Impulsive (25 page)

"Jitters and all," she promised, even now
second-guessing her rash decision. "Tommy is going to have a conniption
fit."

"Tom Nelson?" Forsyth inquired. When Jess nodded, he
added, "He's already had it, while voicing his objections very loudly and
succinctly. The owners and the coaches got together this morning to discuss
hiring you, and it was a wonder we didn't have to scrape your godfather off the
ceiling tile. However, he was outvoted, and he'll just have to learn to live
with it."

Ty chuckled. "Well, there goes your truce, Jess. Welcome back
to the team. I just have one question. Does this make you a Knight, a Dame, or
a Lady?"

By Sunday, Jess was a nervous wreck, damning herself for having
signed that contract. Playing soccer for OSU in a partially filled stadium had
never sent her into a tailspin, but now, for the first time, she was getting a
good taste of stage fright. Try as she might, she could not block from her mind
that she would be kicking in a pro game broadcast on national TV—and if she
screwed up, thousands of people would see it. Moreover, anyone who realized she
was a woman would expect her to make a fool of herself on the field. They were
probably making book on it at this very moment.

Not that the Knights were advertising the fact that they had just
hired the first female kicker in the history of the NFL. On the contrary, they
had simply listed her on the roster as number 11, J.D. Myers, kicker, and
offered no further information as to her identity or background. This, in itself,
would no doubt confound the sports announcers to no end. As a rule, they had
access to all the players' statistics, everything from previous playing
experience to personal data. But not in this instance, for which Jess was
extremely grateful. For the time being, she would just as soon remain as
anonymous as possible, in case she made a royal ass of herself.

As she took her place on the sidelines, Jess was thankful to be
outfitted in a team uniform, the better to blend in with her fellow Knights.
Her jersey was even loose enough, and long enough, to disguise the small bumps
on her chest and her feminine derriere. As for her hair, it wasn't any longer
than many of the players wore theirs, and she'd already mashed it down with her
helmet, giving it a flat, mussed, unisex appearance. With any luck, she'd pass
for one of the guys, no questions asked.

Another thing adding to her stress level was that her mother and
stepfather would be among the spectators this afternoon. Claudia had done
everything but have a seizure when Jess had informed her of this latest
development. After ranting and raving on the phone for a full half hour,
Claudia had firmly announced that she and John would be present on Sunday to
watch Jess play.

"I want to be on hand when they haul your broken body off to
the emergency ward," Claudia had claimed direly. "They'll probably
need me to sign a consent for your medical treatment."

"Mom, the kicker rarely gets hurt during a game," Jess
had rebutted. "It's one of the safest positions on the team, which is why
a kicker can be smaller than the other members and still get the job
done."

"Are those big galoots on the other team going to take it
easy on you?" Claudia had persisted. "Will they know you're just a
girl?"

"Just a girl?" Jess had echoed peevishly. "Mom! Get
with the program. These are the nineties. Women can do anything and be anything
they want, as long as they're equally qualified. And no, none of the Ravens
will be aware that I'm a
woman.
Not if I can help it. The last thing I
need is to have them all hooting and snickering at me."

"Maybe it would be better if they did know," Claudia had
insisted mockingly. "If they're doubled over laughing, they can't attack
you, can they?"

Jess knew that unless the Baltimore Ravens held the Knights scoreless,
she would be called upon to kick for her team, either in a point-after attempt
or to try for a field goal. Naturally, she
didn't
want the Knights to lose, but even more, she didn't want to be responsible for
it happening. Especially since this game was being dedicated to Alan.
Consequently, she was stuck between the proverbial rock and the hard place,
with no one to blame but herself.

The Ravens won the coin toss and deferred, kicking off to the
Knights at the beginning of the game. Baltimore's defense had been weak all
season, so it came as no surprise that the Knights scored a touchdown on their
first offensive drive, though it took several plays to accomplish it.

Jess's moment had come, much sooner than she would have wished.
She stood immobile, until Danvers slapped her on the shoulder, jerking her out
of her stupor. "Go get 'em, kid!" he told her, giving her a push onto
the field.

She trotted toward Ty on wobbly legs, praying she wouldn't trip
over her own feet. Upon reaching him, she blurted, "I'm going to throw
up."

Ty laughed. "No you won't. You're going to pretend this is
practice. Just you and me, like the first time. I'll hold for you, and you're
going to ram that ball straight through the uprights, dead center." He
winked. "I'd give you a kiss for luck, but that'd really set tongues to
wagging, not to mention we'd probably get called for delay of game. Now, get
set."

She measured off her paces, mentally marked her spot, and took a
deep, steadying breath. "Okay, I can do this," she muttered. "If
Alan could do it, so can I."

For the space of a split instant, she closed her eyes and imagined
the ball sailing cleanly over the bar. The ball was snapped. Ty had it
positioned perfectly. One, two, three strides. Jess's toe connected with the
ball, wedging beneath it and sending it soaring between the goalposts. In her
zeal, she'd put so much power behind the kick that the ball flew past the end
zone into the section of seats beyond it.

Jess barely had time to heave a huge sigh of relief before her team
mates converged on her with a barrage of traditional congratulatory whacks on
the back and head. Jess, her helmet now pushed down over her eyes, was helpless
to do anything
but go with the flow as they herded her off the field—half
carrying, half shoving her along with them.

When she was safely on the sidelines once more, she jerked her
helmet off and glared at the bunch of them as she flexed her shoulders beneath
the bulky pads. "Geez, you guys! Find another way to express your
enthusiasm, will you? Not that I don't appreciate your accolades, but my
chiropractor is going to be the richest man in town if you don't tone it down
some."

