Filling up the Virgin(191)

I turned towards him, my face going pale. Did he know what happened between Hal and I? How had he found out?

“He blew his last three games,” Frank said, stepping into my office. “Reports are he's been distracted. Everyone's saying it's because of that article you wrote.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. If it was about the article, then no one would know that I'd slept with Hal. “He's that broken up over my article?”

“That's what they're saying.” Frank shrugged. “Word from the locker rooms is he talks about you all the time. Can't seem to get you off his mind. It's screwed up his concentration. People are screaming for your head.”

“My head?”

“They blame you for the team losing,” Frank said. “You know how sports fans can get. If Hal said his Fruit of the Looms were bad luck, his fans would be forming a mob to torch the underwear factory. I've checked some of the bigger online forums. They're smearing your name, saying you're trying to destroy football.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted. I couldn't care less what a bunch of rabid sports fans thought. “All that means is that my writing is getting a lot of attention,” I said. “They can smear me all they want. You can't pay for that kind of publicity.”

After Frank left, though, I couldn't help but wonder if my article was really the reason Hal was so distraught. None of his fans could know what had happened between Hal and I. What if, I thought, he was losing his games because he couldn't get me off his mind?

Had the man really fallen for me?



* * *





I finally decided I had to call Hal. Not because I wanted to. Not because I was ready to. But because I missed my period.

Three home pregnancy tests later, I was convinced of the truth. There was no avoiding it. Hal had been on my mind for weeks, and now I was out of excuses. I picked up the phone and found Hal's number. He still hadn't given up on me, as evidenced by the missed calls I still got every few days. He'd also sent flowers, chocolates, and a giant pink teddy bear to my office. My coworkers had been talking about it for weeks, trying to figure out who the mystery man was who was sending me so many gifts. I never let them see the name on the card.

I was ready to dial the number, but I couldn't make myself hit the call button. This sort of news really couldn't be delivered over the phone.

I'd have to talk to him in person.

I checked the schedule of Hal's games. Next Sunday, he was playing in New York. That was about a two hour drive from where I lived, but I could manage. I wasn't sure how I'd get in to see him once I was there, but I knew I had to do it this way. He deserved to hear the news from me face to face.

I spent the days before the game going over what I planned to say, over and over again. I couldn't find a way to get the words straight in my head, which was funny, considering that I was a writer. I thought about writing it all down so I could organize my thoughts, but that was too impersonal.

When Sunday finally arrived, I left early to beat the traffic, driving upstate towards New York. I got there with plenty of time before the game. I searched through the stadium, which held only small handfuls of people this early in the day, until I found a “Player's Only” area guarded by a large man wearing a black shirt that read “SECURITY across the back. I walked up to him and told him I was here to see Hal Masterson.

“Sorry, ma'am,” he said. “No fans beyond this point.”

“I'm not a fan,” I said. I pulled out my press ID badge and showed it to him.

“No press, either,” he said. “There's a press box reserved for...”

He paused and read the name on my ID. “You're Jane Edison?”

The scowl on his face told me that he knew about my scathing article and the effect I'd had on Hal.

“Just a moment,” he said. He stepped to the side and spoke into a radio. I couldn't make out what was being said, but I heard an angry tone coming from the voice at the other end.

Before the security guard said anything to me, the door behind him opened and Hal came bursting out. “Jane,” he said, breathless. It looked like he'd run all the way here. “I'm so glad to see you.”

I looked him over. He was only half-dressed for the game, his chest bare and glistening with sweat. He drew some looks from the other people in the stadium, a few of them whispering his name.

The security guard stepped up and leaned close. “Mr. Masterson...”

Hal glanced at the man, then looked around at the fans ogling him. He took my hand and said, “Come with me.”

He led me through the door and down a hall that lead to the locker rooms. He pulled me into a room to one side, filled with equipment for physical therapy.