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“The team doing that might actually be the easy part,” Thomas said.
“For the time being,” Erlich said, “the three people in this room are your most important team, the one that’s going to put in place what we call a super-injunction in my business.”
“You make the media sound like the Supreme Court,” I said.
“Actually,” Erlich said, “social media is way more powerful than that.”
We sat in silence while we let it all settle.
Finally, I said, “I won’t do anything that I think makes me look stupid.”
“All due respect, Sis? You mean more stupid than slugging Jack in front of a reporter?”
Bobby Erlich took me through the rest of his game plan then, saving the best for last.
“Wait. You think I need that?”
He nodded solemnly.
“And you can make it happen?”
“It’s already in the chute,” he said. “Time to even up the sides here.”
“She’d really do it?”
“She’s already agreed,” Erlich said. “All we need is for you to say yes.”
I hesitated slightly, but only for dramatic effect.
“Hell, yes.”
Fifty-Five
THE WOLVES CAME BACKto beat the Broncos in Denver.
I watched the game from home, happy to be alone, feeling the way I did when I’d sit by myself in the stands and wear headphones so I didn’t have to talk to anybody and could just enjoy watching the action on the field without a lot of noise around me.
Ted was cleared to start but proceeded to play worse—a lot worse—than he had all year. Ryan had no choice but to pull him in the middle of the third quarter, with the Broncos leading 38–21, and replace him with Billy McGee.
At that point, Billy promptly forgot what year it was, what his rap sheet looked like, the fact that a few weeks ago he was out of football and largely forgotten by most fans. And proceeded to give everybody an all-around performance to remember, finally winning the game for us in the last minute when he scrambled away from a rush and ran the ball into the end zone.
It was all pretty thrilling to watch, especially if you were rooting for the Wolves, as I sure was, occasionally yelling my head off when Money McGee would make another play. There were even times during the last drive when I walked out of the room because I couldn’t bear to watch what might happen next.
Ryan called from the bus about ninety minutes after it ended.
“We’ve got ourselves one of those quarterback controversies that the media and the fans live for.”
“I noticed,” I said. “But can we wait until you’re back to talk about it? I’ve had enough controversy for one week. Or maybe one lifetime.”
“Money’s a better quarterback than Ted. By a lot. By, like, so much it’s not close.”
“You’ll figure it out,” I said. “Why I pay you the big bucks.”
“I thought we were a team.”
“Not when it comes to my ex-husband we’re not,” I said, and told him I’d see him in the morning.
I got ready to watch the Sunday night game then, happy to have no rooting interest whatsoever. It was only five thirty, but after what had just happened in Denver, I decided it was the time of day that Joe Wolf used to call alcohol o’clock and built myself the first martini I’d had in a long time.
