Rush Me (New York Leopards 1)

In the middle of the long wall, atop of a decorative mantel, stood a cast bronze statuette of a lunging, helmeted man cradling a football. He was balanced against a taller mounted trophy of an ellipsoid, whose particular angle made me think of a Martian’s head. A closer inspection revealed it to be a silver football. Above the mantel, a dark oak Jesus hung suspended on his cross, nails biting through his hands, his face a fingernail of agony.

Ryan headed for the small square table against the glass wall. “Grab the chairs.” He hefted the table up, and I awkwardly looped my arms around the chair set and dragged them out to the main room.

“So, are you religious?” I asked, as we set up the extra seats and then unloaded the food.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.”

I wasn’t sure how someone guessed if they were religious. “Do you go to church often?”

“A couple of times a month.”

“Oh.” I stared at him. I’d assumed he was Catholic like I was Jewish—big on the family, food, culture, and guilt. Except for Stephen, most of my Catholic friends had stopped regularly attending church after Confirmation. “How come you go?” I stopped. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be insulting. I’m just curious. Is it organized, or do you just drop in?”

“Drop in. If I need a moment. My grandparents were really big on Church, and during high school and college I didn’t have that much to do with it—but I find it—comforting.”

“Where are you from, again?”

“Outside of Dubuque. The rest of my family’s still there.” He looked skyward when I remained silent. “Iowa.”

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“Iowa?”

He laughed at my incredulity. “You Yankees. You’re all so shocked the rest of the country exists.”

“That’s not true. I admit California’s a state.”

“Yeah, I’d hope. They only have, oh, the eight largest economy in the world.”

“What can I say?” I teased. “I’m New England born-and-bred. Wigs me out just being in New York.”

He adopted a falsely surprised tone. “New York isn’t part of New England?”

I shook my head at him, pouring out the wine. “What sacrilege. We wouldn’t even take them if they wanted in.”

The same crew showed up, plus two new players and a woman by Malcolm’s side. She wore a knee-length sky blue dress that flattered her long, thin form, and black, springy curls haloed out several inches. As soon as they entered, I elbowed Keith, who stood beside me. “Is that her? Has he asked yet?”

“’Course not, he’s a coward,” Keith whispered back.

I studied her. Her expressive eyes and full lips looked vaguely familiar. “Wasn’t she...”

“Yup,” Keith said. “Briana Harris. Actress in Boomerang. Malcolm met her when he was with the Chargers three years ago. She moved out here for grad school. Something about hydraulics.”

“Smart and gorgeous.”

He scowled grumpily. “I know. I keep waiting for her to dump him.”

I laughed. “Aw, poor Keith. What about you?”

“I am way too evolved for relationships.”

The candles melted, hot wax dripping down, wicks burning away until they danced on a pool of molten wax. Gold encased the black strand, shrinking, flickering, until it disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Full plates crumbled into crusts and torn leaves, while people yelled and laughed and interrupted each other. There was no silence in this room, no calmness or restraint. The guys were so comfortable with each other, so close, that it seemed like it didn’t occur to them not to treat the girls any way other than inclusively. Outside my own family, I’d never been anywhere with such a cohesive mentality.

Abe turned to me over the small pieces of pie that finished off the meal. The guys had just taken a break from their lengthy discussion of the upcoming Sunday game. I imagined this discussion as an ongoing conversation throughout the season, occasionally dropped for a different tangent, but always brought up when two or more players reconvened. “Hey, I totally spaced. The week after, we’ll be in Oakland. My family’s gonna come up to see me.”

For a minute I didn’t know what he was talking about, and then I remembered next Thursday was Rosh Hashanah. “Oh, no problem. So you’re going to get to see them?”

“Yeah. We’re going out Thursday, anyway, to get used to the time-difference, so it’s no big deal. It’s too bad you’re not coming. You’d love California.”