"Yeah," Ty agreed with a mile-wide grin. "After
all, Jess is just a little fella! Besides, I'm going to be super p.o.'d if she
ends up in traction and my love life goes on the skids."

Her opening debut over, Jess was much more calm as she watched the
game continue. When next she ran onto the field for a point-after, she did so
with conviction. Just before half-time, she got her first chance at a field
goal, a forty-yard attempt. Again, Ty was to spot the ball for her.

"Drill it, babe," he commanded confidently. "Show
'em how it's supposed to be done."

"This one's for you, Alan," she whispered. "Up and
over."

The ball arched high into the air, well above the reach of the
Ravens' special team's men who would have tried to bat it down, to rocket
through the uprights. This time, when Jess's teammates picked her up and carted
her off the field on their shoulders, she had no complaints.

The Knights dominated throughout the game. Altogether, they scored
seven touchdowns and points-after, and three field goals, racking up
fifty-eight points to the Ravens' seventeen. It was a decisive win, one they
could all be proud of.

Only later, when they convened at Ty's house for an impromptu
celebration, did Jess learn what the sports announcers had said about her.
Corey was next to bursting, as she declared, "Oh, Jess! I wish you could
have heard them! They were going crazy trying to figure out who you were and
where you'd come from so suddenly. It was as if you'd materialized out of thin
air."

"What were you doing? Listening to a radio in the
stands?"

Corey nodded excitedly. "Yeah, one of those that pulls in the
TV audio stations. Girl, when you kicked that first point-
after
and the football went clear past the end zone, those guys went totally berzerk.
All three of them agreed they'd never seen anyone with such a powerful kick.
Then, when you made that forty-yarder with room to spare, they really came
undone. It's for sure they're going to be beating the bushes trying to find out
everything they can about you."

Jess grimaced. "I hope not, but I suppose it's
inevitable."

"I think so, too," Claudia put in, draping her arm
around Jess's waist. "So be prepared for it, honey. By the way, I hope
you're serving crow with this pizza, because I deserve a big portion. You were
fantastic out there tonight, despite all my predictions of doom and
gloom."

"She's right, Jess," John Derry added, placing a peck on
her cheek. "We're extremely proud of you. Your dad and brother would have
been, too."

"And Alan," Ty said. "You did him proud,
Jess."

"So did you." Jess returned the compliment, her smile
edged with sorrow. "As did the whole team. It would have been a shame to
lose this one, but we won it in grand style. I just wish Alan could have been
part of it."

The phone began ringing before nine o'clock the following morning.
Ty made the mistake of picking up the bedroom extension on the first call. It
was a reporter from a Columbus newspaper, wanting an interview with Jessica
Myers, the new female kicker.

"Why call me?" Ty stalled.

"Because all I'm getting is her answering machine, and I was
told you two are a couple. I figured maybe I could reach her at your
place."

"How did you get my number?" Ty asked irritably.
"It's unlisted."

"A friend of a friend," the guy hedged.

"Well, you've struck out, pal. No one's here but me," Ty
lied. "And don't call here again. You know the drill. If you
want
any information about any of the team, call the Knights' office."

"What was that all about?" Jess asked when he hung up.

"Word's out that you're a woman."

Jess made a show of lifting the sheet and looking down at her nude
body. "Well, what do you know!" she mocked. "I think they're
right!"

"Cut the comedy. That was a local newspaper reporter. A
'friend of a friend' gave him my phone number, and yours, too, apparently—after
informing him that our team kicker is one Jessica Myers, and my current flame.
He wanted an interview with you."

Jess sighed. "Oh, brother! I knew it was bound to happen
sooner or later, but I was hoping for later. And I'll bet I know who
ratted."

As one, they declared, "Bambi."

The phone rang again. Automatically, Jess reached for the
receiver. Ty forestalled the movement. "Let the machine get it. Chances
are, it's someone else we don't want to talk to just yet."

"You skirted the other call awfully well," Jess commented.
"Now that I think about it, you didn't admit anything. Not that J.D. Myers
and Jessica/Jess Myers are one and the same, or that you're dating me or even
know me at all. As I recall, the word 'she' never passed your lips. You're
pretty slick there, James."

"I've had a lot of practice handling reporters," he
replied off-handedly.

That was just the start of things. By eleven o'clock, the message
tape on Ty's answering machine was full, and a sheaf of faxes littered his
desk. There were communications from several Ohio newspapers, all three major
TV networks, plus the sports channel, the news channel, and a number of radio stations.
All left their numbers, requesting an interview with Jess at the first
opportunity. She'd also retrieved duplicate messages from her own phone and
E-mail, via the laptop computer she often left at Ty's place for convenience
sake.

"Holy cow!" Jess exclaimed in awe. "I can't believe
this! You'd think I was just nominated for an Oscar or something!"

"Well, honey-bun, my advice is for you to get to work on a
press release that will satisfy them all in one fell swoop. As for personal
interviews, CNN would probably be your best bet. That way the other networks
could pick it up from them and you could get by with doing just one. At least
for now."

Jess's jaw dropped. "No way, José. There is no way on God's
green earth that I'll consent to a live interview and have the entire U.S. and
most of the civilized world criticizing everything from my looks to my kicking
ability, to my unmitigated gall at joining a professional football team. Not to
mention digging into my background and personal life."

"The shoe pinches when it's on
your
foot, doesn't
it?" he commented wryly. "When it's your butt on the line, with
everyone shooting questions at you left and right. You should have thought of
all this before you signed that contract."