"We were raised totally different. Maybe just because I'm a guy. I don't know, but I can guess. Carrie . . . I love you."
"I love you too. And thank you for the present. I was actually a good girl and waited until Christmas day to open it, too. It's beautiful."
"Are you wearing it now?" I ask, and Carrie nods. "Show me?"
She reaches into her shirt and pulls out the white gold necklace with a gleaming emerald chip in the center. The chain is a simple link chain, and the emerald is small. I didn't want to overwhelm her with a huge stone, and besides, it fits Carrie's personality. "I wear it next to my skin always. All right, I’ll let you go grab something to eat, Duncan. I love you."
“Goodnight, Carrie. Love you.”
She hangs up, and I close my computer and go downstairs. It only took us saying the L word once, and after we did, neither of us can stop. The restaurant for the hotel is open until midnight, and while I'm not looking for anything heavy, a good Caesar salad or something might do the trick until tomorrow's team breakfast.
When I get downstairs, I'm crossing the lobby when I hear someone call my name. "Duncan! Wait up, son!"
I stop, shocked. Turning, I see Dad walking quickly across the lobby, a huge smile on his face. "Duncan! Good to see you!"
"Dad? What are you doing here?" I ask, confused. "Aren't you supposed to be back in Cali?"
"I realized that this is going to be your last game in college, and well, I also realized that I couldn't get another chance to see you play college ball, so I made the trip down. I know it's a bit of a surprise, but I was kind of hoping . . . well, I was kind of hoping you'd be willing to have dinner with me."
“Um, sure . . . I guess. I was just going to get a salad here in the restaurant."
We go to the restaurant, where the wait staff seats us immediately. I'm wearing my Western track suit, which gives us pretty much carte blanche in service, and as we sit down, I notice that Dad's looking at my arm. He's looking thinner than before, showing his middle age for the first time. "How's the elbow? I read about your injury."
"I'll make it. I've already scheduled the surgery for December 30th. That'll give me just over eight weeks to rehab for the Combine, but I'll probably pass on that for a Pro Day at school in March, if I can."
Dad hums and looks over the menu. The waitress comes by, and I order a chicken Caesar while he orders the pork chops with hummus. After the waitress leaves, I take a sip of my water. "So when did you get into town?"
"Just a few hours ago," he replies, giving me a shrug. He sounds different too, it seems. Nervous, or just stressed. I wonder if Tawny's left him. I mean, I didn't even get a chance to meet her yet. "I just closed a deal, but I wanted to make sure that I got here in time. Duncan, I know I haven't been the most attentive father, but I do care about how you're doing. It hurt that you didn't at least give me a call when you got injured. I only found out because of cable sports."
"No offense, but you haven't exactly given a damn about my playing for about the past six years or so. I was talking about it with Carrie the other week, and I realized the last game of mine you ever saw was my freshman year in high school. You didn't even go to the Shrine Game."
Dad nods, then sighs. "I know. It's been tough, that's all. It's why I need your help."
"My help? What the hell type of help could I give you?"
Dad looks around, and leans in closer. "Duncan, I haven't exactly been honest about my finances. After the Cupertino Mafia started really going lawsuit happy, I got hammered in a lot of deals. To finance this most recent one, I had to take out some loans."
"Okay, big deal. You've done that before."
He shakes his head and sighs. "These weren't with a bank, Duncan. The banks won't extend me any more credit. Between maintaining Tawny's lifestyle, my own image, and everything else, I'm tapped to the gills. And this deal, it might not pay off for six months or more. So I went to some men I know in San Francisco. They loaned me the money, on a few conditions."
"What conditions?" I ask, a sense of dread washing over me. If he’s broke, what the hell have I been paying for my lifestyle with for the past year or more? Credit cards that aren't getting paid? Wishes and rainbows? Unicorn piss? What?
"These men, they made a deal with me. They put a very large sum of money on the Sunshine Bowl, and if their bet pays off, then my markers are wiped clean. If not, they collect. Everything."
I sigh, shaking my head. "You're fucking kidding me."
Dad shakes his head now, his eyes intense. "Duncan, I mean it. Everything. The house, the cars, everything that isn't paid in full already. The banks are screaming for my neck, and the San Francisco men are only going to give me the money to get them off my ass if they collect on their bets. So I need you to help me out. Western needs to lose."