I chuckled. “As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass. But I have something better for you. I’m going to a high school game at St. Francis in Queens. So is Bella. A kid on the team is her friend’s son. He’s really good. You want to come?”
“Are you gonna feed me?”
“Does a hot dog and pretzel from the snack stand count?”
“Now you’re talking my language. What time?”
I smiled. “I’ll pick you up around six. Kickoff is at seven thirty.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
I got to my truck and tossed my bag in the backseat before typing out a text to Bella.
Christian: Coach is in.
Half the time she was in meetings, so I didn’t expect a response right away. But my phone dinged as I put the key into the ignition.
Bella: Great! I’ll meet you guys there.
***
“So are you ever gonna tell me that you’re schtupping my granddaughter? Or just gonna keep that to yourself?”
I glanced over at Coach and back to the road. “I was actually going to talk to you about that.”
“Sure you were…”
“I’m serious. We haven’t had a chance to talk in a while, and Bella wanted to keep things on the downlow at first. She’s trying to earn credibility with the team, so she didn’t want people focused on her dating one of the players, especially me. You know how it is—I take a woman to one event and the media’s either got me married or cheating on her within a week.”
“I guess credibility takes a hit when you’re dating a clown…”
“Bite me, old man.”
Coach chuckled. “Do you and I need to talk about what she’s been through? She’s a strong girl with brains, but I don’t think I need to tell you that people have had a tendency to disappear on her. That means trust issues, and when a person with that baggage gives their trust to someone and it’s broken, it’s like re-opening a gaping wound, not just the little new one.”
I was quiet for a while as we drove, letting that sink in. Eventually, I nodded. “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m crazy about Bella. She’s not some woman I’m spending time with because I’m bored or need to get lai…” I caught myself and shook my head. “Sorry, but you know what I mean.”
Coach looked out the window. “Alright then.”
I merged onto the highway from the entrance ramp, and just as I entered the right lane, a car from the center moved over without looking. I swerved onto the shoulder and avoided a collision but had a few choice words for the idiot. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I waved my right arm as my left hand sat on the horn. “Try looking before you change lanes!”
Coach pointed. “Fifty-three Buick Skylark. That car was popular when I was a kid. The guy probably shouldn’t be driving. He looks old enough to be the original owner.”
I shook my head. “Someone should tell him that.”
I merged behind the old car. It was only going about forty miles an hour, though we were on a fifty-five road. So as soon as it was safe, I moved into the middle lane to pass him. Of course, since I was a guy, I had to first pull up next to him and take a look at the moron while making a face. The driver looked about seventy-five, which made me feel like a bully, so I hit the gas without making eye contact.
Coach looked back in his rearview mirror. “They don’t make cars like that anymore. John had a ’fifty-seven in his collection.”
That reminded me of something. “Didn’t he also have a blue Ford Thunderbird from the fifties?”
“Sure did. A nineteen fifty-four. A real beauty.”
“Whatever happened to it?”
“I got the entire collection when he passed. He meant well, because those old cars were always something he and I enjoyed, but I don’t really have a use for eleven antique cars. I can’t even drive one. We used to go to swap meets and car shows on Friday nights when he was growing up. We still went a few times a year up until the end.”
I remembered being invited to John Barrett’s home the first year I joined the team. He’d had a garage that held more than a dozen cars. We’d smoked cigars, and he took me to look at them all.
“He drove them occasionally, right?”
He nodded. “Usually to the store or around town. You’re supposed to drive a car at least once a month so its seals don’t dry out and get leaks.”
“Did he…ever drive them to the stadium?”
“Once in a while, if it was nice out. Why do you ask?”
I wasn’t about to even hint at what was on my mind because it was a ridiculous thought to begin with. Yet…still something niggled. I shrugged. “No reason. Just curious.” I tapped the steering wheel, lost in thought for a while. “You still have the cars?”