“Hear, hear. Well said, Brock.” Guy glanced at his notecard. “And you, Emmy? It was your mother’s addiction that made you want to participate. How is her treatment going?”
Emmy Lou nodded, doing her best to keep her smile in place. “Momma is a fighter. She’s giving it her all.” The extent of her addiction and her treatment was all very hush-hush. The little they did know had Travis saying Momma’s once-a-week half-day rehabilitation sessions sounded more like high-end spa treatments. Still, Emmy clung to the hope that their mother would do whatever it took to get better. “And a lot of support, of course. We Kings stick together.” And that was as much as she wanted to disclose about her mother. “I feel honored to be the first nonplayer on the AFL-sponsored DFLM team.”
“You have your own jersey, don’t you? Wait, let’s look.” Guy pointed at the screen. “These promotional photos are for schools, public transportation, libraries, that sort of thing. What is happening here?” Guy’s brow rose high.
Brock laughed at the picture, shaking his head.
“Oh.” She covered her face. “I’m making the same face as Demetrius, can’t you tell?” She laughed.
“And this one?” Guy pointed at a new picture. “I didn’t know you two have a history. The two of you were high school sweethearts?”
“Prom. Get it?” She pointed at the picture. “They thought using a football instead of flowers was cute.”
“Not as cute as this one.” Guy changed the picture. There she was, draped over Brock’s shoulder. Both of them midlaugh.
“Aw, yes.” She smiled. They both looked so happy—even if seconds later he had stormed off.
“I assume there’s a story here?” Guy sat back in his chair.
“It was our senior year.” She glanced at Brock, that day forever etched in her treasured memories.
“Our team made state playoffs,” Brock added.
She nodded. “It was a close game. The kind where you hold your breath and sit on the edge of your seat.”
Brock was staring at her. “You get that way when you watch football??
??
People laughed.
“Not always.” She tore her gaze from his and looked back at the picture. “When we won, everyone rushed the field. Very exhilarating stuff.”
“She was running, I was running.” Brock shrugged. “She jumped and this is how she landed.”
“I was excited.” She smiled, shrugging. “About the game and that he caught me.”
Everyone laughed.
“We have the original.” Guy smiled as the original picture appeared. “From your yearbook.”
She tilted her head, studying the wide-eyed teens. “We were such babies.”
“You haven’t changed.” Brock was rewarded with some “awws” from the audience.
“Nice to be reunited, I’m sure.” Guy smiled, looking back and forth between the two of them. “For the charity, of course.”
“For the charity.” She had to work at laughter. “I see what you’re trying to do there, Guy.”
“That obvious, huh?” Guy laughed. “Fine. Before we say good night I have some very interesting information—courtesy of Demetrius Mansfield. He’s a good friend of yours, isn’t he, Brock?”
“I guess that depends on what information you have.” Brock smiled, but his eyes narrowed.
Emmy Lou knew he was only partly joking, but the audience thought it was hilarious.
“He says you play the guitar.” Guy paused, watching Brock.
Brock groaned and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t play well.”