Chapter 18: The Little Guy Comes Up Big

When we all got back to the hotel, I went upstairs with everybody. Once I was pretty sure nobody was roaming the halls, I took the stairs back down to the first floor and headed over to the cashier's station in the bar.

"Can I get some change, please?" I asked the bartender. I slapped a five-dollar bill onto the bar.

"Sure," he said. "All quarters?"

"That's good," I replied. He handed me a fistful of change, and I walked over to the bank of pay telephones in the hallway leading to the restaurant. I dropped a quarter into the slot and fumbled in my wallet for the number I needed. I was calling my older brother Michael at his work. After I dialed, the operator came on and instructed me to deposit eight more quarters for the first two minutes. I fed them into the box, and there was a series of clicks until the connection was made. The telephone at the other end rang twice, and then a gruff voice picked up.

"Yeah. Hello? Murphy's Auto."

"Michael Porter, please. Tell him his brother is calling long- distance."

"Hold on a minute," said the voice. There was a clunk as the receiver was dropped. I stood there listening to random pops and hisses, until I heard Michael fumble with the telephone.

When he got on the phone, he sounded confused. "Sean? What's up, bro?"

"I need a favor," I said hurriedly. "You got a credit card?"

"Yeah, I've got one. Why?"

"Call this number," I said. I read off the phone number of the hotel we were staying at. "Make a reservation under the name..." I hadn't really thought this through enough. What name to put the reservation under? Not my name. Kayla's? How about... "Put it under ... Prescott. First initial K. Prepay for the room with your credit card, and I'll pay you back."

I could hear the suspicion right through the telephone lines, all the way from back home. "What the hell are you doing, Sean?"

"Look, I'm in D.C. at a tournament," I said. "A ... friend of mine ... needs a room for a couple of nights, that's all, and they won't take cash for the room."

"A friend, huh?" My brother knew me very well, and he was doubtful about the validity of all this. I couldn't blame him, but I didn't want to tell him the entire truth, either. I didn't need any of this to get back to Kayla's parents.

"Yes, a friend." I tried to sound innocent, persuasive. It was a tough sell. "I'm with the team here. I'm just trying to get a room for a friend, so they aren't sleeping in a doorway somewhere. That's all. Come on, Mikey. I'll pay you back when I'm home for Christmas, I promise."

"Well ... All right," he reluctantly agreed. "If I find out you're scamming me, though..." He left the rest of it unsaid. He didn't have to complete the sentence. I understood perfectly.

"Thanks, dude. I owe you big time."

"Yes, you do," he said just before he hung up.

Now Kayla would be able to get her own room without having to worry about how to pay for it. She and Keisha could say they were checking in for the tournament. Two girls sharing a room wouldn't be that unusual.

I ran back up the stairs to my room. I just had time to change into street clothes before our team meeting. Pick wanted us to look at film of South Carolina so we could begin to prepare for Sunday's championship game.

Jesse and Bryan decided they wanted to go to a movie with some of the other guys, instead of going out with my friends and me. Spencer came along with me, and Danielle picked us up after going by Trent's hotel and getting him. Kayla was with Keisha, and they would be meeting us at the restaurant. I was excited about telling her my plan.

Trent got out to let Spencer and me get into the back seat. Once we were settled and on our way, I said, "Nice game today, Trent. Congratulations on the win."

"Thanks," he said. He twisted around so he could talk to us. "You guys played a tough one, too. North Carolina is no pushover."

"We were lucky to escape today," said Spencer.

Trent eyeballed both of us. "I don't know how much luck played into it," he observed. "You guys do all that movement on the field on purpose, don't you? Porter, I've never seen you play up so much before."

"Watch out, Trent," I warned. "I'm turning into a real scoring machine. I think that makes nine goals this season."

"Hey, not bad for a defensive specialist," he said.

"Yeah, but I think you had nine goals every two games in high school," I reminded him.

"Those were the days, weren't they? Goals came easy and often." We seemed a little young to be waxing nostalgic already, but he had a point. High school soccer was a lot easier than the college game.

"Did you say goals?" asked Spencer. "For a second I thought you said girls came easy and often."

Trent laughed, earning himself a dirty look from Danielle. Glancing over at her, he said, "No, I definitely said goals. I didn't know any easy girls in high school."

"Oh, you knew some," said Danielle with a knowing look. "You were just smart enough to stay away from them."

"And smart enough to get together with the toughest chick in town," he added with a smile and a wink.

Danielle kept her eyes on the road, but I thought I detected just the faintest trace of a pleased look on her face from Trent's compliment.

"So, did you study our game? Find any holes to exploit?" I was fishing, but Trent was too wily to take the bait.

