Chapter 19 Griffin
Griffin
Vic pulls the car into the service alley behind the studio building, a damp passage squeezed between the brick walls of the city high-rises pressed together.
Griffin must’ve driven past this building countless times over the years, and only today did he discover that up on the ninth floor sits the studio.
Before now, it never would’ve concerned him.
When the black car comes to a stop, Griffin reaches out, swings the door open, and gestures for his guest to go first.
Aria has pulled her coat tightly around her, the oversized hood pulled up. “Thanks,” she says quietly and slides into the seat.
Griffin shuts the door behind her and rounds the car. When he slides in on the other side, Aria pulls her hood down. “Where to?”
Vic turns around in the driver’s seat. He’s gray-haired with a thick mustache, and his deep brown eyes are warm. “I was wondering the same.”
Griffin pulls out his phone. “Let me double-check,” he mutters to himself. “Yup, he’ll be there. Enzo’s on Twenty-Seventh.”
Vic nods, turns back to face the front, and shifts the car into gear.
Aria looks over. “Is this some fancy spot?”
Griffin shakes his head. “It’s one of Chicago’s little-known secrets.
Well, unless you’re on the Wardens. Enzo DiCamaro is brother to Alessio DiCamaro, former defensive lineman to the Wardens.
What started as a postgame tradition—wood-fired pizza at Enzo’s—grew to the point where the whole team wanted in.
Eventually Enzo needed a bigger kitchen and dining area.
So a bunch of us pitch in to rent the spot on Twenty-Seventh, one big enough to hold the team. ”
Aria’s eyes shine as she smiles back. “So, like a pizza speakeasy.”
“Precisely.”
In only a few minutes, Vic stops on a quiet street a little outside of the busiest part of the city. Griffin thanks Vic and climbs out of the car. He starts to round the car to get Aria’s door, but she beats him to it, climbing out and calling her thanks to Vic.
She stands on the sidewalk. “So, what happens next? Secret password? We cast a spell?”
Griffin sets his wide palm on Aria’s back. He ignores the tingle beneath his fingertips at the touch of her—the gentle curve of her back that’s toned yet delicate. He then points across the street at a red wooden door, unmarked, but the wall-mounted gas lamp beside it glows.
“Just follow the red door.” He sings the words like they’re a nursery rhyme.
Aria squeaks, “This is so fun!” then takes off in bounds—despite her heels—across the vacant road.
Griffin catches up in a few strides, and when they reach the door, he retrieves his keys from his pockets, and after a moment, slots one of them into the lock.
He turns the knob and stands off to the side as he lets the door fall open.
Griffin wants to see the look on her face when she sees this place.
Aria gasps, and her hands go to her mouth as she steps slowly inside, head turning to take the whole place in.
Like Griffin promised, the place isn’t large or fancy, but it’s a hidden, cozy gem right in the middle of an industrial city known for bitter-cold weather.
The narrow entryway is lined with Victorian woodwork and black-and-white tiles on the floor.
The rows of coat hooks in the tiny entryway are empty, all but one this evening when Griffin reaches out to Aria.
“May I take your coat?”
Aria looks over at him with surprise, a quick crinkle of her smooth brow that melts into appreciation. “Sure thing. You’re quite the old-school gentleman.”
Griffin takes her coat as he laughs at the comment. “Please tell my mother that.”
As Griffin hangs Aria’s coat, then his own, she wanders a few steps farther, and she gasps at the living room turned dining room.
He falters for a moment. Is this over the top?
Griffin decided to bring Aria to Enzo’s because it’s private—they can be genuinely “off script,” not having to worry about a fan two tables over recording them talking candidly.
That’s always what he wants at the end of the day—to escape the spotlight, which he achieves so easily at his condo.
Inviting her over seemed like a step too far at the time, but as he joins Aria on the threshold of the dining area and spies the table Enzo has arranged for them, the others pushed to the sides, he wonders if this was the right choice.
The table—usually bare, aside from a stray grease stain here or there—is covered in white linen.
Three taper candles are pressed into empty wine bottles and lit.
The silverware looks far sparklier than usual. Griffin swallows his mortification.
“Oh my goodness.” Griffin feels his cheeks heating. “I’m sorry. I told Enzo I was bringing a friend, and I’m wondering if maybe he thought that was code for a date.”
Aria looks over at him and laughs. “Oh, Griff, you ladies’ man. You bring girls here often or what?”
Griffin swallows a groan and takes a moment to massage his temples. “Almost never. Maybe once in all of history. But I also don’t typically bring friends here because most of my friends are guys already on the team.”
Aria rubs her hands together. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I say we enjoy it, right? I’m starving, and it’s a very sweet setup.” She crosses the room and takes the back of a chair, pulls it out, and begins to sit.
Usually in this situation, Griffin might offer to pull out her chair, as he was taught to do growing up for any female guest, but he abandons that concept swiftly. He needs to move away from anything that could be interpreted as him pushing romance on Aria. He swallows hard.
At least she’s being a good sport about it.
Griffin slides into a seat across the table.
“I’m hungry too. Enzo will be out any minute with the pizzas—a variety.
I kid you not, despite the fact that the interior designer made it very cozy in here, it’s usually greasy tabletops, slopped drinks, and burly guys shoulder to shoulder. Zero candles, zero fuss.”
Aria looks up, and the candlelight illuminates her face, adding to the natural warmth that exudes from her and highlighting the brightest streaks of almost silver in her curls. Her cheeks glow.
His heart picks up.
“I like this version,” Aria says.
A voice calls out from the short hallway to the kitchen. “You here, Griff?” Enzo appears right after his greeting, a pizza tray balanced on each hand.
