Touchdown (4 page)

Chapter 4

Troy cracked his neck twice as he entered the visitor’s hall. It was weekend, so the area was filled to capacity.

He noticed everyone turning their heads to look at him, followed by the look of shock and disbelief on their faces like saying “Fuck, Troy Myers is in jail!” He ignored them and went directly to Logan who was waving at him in the corner.

The prize of being famous. He liked being popular, but at this moment, he wished he was just a nobody.

“You look like shit,” Logan said.

Troy sat on the chair in front of his coach. Who wouldn’t look like shit after spending a night and half a day in a dusty cell with a bug-infested bed? “So are you,” he returned.

Logan ran his fingers through his frizzy gray hair. “I’ve been running errands all morning for you.”

“You spoke to the judge?”

“Yes, I did. He signed the petition, but to be effective tomorrow.”

“What?”

“He wants you to stay one more night in jail. He said you need to learn a lesson.”

Troy scoffed. “Another night of hell.”

“Just be thankful you don’t have to stay here until Monday.”

“Where the hell is Jeremy?”

“Your lawyer can’t help you today. He’s sick.”

Troy leaned backward and rubbed his forehead.

Logan laid a card in front of him. “Write something for Miss Graham.”

Troy drew his brows together. “What’s that for?”

“A sorry card, you dimwit. Just write ‘I’m sorry’ and sign your name. I’m going to the hospital to see her.”

“You think that will work?”

“Unlikely, but I’m taking all chances to soften her up.”

“Is it possible for her to withdraw the charges?”

“No, she can’t. The police had filed on her behalf. But if I could convince her to claim the fault, it could save you from jail.”

“So you’re going to bribe her?”

“It’s called an amicable settlement, and I’m deducting it from your allowance.”

Troy shrugged. That amount was too meager for him to mind. “If she knows how much I’m earning, she might attempt to empty my bank account.”

“That will not happen,” Logan assured. “I’ll haggle with her. I learned she’s getting evicted out of her apartment. She’s in desperate need of money, so she might be amenable to a lesser amount.”

“Or hand her a blank check,” Troy suggested. “I have a checkbook in my car.”

“Nevermind that. We will not give her any blank check. If we come up with a deal, I’ll pay her twenty-five percent in advance.”

Troy picked up the pen and wrote the two sorry words Logan had instructed him to write down, and then he signed his name.

“Just like that?” Logan nodded at the card. “No opening remark?”

“What opening remark?”

“Jesus! You never wrote a love letter your whole life?”

Troy shook his head. “Never.”

“Ah, just write ‘Dear Miss Graham’ or something like that. Christ, I can beat the shit out of you if we’re to compete for a woman.”

“I’d gladly concede to you if it’s about a woman, so long as you marry her.”

“Shut the fuck up and write that bullshit down. I’ll still have to drop by a flower shop.”

“You’re buying her flowers.”

“In your name.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I never give flowers to women. Not my style.”

Logan leaned closer to Troy. “Don’t fucking argue with me and finish that god damn card. I’ve got a lot of other things to do to clean that filthy shit off your ass.”

“Just how filthy is my ass?” Troy sighed and wrote down the exact bullshit as Logan had called it. When he was finished, he folded the card and handed it to his uncle. “I hope that works.”

Logan put the card in an envelope and rose to his feet. “You’d better start praying ten Our Fathers, ten Hail Mary’s and one hundred
Om Mani Padme Hum
.”

Troy frowned. He knew those last words. His Tibetan roommate in college used to hum it all the time. “That’s Buddhist.”

“Who cares? You’re going to need the help of all gods and saints you can think of. If they will even listen to you.”

Troy scratched his nape. Logan made it look like he was too much of a devil to be heard by God. “How is she?”

“She’s good. She woke up this morning.”

Troy heaved a sigh of relief. “So there’s no probability of homicide?”

“None, but her leg is badly fractured. She’s going to need a few months of therapy. You will be paying for that, as well.”

*****

Troy Myer’s victim is identified as Zoey Graham, a twenty-five year old homeless, single mother of an eight year old…

“What-the-fuck!” Zoey exclaimed while she was reading the news about the accident. “Homeless, single mother? Where the hell are these people getting their info?”

“Is everything alright, Miss Graham?” a nurse, who earlier introduced herself as Macey, asked as she stood by the door.

“No,” Zoey replied and pointed her finger at the paper. “I’m furious over this news. They called me homeless, single mother. I’m not homeless. I have an apartment, and I am a legal guardian, not a single mother.”

Macey approached her and pulled the paper off her hand. “Don’t read it if it agitates you. You must stay calm. Read this instead.”

“I don’t want to read—” She stopped and smiled when she recognized the handsome face of her favorite football star on the cover page of the magazine the nurse just handed her. Mason Wayne, with his heartbreaking smile and enigmatic brown eyes. “You’re right. This is rather more interesting to read.”

The nurse smiled. “There are a lot of media people downstairs. They’re trying to get permission to interview you.”

Zoey was briefly stunned. It was only now that it occurred to her that her perpetrator was a famous athlete. Of course, the media would be very interested to hear her side.

Wow. It meant she was famous. Until this issue subsided at least. “Then let them in so I can clear things up.”

“They can’t,” Macey replied. “The hospital director did not give them permission.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” a guard knocked on the open door to get their attention. “Mister Norris wishes to see the patient.”

“Mister who?” Zoey was not sure if she heard it right.