"I saw your game, sure. You guys are tough. I don't think we belong on the same field with you guys. You're gonna run roughshod over us on Sunday." It was an effort for him to keep his face serious.

"You're not gonna give us anything, are you?" grumbled Spencer.

"Nope," said Trent with a tight smile. "Not unless you're going to give something back."

"Who, us?" I said in mock innocence. "We've got nothing to give."

"Yeah, right," said Trent. He turned back around, giving Danielle a significant look.

"See?" She glanced over at Trent. "I told you they wouldn't tell you anything."

"Hey, it was worth trying," he said.

When we got to the restaurant, we found our friends waiting in the lobby for our table. I was a little embarrassed about taking Kayla into my arms in public, but she had no problem with it. She put her arms around my neck and pulled my face down to hers.

"Did ya miss me?" she murmured just before she kissed me.

"Every minute of the day," I replied. I put my arms around her waist and held her. I was glad she was so open and uncomplicated in her affection toward me. I wished I were more like her.

I pulled her off to the side a little and explained my plan for getting our own room.

"The thing is, you and Keisha have to check in and get the key. We want the hotel desk clerks to think it's you two girls staying overnight. Okay?"

"Of course, love. It'll be easy. What room will I be in?"

"I don't know yet," I said. "You'll have to call my room once you're checked in. You can let me know then."

There was a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe I'll call you," she said. "If you promise to be good."

"I'll be good," I said, "if you'll promise to be bad."

"I can be bad," she said with a grin. "I can be a very bad girl."

The hostess called for the Prescott party, and we followed her into the dining room to our table. We sat down and I opened my menu to find page after page of clams, mussels, lobster, clams, shrimp, scallops, fish, clams, crab, oysters, calamari, and more clams, with just one little section toward the back for what they called "landlubber dishes." A couple of selections of chicken, one steak, a vegetarian pasta dish, and, almost as an afterthought, a hamburger.

Keisha was giving Spencer the eye. "Now before you go and order that burger, Midwestern Boy, keep in mind this is the Chesapeake Bay. You just can't visit here and not at least try some clams."

Spencer looked doubtful. "I don't like that fishy smell," he said.

Keisha brayed laughter. "If it smells bad, it probably is bad," she said. "Good fish don't smell ugly."

I heard Eric softly say, "If it smells like fish, and if it tastes like fish..."

Keisha swung around to her boyfriend. "And if he keeps on with this train of thought, he might not ever get a chance to test out his theory again," she warned him with mock severity.

Eric managed to hide his laugh behind a too-innocent look. "I wasn't going anywhere with that, darlin'. I ain't that stupid."

"You sure as hell ain't that smart," she retorted. "You just like walkin' the edge, don't you?"

"Loving you is walking enough of an edge," Eric replied in his best English butler voice. He leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek, which Keisha accepted willingly. She wasn't quite done with Spencer, though.

"You've had clam chowder before, haven't you?"

"Good God, no. It's got clams in it," he said with a shudder.

"Well, you're getting some tonight. Ain't no clam chowder like Chessy Bay clam chowder." Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but Keisha rolled right over him. "Uh-uh, you are at least trying it. You really don't know you don't like it if you never tried it. You can order it as an appetizer before we order our main courses. If you taste it and still don't like it, I'll shut up, I promise. Deal?"

Poor Spencer was steamrolled, and he was far too polite to just tell Keisha where she could shove it. He nodded reluctantly, and then favored Eric with a sympathetic look.

"Strong lady," he said.

Eric chuckled. "You got no idea," he said.

When his steaming cup of clam chowder arrived, Spencer wrinkled his nose and looked suspiciously at it. One glance at Keisha, though, was all it took, and he picked up his spoon and dipped it carefully into the creamy soup. He hesitantly tasted it with just the tip of his tongue. Apparently it wasn't nearly as poisonous as he had expected, because he took a spoonful, blew on the surface, and ate it.

"Okay, not bad," he said. "I can't really taste the clams."

"Stir it up a little, get some of those chunks off the bottom," suggested Trent.

Spencer gave him a sour look, but did as Trent suggested. Keisha watched him closely as he took a mouthful of chowder.

"A little rubbery, but it's okay," he pronounced.

Everybody had been watching and waiting for Spencer. When he said it was okay, it was like his words were the signal for everybody else to dig in. It was only as we resumed our normal chatter that the silence that surrounded our table as we watched Spencer with his chowder became noticeable. Kayla, sitting to my right, put her hand on my knee and gave it an affectionate squeeze before reaching for a plate of appetizers. We all began passing plates of fried clams, onion rings, and peel-your-own shrimp around the table, and our communion was underway.

The waitress came around to take our orders. The menu was arranged with the house specialties numbered. Kayla ordered a Number Four Special, fried clams and shrimp. I ordered a Number Two Special, which was broiled red snapper, steamed clams, and fried shrimp.

