Deal Breaker

They sat in the front row at Titans Stadium. Out of the goodness of his heart, Otto had agreed to let Christian practice. That, and the fact that veteran quarterback Neil Decker was beyond horrendous.

The morning session had been a lot of wind sprints and walking through plays. The afternoon session, however, was a bit of a surprise. The players were in full gear, almost unheard of this early on in the year.

'Frank Ache is not a kind fellow,' Win said.

'He likes torturing animals.'

'Excuse me?'

'A friend of mine knew him growing up,' Myron explained. 'Frank Ache's favorite hobby was to chase down cats and dogs and bash in their heads with a baseball bat.'

I bet that impressed the girls,' Win said.

Myron nodded.

I assume, then, that you will be in need of my unique services.'

'For a few days, anyway,' Myron replied.

'Goodie. May I also assume that you have a plan?'

'I'm working on it. Feverishly.'

Christian jogged out on the field. He moved in that effortless way great athletes do. He got into the huddle, broke it, and approached the line of scrimmage.

'Full contact!' a coach yelled out.

Myron looked at Win. I don't like this.'

'What?'

'Full contact on the first day.'

Christian started calling out numbers. Then he gave a few hut-huts before the ball was snapped to him. He faded back to pass.

'Oh, shit,' Myron said.

Tommy Lawrence, the Titans' All-Pro linebacker, charged forward unblocked. Christian saw him too late. Tommy placed his helmet into Christian's sternum and slammed him to the ground - the kind of tackle that hurts like hell but doesn't do any permanent damage. Two other defenders piled on.

Christian got up, wincing and holding his chest. Nobody helped him.

Myron stood.

Win stopped him with a shake of his head. 'Sit down, Myron.'

Otto Burke came down the stairs, entourage in tow.

97

Myron glared at him. Otto smiled brightly. He made a tsk-tsk noise. 'I traded a lot of popular veterans to get him,' he said. 'It looks like some of the guys aren't too thrilled.'

'Sit down, Myron,' Win repeated.

Myron hesitated, then complied.

Christian limped back to the huddle. He called the next play and again approached the line of scrimmage. He surveyed the defense, yelled out numbers and hut-huts, then took the snap from the center. He stepped back. Tommy Lawrence blitzed again over left guard, completely untouched.

Christian froze. Tommy bore down on him. He leaped like a panther, his arms stretched out for a bone-crushing tackle. Christian moved at the very last moment. Not a big move. Just a slight shift, actually. Tommy flew by him and landed on the ground. Christian pumped and threw a bomb.

Complete pass.

Myron turned around, grinning. 'Hey, Otto?'

'What?'

'Kiss my grits.'

Otto's smile did not falter. Myron wondered how he did that, if his mouth was frozen that way, like the threat a little kid hears from his mom when he's making faces. Otto nodded and walked away. His entourage followed in a row, like a family of mallard ducks.

Win looked at Myron. 'Kiss my grits?'

Shrug. 'Paying homage to Flo on Alice.'

'You watch too much television.'

'Listen, I've been thinking.'

'Oh?'

'About Gary Grady,' Myron said.

'What about him?'

'He has an affair with a student. She vanishes a year or so later. Time passes and her picture ends up in a porno ad he runs.'

'Your point being?'

'It's crazy.'

'So is everything about this case.'

Myron shook his head. 'Think about it. Grady admits having an affair with Kathy, right? So what would be the last thing he'd want to do?'

'Publicize it.'

'Yet her picture ends up in his ad.'

'Ah.' Win nodded. 'You believe someone is setting him up.'

'Exactly.'

'Who?'

'Fred Nickler would be my bet,' Myron said.

'Hmm. He did hand over Grady's p.o. box without much debate.'

'And he has the power to switch photos in his own magazine.'

'So what do you suggest?' Win asked.

I'd like you to check out Mr Fred Nickler very thoroughly. Maybe talk to him again. Talk,' Myron repeated. 'Not visit.'

On the field Christian was fading back again. For the third straight time Tommy Lawrence blitzed over left guard untouched. In fact, the left guard stood with his hands on his hips and watched.

'Christian's own lineman is setting him up,' Myron said.

Christian side-stepped Tommy Lawrence, cocked his arms, and whipped the ball with unearthly velocity directly into his left guard's groin. There was a short oomph sound. The left guard collapsed like a folding chair.

'Ouch,' Win said.

Myron almost clapped. 'The Longest Yard revisited.'

The left guard was, of course, wearing a cup. But a cup was far from full protection against a speeding missile. He rolled on the ground, back curved fetal-like, eyes wide. Every man in the general vicinity gave a collective, sympathetic 'Ooo.'

Christian walked over to his left guard - a man weighing in excess of 275 pounds - and offered him a hand. The left guard took it. He limped back to the huddle.

'Christian has balls,' Myron said.

Win nodded. 'But can the same be said of the left guard?'

18