“We want you to use your connections and find somebody for him,” Junior said. “His birthday’s coming up in ten days, and we got to have a woman for him before then.”
“What’s in it for me?”
Since all three of their jerseys already hung in her closet, they knew they’d have to go out on a limb. Chris spoke cautiously. “You got a particular number you’re interested in adding to your collection?”
“Other than number eighteen,” Willie quickly interjected, eighteen being the Bomber’s number.
Jodie thought about it. She’d rather screw over the Bomber than find him a woman. On the other hand, there was one particular number that she wanted real bad. “As a matter of fact, I do. If I find your birthday present, number twelve’s mine.”
The men groaned. “Shit, Jodie, Kevin Tucker’s got too many women as it is.”
“That’s your problem.”
Tucker was the Stars’ backup quarterback. Young, aggressive, and sublimely talented, he had been handpicked by the Stars to take over the starting position when age or injury prevented Cal from getting the job done. Although the two men were polite in public, both were fierce competitors, and they hated each other’s guts, which made Kevin Tucker all the more desirable to Jodie.
The men grumbled, but eventually agreed that they’d make sure Tucker did his part if she found the right woman for Cal’s birthday present.
Two new customers entered Zebras, and since Jodie was the bar’s hostess, she got up to greet them. As she made her way to the door, she mentally sorted through her female acquaintances, trying to come up with one of them who would qualify, but she drew a blank. She had a lot of female friends, but not a single one of them was classy.
Two days later, Jodie was still mulling over the problem as she dragged her hangover into the kitchen of her parents’ home in suburban Glen Ellyn, Illinois, where she was temporarily living until she got her Visa paid off. It was almost noon on Saturday, her parents were gone for the weekend, and she didn’t have to be at work until five, which was a good thing because she needed time to recover from last night’s partying.
She opened the cupboard door and saw nothing but a can of decaf. Shit. It was sleeting outside, and her head hurt too much to drive, but if she didn’t have a quart of caffeine inside her by kickoff time, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the game.
Nothing was going right. The Stars were playing in Buffalo that afternoon, so she couldn’t look forward to the players coming into Zebras after the game. And when she finally did see them, how was she going to break the news that she hadn’t been able to find the birthday present? One of the reasons the Stars paid so much attention to her was because she could always get them women.
She gazed out the kitchen window and saw a light on at the geek’s house next door. The geek was Jodie’s private name for Dr. Jane Darlington, her parents’ neighbor. She was a Ph.D. doctor, not a medical one, and Jodie’s mom was always going on about what a wonderful person she was because she’d been helping the Pulanskis with mail and shit ever since they’d moved in a couple of years ago. Maybe she’d help Jodie out with some coffee.
She did a quick fix on her makeup and, without bothering to put on underwear, slipped into a pair of tight black jeans, Willie Jarrell’s jersey, and her Frye boots. After grabbing one of her mother’s Tupperware containers, she headed next door.
Despite the sleet, she hadn’t bothered with a jacket, and by the time Dr. Jane got around to answering the bell, she was shivering. “Hi.”
Dr. Jane stood on the other side of the storm door staring at her through geeky, oversize glasses with tortoiseshell frames.
“I’m the Pulanskis’ daughter Jodie. From next door.”
Dr. Jane made no move to invite her inside.
“Listen, it’s cold as hell out here. Can I come in?”
The geek finally pushed open the storm door and let her in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”
Jodie stepped inside, and it didn’t take her more than two seconds to figure out why Dr. Jane hadn’t been in any big hurry to admit her. The eyes behind the lenses were teary and her nose red. Unless Jodie was more hungover than she thought, Dr. Jane had been crying her nerdy little heart out.
The geek was tall, maybe five-eight, and Jodie had to look up as she extended the pink Tupperware container. “Can I bum a couple of scoops of coffee? There’s nothing but decaf in the house, and I need something stronger.”
Dr. Jane took the container, but she seemed to do it reluctantly. She didn’t strike Jodie as the stingy type, so her reaction probably meant she wasn’t in the mood for company. “Yes, I’ll—uh—get you some.” She turned away and headed for the kitchen, obviously expecting Jodie to wait where she was, but Jodie had a half hour to kill before the pregame show started, and she was curious enough to follow.