Hometown Favorite: A Novel (23 page)

Dewayne shook his head in dismay at being the victim of
Cherie's exaggeration of how life was growing up under the maternal rule of Cherie Jobe, just to impress Bruce and Sabrina.

Even though it was all for fun, deep down the kids loved
how someone was standing up for them, believing in them,
honoring them, stating to the world they had value. This collective effort by the whole family to allow Sabrina and Bruce
the opportunity to start over-not on a clean slate, but on a
brand-new one-was creating a new belief system in their
hearts. When Cherie talked them through her house, pointing
out the special objects-Dewayne's trophies, the picture of her
husband, the hand-painted and autographed apron hanging in
a place of honor in the kitchen unsoiled because of lack of use,
endowing each with a mystical power by its supporting stories and her enchantment as the teller of the tale-it was as though
she was offering Bruce and Sabrina a brand-new history. She
was giving them a picture of life as it could or should be and
not how it had been.

Except for the trip from Los Angeles, Bruce and Sabrina had
little exposure to the outside world beyond the sprawl of city
dwelling. Experiencing rural, small-town life was like stepping
into a foreign country. The morning devoted to sightseeing in
Springdale did not take long. The highlight of the tour was the
walk onto the Tigers' football field and Dewayne and Rosella's
reenactment of his proposal.

While Rosella, Cherie, and the kids ate vanilla ice-cream
cones dipped in chocolate at the Dairy Freeze on the town
square, Dewayne signed autographs and chatted with local
residents about this new phase in his life. Winston Garfield,
a bow-tied, buttoned-downed, first-class small-town editor
and reporter for the Springdale Leader, spotted Dewayne as
he came out of the paper's offices. Winston had been covering Dewayne since his first days as a Tiger, through his college career, and now to his current status as first-round draft
pick for the Houston Stars. Dewayne always appreciated his
support-Cherie was faithful to send her son Winston's articles
while he was away.

Dewayne talked with Winston like the old friends they were.
He had not really sat for an interview since signing with the
Stars, and Dewayne gave Winston a sports story worthy of a
journalism scoop. Dewayne had to purchase another round
of ice-cream cones before the interview was over.

Rosella drove them around the town square, and when Dewayne saw the bank where Cherie had her accounts, he asked
her to stop. He said he needed to cash a traveler's check for the
trip home tomorrow, and he instructed Rosella to circle the square while he did this quick bit of business. It would have
been a waste of time to talk to Cherie about the other reason
for the stop. Within ten minutes, Dewayne paid the balance
of his mother's mortgage and was back in the car. Cherie was
none the wiser, but did comment on how long it had taken
to cash a traveler's check. Dewayne covered his subterfuge by
commenting on how busy the tellers were for this time of day.
He knew soon enough the truth would be discovered when the
bank sent her the "paid in full" notice, and he would receive the
scolding phone call. Houston would be a much safer distance
to handle Cherie's brief but grateful anger.

"Don't cook tonight, Mama," Dewayne said as they pulled
in front of Cherie's house. "I want to see Coach Hopper, and
I'll buy us some barbecue for dinner tonight"

A little bell rang when Dewayne opened the door into Hopper's Barbecue. The store was empty. Dewayne looked over the
counter in the back but saw no one. He stepped back outside,
ringing the bell once again, and looked at the hand-painted
sign to make sure he had gone into the right place. The wire
holding one side of the sign had rusted out, and it tilted to one
side. He glanced up and down the street ... few cars, fewer
pedestrians ... and he stepped back inside. Once more, the
bell rang.

"Coming! I'm coming, for Pete's sake," a voice grumbled.

It was almost a minute before Jake stumbled out of what
looked to be an office off the work area behind the counter.
He was trying to tie the strings of his grimy apron behind his
back. There was a shared moment of wonder when the two
men looked at each other.

Dewayne couldn't believe that this dissipated, droop-eyed
man was the same one who had shaped his talent in those
critical formative years of high school and had treated him with the kindness of a loving father. As Dewayne's eyes swept
over the dingy interior-the place needed a good scrub-Jake
quit trying to tie the apron strings and let them dangle.

"How's business?" Dewayne asked, and he regretted this
question the second he said it. Why couldn't he have just said
hello?

"Ain't it obvious?" Jake spoke much louder than was necessary as he threw his arms wide open, taking in the expanse
of emptiness. Immediately, he too regretted his strident response. Why couldn't he have just said hello? Why couldn't
either of them act as if this unexpected reunion was a pleasant
surprise?

Dewayne looked tentative about moving closer, but after an
uncomfortable pause, he stepped forward and extended his
long arm over the counter.

"Can't shake your hand. I just washed up;" Jake said, nervously rubbing his hands across the smudged apron.

"I understand" Dewayne snapped back his hand like a cop
directing oncoming traffic.

"Wouldn't want you reporting me to the health department
now." Jake tried his best to make light of the rebuff by holding
up his hands to prove their cleanliness.

"We're in for a quick trip to see Mama, and I wanted to see
you and get dinner for everyone tonight. Just wanted to see
how you're doing"

"That's good. That's good. I'm good" Jake struggled with his
emotions. There was no sense in telling him the truth, no sense
in opening old wounds, was there? "So what's your pleasure?"

When Dewayne placed his order, Jake stood there as if he
had not heard it correctly. Dewayne explained the increase in the size of his family and said that it would be good to have
leftovers for the trip home tomorrow.

