Chapter 3

 

     We're not in Waterloo anymore, Toto.

April 30

 

     Rivers shook my hand, welcomed me to the team and then had security escort me out the back of the stadium. A car was waiting and two guards drove me back to my hotel in silence. I was grateful that Rivers saved me a $30 taxi fare but when I turned on the TV in my room the reason became clear. The media had in fact gone to Arrowhead Stadium and Rivers and Garrison were having some fun at my expense.

     “Why, yes, $25,000 is substantially less than the minimum salary but Worthington didn’t object,” Rivers said, even slower than usual, allowing time for the message to sink in.

     “It’s actually a good wage,” Garrison chimed in, “considering it will mostly be water boy duty.”

     The reporters chuckled.

     “An’ Randy, if that don’t work out there’s always that mascot idea we were talkin’ ‘bout.”

     I turned off the TV and pulled out my contract. I re-read the bonus clauses and relished each one. Ah damn! I forgot to ask for the million dollars for breaking the single game touchdown passing record. Oh well. Consider it their bonus.

     Yes, it was fun to fantasize about the bonuses but all I could count on was $25,000. My finances were pretty low and the contract didn’t state when I would be getting paid. What if it’s not until the regular season begins in September? One thing was clear; I had to get out of this hotel because $99.50 a night was going to kill me. I grabbed my laptop and jacket. It was time to start looking for free internet as well because the hotel charged $10 per day.

     I found it at a coffee shop down the street. Although they didn’t call themselves an internet café it turned out they were. They had a strong wireless network for their franchises but hadn’t bothered to secure this location. It’s surprising how much free internet exists if you just go searching for it. I ordered a coffee, fired up a few internet sessions and went to work. The Kansas City Star had a large number of rental listings. Google Maps gave me aerial views of the addresses. At first I focused on neighbourhoods near Arrowhead Stadium, naively thinking that I might be able to walk to practise. But I couldn’t find any rental accommodation within a two mile radius, and those that I could find were blocked by highways 70 and 435.

     The waitress came by again but all I requested was a free coffee re-fill. She wasn’t impressed. I’d have to leave her a good tip. I’d also have to find a grocery store soon.

     I widened my search for accommodation, but how to get to practise? I keyed bus service to Arrowhead Stadium into the search engine. I found an article informing me that the KCATA Metro Service to the stadium had been cancelled due to budget cuts. What a relief. There was no public transit but now I’d have to buy a car, which meant I needed to scrimp even more on accommodation. And I’d also need a parking spot.

     There were a surprising number of ads for people looking for roommates: guys looking for guys, guys looking for girls, girls looking for girls, girls looking for guys and some that didn’t specify. I sorted the cheapest first, took a deep breath and began calling.

     The first guy asked what I looked like and my “gay-dar” went off. The next few weren’t any better. I had one promising call with a female student but that ended when I found out there were no extra parking spots. I decided to start asking about parking at the beginning of each call.

     The afternoon wore on and I was getting edgy. I should have ordered decaf but I kept nodding whenever Kelli came by with the coffee pot. I’d had three prospects that were looking good but when they found out who I was they hung up. I’d have to be vague about that.

     Hmm. Basement room, $300/month. I dialled the number.

     “Yes, hello. Is the basement room still available?”

     “It is,” she replied.

     “And would you have a parking spot?”

     “We could. So you have a car?”

     “Not yet,” I explained, “but I’ll need one for work.”

     “So what do you do?”

     “Um, I’m a student, actually, but I’ll be working this summer.”

     “You don’t sound like you’re from around here. Are you from out East?”

     “As a matter of fact I am.” A bit north as well, I thought, but why mention that?

     “Now you should understand that there’s no separate entrance to the basement, and no bathroom either. It really is just a room. You’d be moving through the house and using our kitchen as well.”

     “I see.”

     “So you’d have to meet the family and we’d all have to be comfortable with you living with us.”

     “That’s fine.”

     “And you would not be allowed to have any friends over, if you know what I mean.”

     “Ma’am, I haven’t got any friends.”

     She was silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

     “Chad.”

     “Worthington?” she asked.

     My God she was quick. Or maybe it was just like that word association game and Worthington was the first thing that came to mind. God knows you couldn’t help hearing it if you had the radio or TV on.

     I paused. “Yes,” I finally said.

     “Then no. We don’t need the trouble. And you told me you were a student!”

     “I am. I have two years left. This is just … an interruption.”

     “Hmmph. Well the answer’s still no.”

     “Please ma’am, don’t judge me until you’ve at least met me. I can be very quiet and I’d really be no bother.”

     Her breathing was short and shallow as she thought it over. “All right. You can come over tomorrow night for dinner and meet the family. But your name will be Bill, so the rest of the family doesn’t go judging you too.”

     “Thank you ma’am.”

     “It’s Mrs. Carson.”

     “Well thank you very much Mrs. Carson.”

     She gave me their address and told me to be there at 6:00. The old me would have pushed on and dialled more numbers in case Mrs. Carson didn’t work out, but I was drained, emotionally drained. What the hell was I doing here? I should be in Ottawa now with Katie. I shook my head when Kelli, came by with more coffee. I thanked her and gave her a $5 tip. Then I dropped off my laptop at the hotel and went for a walk. That always helped me to figure things out.

     After an hour I’d moved out of the downtown and into a livelier section of town. Music was blaring out from an open window in a bar; Country Music, but music nonetheless. It wasn’t the music that attracted me as much as the thought of having a beer with a burger. My feet started heading in that direction. Just then a pickup truck raced into the parking lot and two young men jumped out. They nodded hello then ran into the bar. I walked over to the vehicle.

     I stared into the open pickup, not certain what to do. There was a gun rack mounted against the back of the cab that held two rifles. Or perhaps they were shotguns. Were they planning to rob the place and just forgot them? Should I call the police? I reached for my phone when another couple approached the bar. I pointed at the guns and they came over.

     “Pretty nice, but I prefer Winchesters,” the guy said and he led his date into the bar.

     Holy shit. So this is the new normal.

     I put my phone away, walked into the bar and chose a secluded booth near the front door. After she served the first couple, Holly the waitress came by for my order.

     “I’d like a draft and a burger.”

     She smiled. “Nice try, but you don’t look old enough.”

     I smiled back and reach for some id. “I’m twenty,” I told her as I fumbled for my driver’s license.

     “That’s what I thought. You need to be twenty-one. What’s the drinking age where you come from?

     “Nineteen.”

     “Oh. I didn’t know any states had such a young drinking age.”

     “How about a burger and a cola then,” I said. Thankfully she went away to place my order. I didn’t want her asking me any more questions.

     The music was loud but the bar was quite dead. It was just me, the young couple and the two guys with the pickup truck and rifles who were playing pool and drinking. The news was on TV but no one could hear it above the music. Then one guy noticed the sports segment and asked Holly, the waitress, to turn off the music. There was Rivers and Garrison again. The two pool players whooped it up whenever they heard Rivers and Garrison putting me down.

     “I’d love to meet that Worthington,” the one guy said.

     “Me too,” said the other, twirling his pool cue in his hand. “I’d shove this right up his ass!”

     Holly came by with my order and bill. I had planned to put the meal on a credit card but I realized I couldn’t use them anymore. I’d rather be incognito than in Kansas City.

     I listened to the good ol’ boy conversation a little longer, all the while planning my exit should I need to leave in a hurry. This had the makings of a long summer.