The waitress moved over between Eric and Keisha. "What'll you have, honey?" the waitress said to Keisha.

"I'll have the Number Eight," said Keisha.

"I could have predicted that," said Eric with a chuckle.

"Really?" asked Kayla innocently. She looked at the menu selections. Number Eight was a seafood gumbo.

Eric's eyes were twinkling with amusement as he glanced first at Kayla, and then at his girlfriend. "Shore," he said. "Keisha, she loves to get eight."

Keisha slapped him with her menu, and the waitress broke out laughing.

"What?" asked Kayla, a little confused. "I don't understand."

"Ain't nothin' to understand," said Eric. "All I said was Keisha loves to get ate."

I leaned over and explained Eric's little pun to Kayla. She turned a bright red, and tried to hide her blushing cheeks in her hands.

"You are just awful," she said to Eric, but we all could see she was smiling.

The waitress finished taking our orders for our entrees, and I shifted in my chair so I could look around Keisha at Eric.

"Hey, dude, how many touches did you have on the ball today?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. A couple dozen?"

Trent's ears perked up. "Not many for a quick forward," he noted. "You should be handling the ball a lot more than that."

"It's just the way our offense is set up," Eric said.

I sighed. "Look, Eric, you're one of my very best friends. Can I say something without you going off on me?"

Eric looked at me. "Of course, dude. You got something to say, let it out."

Okay," I said. "Here it is. Bullshit."

"Bullshit? That's it? That's what you thought I'd take offense at?"

"Sure. Because you know it's bullshit, even if you haven't admitted it to yourself yet."

Eric threw his head back and laughed, a sound of pure pleasure. "Yep, you're right, it's pure, unadulterated, warm and smelly bullshit. You recognized it, didn't you? Goddamn."

"We all saw it," I said. "Me and Jesse and Bryan, our coaches, we were sitting watching the game and we couldn't hardly miss it."

"What? What are you guys talking about?" asked Danielle. She turned to Trent. "Do you know what they're talking about?"

"Not really, honey," he admitted. "Maybe they'll let us in on the joke, too."

"You were too busy to notice. Too close to it, maybe. But sitting in the stands, we saw it," said Spencer. "Or, more accurately, Porter saw it. He gave us a clue what to look for, and before long we all saw it."

"Saw what?" asked Trent. He was sounding a little exasperated.

Eric turned toward Trent. "We got a little problem with our team over at Maryland," he said.

"They fielded two teams against you today, pal," I said.

"Two teams?" Now Trent was really confused.

"That's pretty true," said Eric, glancing at me. "We got an underclass team, and an upperclass team."

"And they don't share well," said Spencer.

"You're right. We don't play well together at recess, neither."

"What?" Trent was sounding like maybe he was starting to understand. "Is that why you didn't handle the ball very much?"

"That's about right," confirmed Eric. "It's been a team ... how did they put it? Oh, yeah, a team concept for a long time. Upperclassmen rule, sophs and frosh drool."

"Hell of a concept to run a program on," noted Spencer.

"Ain't real successful except against weak teams," agreed Eric. "It's tough, especially as a dumb-as-a-thumb freshman, to try to come in and make everybody see the error of their ways. We got a good group of younger players, though, and that change is gonna come. You can bet on it."

"You sound a little angry about it, Eric," said Danielle.

"It's frustrating," he said. "I mean, we've got some pretty damn good players out there on the field, and too many of them don't get the opportunity to do what they can because of the attitude of the juniors and seniors."

"It's all inherited problems, too," added Keisha. "From what we've heard, it was even worse last year."

"Jesse told us Maryland wasn't very good last year, but graduating their senior class probably helped out the team," noted Spencer.

"Yeah," agreed Eric. "I hear it's better, but it's still a bitch when you work your ass off to make yourself a better player, and then you don't get the chance to use your skills come game time."

"So, you think you'll transfer to a different program next year, then?" asked Kayla.

"No," said Eric. "Me and Keisha, we made a commitment to Maryland, and we'll honor it. This year will be the toughest, but it's always tough for a freshman player coming in. Next year will be better, because we'll graduate the most hard-core players from the old regime. The sophs on the team will be upperclassmen, and no way will they put up with what's been going on."

"That's the hope, anyway," said Keisha.

"It's more than wishful thinking," insisted Eric. "Our sophomore starters are just as frustrated as I am. They tried looking to the coaching staff to change things, but it's not happening fast enough for them. They'll change it next year with or without the coaches."

"For a team going through such divisiveness, you guys played well during the tournament," said Trent.

"Even with a divided team, we got some talent," said Eric. He nodded at Spencer and me. "Maybe not enough to take on the Florida soccer machine, but good enough so we can hold our heads up in public."

