Further Joy Read Free Page B

sky, and then he watched in a trance as the first minutes proceeded exactly as he needed them to. One drive ended with a dropped pass, another on downs. Both teams were using the full play clock, like they wanted to get the game over with. The only scoring opportunity in the quarter was a North Florida field goal that sailed well wide. Everyone on the field was testy. A player on each side got whistled for a hit out of bounds, and then the Coastal tight end got ejected for throwing a punch at a North Florida safety. Both coaches stripped down to undershirts and kept yanking their headsets off to scream at the officials. The Coastal running back had no pop and wasn’t falling forward like he usually did, mostly because, to everyone but Garner’s surprise, Coastal’s fullback had been a late scratch.
    Everything was moving quickly, even the commercial breaks. The stands were half empty, Garner noticed. Bad shotgun snaps and booming punts. When Coastal finally hit a long post route to that receiver Forde, the play was called back for illegal procedure because the backup fullback had lined up wrong. And at that point, watching the Coastal players begin to celebrate and then stop celebrating and drop their heads at the sight of the yellow hanky on the ground, optimism filled Garner’s guts.
    At halftime, with the North Florida band forming itself into letters that would spell out AMBERJACKS , Garner was snapped out of his reverie by a rare call on his cell phone. It was Ainsley. She didn’t so much invite him as she told him he was going to come over to her house for dinner Thursday, her night off. She was going to cook Indian. She’d already been to Savannah for the spices. She wasn’t in the business of rushing things, she told Garner, but she also wasn’t in the business of stalling.
    â€œI thought you were in the business of kissing,” Garner said.
    â€œI am, but I’m thinking about expanding.”
    â€œHigh demand, huh?”
    Ainsley scoffed. “Seven-thirty.”
    Garner was still holding his phone and staring at nothing when he noticed that the third quarter had begun. Coastal was pressing and suffered one pre-snap penalty after another. The offensive line was in disarray and one of the tackles came to the sideline and hurled his helmet into a fence. Afternoon was waning into early evening. Garner’s appetite was returning, but he didn’t want to leave the bedroom and break the spell.
    He kept his eyes on the TV as all the scoring arrived in a fourth-quarter rush. Coastal managed a field goal and then North Florida ran back the ensuing kickoff and then Coastal, almost out of time, called that same simple dive play up the middle, a play that had been stuffed all day, and somehow none of the linebackers were home and a couple defensive backs got tangled up with each other trying to make the tackle. Sixty-yard touchdown. Kickoff. A couple doomed deep passes. The last seconds ticked off. Game over. The coaches were shaking hands. It was a three-point victory for Coastal. Garner had won his bet. He’d won it by a mile.
    Garner showed up early at the diner Monday morning, walking around back with the delivery men dropping off the morning catch, and collected from Cuss, who said “The rich get richer” when he handed over Garner’s winnings. Then Garner raced inland to the bank, again getting there before they opened, and dealt with that same teller. He drove back to the coast and paid off a lesser credit card, had his mother’s new hot water heater installed, made sure he was paid up on his phone bill. He filled the Honda with gas and ran it through a car wash and bought a twelve-pack of imported beer for his mother’s fridge. He had his strut back. He went for a jog and shaved, straightened up his room and ate an overstuffed roast beef sandwich. Then he went to a jewelry store on the edge of downtown, his blood humming, and picked out a restored