Chapter 36

Ken Bradley was standing in the corner of J.J. Murphy's Saloon in the Loop of downtown Chicago nursing a beer and watching the patrons with some amusement. Bradley was six feet three inches tall and weighed 190 pounds. Although to a casual observer he appeared to be in good physical condition, he didn't look like what he was: a professional football player on the NFC-champion Chicago Bears.

Earlier in the season, when Sammy Johnson had suffered a knee injury and was put out of action for the rest of the year, Ken had joined the team as a wide receiver on a trade from Atlanta. In the time he had been with the team his rôle had steadily increased in importance, although he was not yet Mike Cassidy's favorite target. That designation now belonged to Kevin Cavanaugh, Ken's best friend on the team.

Bradley was a rarity in the NFL, a player who had played his college ball for an Ivy League school, in his case, Yale. Perhaps because of that or because he kept to himself, he didn't have many friends on the team. His closest friend was Kevin who was also very well educated and very smart. Through Kevin he had become friendly with Mike and a defensive back, Ron Jackson.

To his surprise he found Mike and Ron sought him out to ask his advice about their college courses. He didn't understand it, but it seemed to have something to do with their girlfriends. The big surprise was Mike Cassidy. Mike was famous — or notorious, depending on one's point of view — around the league for his womanizing. Even in Atlanta he had heard about Cassidy's Meat Market and some of the stories surrounding it. Now, all he ever heard from Mike was about his agent, Susan, with whom he was romantically involved.

As he nursed his beer, Ken thought about his past and his future. His professional football career was being pursued over the violent objections of his father who wanted him to settle down, marry and join the family investment business. For that matter his father had been after him to meet some particular girl. Unfortunately, all he ever heard from his father was how wealthy her family was and how advantageous a merger it would be. Ken's attitude was that dynastic marriages went out with the Treaty of Vienna in 1815. He wanted no part of it or of her.

In spite of frequently being dismissed as "just a football player" by a number of females of his acquaintance, he was a Phi Beta Kappa at Yale with a degree in economics, and had received his MBA from Harvard the previous June, graduating as a Baker Scholar. The only result of his football playing was that it had taken him three years to get his graduate degree instead of the normal two. His degrees and his academic accomplishments were both things that he kept quiet. They were not secrets exactly, but he certainly didn't advertise them.

He smiled to himself thinking about his dealings with the press — or more accurately, his lack of dealings. The one thing that worried him was the upcoming free-for-all in New Orleans, the site of this year's Super Bowl. Although this was the first time for him, he certainly knew enough and had seen enough to know that the press swarmed all over the Super Bowl venue and everyone remotely connected with it. His work was going to be cut out for him if he expected to maintain his privacy. Certainly, the two touchdown passes he caught plus his 170 yards receiving in the championship game were not well-calculated to maintain his anonymity.

Once again his attention was drawn to a girl standing at the cash register talking animatedly to a guy Ken figured had to be the owner. He tried to analyze his feelings but couldn't. He had been watching her from a distance for almost an hour now. She was tall — about five feet eight — and very attractive. Looking at her, he tried to figure out why he felt the way he did. She was wearing only Levi's and a work shirt, so he could see she had great legs, but it was hard to tell what was on top. The oddity was a very heavy-looking golden collar around her neck that he glimpsed when she turned in his direction. She had sun-streaked brown hair that was uncommonly long, reaching below her shoulders. It was wavy and he noticed the very natural way she would occasionally get it off her face with a quick shake of her head.

That's it! he thought. That's what it is: she's so natural. I guess she's a real beauty but she acts like she neither knows nor cares. She looks like the kind of girl I'd like to meet someday. Unfortunately, she's undoubtedly an airhead. All I would hear would be the air rushing between her ears.

Cathy Collins was sipping a beer and talking to Jack Murphy at the cash register. Jack — or J.J. — was her first customer at the bank. He had called the bank the week before Thanksgiving looking for money. His call was referred to Kelly who had given it to Cathy as her first assignment. With some trepidation she had gone into the establishment early one morning and met J.J. before the tavern opened to the public for lunch.

Wearing her Levi's as she had been told to, she was unprepared for her reception. Jack had come out from the back, saw her attire and rushed over with both hands outstretched saying, "My God! You're from Chicago Trust? You're really going to talk to me?"

