elevator arrived at its
destination and she followed him out and into a hallway that looked like all
the others. He took one turn and
another, and Faith realized she was officially lost, before he eventually
stopped in front of a door with a nameplate on it.
The name on the plate was Chase
Winters.
Even Faith knew that name, and she had
about as much interest in professional football as she did duck hunting. Which was to say, she had almost zero
interest in football. But if you
lived in New England, you’d heard of Chase Winters.
“I thought I was meeting the team, or a
bunch of guys from the team at least,” Faith said, turning to the ogre, her
hands intertwined, fingers wrestling anxiously.
“What gave you that idea?” the ogre
replied, raising his hand to knock.
For the first time, the ogre was less
frightening than what lay behind that door. “Will you stay with me and then take me
back to the clubhouse after?”
Strangely, he smiled at her question. “Relax. Nobody’s going to bite.”
But she wasn’t so sure. This was strange. Where were all the other people? She’d assumed that this Meet and Greet
thing would be attended by other winners, other VIPs. Anything other than her alone in a room
with the new quarterback just hours before his first pro game.
Not caring about Faith’s concerns, the
ogre began knocking on the door. “The contest winner is here, sir!” he called out, and then opened the
door and gestured for her to go inside.
She was surprised to find herself in the
middle of what looked like a gorgeous hotel suite, complete with flat screen
television, mini bar, leather couch and chairs, and even a small kitchenette
with a stove and microwave.
“It’s empty,” she said, looking
around. “No one’s even here.”
The ogre smiled, but it didn’t reach his
eyes. “Just hang out here for a
minute and all will be well. Good
luck.” He winked at her, then
turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Faith stood there, her heart
pounding. What was she doing here?
Everything in her was telling her to
leave, right now, immediately, before something bad happened. Because she had absolutely no doubt that
she was being set up for something…something horrible.
But then her mind told her that made
absolutely no sense. She was a
contest winner, and the whole thing was totally legit, put on by the stadium.
You’re
just being a silly, nervous nelly. Now calm down. Whatever’s
going on, you’re probably going to meet someone from the team and they’ll be
bored and hardly look at you and then it will be over and you can go back to
the clubhouse with your family.
She nodded, feeling better now that she’d
talked a little sense to herself.
And that’s when he came out of an adjoining room, wearing nothing but a small towel
around his waist.
It was Chase Winters, of that she had no
doubt. His likeness was everywhere
you looked these days. He’d been
the very first pick of the draft, having won the prestigious Heisman trophy in
his final college season, and everyone was talking about his coming to New
England to save the team from the horrible turn they’d taken in the last couple
of years.
Chase gave her a quick nod of his head,
as if this situation was perfectly natural. “Hey,” he said, walking to the mini bar
and pulling out a small bottle of water. His enormous bicep flexed with ease and Faith couldn’t help but notice
the tattoo on his flesh—there in stark ink. The tattoo was a black flag with the
letters RMH inscribed in bright red. “Want something to drink?” he asked her, straightening. His abs constricted like an interlocking
puzzle.
“No thanks,” she said, even though she
was thirsty. What if he was
planning on dropping a ruffie in her drink?
“Suit yourself,” Chase replied in a deep,
even voice that was almost melodic.
As he straightened to his full height and
faced
destination and she followed him out and into a hallway that looked like all
the others. He took one turn and
another, and Faith realized she was officially lost, before he eventually
stopped in front of a door with a nameplate on it.
The name on the plate was Chase
Winters.
Even Faith knew that name, and she had
about as much interest in professional football as she did duck hunting. Which was to say, she had almost zero
interest in football. But if you
lived in New England, you’d heard of Chase Winters.
“I thought I was meeting the team, or a
bunch of guys from the team at least,” Faith said, turning to the ogre, her
hands intertwined, fingers wrestling anxiously.
“What gave you that idea?” the ogre
replied, raising his hand to knock.
For the first time, the ogre was less
frightening than what lay behind that door. “Will you stay with me and then take me
back to the clubhouse after?”
Strangely, he smiled at her question. “Relax. Nobody’s going to bite.”
But she wasn’t so sure. This was strange. Where were all the other people? She’d assumed that this Meet and Greet
thing would be attended by other winners, other VIPs. Anything other than her alone in a room
with the new quarterback just hours before his first pro game.
Not caring about Faith’s concerns, the
ogre began knocking on the door. “The contest winner is here, sir!” he called out, and then opened the
door and gestured for her to go inside.
She was surprised to find herself in the
middle of what looked like a gorgeous hotel suite, complete with flat screen
television, mini bar, leather couch and chairs, and even a small kitchenette
with a stove and microwave.
“It’s empty,” she said, looking
around. “No one’s even here.”
The ogre smiled, but it didn’t reach his
eyes. “Just hang out here for a
minute and all will be well. Good
luck.” He winked at her, then
turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Faith stood there, her heart
pounding. What was she doing here?
Everything in her was telling her to
leave, right now, immediately, before something bad happened. Because she had absolutely no doubt that
she was being set up for something…something horrible.
But then her mind told her that made
absolutely no sense. She was a
contest winner, and the whole thing was totally legit, put on by the stadium.
You’re
just being a silly, nervous nelly. Now calm down. Whatever’s
going on, you’re probably going to meet someone from the team and they’ll be
bored and hardly look at you and then it will be over and you can go back to
the clubhouse with your family.
She nodded, feeling better now that she’d
talked a little sense to herself.
And that’s when he came out of an adjoining room, wearing nothing but a small towel
around his waist.
It was Chase Winters, of that she had no
doubt. His likeness was everywhere
you looked these days. He’d been
the very first pick of the draft, having won the prestigious Heisman trophy in
his final college season, and everyone was talking about his coming to New
England to save the team from the horrible turn they’d taken in the last couple
of years.
Chase gave her a quick nod of his head,
as if this situation was perfectly natural. “Hey,” he said, walking to the mini bar
and pulling out a small bottle of water. His enormous bicep flexed with ease and Faith couldn’t help but notice
the tattoo on his flesh—there in stark ink. The tattoo was a black flag with the
letters RMH inscribed in bright red. “Want something to drink?” he asked her, straightening. His abs constricted like an interlocking
puzzle.
“No thanks,” she said, even though she
was thirsty. What if he was
planning on dropping a ruffie in her drink?
“Suit yourself,” Chase replied in a deep,
even voice that was almost melodic.
As he straightened to his full height and
faced
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