Chapter 29 #3
That last question turned her head and she glared at the reporter. But he smiled back at her and said, “I thought that would catch your attention. Sorry. Can you comment on the nature of the serum for me? Was it for treatment or was it for performance enhancement?”
She stopped, then smiled back at Mike Foley. He was throwing her a bone, finding a sliver of something to repair Trent’s reputation.
“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Foley. The serum, EM HGH-1 was meant for healing purposes. Any performance-enhancing effects would have been purely speculative and coincidental.”
Foley asked, “If the university didn’t press criminal charges against you, why do you think they fired you? Surely you’re a valuable asset.”
She sighed and said, “To quote what the university said in a letter they sent me today, although they were not going to press criminal charges against me since the drugs were for my dying mother, they felt that I betrayed their trust and no longer thought I would be the best person to carry on the research for them.”
She turned away from Foley and moved on toward the door.
Several reporters continued to follow her, asking about Trent and the nature of the HGH serum and whether she knew it was a banned substance by the NFL due to the performance-enhancing nature of it.
“No comment.” She repeated the phrase several times before she got to the door until someone else spoke. Dr. Lisa Cooper.
She stepped in front of the reporters, in between them and Charline, and faced them.
“Dr. Morneau may not want to comment, but I have no problem answering your questions on the nature of the serum.” She flicked a glance at Charline.
Charline shook her head and reached for the door handle.
“In fact,” Cooper told the reporters, “I’d be happy to be an expert witness for the NFL if they needed someone to assist with the technical aspects of their investigation.” She gave Charline a smug look.
Charline felt like she was in hell.
She’d lost her job, betrayed by the trustee even after they’d made a deal with her in court.
Now Trent was going to be investigated by the NFL because he’d admitted to being John Doe to save her from additional counts of grand theft.
He’d paid for her attorney, donated more to the hospital’s research, all to save her job and reputation.
And all for nothing.
Now she thought Trent was about to lose his career. It was the risk they’d taken, but that was no consolation to her right now. Mostly she felt sick about Trent.
He’d sacrificed so much to try to save her skin. She feared he might regret it.
She couldn’t bear to face him or talk to him. She had no idea what to say, anyway.
The next day at home, Charline could barely bring herself to sit in the living room with Suzette and Buck and the empty couch where her mother had rested only a week before. She needed to make funeral arrangements, but wanted to talk to Suzette about it.
Buck turned on the TV, tuning it to the Minutemen’s playoff game.
“I hope you don’t mind, Charline. But we’re hoping the team wins and that Trent will win his injunction so he can play in the Super Bowl.”
“You think there’s a chance that he can still play?” She was incredulous.
“Sure. He has his attorneys on it now, according to the news.”
The last thing the attorney had told her when he’d called her this morning was to lie low and make no comments about Trent’s participation in the drug trial.
“And especially do not talk to him,” the lawyer had said. “It’s best if you distance yourself from him now. I know you’re supposed to be engaged and all, but we don’t want your part in this to muddy the waters any more than it has to.”
She’d given her word that she wouldn’t speak to Trent until after the Super Bowl.
She had no idea about the injunction. She thought they were working on reducing the suspension for the next season.
She pushed the thought of planning a funeral to the back of her mind.
It hadn’t been something she was ready to face and the prospect of watching the game and rooting for Trent’s team buoyed her spirits.
That was what football was good for, wasn’t it?
It was to take you away and let you escape from painful things, even if just for a while.
Warm, overpowering melancholy surged on a fresh bubble of affection for Trent and his silly game of football.
She sat with Suzette and Buck to watch the game, on the edge of her seat and vibrating with tense excitement at every catch and hit and whistle.
Trent watched the conference championship game on TV alone in his penthouse.
In the end, as his team won, he jumped up from his couch in a mindless euphoric reaction, fist pumping in the air and yelling for all he was worth.
Adrenalized excitement coursed through him.
But the excitement quickly drained as he sat back down.
He was alone. It wasn’t the same as celebrating with his teammates, wasn’t the same as playing the game.
The pull to be there with his team was undeniable. Maybe it would always be there. But his team was going to the Super Bowl and right now the feeling that they might go without him wrenched his gut.
They’d been counting on him to be there with them. The coach and the fans had been counting on him too. At least that’s what the sportscaster was saying as he speculated on Trent’s return. “They need him more than ever now.”
Shit. Guilt and loneliness churned inside him.
Standing abruptly, he reminded himself that this was the bed he’d made for himself. He had no right to redemption. No right to anything except to feel exactly the way he did.
The worst of it was being without Charlie.
But he especially had no right to her. She was far too good for him. He couldn’t help feeling that he’d brought her down with his short-sighted, overzealous ambition.
He couldn’t blame her for not answering his calls.
The lawyer had told him not to call Charlie, to keep his distance, but to hell with that.
He needed to hear her siren voice. He wanted desperately to hold her, comfort her.
She’d lost her mother and her brilliant career in medical research.
Whatever he had going on paled in comparison.
He wanted to see her, whether he deserved to or not, to be at her side at her mother’s funeral.
Ralph had told him the funeral had been delayed because of the investigation and autopsy.
He promised himself that he would be there, no matter what. To hell with the media and the investigation and every goddamn other thing.
As he paced around his big empty living room, thinking about arranging his attendance at Marie Morneau’s funeral, his cell rang. It was a new cell number and he’d only given it to a handful of people. Grabbing it up off the coffee table, he saw that it was Tammy.
“How’s Mom?”
“Hello to you too. She’s worried about you. You should call her.” Tammy paused and then said, “How’s Charlie?”
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how Charlie was feeling or what she was doing, could only imagine how sad she must be, having lost so much inside a week. “She’s making arrangements for her mother’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry, Trent, I—”
“How’s Dad?” He had to change the subject, couldn’t stand the overwhelming sadness that threatened.
Tammy sighed. “Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”
“I know you’re mad as hell.” Then he added in a softer voice, “But I know you’ll come around because I’m your big brother and I love your sassy meddling ass very much.”
She sighed again, but this time he heard the choke of emotion in her voice. “You should call Dad. He’s worried too.”
It wasn’t like their Dad to worry and they both knew it and that had him worried.
“Why doesn’t he call me, then?” Trent wasn’t sure if it was stubbornness or guilt or fear that made him reluctant to be the first to pick up the phone now. Probably all three.
“You know we all love you no matter what,” she said, “no matter if you’re the biggest fool on the planet. Call him, damn you.” He listened to Tammy swear at him and call him every name in the book, with enough sadness and fondness mixed in to soften the anger, before they said their goodbyes.
Trent resumed his pacing. He should call his father, own up to his mistakes.
But his phone rang again and the flashing face of it told him it was both his agent and his lawyer on a conference call.
He stopped and everything in him went still. Then he reached for the phone.
“The hearing for the injunction was held and we’ll have a decision by Friday morning.
” The lawyer took over the call while Trent and his agent listened.
“My preliminary read, based on the judge and the opposition attorney’s response, is that we’ll win this.
In fact, I already negotiated a deal. You can go to Miami with the team pending the decision.
No uniform, no practice, nothing official, but you can be there ready to jump in when the decision is made. You’re welcome.”