"And, by the way, what's up with the way Florida is playing their positions?" asked Keisha. "You guys start out in a classic three-four- three, but then you scramble it all up."

"Classic three-four-three? Have you become a student of the game?" I asked.

"Shit, you watch as many games and practices as I have over the past too-many years, even a dumb broad like me can pick up a little bit," she said.

"Come on, Keisha, you know what I meant," I said sadly. "I would never..."

She broke out into a big grin and put her hand behind my neck. "Gotcha, didn't I?" she said, sounding pleased with herself as she pulled me over and gave me a kiss. Her lips were soft and moist, and I just might have felt the tip of her tongue against my lips. Certainly a friendlier kiss than I was expecting, considering both Eric and Kayla were watching. Her eyes were twinkling as she pulled back, as if to say, Gotcha again, Porter.

Keisha is never predictable, and never boring, I reminded myself. Two of the many reasons why I liked her so much.

"So," Keisha continued as she readjusted her napkin, "are you going to tell us about your game or not?"

I looked around the restaurant, twisting around in my seat. "Just where is that darned waitress, anyway?" I asked.

Keisha chuckled. "I'll take that as a no, then," she said.

"You know I would share all my secrets with you, sweetheart. But Mr. I-Love-to-Score Abbott over there is listening in." I nodded in Trent's direction.

Eric murmured, "Hey, he ain't the only one. I love to score, too."

Keisha guffawed, throwing her head back in real amusement. "You surely do, Eric Johnson. You surely do."

There was nothing much we could have added to that, so it was just as well our waitress showed up with a tray loaded with hot dishes for us.

As we were getting ready to leave the restaurant, the girls decided that Danielle would be the one to go in and register with Kayla. She was driving us back anyway, and that way Keisha wouldn't have to make the trip twice. Besides, it looked like she and Eric had plans for the rest of the evening, and they were a little anxious to get to them. We promised to get together with them the next day, and we waved as they drove off for their rendezvous.

When we got back to the hotel, Spencer and I walked around and made sure our teammates, scattered around the lobby and the restaurant, saw us together. We stopped and chatted with Pick, Eddie, and Stan, just finishing up a late dinner at a table located by a big window looking out into the street.

While we were chatting people up, Danielle and Kayla came in and stepped up to the registration desk. They signed the forms, and the desk clerk handed them each a key to their room. Trent had stayed in the car, parked in the lot next to the hotel. I glanced over just as the elevator doors were closing as the girls headed up to the room. I knew Danielle would take the stairs back down again, and try to leave by a door near the parking lot unnoticed. All I had to do now was wait for Kayla's call to let me know what room she was in.

Spencer and I sauntered around until I felt satisfied we had been well noticed. We told people we were going to go up and see if anything good was on the tube.

In the elevator, Spencer said, "Mission accomplished."

"Thanks for helping out, dude," I said.

"Hey, I'm in favor of helping true love find a way," he said. "I'm just a romantic at heart."

Luke had been downstairs, so Spencer came in to my room and flopped down on the bed.

"It'll be nice to have the day off tomorrow," he said.

"What are you planning on doing tomorrow?" I asked.

"Sleeping and being lazy," he said.

I was nervous, pacing back and forth as I waited for the telephone to ring.

"Sean, sit down. You're making me tired just watching you."

"Yeah, okay," I said. I sighed as I sat on Luke's bed. I grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels.

"Wait a minute, go back," said Spencer, sitting up. He reached for the remote.

"What?" I asked as I handed it to him.

He cycled back about four channels to a taped concert in a small auditorium.

"Soundstage, " he said. "This is the Doobie Brothers one."

"Groovy," I said. "Go ahead and listen to the music."

"All the time," he answered, staring at the screen.

The telephone rang, startling me. I reached over and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Room 648," whispered Kayla.

"You don't have to whisper," I said with a smile. "I don't think anyone will overhear."

"You just can't be too careful," she replied.

"Luke's downstairs. As soon as he comes up, I'll be ready to meet you."

"What about curfew?" Kayla, at least, was thinking straight. I had forgotten about team curfew and bed check.

"You're right, sweetie. I'd better wait until after Eddie does his bed check."

"Call me before you come up so I can open the door, okay?"

"Okay," I answered. Now all I had to do was wait until everything was quiet in the halls. Considering I was waiting to go to my Luscious, I would do it willingly.

Luke came up about ten minutes before lights out, and Spencer headed off to his own room. Soundstage had ended, and we were back to flipping through the channels again.

Luke looked around after Spencer left. "Where's your girlfriend?" he asked.

"She got a different room," I said. I wrote the room number down on a pad of paper for him. "If you need to get in touch with me for any reason, here's where I'll be."