“Do you need my keys?” Drew said.
“No. We’ve got the other key. We’ll see you at home.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Drew went on signing autographs until he’d signed for everyone. He gave the pen back to the woman who’d handed it to him in the first place right after he signed her McCoy jersey. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m Abby,” she said. She gave him another shy smile. She’d waited until everyone else got their turn to talk with him, she didn’t complain, and she wasn’t wearing a ring. If Collins or Taylor were here right now, he’d be introducing her and letting them slug it out over who got to take her out for coffee.
“You saved my butt, Abby. Thanks.” He extended his hand to shake hers and said, “If you’ll call the Sharks headquarters on Monday and leave your contact information with the receptionist, I’ll make sure you get some Sharks gear on me.”
“I would love that!” Abby said. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh, no, thank you.”
Cheryl leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Listen, big guy, I need to get you in that car to go home. My boss is going to kill me.”
“Got it.”
He waved goodbye to the Sharks fans, who cheered as he was helped out of the wheelchair and into the black SUV the team’s security guys drove. Chuck threw himself into the driver’s seat, pulled on his seatbelt, and they were off.
DREW TALKED CHUCK into obtaining a to-go order from Burgermaster on the way to his house. This might have had something to do with the fact Drew offered to treat Chuck and his colleague.
“I need a Tom & Jerry shake,” Drew told Chuck. “The hospital food wasn’t terrible, but I could go for a cheeseburger too.”
“Gotcha,” Chuck said. “Is there any place else we need to stop before we take you to your house?”
“I think I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”
He reached into the pocket of his warm-ups and scrolled down his contacts list with one fingertip. Every Shark knew Amy Hamilton Stephens, the owner of Crazy Daisy in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, specialized in smoothing the feathers of infuriated females among other flower-and-gift-sending emergencies. He hit the number and held the phone up to his ear.
“Crazy Daisy,” a cheerful female voice answered.
“Hi. Is this Amy?”
“It sure is. Who’s this?”
“It’s Drew McCoy, and I think I need your help.”
He heard Amy laugh, and she said, “Well, this is a first. I usually hear from your teammates. How are you feeling? Didn’t you have surgery the day before yesterday?”
“I did, and that’s why I need your help. My mom is a little irritated with me at the moment. I’m wondering what you might recommend. I’d also like to send something to the woman I’m seeing, but I’m not sure what she might like.”
“An irritated mom is a new one,” Amy said. “This might call for fine jewelry. I know you just got out of the hospital, though, so you might not be in the mood for shopping. My brother-in-law knows his way around a jewelry store. Let me call him and get an opinion or two, and I’ll call you back. Is the number on my caller ID your phone?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’ll think about what the woman in your life might like as well. Talk to you in a few minutes.” She hung up.
“Sorry to eavesdrop, but that little Tiffany’s box can get you out of a hell of a lot of trouble once in a while,” Chuck said. He pulled into Burgermaster’s parking lot and parked in one of the stalls. “Maybe you should call your parents and ask if they’d like you to pick them up some food.”
“Good idea,” Drew said.
Twenty minutes later, the SUV was on its way to Drew’s house again with multiple bags of food and drinks, and Drew’s phone rang.
“Hey, McCoy,” Brandon McKenna said. He hadn’t lived in New Orleans for almost fifteen years now, but he’d never lost the accent. “How are you doin’? My sister Amy called. She says you’re in a jam.”
“My mom is mad at me. I know it’s ridiculous.”
“Not at all,” Brandon said. “I just happen to be at Tiffany’s at Bellevue Square right now. If I remember correctly, you live in Clyde Hill, don’t you?” The last year Brandon had played for the Sharks, Drew hosted the pre-function for the defensive players’ holiday dinner at his house. He was fairly sure his neighbors still remembered it too.
“Yeah. Just off the main drag,” Drew said.
“Got it.” Brandon let out a breath. “The last time my mama was irritated with me, I bought her a charm bracelet with “Mom” engraved on it. She cried and everything, man. How about I pick up one of those for you?”