“Hey, Murph,” Ian said. “You enjoying the party?”
“I am. They did a nice job on it. Everyone seems to be having a good time.”
“Murph here’s looking to have a really good time,” Elias said, motioning with his fist and pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek to signify a blowjob. “He’s been moving from one woman to the next.”
Callan leveled a cool stare at him. “It’s really sweet of you to pay so much attention to me, Bouch. I had no idea you cared so much.”
Ian and Aron laughed, earning a glare from Elias.
“What can I get you fellas?” the bartender asked as she approached.
“Patrón,” Elias said. “Make it a double.”
Callan shifted so his hand wasn’t visible to Elias and held his hand up with his forefinger and thumb held close together, sending a sideways glance Elias’ way. Ian reached over and pushed his fingers even closer together. The bartender saw it and gave them a subtle nod.
“Two IPAs,” Ian said, pointing from him to Aron.
“Sure thing. Manhattan, sir?” she said to Callan, remembering his order.
“Yes, please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
Elias held his hands up and acted like Callan had done something to awe him. “Whoa, look who’s caught the eye of the hot bartender. Just like fuckin’ always.”
“Yeah,” Callan replied. “Big tips will do that.”
“You’re right. She does have big tits.”
The music stopped just then. Everyone close enough to hear Elias’ comment turned to stare at them, including the owner’s wife, Robin. Her appalled gaze moved from Elias to Callan. In that moment, Callan felt his career speeding towards a solid brick wall like a crash test dummy.
He caught Knox’s grin from the other end of the bar and wondered if the assistant coach had somehow orchestrated all of this, using Elias as his personal tool of vengeance.
“That’s not what Murph said, Bouch,” Ian said from Callan’s other side. “He said tips. Jesus, someone needs to cut you off.”
Ian’s voice was elevated to be heard over the return of the music. Callan figured he had done it deliberately when Robin’s attention once again shifted to Elias. She leaned over and said something to her husband standing next to her. When Pat homed in on Elias, Callan took a deliberate step closer to Ian and away from him.
“Thanks,” he said under his breath to Ian.
Ian nodded. “The guy’s lost his shit, man. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
Callan was pretty sure he knew. He looked again at Knox, whose expression had darkened. He obviously realized his plan had backfired.
Pat approached Elias, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said something in a low voice that had sweat popping out on Elias upper lip. Pat led Elias off to the side of the room towards a door Callan hadn’t noticed before.
“I wouldn’t want to be him right now,” Aron said from Ian’s other side. “Between hitting on Wendy earlier and that comment, he’s—”
“Fucked,” Ian finished for him.
“Ja.”
Ian shook his head. “Something tells me you’ll be practicing on our line at camp tomorrow, Murph. Hope you’re ready to start on the second line in the preseason opener.”
Callan’s pulse drummed a fast-paced rhythm at the thought. He looked towards the end of the bar where Knox had been standing, but the assistant coach had disappeared.
What would Knox do if Elias was taken out of the equation by management?
“If the Powers That Be make that decision,” he said, “you won’t hear me complain.”
Ian and Aron grinned. Callan turned as the bartender placed his drink on the bar.
“Thanks for the big tips, by the way,” she said with a wink.
Adding another one to the jar, he said, “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Murph,” Aron said as they stepped away from the bar, “I saw you over there winging for Reinhardt.”
“Sure was.”
“This guy is scheisse at winging,” Aron said with a thumb-jerk at Ian.
“I’m married, man,” Ian said. “Just because Heather’s off with the other wives doesn’t mean she’s cool with me winging for you.”
The comment produced a pang of envy within Callan. He once again wondered whether Roxy had hoped to avoid attending the party with him by not mentioning it. Was he right that she wasn’t ready for this level of commitment? Or would she have been off hanging with Heather and some of the other players’ significant others if he had just asked her to come?
“Besides,” Ian said, pulling him from his thoughts, “none of the ladies here want to listen to that god-awful German accent.”
Aron moved closer to Callan, shoving Ian behind him as he did. Ian chortled in laughter. Knowing it was all in fun since the guys were good friends, Callan hid a smile behind his drink as he took a sip.
“Come wing for me, would you, Murph?” Aron asked.
“You bet. Stick with me, kid.”
Aron was only twenty-two, which made him a kid in Callan’s book.
“Danke.” As Aron fell into step with him, he lowered his voice and said, “The ladies like the accent, ja?”
“They will by the time I’m done, mein freund.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The afternoon of The Siege’s first preseason game, Roxy parked at the Michael Sanderson Center for Boys and Girls and walked into the building’s lobby. She smiled at the college-aged woman sitting behind the long, curved reception desk as she approached.
“Hi. I’m here to pick up Rashied Arnold and Duane Nelson,” she told the woman, whose name plaque read Nicole Sanderson. Roxy assumed she was related to the center’s founder.
“Yes, ma’am. May I please see your ID?”
Callan had prepared her for the careful security in place at the center, so Roxy had her driver’s license at the ready. It wasn’t long before she was led back to a meeting room where the boys waited with their mothers.
“Ms. Arnold and Ms. Nelson, this is Roxy Wagner,” Nicole introduced as they entered the room.
Roxy stepped forward and extended a hand towards the taller of the two women. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too,” the woman said. Her smile revealed a gold tooth and a charming dimple. “I’m Rashied’s mama, Cybel.”
“Hi,” the second woman said when Roxy held her hand out to her. “I’m Sherise, Duane’s mom. I really appreciate you doing this for the boys.”
“We both do,” Cybel agreed.
“It’s my pleasure,” Roxy said. “Callan wanted me to mention that he’s happy to get you tickets for an upcoming game when your schedules allow it.”
She had learned that both Rashied’s and Duane’s moms typically worked night shifts, which was why they couldn’t attend the game that day.
“That’s real nice,” Cybel said. “We’ll be sure to thank him when we see him.”
Roxy turned to the boys, who were standing and studying her with their arms crossed over their chests. “All right…so who’s Rashied and who’s Duane?”