Chapter 19 #5
“Hogarth has just as much to lose as you if you’re a suspect.” Trent hoped that was true. Maybe he’d need to convince Hogarth it was true. In a subtle way, like a protective fiancé would.
“So far. Hogarth did say he wanted the investigation to eliminate me as a suspect, but I don’t trust him. At all. Or Lisa Cooper.”
“I don’t blame you. But you have me on your side. I’ll run interference if I need to.”
“How would you propose to do that?” He heard the smile in her voice, making up for the skepticism.
“It depends on the threat. I don’t take threats without defending and retaliating. Not in my nature. Keep me posted on whatever Hogarth and Cooper say and do. We’ll respond as needed.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Could be. For them.”
“I’m glad you’re on my team.”
He laughed. “You’re more than a teammate, Charlie.”
There was dead silence on the line and he hadn’t realized what he’d implied with his words until after he spoke them.
She was his fiancée. He’d been acting like their engagement was real.
It was a tough line to draw at times because he did feel protective of her, and the bond they had with their shared secret made them as intimately and indelibly tied together as if they were engaged—or married.
“If you say so.” The words were quiet, but he heard the implication. And, damn it, the smile of satisfaction, as unwarranted as it was, came automatically.
“Where are you?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Sounds promising.”
She laughed. “Before you get excited, I’m about to have dinner with my sister and mother.”
“How is your mother?”
“She’s been depressed lately. Not an uncommon side effect—”
“To the EM-HGH-1?”
“No. It’s her illness and her age. But I’ve prescribed an antidepressant. I need to keep an eye on her to make sure it’s effective and I have the right dosage, but it’s too soon to tell if it’s working.”
“You have your hands full.” He felt inadequate in that moment, like he should be able to do something to help, to relieve her burden.
She snorted. “We both do. I know your team is counting on you to get them into the playoffs. They put a lot of pressure on you.”
“Sure, but it’s not life and death.”
Silence. Damn. He shouldn’t have said that.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. It’s true. My mother is terminal. But she’s seventy years old.”
“I know that’s no consolation when it’s someone you love,” he said. “I’d love to meet your mother and Suzette—”
“No. Bad idea, Trent. You saw how hard it was when I met your sister. It would be the same if you were to meet my family.”
“They don’t want to meet your fiancé?” He was surprised they weren’t pressuring her to meet him.
“I didn’t say that,” Charlie said. “But my family has led a very private life. We don’t have people over and so it’s been easy to put off having you over.”
“You might not be able to put them off forever.”
“I won’t need to. Only until the end of the season. The end of the drug trial.”
He’d asked for that. He needed to change the subject. Back to the one place where his head should be in the first place. He was so close to the Super Bowl. A punch of adrenaline hit his system thinking about it.
“Sunday’s game is important. I don’t know if you realize it, but we could clinch the playoffs with a win.
I need to be in best form. Anything extra you can do for me, doc?
Didn’t I read something about a booster serum in the research protocol file you gave me?
” He tried to sound casual, but his heart started racing in anticipation.
“I can’t give you the booster serum. It’s something I’ve been working on to boost healing immediately after a traumatic injury. It’s not meant for regular use.”
Her answer spurned a surge of desperate aggression, but he kept his cool, kept his head under pressure like he was getting ready to throw a long pass into the end zone for the game winning touch-down and the linebacker was bearing down on him ready to pounce. He kept steady and on task.
“What would be the effect if you gave it to me without a traumatic injury?”
“Forget about it, Trent.”
“Humor me.”
“It would have the same effect as steroids but without the side effects.”
“And without being traceable,” he said.
She paused. “I can’t even believe I’m talking to you about this. Forget it.”
“No. Let’s not forget it.” His heart pounded. “Sounds like exactly what I need.”
“You don’t need it. Not technically. It’s meant for post-trauma, not for boosting performance in special games.”
“Medically speaking, you’re right, I don’t need it.
” It cost him to sound reasonable when he felt anything but.
He felt like he was crawling to the end-zone on his hands and knees.
He took a deep breath and swiped a hand over his face.
