We’ve both been a little bitter about people feeling entitled to an opinion about something that’s none of their business, and we’ve both dealt with trolls and perverts who’ve sent in daily requests to ‘see the Kitty Kat,’ along with their ‘suggestions’ as to what they’d do with me.
Quincy, Derrick’s manager, has been pretty supportive. He worked with Derrick to make sure that the new producer, a married woman named Janet, is totally professional, and he’s done a good job of screening out the assholes and opportunists who’ve applied to be the new co-host.
“Hey,” Derrick asks, leaning over, “you okay? Looked lost in thought? They still giving you problems at work?”
I shake my head, smiling. “No. A few slimy comments, but nothing I can’t handle. If anything, your show’s become a big hit around the office actually.”
Derrick laughs, our laughter being drowned out as a massive roar goes through the stadium. I look out, and most of the cheering fans are for the away team, so I guess it was bad for us. “Uh, what happened?”
“Big punt return,” Daniel says, his eyes fixed on the field. “I’d say we’re going to give up at least a field goal, they’ve got first and ten on the twelve yard line.”
I nod, half of what ‘Dad’ just said going straight over my head but I can see the position on the field, and I make sure to watch as the defense lines up. I memorized Jacob’s number, and jump out of my seat cheering as number ninety-two bum rushes through and tackles the quarterback for a big loss. “Go Jacob!”
“Big sack!” Dad cheers, grinning. “That’s the way to collapse the pocket!”
“Huh?” I ask, glancing at Derrick. “Uhm, I’m just glad I remembered who the quarterback was.”
Derrick grins, leaning in. “I think after my lesson you can at least remember that much.”
I blush, my body tingling as I think of our last minute ‘football lesson’ that turned into sex after Derrick had me bend over as the ‘center,’ and he got behind me for the snap. He gave my right cheek a swift smack and then smoothed it over with a grabbing caress, and feeling his strong hands on my ass triggered a need for something more than football knowledge. Apparently it was the same thing for him because we almost ended up late to pick up Daniel after finishing up our ‘lesson’. “I hope the real center and quarterback don’t end up like that.”
“Who knows?” Derrick chuckles. “Come on, let’s keep watching.”
The game’s first half goes well, and when halftime comes, it’s still close. “Time for some snacks,” Daniel says, getting up. Because of his heart attack, his diet is much stricter than it used to be, and he’s not allowed alcohol or fatty foods, but today he said he was taking a very rare exception and splurged on a small plateful of buffalo wings already. “I’m gonna grab some bites from the veggie tray. You guys want anything?”
“They got any nachos back there?” Derrick asks. “Feeling like cheese.”
Daniel nods and walks off slowly. I watch him go, then turn back to Derrick. “You sure he’s okay getting two plates?”
“He’s fine, it’s just right over there and it’ll let him feel more independent. Besides, I had something else I wanted.”
“Oh?” I ask, reading the low rumble in his voice. “What’s that?”
“Like maybe I should have taken Jacob up on that cheerleader outfit offer,” he whispers in my ear. “Minus the panties.”
My throat goes dry, and I look into Derrick’s eyes. “Behave yourself . . . and we’ll see what happens when we get home. For now though, I need a drink.”
I get up and head to the back of the box, where Daniel is piling tortilla chips onto a big plate. “Here, let me help.”
He looks over, then nods. “Is Derrick behaving himself?”
“As much as he normally does,” I reply with a chuckle. “You know how he is.”
“I do,” he says, glancing back. “It’s funny, but I guess he’s always been meant for that show of his. He’s always had a way with words, even when he was younger and wouldn’t say much unless he really knew you. He’s a little old-fashioned still though in some ways, hopefully that was me and his mom’s doing. He just needed a very special woman to complete him. I’m glad he’s found her now.”
I blink, touched. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I wish his mother could’ve been here to see it. Vanessa would have liked you a lot.”
I look up, wiping at my eyes. No raccoon eyes, no raccoon eyes . . . “I wish I could’ve met her,” I finally say, not trusting my emotions, “let’s get the rest of the grub, go enjoy the second half, and you can tell me what kind of woman she was.”