Goal Posts

"This is too much," Rachael said.

"You like them?" Carmen asked.

Rachael started to shake her head no.

"Rachael Thibodaux! Don't you dare lie to me," Carmen smiled.

"Yes ma'am," Rachael whispered.

"Wow, won't need no flashlights with them on, will you?" Dick said when Carmen showed him the turquoise blue boots.

Then Dick grabbed rag, can of saddle soap and sat on the back steps and rubbed the boots down. He dried the boots and rubbed them down a second and third and fourth time.

Now, the leather boots felt as soft as warm butter on her feet. Rachael looked around the living room at all the smiling faces; the faces that were there to see her off on a date.

"Hi," Rachael said to Arville again and grabbed onto his large hand, pulling him into the living room. "You already met my dad, that's my brother in law Darren, this is my Mom, Miss Carmen, my big sister Iris, my big sister Elise, and this is my brother in law..."

"Charlie LaPointe," Charlie said, holding out a hand. "Hear you're the reason we're now calling my niece 'The Ripper,' huh?"

Iris put an arm around Charlie's waist; it was the first time in the infant's three months that Charlie had called the child his niece.

"Sorry about that," Arville laughed.

"So what time you bringing her home?" Darren asked, still in tough cop mode.

"Oh, like I told Mr. Davis, I got a real early morning tomorrow; bus leaves at five thirty; if you're not on it, you don't play, so I'll probably be bringing her back at about ten thirty; that okay?" Arville respectfully asked the man.

"Ten thirty," Darren said, flexing his massive biceps. "Not ten thirty one or ten thirty two; ten thirty, hear?"

"Oh, stop it," Elise laughed, slapping her husband's shoulder.

"Great meeting all of y'all," Arville said and waited patiently as Rachael hugged all the adults and all the children good bye.

"Like your family," Arville commented as he helped her up into his truck.

"I love them," Rachael admitted as he started the large vehicle.

Rachael felt her hackles rise when the hostess paid far too much attention to Arville, touched him far too much for Rachael's comfort. If the hostess noticed Rachael's anger, she did not let it deter her from rubbing a breast against Arville as she handed him a menu.

"Uh, excuse me, miss? I don't get a menu?" Rachael snarled as the impertinent bitch walked away.

"Here, I already know what I want," Arville said, clearly embarrassed by the hostess's behavior.

"Ooh, would love to try those fried jalapenos," Rachael admitted. "But I'm still breast feeding; really don't want anything too spicy."

"Oh! Um, if I uh, had known you um, you were still..." Arville stammered, blushing hotly.

"Breast feeding," Rachael laughed. "You can say it; it's not a dirty word."

"Uh breast feeding, we could have gone uh, someplace else," Arville said, glancing at Rachael's large chest.

"No, no this is fine; haven't had good barbeque in forever," Rachael said and decided on a brisket sandwich and fries.

Rachael finished her last French fry just as the DJ announced the first of the dances and she and Arville got in line.

Rachael had loved dancing, but Harrison had declared it 'stupid' and 'a waste of time' so they had not danced much.

Then, of course, when she got pregnant, a pregnancy Harrison blamed her for, dancing wasn't really a priority; survival was. Her mother and overly religious step-father had kicked her out and she had lived in the back seat of her car for a few months. Dick Davis had rescued her and brought her home. But dancing still wasn't a priority; preparing for the birth of her daughter was.

Rachael had seen a photograph of a beautiful blonde woman in a white wedding dress and asked Miss Carmen who it was.

"My daughter, Elaine," Miss Carmen had smiled sadly. "Those animals, that Angels two seven zero gang murdered her. Wasn't she just gorgeous?"

That night, in Elaine's old room, Rachael could swear she'd felt Elaine's presence. A warm, loving presence.

So when her daughter had been born at three forty one on a beautiful Sunday morning, Rachael named the girl Elaine Carmen Thibodeaux.

After an hour of line dancing, the DJ announced a Texas Two Step and Rachael actually let a rebel yell fly when Arville grabbed her and they moved across the wooden floor.

At ten after ten, Arville guided her to the door. Rachael was disappointed, but she knew he had an early morning in the morning.

So would she; Elaine liked to have her first tit at around four, four fifteen in the morning.

"Next time, we're shutting this place down, you hear?" Rachael hooted as he helped her up into the cab of his truck.

"You, we, well yes ma'am," Arville smiled as he drove toward her home.

They pulled up at ten twenty six and Rachael playfully stuck her tongue out at her brother in law when he stuck his freckled face out the window of his home next door.

"Don't do that," Arville laughed; he's just being a big brother."

