“I guess I have a lot to learn about how the NFL works.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what the hell you said to Miranda in that interview. She must really like you. I heard she’s an especially unyielding interviewer.”
“You heard? Give me a break. Don’t you already know? I thought you and your lady friend would have discussed all types of things by now.”
“My lady friend, Mia?” He sounds exasperated.
“Miranda is a lady, and she is your friend. Your friend with benefits.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“I told you before that our days ofbenefitswere a long time ago.”
“She seems nice enough, Rush. Normal. She has a good job and a sexy phone voice. I wouldn’t object to you two going on another date.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he says snidely.
I walk over and stir my pot of sauce. It smells damn good if I say so myself. I even diced an onion and a green pepper and tossed them in there like Grandma used to do.
“Do you think it’s odd that she didn’t bring up my knee during the interview and then offered me the position so quickly?”
“Is that why you think I had something to do with it?”
“Don’t you think it’s unusual?”
“Did you bring your knee up to her?” he asks reservedly, as if he’s walking onto a landmine.
“I didn’t find the right time.”
“You didn’t even mention it once?”
“Dude, I was kind of nervous. I said the word damn by mistake and I think she was worried about my age and length of work experience, so I didn’t want to offer up any more strikes against me on a silver platter.”
“Your leg was kind of a big thing to leave out, Bird.”
“I didn’t technically leave it out. I included it on my application.”
“Oh, well, you should have led with that. If you mentioned on there, then you’re good and the bottom line is you got the job, so there’s no need for us to speculate about it anymore.”
“Just humor me a little longer. Why didn’t you tell her about the knee when you recommended me?”
Rush stalks over to me, probably annoyed with the length and direction of this topic of conversation, and then the oddest thing happens. He strokes the smooth hairs of my ponytail back in the most intimate and calming way.
“Because it’s your story to tell, Bird.”
Rush maintains unwavering and intense eye contact with me, and all I can hear are the labored breaths between us. For a moment, it almost feels like he’s going to kiss me.
But then my sauce bubbles over.
“Oops, dinner’s ready,” I say in a small voice to break the erotic tension between us.
He nods in a way that disconcerts me. Like he’s sayinguntil next timein a sinister Darth Vader voice.
“Okay, Bird.”
His feet stay planted in place, which forces me to slip around his body and start serving dinner. I place two large serving bowls of pasta and green salad on my retro glass coffee table that I purchased from a consignment shop. Rush follows over to the table and starts making his plate while I return to the kitchen to grab the garlic bread out of the oven. I practically feel like I’m running from him in my own house.
“When do you start?” he asks as if nothing bizarre just happened between the two of us.
“My first day is Monday. I think they want to fill the position quickly because of training camp.”