“Logan Norris, the Patriot’s head coach.”

Zoey sank back against the pillows. She had the utmost respect for the old man, but she knew he came here in favor of his nephew.

“I’ll see you later, Zoey,” Macey said and left the room.

“Good afternoon, Miss Graham,” a balding, gray haired man entered the room. The guard stepped out and closed the door behind him.

She nodded. She couldn’t believe the legendary coach was here. Suddenly, she was this very important person for this man to waste his precious time with.

She frowned when she noticed the bouquet of flowers and a big stuffed bear in his hands.

“How are you doing today?” he asked.

“Not so good, Sir. But thanks for asking.”

Logan approached her. “Troy wants me to give you these.”

She did not move. She just glanced at the stuff he was offering her. “If it’s from him, I won’t take it.”

He briefly froze, probably unable to believe that a woman could actually refuse a gift from the
every-woman’s-dream
football star. “Well, they’re actually from me. I bought them.”

She sighed and took the stuff from him. “Thank you.”

“And this.” He handed her a card. “You may read it now.”

Without suspecting anything, she opened the card and read it.

Dear Miss Graham, I’m sorry. Troy Myers.

She tossed the card on the bed. If Logan wasn’t looking, she could have ripped the damn paper apart. “It’s not from you.”

“He just wants to extend his remorse for what he’s done. He wishes to know what he can do to make up for the damages he’s caused you.”

“Oh, is that some kind of a bribe? Like he’ll pay me any amount I ask, and then I’ll shut up about his recklessness?”

“Not exactly. Troy knew not every woman could be bought so easily. He just doesn’t know what else to do to get over his guilt, so he’s offering you the only thing he can give you… which is money, or anything that money can buy.”

She rolled her eyes. That did not sound like Troy Myers at all. “That’s all he can offer me? Money?”

“What else does he have that you’d want to do with anyway? He’s got nothing. It’s just his money and his dick. I don’t think a respectable woman like you would have anything to do with his seasoned dick.”

She cringed. Wow. Just a couple of minutes ago, this man walked in here like a very fine gentleman, but now he’s turned out to the way he was famous for in the field—a trash talker.

But he was right. Whatever else Troy had, she didn’t want them, not especially his overused dick. But his money, she needed it. “He can start by paying the hospital bills, but that is not called settlement. It’s his moral obligation to pay for it.”

“That’s been done,” he replied. “I’ve spoken with the clerks below and I told them to charge whatever expenses you incurred to Myer’s account. But aside from that, what else do you want?”

“Honestly, that’s all for now.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You know very well that he’s a filthy rich man, don’t you? Why don’t you take advantage of the situation?”

She frowned. “Are you trying to persuade me to take advantage of him? He sent you here to buy me off, didn’t he?”

“Buy is hardly the proper word. I prefer offer.”

She chuckled. “Forget it. I’m not interested. The court will declare how much he owes me.”

“If this goes to court, the judge can only give you a fraction of what Troy can offer you.”

“How much is he willing to offer?”

“How much do you want?”

“A hundred million,” she promptly replied. Surely, this man would be out of here in no time. But instead, he crossed his arms and stood up straight.

“Two hundred and fifty,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Million?”

“Thousand.”

She rolled her eyes. How stingy. “No.”

“Half.”

“No no. Just no.”

“Seven fifty.”

She growled. “Tell Troy Myers he cannot afford me. If he wants to buy my silence, he’d have to give me everything he has. Is he amenable to that?”

Logan was quiet, and then he sighed. “Miss, you have to understand. The Patriots need him or they won’t make it to the playoffs.”

“Good. I’m a Jets fan anyway. I’d be glad to get rid of him. The Jets will thank me for it.”

Logan squinted, as if suspicious of something. “How much did the Jets pay you?”

“What?!” she exclaimed. “You think they paid me so I’d make sure Myers goes to jail?”

“Exactly.”

She laughed. “You misjudge me, Mister Norris. I’m a woman with principles. You can’t buy that from me.”

“Is your principle worth a million?”

“If you don’t mind, Sir, I’m tired. I want to rest.”

Logan sighed. “Alright, but if you change your mind, I’m leaving my card here,” he said and placed a calling card on the table. “By the way, your daughter is with me.”

She frowned. “W-what?”

“Bessie.”

“Where is she?”

“Outside, waiting. I’ll send her in now, but I’ll come get her back at five.”

“You’re taking care of her?”

“It’s not like I’ve got any choice. I tried to give her back to the police station this morning, but she didn’t want to let go of me.”

“What about the social services?”

“They’re closed.”

She straightened her back. “I heard you never had children. Are you sure you know how to take care of a child?”

“No. I just give her whatever she wants. This morning, she asked for ice cream and Pringles.”

“Oh, God.”

“Well, you owe me for that kid, so you’d better consider my offer.”

“And if I accepted your offer, what does Troy expect in return from me?”

“Tell the police that it was an accident. That you suddenly ran across him.”

“You want me to claim it was my fault?”

“Something like that.”

“Too late, I’ve already given my statement to the police this morning.”

“No, you didn’t. You told the police investigator you weren’t feeling well.”

Her eyes widened. How the hell did he know? “Yes, I told him that, but he’s coming back this afternoon to get my statement.”

“Well, good luck on that. I’m taking your daughter to ride the Ferris wheel this afternoon. I heard it’s about a hundred and fifty meters high.”