Sinners Football 01- Goals for a Sinner Read Free Page A

bypasses across the Louisiana swamps. Kevin was supposed to get his degree in the same field and join the business. Stevie supposed he had. She knew he’d married Merrilee the following spring just before graduation.
    “So how is Kevin doing?”
    “Married, works with my dad, has four kids,” Connor recited.
    Obviously, he did not want to talk about Kevin.
    His brother had lured her to the house knowing his parents were away visiting an Aunt Helga who was recovering from surgery. The little brother who had decided to stay home put a snag in the planned seduction. Instead, they played touch football, ordered pizza, and watched a video. And so, she never did sleep with Connor’s brother.
    “Oh my, four children, and Kevin only thirty.”
    “The big family was Merrilee’s idea. They got an early start. She knows how to hang on to a man.”
    “Well, I’m glad someone knew how to hang on to Kevin. Would you pour me a glass of water?”
    “Sure.” Connor’s hand shook as he poured from the squat pink plastic pitcher on the bedside table.
    Water dribbled from the bottom of the cup as he held it out for her and made splotches down the front of her white hospital gown. He pulled a wad of tissue from a handy box and was about to swab Stevie’s chest, but she waved him away.
    “Bruised, very bruised, don’t touch. It will dry.”
    “Do you want me to hold the cup while you drink?” Connor asked.
    “No.” Stevie poked the bouquet of daisies into the water and set them by the Godiva chocolates.
    “Another thing I like about daisies is they are tough and long-lasting, but even daisies need water.” Connor nodded as if she had said something very profound. “Where have you been all these years, Stephanie?”
    At the foot of the bed, Joe Dean shifted uneasily and exchanged looks with the Rev. The man might as well have said, “Where have you been all my life?” It was an old pickup line, but said in that tone of voice, might have been a proposal rather than a proposition. Stevie ignored the glance and pretended to miss the point. Men, they just had to try.
    “Let’s see. After Kevin, I did my senior year abroad in Italy. I liked it so much over there I stayed on for graduate work. I was doing serious black and whites of wrinkled old women and coloreds of the Tuscan landscape—nothing too original. Then, Marcello suggested we go to see the horse races in Siena, a once a year, no-holds-barred event. That was the first time I covered a sport.” Speaking enthusiastically about her profession, Stevie continued. “There was something about getting a split second shot at a critical moment that grabbed me. I sold a few of those pictures then started going to soccer games, bicycle races, anywhere action could be captured.” Connor said, “Marcello?”
    “This guy I lived with for a year or so. Anyhow, I came back to the States with a nice sports portfolio, but found out it was quite a boy’s club—very hard for a woman to get a start. I got a few assignments to cover women’s sports, gymnastics, golf, that kind of thing, but never the big three, football, basketball, or baseball, unless I was willing to do it on spec.
    Finally, finally…I get in on the ground to photograph the Sinners and I wind up in the hospital, thanks to my own carelessness.” She shrugged, then winced as her broken ribs shifted.
    “Would any of you happen to know what became of my camera? There were some surefire cover shots in it.” “No worries. I gave it to one of the press people named Dexter Sykes and told him to get it to   Sports   Illustrated   just the way you wanted. I said it better be your name on any shots they used or else he could deal with me.” Connor patted her hand.
    “Ah, thanks, Connor. I was a little worried. Dex and I have a history, a bad history. He sent me a note saying he had my camera. I wasn’t sure if it was a nasty joke or the truth, but you’ve eased my mind. Dex wouldn’t cross anyone as big as you.