“But let’s face it, Charlie. The whole reason I’m one of your guinea pigs is to boost my performance, and especially for big games.
If I didn’t need that, I surely wouldn’t have agreed to be John Doe. ”
She stayed silent on the other end of the line for several seconds, too long.
Maybe he’d pressed her too far, but damn it.
He wanted that boost. He supposed this was what addicts felt like when they needed a hit.
The raw, deep-down need to be the best, at all personal cost, clawed at him mentally, if not physically.
He was all-in. It was who he was. If he was going down this road of using performance-enhancing drugs, he would do it big. Not with routine, easily available drugs, the kind that could be discovered, the kind that barely had an effect. Not his style. Not worth the risk.
No, he would go whole hog with only the best. Experimental and dangerous and potentially miraculous. That was who he was. All or nothing.
“Fine. I’ll prepare a dose and administer it tomorrow.” She sighed and sounded defeated. He had a twinge of regret, but she spoke before him. “I have to go. Good night, Trent.” She ended the call.
He pulled into his parking garage and headed up to his empty condo, a teasing thought edging his mind that he might have gone too far.
He’d pushed for the booster without knowing anything about it.
He’d talk to Charlie more about potential downsides tomorrow.
He could always change his mind about it.
But he knew he wouldn’t change his mind.
The compulsion to charge relentlessly forward to the goal line with all he had was programmed into his DNA. He couldn’t do it any other way until he won and achieved his goal of the Football Hall of Fame. Or ended up banned from the game.
Or dead.
Saturday, December 7th
Trent had a restless sleep that night and took an extra cup of black coffee with him when he left in the dark to drive to the stadium.
The restlessness had to be because Charlie was missing from his bed.
Or maybe it was his vacillating about the booster.
It should be a no-brainer. It could help him throw better, help his arm strength and accuracy.
There was no one on the road and only a few cars in the team lot when he arrived at Minuteman Stadium.
One thing the booster would not do was help his concentration, and as he walked through the tunnel into the dressing room, he knew damn well that was his biggest problem right now.
Or potential problem. So far he’d managed to keep his head in the game when he was on the field.
Films were getting to be a struggle. Jamie had said it was probably because the game films were all starting to look like repeats, Trent had been around so long.
He got half dressed, no pads for the walk-through today. Then he went to the training room to meet Charlie. Of course he would go with the booster serum. This was going-for-broke time. That decision had been made when he paid his ten million and signed up to be John Doe.
When he’d signed up to play in the NFL instead of going to med school.
No halfway measures now. It was balls to the wall and no looking back.
Week 15 - Home Game, Sunday, December 8th
Charline took her seat in the players’ family section, close to the field at about the forty-five-yard line.
Nerves made her gut feel like a bubbling volcano.
She wished it was the excitement of the game charging her up, but it was guilt for her compliance with giving Trent the booster serum.
In her mini exam that she’d insisted on this morning, Trent’s blood pressure was elevated.
He’d insisted it was pregame excitement, but it had never been this high before any of the previous games.
Everything else about the exam that morning had been normal.
His flexibility, stability, and strength were great, his muscle mass improved, and she didn’t detect any brittleness in his tendons or ligaments.
She would need to do some more invasive testing to really determine how his tendons and ligaments were doing.
She’d put it off to accommodate his schedule.
Next week was the team’s bye week and she’d do it then—ten days behind schedule.
“You’re cutting it close, aren’t you?” Violet said to her from two seats over.
She smiled. There was an empty seat between them.
Trent hadn’t given that ticket to anyone this week.
His family would be coming to all the playoff games and he was busy wrangling for those tickets since he needed a massive number of them for family, his agent and various business associates.
“I had to check on Trent before the game.”
Violet shook her head. “Come sit next to me. ‘Bout time I got to know you, now that you’re a regular. A permanent regular, according to Jamie.”
“You mean because I’m engaged to Trent?” Charline moved over one seat, glad to have the distraction of Violet’s company.
“No, because Jamie says you two have something special. Trent’s always been one to give jewels to the gals, so I wasn’t ready to concede that the diamond was for real—maybe it just meant you were more clever than the others.”