"No, he's being a big pain in the hiney," Rachael smiled.

"Listen, I'd really like to see you again; that all right?" Arville asked as he walked her to her door, under the watchful eye of Darren.

"Yeah; I'd really like that," Rachael admitted.

They kissed for as long as Arville was comfortable, with her brother in law glaring at them.

Rachael then let herself into her house.

She answered Carmen and Dick's questions, then went to her room where her infant daughter was sleeping peacefully in the crib that Charlie had dragged across the street for her.

Rachael sat down on the bed and replayed the entire evening in her mind and realized she had unconsciously been rubbing her crotch through her panties.

Rachael smiled when Iris, Elise, and Miss Carmen talked about sex, and even participated when she had something to offer. But for the most part, she had found sex pretty boring. It was obvious that Elise, Iris, and Miss Carmen did not find it boring at all and in fact enjoyed it quite a lot.

Now, rubbing herself, Rachael thought, she might understand what the big deal was. And all she and Arville had done was kiss.

Chapter 5

Bobby Breaux laughed joyously as Chip Stillman scurried around, trying to avoid yet another sack, finally finding an opening and throwing his third interception of the first quarter.

"Knew it was a fluke; this team is worthless, Bobby commented to Thomas Kowalski, the reporter from Performance 12 News, the local channel of DeGarde, Louisiana.

"Uh huh," the reporter said, moving his chair a little further away from the brash, arrogant sportscaster.

"What the fuck, guys, none of y'all know how to fucking block?" Chip screamed as they trudged off the field.

"What the fuck, Stillman, don't know how to throw?" Corey snarled in reply.

An assistant coach sustained a bloodied nose as he and a few teammates broke Chip and Corey apart.

"Stillman, park it; Brodt you're up," Coach Schaeffer finally made the difficult decision as Harvester's College posted another seven points, making it twenty eight to zero.

"Yes sir," Arville said, putting his helmet on.

"And I say what play you run, you better fucking do it, hear?" Coach screamed.

"Oh, it's about to get a little more interesting," Bobby Breaux sneered from the press box. "This kid's a real hotshot, or thinks he is."

Okay, no huddle; we're doing twenty one Left, twenty Left, twenty one Left, until they figure it out, then we're doing twenty three Wide Out until they figure that one out, then I don't know, we might have to huddle again," Arville smiled, ignoring Coach Schaeffer as the man bellowed for play number thirteen R Flat.

Arville trusted that Monroe would be where Monroe was supposed to be and faked the handoff to Chauncey then tossed the football over their strong safety into Monroe's hands.

"What? That wasn't thirteen R Flat?" Arville asked when the offense ran off the field so Pedro could kick the extra point.

The kick was up and through and Pedro ran off the field.

"You get away from me, loco mother fucker," Pedro screamed as Arville ran after him.

"Onside kick; tell Chauncey fall on it," Arville ordered.

"Fuck you; you not no coach," Pedro spat at the smiling Arville.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" Arville asked as Pedro started to trot onto the field again.

"Yes," Pedro admitted and gave Arville a quick slap to his head.

"Fucker!" Arville laughed and Pedro laughed too.

Chauncey managed to cover the ball and Arville slapped the kicker on his rear end as they passed.

Harvester's coach was beet red as he screamed at his suddenly inefficient defense; the Storm had run the same play three times in a row. When Arville saw their defense make an adjustment, he simply called out a new play, ignoring Coach Schaeffer's calls.

Again, the Storm's defense took a cue from the renegade quarterback and stiffened slightly. They bent, but did not break

Ed Baggett smiled as his Storm ran into the locker room at half-time, down twenty one to thirty one.

He walked into the locker room to hear Coach Schaeffer scream, "Brodt! Where the fuck's Brodt?"

"Think he's in the shower," one of the players said.

"No he's not," another player said. "He's taking a shit."

"What? No he's not, dude, he's in the steam room," another player said.

Ed watched as Coach Schaeffer wasted ten minutes, looking for the elusive Arville Brodt. He smiled as he saw player after player shield the young man from their coach.

Three minutes before they were to go back on, Ed cleared his throat and looked at Coach Schaeffer.

"So, um, coach, is there a game plan for the second half, or are you just going to run around like a chicken with your head cut off?" Ed finally asked.

"Tell Brodt I find him, his ass is grass!" Coach screamed.

"Guys, the no huddle thing is working beautiful, defense, keep making the adjustments; we will win this thing," Ed said. "Oh, and tell Brodt good game, if y'all ever find him."

"I think he's in the shower," one of the players said, smiling.

"No he's not; he's in the steam room," another player said.

