TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "MINT"

 

Howdy! Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where writers write fiction stories to word prompts. This week the word prompt is "mint." We have another episode of "The Kicker's Story, Part One." Again from Dale's pov. 

Don't forget to read the other stories. You'll find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

***********************************

“Seriously. A kicker’s career can be real short. You know. One injury, a badly turned ankle, and you’re done.”

“True.”

“I don’t have any other skills, so I have to save money. It’s gotta take me through my old age.”

He pulled up in front of a modest five story apartment building, not what she expected. He parked on the street. When he unlocked his front door, her nerves kicked up. What had she done? She turned, but he grabbed her arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“This is a mistake. Please take me home. I’ll deal with the car tomorrow,” she said, staring at his hand gripping her arm.

He dropped it. “Hey, look. It’s okay. Really. Honestly. Come on. Don’t be silly. If you’re late tomorrow, you’ll get docked.”

Robbie was right. The General Manager was a real stickler about showing up on time.  Trapped, her eyes grew moist.

“Hey! Tears? Come on. I’m not the big bad wolf, I promise.” He took her in his arms. “You’re trembling. You’re really scared of me?”

“Uh, no. Yes. Well, maybe.”

Robbie held her close and stroked her hair. She nestled her face into his shoulder. Not usually one to lose her cool, Dale struggled to keep it together. Robbie led her into his apartment.

Just as he said, it was a spacious one-bedroom with a sofabed in the living room. Dale took a deep breath and let it out. At least he told the truth about that. She bet it was in mint condition, too. Most of the women who stayed there sure didn’t sleep in the living room!

She chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. You told me the truth.”

“Of course. Why would I lie?”

“Don’t you lie to women all the time?”

He shrugged. “I don’t call it lying. I tell them what they want to hear.”

“That you’re the love of their life?”

“No. That they are the only one – and in that moment, they are.”

Dale whistled. “Wow. That’s pretty outrageous.”

“It’s true. I’m not thinking about other women when I’m with whoever I’m with.”

“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Rhonda works in a beauty salon and likes cheese. Valerie is a paralegal with red hair who loves hamburgers.”

“You’ve categorized them by what they do and what they like to eat?”

He shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not a man who destroys women. I love women.”

“Lots and lots of women.” She stared at him.

“Is there a limit on how many women a man can love? Is there a set number. And after that you become, what?”

“A man-whore?”

He laughed. “I don’t break hearts. Most of the women get their little thrill having an affair with a famous football player. When they discover I’m just ordinary, they move on.”