Page 9 of Raging Fires

“It was your grandfather’s last wish,” Gran said.

“Gran… come on… you’re going with the guilt thing now?” Jake sighed and pushed back his chair. He got up and walked to the window to stare out for a few moments. He turned back and looked intently at Kelli. “You really willing to do this?”

Kelli nodded. “I am.”

“Hell.” Jake sighed. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Six

Jake left town the next day, which, no surprise, led to Kelli banging on about how she had to handle everything by herself. But, seriously, how hard could it be to plan a fake wedding with a justice of the peace? And he had to arrange moving his things out here and drive back to Phoenix. All before reporting to the team the next week. There was also the matter of buying a place to live.

No, wait. He never stayed anywhere long enough anymore to buy a house, remember? Jake just needed a storage place to throw his stuff in so he’d be able to leave on short notice, like he’d done ever since Miami.

But things were different this time. He’d chosen to live in Philly last year only because that’s where he’d had the surgery on his knee and it was easier to just stay there. But Phoenix was his hometown. Yes, it was a pain to have to live in the same place as Kelli, but he’d already signed up for the agony of being married to her for a year, so what was the point in holding off getting a house? He couldn’t let Kelli determine where he lived for the rest of his life.

Yes, he would probably go to another team next year, but someday he would have to stop. Everyone did—except for Brady, but Jake was beginning to think maybe that guy was really a cyborg—and after Jake retired, he could settle down in Phoenix. Gran was here, and from now on, he should be around to help her out. Even if he was playing somewhere else, he could live here in the offseason and fly in periodically to check on her during the season.

So maybe he should be looking for a house or, thinking of the emptiness of living in that Miami mansion by himself, maybe a condo would be better. Whatever he bought, that was a bigger decision and would take more time, so for the moment, he’d just stay at Gran’s. The bed wasn’t that much too short; it was okay if his feet hung off the end. And if he got a hotel room, Gran would really play the guilt card. Besides, it was kind of nice to have somebody in the house fussing over him, even if she did try to shove oatmeal down him every morning.

Jake wasn’t a bit surprised that by the time he drove in Sunday night, Kelli had the whole wedding thing organized. It was to take place at the Blue on Monday two weeks after the fiasco at the attorney’s, Monday being the slowest day of the week at the bar. Of course her guiding factor would be fitting it in around work, but he couldn’t complain because she’d given him a week after he had to report, too. And it was going to be just Gran, the justice of the peace, the two witnesses, and them. All he had to do was ask Asa if he’d play the best man. Well, Jake also had to go with Kelli to get the marriage license on Thursday. That, apparently, required both of them to show up or else Kelli would no doubt have taken care of that, too.

Jake reported to the team office on Monday, where Howard Perry (sans dog, thank God) took him down to meet Coach Davis and then dumped Jake off on him. The head coach chatted a short time, then dumped him off on one of the assistants, who showed him around the complex, gave him a locker and introduced him to the rest of the coaches and trainers and other players who were there. Even though official off-season training wouldn’t start for a couple of weeks, most of them came in to work out on their own or use one of the healing therapies.

Jake met Neil Moran, the first-string quarterback of the Pumas, who seemed like a nice enough guy. Of course, he had no worries that Jake might replace him. Moran was a two-time Super Bowl MVP for a reason. He’d demonstrated the past season that his elbow was fully rehabilitated, and he didn’t seem old or banged-up enough to retire. Jake didn’t expect to take over the job. He was just there to be the sub in case of injury. He’d get to play in the exhibition games, and that was about it.

But if Jake showed the skill and work ethic that he hadn’t with the other teams, if he buckled down and really pushed the way he had in his knee rehab last year, he might do well enough in those exhibition games to let other teams know he hadn’t lost his ability. Or at least, seeing him in practice, Davis would want to keep him as the back-up.

That wasn’t the preferred scenario, of course, but there was a sliver of hope with the Pumas. Moran was their designated franchise player, which meant that this year they’d be re-negotiating with him, and there was always a chance they wouldn’t reach an agreement. The Pumas didn’t have much room below their salary cap, and some other team might be willing to pay even bigger bucks to get Moran.

Whatever might happen, there wouldn’t be a real rivalry between the two of them, so there wouldn’t be any reason for Moran to work against him. And since Moran was pretty much the GOAT when it came to discipline and fine-tuning his skills, Jake figured he could learn something from the man that would improve his game. Jake had learned the hard way that natural ability wasn’t enough when you got to the pros.

Neil introduced him around. Of course, he already knew Asa, and he would work on remembering all the other names. It would be hard to forget Justin Kowalski, the left offensive tackle, whom everyone called Gramps because he was the oldest player on the team. That was good because the quarterback’s best friend better be the blind side tackle. It paid to treat your offensive line well. That’s why you bought them Rolexes for Christmas and took them out to dinner at the best steakhouse around. Jake had heard that Neil sent this crew on a cruise after they won the Super Bowl.

Last, but most importantly, Jake was given the sacred Team Playbook iPad, as well as the usual warning that losing it would cost him a fine of $15,000. It was the same as the fine he’d paid for missing the team plane when he was playing for Miami (as if getting stuck in Boston in the middle of a snowstorm wasn’t penalty enough). Jake knew the list of fines well.

Jake hung around and did a workout. By the time he finished, he was sweaty and tired, but it felt good, almost like coming home, to be there listening to the guys’ jokes and grunts and the clang of weights. It just wasn’t the same working out alone or even at a commercial gym.

After he showered, he waited for Asa and walked out to the cars with him. Putting on his sunglasses, Jake said casually, “Hey, man, you doing anything next Monday?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Well, uh, I wondered if you’d be willing to be one of the witnesses.”

“One of the witnesses? What—did you get arrested?” Asa’s voice went up the scale in indignation.

“No, no, not a character witness. A witness like, you know, my best man. Kelli and I are getting married again.”

That stopped Asa in his tracks. “What? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.”

Asa grinned widely and extended his arm to bump fists. “Man, that’s great. When did this happen?”

“Last week. But it’s not like that. It’s not a real wedding.”

“Huh? What do you mean? It’s phony?”

“Well, I mean, it’s a legal ceremony, with a judge and witnesses and all that. But we’re not, like, back together.” Jake explained the arrangement.