Page 34 of Hard Count
She had been having an affair with the actor for months. She had many affairs. Donna Ashton lived her life by one rule. If it felt good, she would keep doing the thing until the whole thing burned.
Jayson had sat beside him in the waiting room without speaking. Later, when the house passed into Piper’s name, Jayson had managed everything. The lawyers. The estate. The phone calls Piper couldn’t make. The way grief had administrative requirements that nobody told you about until you were inside them.
He had thought it was love. Or the closest thing to it he had gotten.
***
Present Day
Tank walked into the locker room with Starbucks. He brought Piper his usual, a quad mocha.
He took one look at Piper and stopped.
“You look like shit.”
Piper kept taping. “Good morning to you, too, asshole. Thanks for the coffee.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Tank set the coffee down on the bench and dropped onto the bench beside him.“You sleep at all?”
“A little.”
Tank looked at him. “What’s up with you lately?”
Piper grabbed the coffee. “What’s with the investigative reporting on me?”
“You got that look.”
Piper glanced over. “What look?”
Tank thought about it. “The one where you’re deep in conversation with Joan.”
Piper gave a half smile. He had told him about Joan years ago, and Tank continued to give him shit about her, or whatever the hell it was.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about me, worry about catching my fucking throws today.”
“Deal,” Tank said as he picked up his coffee and took a drink. He didn’t ask anything else. That was part of why Piper trusted him. Tank got it that sometimes the best thing to do was just be there without prying too much. Piper would let him know in time.
After a minute he said, “Coach wants quarterbacks on the field in twenty.”
Tank stood, stretching his neck from side to side. “Try not to kill anybody.”
“No promises.”
Piper opened his phone. Still nothing from Noah.
***
By the time Piper stepped onto the field in Chicago, the air was frigid and it almost hurt to breathe.
“You’re two minutes fucking late Ashton,” Coach Ramirez said.
“Then I’m early by the rest of the world’s standards, coach.”
Ramirez grunted. “Cute, go warm up.”
