“I don’t dislike them,” Dax replied. “I just don’t care about football.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why did you push for the franchise if you don’t care about the game?”
“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, coming from a family whose life revolves around the game,” he said. “But some of us do things simply to see if we can.”
I opened my mouth to say something cutting, but before I could get the words out, a small, bald man with a mustache dressed in khakis and a blue polo walked up to the table saying, “Say cheese!” as he pulled out a camera and snapped a series of photos in rapid succession.
“C’mon, man,” Dax protested throwing up a hand to block the pictures. “We’re just trying to have a conversation.”
“Sorry, you’re out in public and I’ve got a deadline,” the man said as he snapped one more photo and then walked away.
“Son of a bitch,” Dax muttered as the server brought our food out and placed it in front of us. “Can we get this to-go?”
The server cast a worried look in my direction, and when I nodded, she picked up the plates and carried them back to the kitchen. Dax said nothing as we waited, and the server quickly returned with a plastic bag holding our dinners. She offered an apology, but Dax was already half way out the door and didn’t hear it.
“It’s not you,” I assured her and then slipped her a twenty before joining Dax in the alley.
I could feel him fuming as we quickly walked back to the penthouse, but I wasn’t sure what to say to diffuse the tension. Part of me wanted to scream, “I told you so!” and lay into him about being so hell bent on publicity, but something else nagged at me and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I felt sorry for him despite the fact that he was getting exactly what he’d stipulated in the contract. When we got back to the penthouse, Dax disappeared into his office and I ate dinner at the long, wide kitchen table all by myself.
Three days later, we stepped off the plane into the still summer-hot Nashville morning sun. The Storm had flown into the city on Friday and had a light practice on Saturday. Now they were in the locker room prepping for the one o’clock kickoff. I’d spent the week studying Johnny’s stats and wanted to talk with Nick before the game about them, but I knew better than to show my face in the locker room before the match up. If Nick wanted my opinion, he would have asked.
As Dax and I made our way to the skybox reserved for the visiting team owners and their guests, he took my hand and squeezed it. I didn’t let go, but it felt forced and I was resentful of the obvious publicity opportunity. When we got to the skybox, Dax secured us drinks and we took our place in the large leather lounge chairs that looked out over the Titan’s field. I wanted to say something, but Dax’s sullen silence gave me no opening.
Soon guests began arriving and the box began to fill up. Before he got up, Dax grabbed my hand and squeezed it again as he gruffly said, “Thank you, lady.”
I smiled and then got up to welcome the politicians and business leaders Dax asked to join us for the game. I spent the first half of the game engaging in the requisite chit-chat required of me, and was not thrilled when I realized that I’d missed two touchdowns. I vowed to find a way to watch the rest of the game, even if it meant I’d have to leave the skybox and find a place to stand at the back of the stadium.
“Payton, why don’t you come sit over here by me,” Dax called as the second half got under way. I flashed him a grateful smile as I took a seat on his left side, away from all of the guests and chatter.
The second half was a nail-biter as the Titans ran the ball straight up the field a
nd came close to scoring another touchdown. The Storm defense kept them at bay, and the Titans were forced to kick for a 25-yard field goal. On the approach, their kicker’s foot slid out from under him and he whiffed the kick, missing the field goal and keeping the Storm within striking distance.
Johnny Riggs called the first play after the punt and the Storm were off and running down the field as if their shoes were on fire. I clenched my fists and pounded my leg as I rooted for them to make the first-down. They did, and the next play Riggs handed off to Brady Greene who ran the ball all the way down the field just inside the sideline and scored the touchdown that would make the score 14-7. The Storm was winning their second game.
By the fourth quarter, tensions were high as the Storm defense quickly brought the Titans to heel and turned the action back to Riggs and his receivers. But a Titan defensive lineman broke out of the pack and sacked Riggs, causing him to bobble the ball and lose control of it. A Titan defensive player grabbed it and ran to the 50-yard line before the Storm offense took him down.
The fumble was a mistake the Storm couldn’t afford, and the Titans knew it as they drove for the goal. At 4th and 20, they set up for another field goal attempt and this time their kicker centered the ball right into the net. The Storm was still ahead, but another mistake might end their lead. Riggs took the field and called the play as the Storm offense split and ran toward the end zone. Riggs cocked his arm and let the ball rocket forward toward the outstretched arms of Jamal Williams, who caught it easily, tucked it close to his body, and ran hell-bent for leather across the goal line. The Storm’s bench erupted into cheers as the offensive players pounded each other’s helmets. They quickly set up the kick and made it 21-10.
The rest of the quarter, the Titans tried to move the ball, but the Storm held them and ran out the clock. As it hit zero, I stood up and cheered, watching the team celebrate their second win. I had a big smile on my face when I turned and saw Dax still sitting in the chair to my right. He was watching me with an amused grin on his face.
“You know, I might grow to like this game if I can watch you watch it,” he said, standing up and moving toward the door to bid his guests farewell.
“That’s my plan, Connor,” I said with a wry grin. “Suck you into football with my rabid enthusiasm.”
Dax just grinned.
#
I tried to talk to Dax on the flight home, but he locked himself in his on-board office and spent the flight making calls that he didn’t want to talk about once we got in the car for the ride home. I was confused by the way he seemed to run hot and cold, but since I was getting most of what I wanted out of the deal, I let it go.
When we got home, a small, red-haired man was waiting inside the penthouse. I hadn’t met him before, but something about him seemed off.
“Payton Lasky, I’d like you to meet Finn O’Brien, my oldest and dearest friend,” Dax said as he poured whiskey for all three of us. Finn shook my hand and bowed slight as he did.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Lasky,” Finn said before accepting a glass from Dax and passing it to me. “I’ve heard good things.”
“Have you really?” I laughed as I took the glass and waited for Dax to join us. “I’m surprised.”