Jake seemed disoriented by Dewayne's order, and he looked
about the work area as if it were unfamiliar territory. Finally,
he spotted a side of meat in the stainless steel meat slicer and
moved toward it as if deciding it was the best place to start work.
Jake slipped on a pair of plastic gloves and went to work.

The two men did not speak throughout the process of preparing the order. Dewayne could see the progress of Jake's life
since the last time he had seen him. Jake had kept up with
Dewayne's success through the media. So what was there to
talk about?

When Jake had sacked up everything, he laid the food on
the counter and shuffled over to the register.

"That's, ah.. " Jake paused and rubbed his moist forehead
with a plastic-gloved hand as though scratching an intense itch.
He sighed, redoubled his efforts to focus on the key pad, and
then punched in some numbers. "That's thirty-seven dollars
and forty-five cents"

Dewayne pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and apologized
for not having a smaller denomination.

"That can happen. That can happen ... when things change
... overnight," Jake said. He looked at the bill but did not take
it from Dewayne. "You know, you're a little late"

Dewayne looked at his watch as if somehow Jake was privy
to his schedule. He shrugged, waiting to be enlightened.

"My grand opening of Hopper's Barbecue," Jake said. "Half
the town came to see you and Sylvester pitch and catch in front
of my shop and you were a no-show. I expected something like
that from Sylvester, but not from you"

"I'm sorry. I don't even remember it" The sweat glands on
Dewayne's back began to push the pores open.

"So insult me some more ... don't even remember it."

"I'm really sorry. Really. I'll try and make it up to you. Whatever it takes."

"Forget about it."

Jake pushed the order toward Dewayne, who kept waving
the bill at him.

"Look, just keep the change. It's okay. I don't need-"

"I'm sure you don't need it. What you need is character,
character I remember you having when you were a kid, character your mother has.'

"Yeah ... yeah;' Dewayne said and laid the bill on the counter. He scooted the sack into his hands and enfolded it over his
chest like a protective covering.

Just before Dewayne's exit, they stood looking at each other
once again, just like they did after he had entered the shop, yet
both more informed from the heart's revelations.

Regret filled them on multiple levels, but neither could express it: regret for old wounds, regret for surprise entrances,
regret for promises broken, regret for spoken words coated
with bitterness, regret for flustered apologies.

Dewayne just nodded his head, and Jake returned to irritating the itch on his forehead. If Dewayne could have kept the
bell from ringing at his exit, he would have. If Jake had never
paid attention to a meddlesome customer's suggestion to hang
the bell in the first place, neither one of them would have had
to endure the sound of this departure ... a last mutual regret
of both men.

"My man, Dewayne Jobe, needs a big credit limit because he
signed such a small contract;" Sly whispered and then winked
into the camera. "But don't tell him that."

The camera widened out from a close-up of Sly's face to
reveal a football field under a blazing hot sun. Sly took a few
steps back and hurled the football downfield. The ball flew high
just in front of Dewayne, requiring him to leap into the air to
catch it. He caught it with one hand, went into a forward roll,
and came back onto his feet. The director shouted, "Cut!" and
the entire film crew began to cheer.

"That's the money shot;" the director said as he waved for
Dewayne and Sly to come to the monitor bank under the tent
to watch the replay from the different camera angles. The pass
from Sly to Dewayne had been a multicamera master shot.

Dewayne was shooting his last commercial before training
camp began, and the largesse coming from this endorsement
would be the most lucrative to date. It was Sly's first time in
front of the camera, but he took to it like the star he knew
he was and would always be. It was a perfect combination of
people and events: high school friends who had played for the
same team, college superstars, rivals for the Heisman, first and
second overall draft picks. And now the national attention each one had gotten over his contract-Dewayne's for its low figures,
Sly's for his not having signed yet with New York because he
and his agent were still haggling over the dollar amount. He
could not attend training camp until his deal was done.

The national credit card company loved this convergence
of player and circumstance and intended to play it for all its
worth. They would get at least three commercials out of this
two-day shoot, and Dewayne would prove his point to Sly that
the quickest way into the winner's circle was doing this dogand-pony show for the highest bidder.

"That's cold, bro;" Sly said as they sat side by side in their
makeup chairs.

"That's cold hard cash, bro," Dewayne said. "You remember
how hard your life was before you left for Miami? You want
to go back to that?"

"I don't want to go back to nothing except your mama and
her cooking. Case closed" Sly slid off his chair. "Now let's go
warm up for the camera"

Once they were on the field, throwing the football, and out
of earshot of the director and the crew who were setting up
for the shot, Sly started ragging his friend.

"You know the press has cut loose on me because I'm holding out. My agent says I can't get the deal I deserve because
of your lowball contract. I should be getting Heisman Trophy
money, but you screwed everything up"

"It's a system failure ... been going on for years," Dewayne
said. "I just thought I might see what I could do to correct the
problem."

"Don't sell your crap to me," Sly said, adding extra muscle
to his throw. "You Mr. White Knight? You saying you can be
greedy for endorsements but not in football?"

"The way I see it, they are all making money off us, but it's different with the team. We all need each other to win. Just like
back in the day."

"Back in the day ... you and me." Sly held on to the ball.
"D-man, we're not the same, you and me. We're difference
makers. We need us a team, but we're leaders, and we should
be paid for it"

"I agree, but not when you have to cut the pay of good players that have been on the field longer, or cut them altogether
just so you can buy your bling"

After the director and cinematographer had analyzed the
master shot from every camera angle, Dewayne slung his arm
over Sly's shoulder and took the football out of his friend's hand
as they slipped out of the tent where they had been watching
the replays.