After assuring him she was, he took her to a table and began to talk about his plans for the place. Cathy found she liked him immediately. As an English major, she had no idea what sorts of financial numbers she should be looking for so she talked about his patrons, the way he was building his clientèle and his hopes for the future. When she returned to the office, she wrote it up carefully and then submitted it with great trepidation to Kelly.

She knew the ax was going to fall when she arrived at work the next day and found a note on her desk to see Kelly immediately. Knocking on the open door, Kelly motioned her in and asked her to close it. Then the tall girl leaned back in her chair and put her feet on the desk. Her first words were, "Collins, what in hell do you know about Irish saloons?"

Quickly admitting she knew nothing, nonetheless Cathy started to talk about his hopes and dreams — and his plans. Kelly looked so bored it appeared that her eyes were about to close. Opening her eyes, she cut off Cathy's explanation asking, "How much?"

"How much? How much what, Kelly? I don't understand," Cathy had replied.

Frowning — or pretending to — Kelly said, "How much money, turkey? You do know, Miss Collins, that this is a bank? We lend money? Sometimes we even get it back. How much money does he want?"

"Ninety thousand dollars, Miss McBride," Cathy remembered replying diffidently.

"When?" she asked.

Again Cathy was confused and asked, "When what? I don't understand the question."

"When does he want the money?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I forgot to ask him." Suddenly, Cathy's face crumpled and her tears started to flow. Blinded by her tears, she got to her feet and groped for the door. Instead of the door, she found herself in Kelly's arms.

"I'm sorry, Cathy," Kelly whispered softly. "Honest I am. I think your whole analysis was just great. You found the real J.J. Murphy under all the bullshit. Cath, that's what you're paid for. We have computers that can run any conceivable set of numbers in a second — and the results usually aren't worth the paper they're printed on. The loan is approved and a check will be ready for you at two this afternoon. Why don't you take the afternoon off, bring J.J. his check, and let him buy you a few beers?"

It turned into a real party that afternoon with Cathy introduced to all comers as "the best damned banker in Chicago." She dimly remembered singing old Irish ballads when the pub was closing the next morning. J.J. personally escorted her back to her apartment after closing up.

Now she was talking to him about his plans and his progress. When she had come in, J.J. had looked at her and then cocked his head askance. "What's happened to you, Cathy?" he asked. "You look different. You have a tan — obviously you've been in the sun — but it's something else. You're moving ... easier! That's it! You're more relaxed. What happened?"

She grinned and said, "Thank you, Jack, for noticing. I am more relaxed and less uptight." She grinned and added, "I don't think I've ever felt better in my life." They talked and she told him she was meeting some friends. "I've got to do something to be sure you'll have the money to cover your loans," she said with a grin.

"Go on with you now," he responded with a grin. "You know very well your money is no good at J.J. Murphy's, and that goes for your friends, too. Who's coming?"

She smiled back and affected an Irish brogue. Cathy was a gifted mimic and her accent was near-perfect as she said, "There will be my boss, Kelly Kathleen McBride. She's a daughter of Erin and a graduate of Notre Dame as well as being a vice-president of Chicago Trust. I guess she's allowed in here, isn't she?"

'J.J. grinned and nodded his head rapidly.

"She'll be here with her fiancé, Kevin Patrick Cavanaugh, another Notre Dame alumnus and the current tight end for the Bears. Is he welcome, too?"

Again the rapid nod.

"Then there will be Susan Clark Bradford. I'm not sure about Sue. I do know she's the best passer in the city of Chicago. If you don't believe me, ask her fiancé, Michael James Cassidy, whom I suppose you've heard of?

"Finally, there will be one of 'the twins who aren't, ' April Jefferson, with her fiancé, Ron Jackson. Supposedly there will be something in pants for me, too, but you can never be too sure. What do you think, J.J.?"

Instead of answering, he called his duty manager over and told him to set up a table for eight in the corner. He stressed that there would be no check and he — J.J. — would personally cover the server's tip. He told him excitedly that they were going to be hosting the stars of the Chicago Bears that evening, including the quarterback, the high-scoring tight end, and an All-Pro defensive back. Furthermore, there would be two vice presidents of Chicago Trust Company including the deputy division head of the unit that was lending them the money to improve the place.