"No, he's not; he's already out on the field," one of the assistant coaches said, earning him a smile from the players.

"Keep it up, son," Ed whispered to Arville as the young man scurried past.

The final score was forty eight to thirty one; Storm on top. Bobby Breaux pasted a smile on his face as he went into the jubilant Storm locker room.

"Brodt; no, I don't want to interview anyone else," he demanded of Coach Schaeffer.

"Hi, yes, great game, yes we knew we could do it, and you can eat boogers," Arville said, then turned and gave a wide smile to Thomas Kowalski, the Performance 12 sportscaster. "Hi, I'm Arville Brodt; I'd like to thank you for being a strong supporter of the U.L.D. Storm. You really need to talk with the Wild Jalapeno, our number one kicker, Pedro Ortega. We all know we can absolutely depend on his boyish charm, his devilish good looks, and his sure fire leg."

"Man, you one crazy ass gringo," Pedro screamed at Arville as he grabbed the kicker in a playful head lock.

Arville did give the Performance 12 sportscaster a brief interview then hurried through a shower and dressed into regular clothing, all while avoiding an irate Coach Schaeffer.

Ed Baggett did promise Bobby Beaux that Arville Brodt would sit down with him for a one on one interview and smiled as Arville walked right past the two men while Coach Schaeffer called out for him, still searching in the shower room for the boy.

In his hotel room, a room he was sharing with Jack Trenton, Arville turned on his cell phone. There were nine messages, eight of them from Courtney Vanderkin and one from Rachael Thibodaux.

Courtney's messages went from sweet, playful, to slightly snippy to downright bitchy.

"Hi! Oh my God! We're all over here at Elise's house; she and Darren have the biggest TV and we're all just screaming and yelling and you really played a great game!" Rachael's happy voice bubbled through. "Well, I know you're probably busy but just wanted to call and tell you 'great game and I'll see you when y'all get back, okay?"

"Hey, Jack, listen to this," Arville said and played Rachael's message to him.

"She as cute as she sounds?" Jack asked.

"No, afraid not," Arville lied. "Four hundred pounds, no hair, warts everywhere. Only reason I'm seeing her is she has no teeth and a flat head and tits on her back."

"Ooh, my kind of woman," Jack laughed. "Tits on her back? Love it."

"Now, listen to this one," Arville said and played Courtney's last message.

"Wow, now if you told me SHE was four hundred pounds with warts everywhere, I'd believe you," Jack said, shaking his head.

"Uh huh," Arville said and punched in Rachael's phone number.

"Hey!" she screamed into the phone. "Oh my God! I mean, we really thought 'oh no, they're going to lose,' I mean twenty eight to nothing? But..."

Arville grimaced as a beep sounded in his ear, letting him know he had another call coming through, but continued to chat with Rachael, then with Dick, then Elise, then Henry, then with Darren. The whole time, Courtney put more bitter messages in his voice mail.

"Damn, man, didn't know you had such a big family," Jack commented when Arville finally got off the phone.

"I don't, man, you know I'm an only child," Arville laughed and called his mother's phone.

Suddenly, there was a pounding knock on the door. Jack waited until Arville was ensconced in the bathroom before opening the door to a scowling Coach Schaeffer.

"Brodt!" the man bellowed. "Where is that little piss ant?"

"Probably in Pedro's room," Jack shrugged. "Hey Coach, next time, you put them in each other's room, huh? I mean, I got no problem with them being lovers, you know, but really man!"

"Wait, what?" Coach asked, mouth open in shock. "You mean, they're..."

"Don't ask, don't tell," Jack said. "Like I said, I got no problem with them well, you know, um, doing that kind of stuff, but hey, like supposed I wanted to bring a girl back here, huh?"

A pale faced Coach Schaeffer backed out of the hotel room, mumbling to himself.

"Aw you fucker!" Arville laughed when the door closed. "Fuck! Pedro already hates me enough as it is and you spread that kind of shit?"

Chapter 6

Helen Vanderkin marched up to Courtney and slapped the girl's face. Not as hard as she would have liked, but hard enough to get the girl's attention.

"Did I raise you to use language like that?" the woman snapped, pointing to Courtney's cell phone. "Did I?"

"But Momma, he hasn't..." Courtney whined, starting to cry.

"And he's probably not going to," Helen said. Good God, do you hear yourself? I certainly wouldn't call leave messages like that on my phone."

Arville played the latest of Courtney's demanding message for Clay Verdot, the team's student equipment manager and shrugged apologetically.

Arville had mentioned to Trevor, Courtney's blind brother, that Clay would like an extra set of hands on game day. This would be for any of the Storm's home games, of course.

