His dreadlocks swayed as he shook his head. “Whatever. Just don’t leave on our account, all right? Anyone who protects our teammates is welcome here as long as he or she wants.”
I put my towel down and stepped back onto the treadmill. “Thanks.”
When Luke and I drove back to his apartment, there was a new contraption waiting on the kitchen counter. It was the size of a hot water heater, with brass pipes sticking out in every direction.
“Am I hallucinating,” I said slowly, “or did someone plant a bomb in your kitchen while we were gone?”
Luke laughed and ran his hand over the machine. “I paid the superintendent to unpack it for me. It’s a new espresso machine!”
“Okay. But why?”
He frowned at me. “You told me I needed a better coffee machine. So I bought this. It’s, you know. A thank you for saving me from getting stabbed.”
I gawked at the huge machine. “I just wanted you to get something better than a ten dollar Mr. Coffee machine. You didn’t have to getthis!”
“This part makes drip coffee,” he explained. “Whilethisside is for the espresso. Double-D was the one who recommended it to me. Apparently he’s a big coffee aficionado.” He shrugged awkwardly. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s not just for you; I’m the one keeping it, after all. It’s the first real luxury I’ve bought myself since signing with the Stallions.”
“Well, thanks,” I replied.
Despite my protests, the new machine made onehellof a good cup of coffee. And after two days of experimentation, we figured out how to use the espresso side. We had plenty of time to tinker with it because when Luke wasn’t at practice, he spent pretty much every minute of the day in his apartment. He watched some TV, but most of the time he reclined on the couch while reading his Kindle.
“It has been a few days,” I told him one evening when he said he wanted to get take-out. “We can go out, if you want. To dinner, or a bar, or the club. Whatever you want. I’ll be there, watching your back.”
“I don’t really like going out,” he replied from the couch. “Most nights, I’d rather stay home and read my book.”
“Really?” I said skeptically. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”
He put down his Kindle. “Why not? Because I’m a big dumb football player?”
“I don’t think you’re big and dumb. But yes, all the jocks I’ve known would rather go out and party than stay home and read.”
“And most bodyguards are probably men,” he replied with a smug smile. “I guess we should both avoid making judgments about people, huh?”
“Touché,” I replied. “I’ll put the food order in.”
I started to walk away, then stopped and turned back around. “Forget something?” Luke asked.
“Vikings,” I said.
“Huh?”
“The other day you asked who my team was. I’m from Minnesota, originally. Skol Vikings.”
I went to get the laptop, but I could feel his smile on my back the whole way.
9
Cazzie
Luke seemed rattled for the first few days after the Las Vegas incident, but he quickly put it behind him. Or at least, he pretended to. He put his head down and focused at practice, arriving before the rest of the team and staying in the workout room long after everyone else had left.
His hard work paid off in the third game of the season, where he caught five passes—including a touchdown—on route to a big win. His momentum continued the week after that against the Denver Broncos, who were absolutely destroyed, 45 - 10. Dallas Lockett was targeting him with more regularity, which gave Luke confidence, which in turn made Lockett pass to him more, a positive feedback loop of on-field success.
I commented on that confidence one afternoon at the apartment. A fancy glass display case had just been installed in the living room, and the football player was carefully placing his vast array of trophies and awards.
“Ifeelmore confident,” he said with a boyish grin. “I just needed a few games to get into a groove. Everything feels natural now.”
“Despite the guy who is out to get you, too,” I replied.