Then he turned back to Cathy and, to her surprise, took her in his arms and kissed her soundly.

Cathy reddened but smiled and asked, "What was that for?"

"That was for doing the most you possibly could to build my business. Young lady, do you know what it's worth to me to have the word out that the top players on the Bears come in here for a beer? My God! No amount of money can buy that publicity. The place will be packed to the doors!"

While Cathy was talking to J.J., she had become aware of a tall young man standing in the corner watching her. She had glanced in his direction and from what little she could see at a glance, he seemed more than presentable. Unfortunately, he couldn't possibly put two sentences together back-to-back, she thought. Why are there too few men like the ones Cindy and Kelly found to go around?

She turned back towards J.J., in time to see his face light up as he looked toward the entrance. Turning to see what had caught his attention, she saw that her friends had just arrived. She rushed over and for some reason — relief, maybe — went into Kelly's arms and hugged her, then gave her a kiss.

Kevin kissed her lightly and Susan Bradford gave her a hug and a kiss. Mike Cassidy held her at arms length and said, "I think I like your other uniform better! Then he kissed the tip of her nose. By now she was blushing like a school girl as April and finally Ron greeted her.

Meanwhile, Kevin had found Ken standing in the corner. Ken had been reluctant to come down for the party but figured there was no graceful way out of it. They had just won the championship, after all. His eyes widened when he realized he was being brought over to meet the girl he had been looking at for the last hour.

Kevin said, "Ken, I would like to introduce you to one of my fiancée's best friends, Cathy Collins." Turning to Cathy he said, "Cath, this is Ken Bradley, our wide receiver." Then he looked at both of them and grinned saying, "I think this is going to be funny! I think you're both going to be in for a big surprise."

Ken put out his hand and found it taken in a very firm handshake. Cathy said, "Hi, Ken. Congratulations on a great game yesterday. You still seem to be in one piece. I saw one play — a deep crossing pattern — where you caught the ball and held on even though you reminded me of a walnut at Christmas time: right in a nutcracker. With the free safety hitting you from the front and the corner hitting you from behind, I thought you would end the play in two pieces."

Ken looked at her in utter amazement. He said, "You know football? My God, I didn't think there was a girl alive who knew what a crossing pattern was!"

Susan Bradford joined them with her hand out. She grinned and said, "Hi, Ken! I'm Sue Bradford, the girl Cassidy laughingly refers to as his fiancée. I'm very happy to meet you. You're one of the few guys who can catch his horrible passes and make it look like he knows what he's doing.

"Of course we both know that, for example, on that crossing pattern Cassidy might throw it fifteen yards deep or fifty. It's up to the receiver to figure out where the ball will go when he chucks it. Congratulations!"

Then she looked at him carefully and chuckled saying, "This is going to be a very funny evening. Cath, in spite of having his brains scrambled, Bradley is smart — or at least he used to be. He was Phi Beta Kappa at Yale with a degree in economics and now has his MBA from Harvard. The poor thing was a Baker Scholar up there."

Turning to Ken she said, "Cathy, here, is only a poor English major from Carleton College. Of course, she was also Phi Beta Kappa and valedictorian of her class — in all honesty, it was a much smaller class than Yale's, though." She grinned and added, "I think I'll get out of the way and just laugh. Excuse me." With that she went over to Mike and the others who were being seated at the table and welcomed by J.J.

Ken just looked at Cathy and slowly shook his head. Then he grinned and started to chuckle. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"The situation," he replied. "I've been watching you for the last hour and feeling sad because with your beauty you had to be an airhead. I can recall thinking I would be able to hear the air whistling between your ears. Can I check?"

She grinned and cocked her ear in his direction saying, "I'm afraid I have to let you. You see, I lost a bet with myself, too. I bet that you couldn't put two sentences together back-to-back and you already have. So listen away."

He gently pulled her soft hair back from her small ear and pretended to listen but then turned her chin towards him and gently kissed her on the lips. Without conscious volition, she put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. It was sweet and warm and wonderful. More than that, she could feel the electricity flow between them and could feel her knees turn to water. She tightened her hold around his neck to keep from falling to the floor.