Chapter 5 #2
When the phone rang, because my nerves had never quite settled down since last night, I felt like I’d been jolted with a megadose of electricity, every particle in me lighting up, tensing with the thought that it could be Hunter on the line.
Calming myself with a deep breath as it rang a second time, I put my hand on the receiver, gulping down my wild jumping heart.
When I picked up the phone and said hello, I swore at myself because my voice sounded too high.
“Cat? What’s wrong with you?”
It was Penny. Hearing her voice was like an instant relaxer and I felt my body collapse with relief. Apparently, I’d had my limit of excitement for a while.
“Nothing’s wrong. What’s wrong with you?
Aside from the obvious.” It felt good to tease, to have a relaxed conversation, even if I was lying, pretending.
Even if I knew she’d know I was evading.
With any luck, she’d chalk it up to the usual day-to-day frustrations of the business.
In a way it was, since I was stymied on my Internet search for details on Hunter’s past, his family and friends, what he did when he wasn’t playing football.
So far, most everything was about the football.
“If by ‘obvious,’ you mean that I’m a busybody, I’ll give you that.”
“You were always a generous person,” I said.
“Now that we’ve settled the issue of my flaws, I called to tell you about dinner on Sunday after the game.”
“With Dad?” We usually went to dinner after the one o’clock and four o’clock games on Sundays and went out for drinks after the night games.
It had been our ritual ever since I’d become an adult at eighteen—minus the drinks.
It had been Penny’s idea to help us bond.
One of the many reasons I thought of her as special.
“Dad and his sister. Your aunt Hildie and uncle Ted will be joining you.”
A brilliant thought occurred to me.
“Great. In that case, I’m going to invite a guest.”
“Sure.” Penny snorted. “Who did you have in mind?”
She suspected exactly who I had in mind, but I didn’t want to argue with her about it, so I said, “I’ll take care of it.”
“I know that voice. It speaks of trouble.”
I laughed because what else could I do?
“How did your apartment hunting go with Hunter—sorry for the repetition.”
“Not as well as I’d hoped. Still nothing. He’s surprisingly frugal.”
“Better than being a spendthrift.”
“I suppose, but in my experience—which I know you’re thinking is very limited, but I’m a quick learner—unusual traits like that usually come from somewhere. I’ve been trying to do some research.”
“Oh? Research like you did into what happened between him and the coach in LA?”
“Not exactly that kind of research. Not yet.” I hadn’t called on any sorority sisters for information yet, but it was a good thought. I’d look in the directory for anyone living in upstate New York where Hunter was from.
“When are you going to tell your dad what you found out about LA? Hell, never mind him. When are you going to tell me what you found out?”
“Never. I made a promise not to say anything. I can’t betray that. Same as Hunter isn’t talking.” And he had a lot more to lose.
“Rare man. But you know that, don’t you? That’s the reason for your crush.”
Crush? That word humiliated me. It was so unfair and wrong. I felt the heat up to the roots of my hair. What I felt was so much more than that, wasn’t it?
“I don’t have a crush on him, Penny. I have a tremendous amount of respect for him. And sympathy because of the injustice of what was done to him.”
“Nice speech. I’m taking your word for it that he was blameless in the coach-punching incident because I trust you, know you. I know you have a good heart and mind.” My heart squeezed with love for her and pride at her words. Then she added, “Underneath all the frippery.”
I laughed because it was so Pennylike. She couldn’t let a sentiment stand without deflating it.
“Frippery? Really? What is that even?”
“Back to the crush. An example of frippery one might say, was your crush on a certain backup quarterback a few years ago.”
“Don’t bring that up, Penny. He was a turd and I was so young and silly.”
“Of course, now you’re older and silly.”
“Silly? How can you say that?”
“Because your head is so easily turned by a man in uniform. I blame it on your upbringing, all the exposure to football players all your life. I suppose it was to be expected.” Her tone was breezy, but purposeful, and I couldn’t tell exactly whether or not she was sending me a message.
But I decided since it was Penny, there had to be a moral to the story, a caution against falling for football players. She thought they were my weakness.
Maybe she was right. Maybe there was something to her notion that I hero-worshipped football players because my dad talked about them all the time in glowing terms, like no other kind of men existed.
No, I had to give myself more credit than that.
I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Sure I was still young, but I wasn’t still foolish.
Not completely. There was last night—but I couldn’t bring myself to think of our phone sex as foolish.
There was something going on between us, and it might be risky, but it was real. I was convinced of it.
That’s what made knowing I couldn’t have him so damn painful.
I waved my hand as if she could see it across the phone line and said, “I’ve matured. I had a relationship with a nonfootball player two years ago. It didn’t work out. He was boring. Sue me if I love football. It runs in my blood.”
Penny snorted. Again. She did that a lot with me. It always made me smile and roll my eyes. It was our thing—even over the phone.
“I have to get back to my social media campaign,” I said.
“Anything interesting? Not that I have time to play with social media.”
“You follow the official Boston Militia Twitter account.”
“Only since you started running it and only because you forced me to. You do a good job, but as far as I can tell, social media is mostly a new way to spread gossip.”
“That stings. Social media a major part of my job with the Boston Militia. You know I write all their content.”
“Don’t take it personally. They’re in good hands.”
“Cue an eye roll.”
“I told you that bad habit is going to get you in trouble.”
“How do you figure?”
“Makes you seem like a twelve-year-old. About the time you started rolling your eyes in earnest at everything I said.”
I laughed. It was true. “That’s because you were intruding on my princessdom at the time.”
She laughed. “Guess I didn’t know better. There was never going to be any way to stop you from being the princess that you are.” The words were infused with warmth and fondness along with that measure of playfulness.
“I’m going to tear up.” Even with my tongue in cheek, I did feel a tug at my heartstrings, same as I always did when I was reminded of our beginnings.
Now I couldn’t imagine life without Penny.
She would be my big sister forever no matter what Dad did—not that he would ever fire her.
But sometimes I wondered if he was blind, deaf, and dumber than a rock to not recognize the perfect woman for him.
I had no doubt that Penny would jump at the chance to marry my father if he ever came out of his football-encrusted cave.
“Gotta go now. You and your date can meet your dad and your aunt and uncle at Grill 23 at seven.”
“Aren’t you coming?” I felt a bubble of panic.
“Not this time, honey.”
Silence for several beats. When no explanation came my panic double-teamed my good sense.
“Why not?”
“You know your Aunt Hildie. Your father’s sister is a bit of a gossip, his words not mine, and she may get and/or give the wrong impression if I were to dine out with your dad, seemingly as his date. She must have asked him about me. Embarrassed him no doubt.”
My heart was in my throat, more at the hurt in her voice than the words. I hated gossip. More than anything else in the world right now.
“Come anyway, Penny. I dare you.” I had no idea why I’d say such a crazy thing. My crazy was spreading and I had to watch it.
She laughed. “Later, Cat.” She hung up her phone and I put my receiver in its cradle on my quaint desk phone. Time to make more calls, set the plans in motion to transform Hunter’s reputation.
Dinner Sunday night would be the beginning.