Griffin stands to greet his friend, and after Enzo slides the trays onto the tabletop, they clap hands and pull into a hug, back slaps exchanged.
“You’re looking good this season,” Enzo says.
He looks like his older brother—just smaller.
He has dark eyes and hair, olive skin. He’s fit, but with a mostly average build.
Running this place has become a version of being a private chef for the team.
Enzo feeds them well but focuses on using quality ingredients and packing in protein wherever possible.
In exchange, they pitch in to keep him paid at a good rate.
Griffin glances at the pizzas. “Your work this season doesn’t look too shabby either.”
Enzo laughs. “The rookies came in for the first time the other night. Wide eyes all around, I tell you. Wide eyes.” Enzo’s pride is obvious in his words, and Griffin feels himself swell along with him.
The conversation slows, and both men look to Aria.
She holds out a hand. “Aria. Wide-eyed rookie.”
Enzo does a double take. “As in Aria Wilder?” His eyes open as far as humanly possible.
Griffin laughs. “Now it’s your turn to be ‘wide-eyed rookie,’ Enzo. Yes, this is Aria Wilder. She and I are friends.”
“My daughter is a massive fan,” Enzo says. “I think you’re great too. Just, you know, not screaming and crying in the front row like my little Rosie.”
“Hey, man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Griffin says.
Enzo laughs. “Never say never. I’ll bring out some water for you, Griff. Aria, anything else to drink? Wine?”
“I don’t want to tempt the professional athlete, so I’ll stick to water too.”
Enzo pours from the carafe into both glasses. “Just holler if you need anything else. I’ll be in the back.” He turns and leaves the room.
Griffin settles back at the table. “Can I serve you?”
Aria giggles as she reaches for a slice of pepperoni and slides it onto her plate. “I’m not that high maintenance, you know. Even if the media would have you think so.”
“I know. It’s not that. I just try to take care of the people in my life.”
Aria pauses to finish her bite. “I’m not surprised since getting to know the other side of you.”
“The other side of me?” Griffin takes a hearty bite and groans.
“You’re right—the pizza’s incredible. But the other side of you is obvious.”
Griffin chews and pulls his eyebrows together. He’s always been football, and football has always been him. Griffin Hayes starts and ends with football. Sure, he’s a real person in the uniform, the same one who hits the field, but he’s never had much to offer beyond that.
“You’re thoughtful, kind, relatable, empathetic. Anytime we’ve done a gig together, you’ve looked out for me. I saw you on TV stop for every single kid. You were the only player out there still signing when the others hit the locker room.”
Griffin shrugs. “It’s not that special. But I do like to make sure to never leave a kid disappointed if I can help it. Most of the time it’s a signature that takes a few seconds of time, and it means the world to them.”
Aria holds out a hand. “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re a natural with kids. I’m sure the list goes on.”
“You mean I haven’t lost my soul on the field, is all.”
Aria takes a sip from her glass.
“It’s a lot of pressure to have all those people banking on me.
When I fumble a catch or mess up a play, I always think about those kids I’m letting down.
It’s not like I’m saving lives like the rest of my family, but I want to make people proud.
I want to do my best for the team, and everything is in the public eye.
I can’t have a tense word with a teammate without it being discussed online. ”
Aria’s eyes are focused on him when he looks up. She listens intently, and he takes it as an invitation to go on.
“And there’s the pressure to say the right thing to the reporters, to show up to the right events, even to wear the right thing, if you can believe it. But sometimes it just feels like there’s not enough of me to go around. Football and the fans want every little bit of me.”
“It’ll weigh you down.”
“Do you even feel a little of the same? You make it all look so easy the way you pop out hits and sell out arenas, always with a smile on your face.”
Aria scoffs. “Griff, I feel every single thing you do. Every time I put together a song, I worry that the fans won’t like it.
When we plan a concert, there’s always the expectation that we outdo the last one.
I want to show up for fans too, but I can’t ever get to every kid.
Then there’s the fact that I want to write new songs when my label only wants more of the same.
I’m not the same person I was when I started out with eyes for only happily ever afters.
I want to infuse more, be more honest about life, about the parts of love that are hard too. Even if it’s still beautiful.”
“Sounds even harder than football.”
Aria shrugs. “Eh. It’s not about comparing.
Being in the public eye is hard. Especially when you care.
You’re right that we’re not saving lives, but we can make people’s lives a little more enjoyable for a while.
It matters to us both, it sounds, but carrying the pressure to always perform and always be perfect grows heavy. ”
“It’s why having a place like this is a godsend.” Griffin gestures to the room.
He pauses. Being with Aria gives him the same feeling as being at Enzo’s.
Aria raises her glass. “Here’s to ‘just getting it.’ And now that you’ve brought me here, you have to promise to bring me back. Even if Enzo got some mixed signals, I’m glad we came here. A place we can just be ourselves.”
They clink glasses and drink.
“We could’ve easily blown our cover with those live mics,” Griff said.
“Guess it’s a good thing we’re actually starting to become friends of a sort,” Aria says.
Griffin feels a warmth spread over him. It’s not news to him that he genuinely enjoys Aria’s company, but it sparks a new energy in him to hear her confirm that it’s mutual. In fact, he’s far more interested in their off-script time together than the official appearances.
“It makes these appearances far better than if we had to fake it.”
Griffin and Aria fall into a discussion about their PR plan as they finish their food. The taper candles eventually drip wax down their sides, and Enzo comes out to check on them.
When Griffin calls Vic to pull back around and pick them up, he feels a twinge of sadness, knowing the night is coming to an end. Fortunately for him, his next activity with Aria—filming a commercial—isn’t far around the corner.