Charline laughed in spite of the absurdity of Trent’s romantic history. It was almost as sad as her own history, reminding her to remain cautious where he was concerned.
“Jamie told me we’re going out to dinner next Saturday.”
“Oh . . . right.” Charline tried to fake it, but Violet shook her head, knowing she hadn’t a clue about the planned dinner.
“Trent didn’t mention it, did he? That man needs a slap sometimes. Don’t worry. It’ll just be the four of us and it’ll be low key. We’re going for bye week—the only time Jamie and Trent allow themselves to have any fun until they win the Super Bowl.”
“Or until the end of the season,” Charlie said.
“No. If they don’t win the Super Bowl this year, there will be no fun in the off-season. Mark my words.”
Charline wanted to ask Violet about that crazy mentality.
She’d seen it in Trent, but she didn’t get it.
Had no idea where it came from. Football made him a lot of money and was enormously popular with fans, but it was only a game.
She’d never say that to Trent, but he knew it.
The game was important to a lot of people, she knew, but still.
Hearing the excitement in the announcer’s voice as he introduced the players and the fans roaring around her, Charline chastised herself not to be a snob.
This kind of excitement and fun was an important part of life, the kind of thing people looked forward to, even lived for.
Violet stood. Their tête-à-tête had come to an end with the start of the game.
The Minutemen took an early lead over the Stars and Charline felt her smile ease the tension all the way down to her gut, calming her nerves, dissolving the worries and tension as the game went on.
Violet leaned into her.
“Trent’s in rare form. Jamie too. The pair of them are trying to break records.”
“That was a great catch Jamie had in the end zone.”
Violet grinned and looked back at the field. Trent had the team at the forty-two-yard line, right in front of them, with only fifteen seconds on the clock in the half and third down. The announcer told them it was either throw a bomb or go for a short gain to set up for a field goal.
“Knowing Trent, he’ll probably go for the touchdown,” she said. Violet nodded in agreement.
Trent dropped back into the pocket, faked a short throw, and then turned to the other side of the field.
He was looking to throw down the left sideline across his body.
Damn if Charline didn’t feel the stretch as if it was her own shoulder straining.
Trent hauled his arm back and threw a bomb at the last second to Jamie streaking down the sidelines.
She had no idea if Jamie caught the ball.
Charline’s eyes were on Trent as the defensive end crashed through the offensive line and plowed into him, taking him to the ground and burying him.
Tracking as if she were watching it all in slow motion, she saw that Trent’s shoulder was caught between the defensive end and his body as he hit the ground, watched as the opponent took his time getting up, pushing off Trent’s shoulder. Charline winced when he did that.
Without realizing it, she moved to the edge of her seat, her heart now racing, as Trent got up off the ground, his right offensive guard reaching a hand out to help him.
The way Trent put out the opposite arm and stood, the way he straightened and then the way he held his right arm, made her feel sick.
Charline jumped from her seat. The whistle blew a beat after that. A time-out had been called. Trent was hurt.
Screaming inside in fear and horror, she knew she had to get to him. She was frantic with the need to be at his side. Everything in her wanted to climb over the rail and jump onto the field and rush to him, to shove the team physician aside, so that she could check him herself.
Trying to keep her head, she ran through all the possibilities in her mind as she sat in the endless limbo of shock.
One of the other drug trial subjects had a problem earlier that week, Babcock, number 052.
After taking a tissue sample from him a week before, she’d discovered his tendons had been brittle from being overstretched by quick growth of muscle, and that worried her.
The brittleness was measured in micrometers, nothing noticeable to the naked eye, or even anything the subject felt.
But then that subject wasn’t playing professional football.
Cooper said that it was against protocol to share results among subjects since they didn’t want data corruption.
She’d been right. She’d wanted to tell Trent anyway but decided against it.
And promised herself to watch closely. Now she wasn’t sure if the booster serum had been a good or bad thing for his tendons.
More muscle mass would be bad, but a boost in healing power would be good.
Her stomach roiled.