Both Courtney and Trevor had been very excited about this and Mrs. Vanderkin had given her approval for her eleven year old son to be in a college locker room.

"Sorry Dude," Arville said to Clay.

"All right Dude," Clay laughed. "Just don't give her my phone number.

"Damn shame, too," Arville shrugged. "She's actually gorgeous, you know?"

"Hey Brodt, thought you'd want to sit with your 'FRIEND' Ortega," Coach Schaeffer taunted as the bus lumbered south, toward DeGarde, Louisiana.

"No, hate him," Arville snapped in a huffy tone and glared UT the window.

Clay and Chauncey, who was sitting across the aisle from them tried hard to stifle their laughter as Arville acted like a sullen, heartbroken brat.

Three seats behind them, Pedro sat with one of the assistant coaches and the two chattered in their native language.

Both men looked at Coach Schaeffer in bemusement as the man smirked at them.

A few hours later, Arville's cell phone rang. Arville did not recognize the phone number so he answered his phone.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, um, this is Arville, right?" Iris asked.

"Yes ma'am," Arville said.

"Ma'am?" Iris hooted. "Ma'am? Well, I'm not THAT old!"

"Sorry ma'am," Arville said.

"Hey, this is Iris, Rachael's step-sister in law," Iris tittered.

"Oh yeah, her big sister," Arville said. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Oh yeah, that's right, I'm her big sister now," Iris agreed. "But anyway, oh, I know you'll probably be exhausted, but Monday's Rachael's birthday; Darren and Dick are cooking their 'World Famous Chili' stuff gives me heartburn, but since I got pregnant, water gives me heartburn but oh well and Miss Carmen's cooking chicken enchiladas; it's about seven at Miss Carmen and Mr. Dick's house, you be there?"

"I need to bring the Pepto-Bismol?" Arville asked.

"No, no, oh God, Doctor wants me to quit drinking that stuff," Iris said.

"Seriously, I bring anything?" Arville asked.

"No, not really; we'll probably have way too many leftovers s it is, oh and stay away from Elise's cornbread unless you like burnt stuff; she can't cook," Iris said.

Arville smiled as he heard a woman's voice in the background protest.

"Well it's true! When have you not burned it?" Iris asked the other woman.

"I will be there; said about seven?" Arville asked.

"Yeah, give or take, you know how it is with all these kids," Iris said.

Arville smiled as the bus pulled up to the University of Louisiana at DeGarde's stadium parking lot. His mother and step-father were among the crowd of people waiting on the bus. There were also television cameras from Channel 12, filming the triumphant return of the Storm football team.

"Hi Mom, hi Dad," Arville said, towering over both parents.

"Need me take that bag?" Jonas Pierce asked and Arville smiled and shook his head.

"You hungry?" was his mother's first words.

"Depends; what you got?" Arville asked, knowing whatever it was, he would eat it.

"Fried road kill; you hungry?" Jonas asked as they walked to the car.

"Sounds great," Arville said and folded himself in half to get into the cramped rear seat of the compact car.

"You can sit up front, you know that," his mother huffed, but got into the passenger seat.

Monday evening, Elise knocked softly on Rachael's door, fighting down the nostalgic feelings. This had been her big sister's room; how many times had she knocked on LaLa's door, usually just to pester her big sister?

"Yeah?" Rachael called out.

"Hey," Elise said, smiling at the girl.

"Hey," Rachael said and wiped at her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Elise asked, sitting on the bed next to the girl.

"It's all just too much," Rachael sniffled, again wiping at her eyes. "The party and the food and the cake and all; it's just too much!"

"Oh, please!" Elise laughed, putting her arms around the crying girl. "Dad and Darren LOOK for an excuse to make that horrible chili!"

Rachael giggled slightly.

"Jesus, you've been with us long enough to know by now; we thrive on reasons to get together," Elise soothed.

"Thank you," Rachael said quietly.

"And oh my God, just wait until it's Elaine's first birthday!" Elise promised. "Don't be surprised if Dad gives Elaine her first bicycle."

"Well, he's going to have to teach her how to ride it," Rachael said, gathering up the cooing infant. "'Cause Momma doesn't know how to ride a bike."

"Oh my God! Wait until I tell Darren; you know he's going to want to teach you," Elise said.

"Elise, don't you dare!" Rachael called out but Elise was already out the door and running down the stairs.

A second later, Rachael heard heavy footsteps tromping up the stairs.

"Hey, don't worry, I got the training wheels from Henry's bike; we'll just put them on yours and..." Darren said excitedly.