Mark's prediction of me being sleepy was dead on, even after he had made me a super strong green tea protein smoothie before he went to bed, chilling in the fridge for me in the morning with a note attached. "Thanks. Sorry there's no hot breakfast, but if you want, there are Pop Tarts in the cupboard."
Eight hours later, I was running on fumes standing outside the first of the community centers that MJT was opening. Rubbing my eyes, I smiled wanly at the General Manager of the Spartans, who along with three of his players, were dressed in jerseys. He smiled back with an understanding expression. "You doing all right, Miss Williams?"
I nodded, shrugging. "Long night, you know how it is. I'm sure your head coach feels the same way the week of a hard game."
"Why do you think he's not here?" the GM said with a chuckle. "He's getting an hour of sleep before the team starts film and practice this afternoon. Man spends five months a year running on three hours of sleep a night. I'm surprised he doesn't have a mental episode once a season."
I was surprised when another car pulled up, and City Councilman Patrick McCaffery got out. On the job just a few weeks, after the shakeup in city politics that had been caused by the downfall of Owen Lynch, Pat McCaffery was a bit of an enigma. Charismatic, he easily won his recall election, which by itself wasn't a problem. The problem, at least the one that concerned Mark and I, was that his district included The Playground and other high crime, corrupt areas. In the past twenty years, nobody had won an election from that district without criminal backing.
Stepping out of the car, he was dressed for the occasion, wearing a Spartans t-shirt along with blue jeans and holding a Spartans jacket. "Sorry for the late arrival," he said, shaking hands with the General Manager. "How are you doing, Gene?"
"Not bad, Patrick," he said with a smile. "Tabitha Williams, I'd like to introduce you to Patrick McCaffery. I know he's got a new job, but I'll always think of Patrick as the kid I had to throw out of the stadium on nearly a weekly basis back when I was head of security at the old Municipal Stadium."
"Oh?" I asked, smiling. "Were you a bit of a rule breaker back in the day?"
McCaffery laughed and held out his hand. "I break rules nowadays too, Miss Williams. But I’ve tried to at least reform the reasons I break them. I used to just want to get in for autographs and maybe snag a bit of free swag from the laundry room. Now, I'm trying to make the city better."
"I remember, I saw your posters around the city," I said, smiling professionally. Up close, I had to admit that Patrick McCaffery was pretty cute. A little over six feet, he was bigger than Mark by about twenty or thirty pounds, I'd say coming in at a solid looking two hundred and ten pounds or so. With black hair and green eyes, he was definitely handsome. Thinking back to my comment the day before about cloning Mark with black hair, I could do worse. "I seem to also remember the local news loving your speeches."
"Not so much the news as one particular editor at NBC," he replied with a cocky grin. He knew he was handsome, and wasn't shy about acknowledging it. "She sort of has a thing for me."
"Along with half the cheerleaders," the General Manager joked. One of his players, the starting linebacker who had gotten All-Pro awards the year before, came over after wrapping up a news interview and whispered in his ear. "Sorry, the press wants a comment from me before the ceremony begins. Just a moment."
With me and McCaffery left alone, I was able to take a closer look at him, and realized why he was carrying a Spartans jacket. His right arm was covered in tattoos, some of them ones I recognized from the training that Mark had given me. "Interesting ink, Councilman," I said. "Where'd you pick all that up?"
McCaffery pulled his jacket on quickly and shook his head. "A reminder of a lot of stupid decisions when I was a teenager," he said. "I keep them to remind myself of not making those same mistakes. Still, not exactly the sort of stuff you sport during a City Council meeting."
"I can see that. So how'd you turn things around? You're not much older than I am, right? Those bad decisions couldn't have been all that long ago," I asked, thinking. "Not that I don't have some bad decisions in my past too."
"We all do, Miss Williams," McCaffery replied. "I don't have time to go into it now though, but if you really want to know, maybe we can get together at either my office or yours? MJT has been doing some amazing community outreach work, and I'd like to talk about ways we could maybe work together and maximize our efforts?"
"I don't know. I just had a meeting with Bishop Traylor that started the same way."
McCaffery leaned his head back and laughed. "Yes, I've heard about that. He came by my office to protest, see if he could weasel his way into a podium slot for today's activities. I told him to take your advice and get the hell out of town."