BENCHED Read Free

gives me a flatter look.
    “Are you flirting with me?” I ask her.
    “No. I’ve just got my eye on you, Wright.”
    “So you are flirting with me.”
    Her window slides up and she moves on, the big engine snarling. Man, who decided to give someone with a height complex that job?
    I keep walking, blissfully ignoring her. She’ll probably try to fuck with me the whole time I’m here. I can tell she really needs someone to bend her over and release some of that tension she’s carrying around, but I also spotted the wedding band on her hand when she rested her fingers on the door sill a moment ago.
    I may be the biggest asshole in the Professional Football League, but I have rules, and married women are off limits. Not that she’d take me up on it.
    Why am I still thinking about her? I should be thinking about my dying career instead of the cop who slapped me with this bullshit, and her cute little nose.
    There’s nobody on the street this time of day. I’m probably lucky, or I’d get mobbed. I can’t go outside back home without fifty people trying to talk me into signing something or taking a selfie with them. I don’t get it. I run around and slam into people wearing football pads. People act like I’m the second coming because I play a game.
    At least it pays well. There’s that.
    I check my watch. Larry better hurry his ass up. I’m getting tired of waiting.
    Finally my phone rings. “You can move in tomorrow,” he tells me. “You need a ride back to the motel?”
    “No, I’ll walk it. I can find it. I told you today.”
    “The owner is out of town, sir.” He puts a harsh emphasis on the sir, like it’s a curse.
    I trudge back to the motel, as promised. I’m getting antsy. Haven’t exercised properly since I came out here to answer my summons. I make do with pushups on the motel floor, growing angrier each time my nose gets close to the old carpet. It must be from the sixties and probably hasn’t been vacuumed since then.
    I can, at least, work up a sweat. Once again, the shower switches between scalding and freezing. Oddly enough that becomes soothing. I may have to try it more often. Feels good for my muscles.
    There’s a delivery place that has fried chicken. That’s the best I can do for lean protein around here. The delivery guy seems confused by the amount that I ordered since it only appears to be one guy in the room, until he looks up at me and realizes why.
    “You’re,” he says, “You’re you.”
    “Yeah. I’m me. Here.” I feel magnanimous for the moment, so I give him a twenty dollar tip and sit to peel the crispy skin off the chicken. It’s not chain crap. It’s actually good and nice and meaty. After discarding the plate of chicken bones I leave behind, I settle in for a good nine hours of sleep.
    The next morning, Lou has made a few calls for me. The house came unfurnished, so I had him rent some stuff from a local place. No sense in buying it, I won’t be keeping it.
    As the delivery people carry it in, I stand on the front lawn and watch Larry take down the “FOR RENT” sign.
    At that moment, I hear an angry “oh my God.”
    I look over and see Officer Maguire striding across my lawn, all the cop stuff she carries on her belt jiggling with the waggle of her hips. She may look like Detective Pippi Longstocking, but at least walks like a woman.
    “What are you doing?”
    I round on her.
    “Lady, if you think you’re going to follow me around the whole time I’m stuck in this place, check yourself. I’ll have my lawyers all over you for harassing me.”
    She looks at me and blinks. “Oh.” She extends her arm and points at the house next door. “I live there. Hello, neighbor.”
    We stand and glare at each other. The effect of her harsh expression is somewhat blunted by her height. The top of her head barely reaches my chest.
    She’s in good shape, though. The stab vest she wears makes her upper body formless and flat but I can see the outlines of nice legs