“Bull,”Jodie said. Everybody who knew anything about football knew that Cal Bonner, the Stars’ brilliant quarterback, had been demanding, temperamental, and generally impossible to get along with ever since the season started. Bonner, popularly known as the “Bomber” because of his fondness for throwing explosive passes, was the top-ranked quarterback in the AFC and a legend.

Jodie crossed her arms over the form-fitting white tank top that was part of her hostess uniform. It didn’t occur to either her or any of the three men at the table to consider the moral dimensions of their discussion, let alone notions of political correctness. This was, after all, the NFL. “You think if you get him a woman, he’ll ease up on all of you,” she said.

Willie Jarrell gazed down into his beer through a pair of thickly-lashed dark brown eyes. “Sonovabitch been kickin’ so much ass lately, nobody can stand being around him.”

Junior shook his head. “Yesterday, he called Germaine Clark a debutante. Germaine!”

Jodie lifted one eyebrow, which was penciled several shades darker than her brassy blond hair. Germaine Clark was All-Pro and one of the meanest defensive tackles in the NFL. “From what I’ve seen, the Bomber already has more women than he knows what to do with.”

Junior nodded. “Yeah, but, the thing of it is, he doesn’t seem to be sleepin’ with any of them?”

“What?”

“It’s true.” Chris Plummer, the Stars’ left guard spoke up. “We just found it out. His girlfriends have been talking to some of the wives, and it seems Cal’s not using them for anything more than window dressing.”

Willie Jarrell spoke up. “Maybe if he waited until they were out of diapers, he could get turned on.”

Junior chose to take his remark seriously. “Don’t say things like that, Willie. You know Cal won’t date ’em till they’re twenty.”