Junior cinched the belt on his trench coat. “Come on, Rose; let’s get you out of here. Follow me in your car.”

He started toward the door only to stop so suddenly she nearly bumped into him.“Damn, I almost forgot. Willie said to put this on you.”

He reached into his pocket. She stiffened as she saw what he withdrew. “Oh, no. I don’t think-”

“Got to, babe. It’s part of the job.”

He encircled her neck with a fat pink bow. She lifted her hand to her throat, and her stomach pitched as she touched the loops of satin ribbon.

“I’d rather not wear this.”

“Too bad.” He finished tying it. “You’re a gift, Rose Bud. A birthday present from the guys.”

Melvin Thompson, Willie Jarrell, and Chris Plummer-three members of the Stars offensive line-watched Cal Bonner line up his last putt. They’d set a course across the carpet of the Bomber’s spacious, but sparsely furnished, living room, where he and Willie were playing for a hundred bucks a hole. The Bomber was up four hundred.

“So who’d you rather bonk?” Willie asked Chris as Cal tapped his putt straight into the oversize Dunkin’ Donuts commuter mug that marked the fifth hole. “Mrs. Brady or Mrs. Partridge?”

“That’s easy.” Chris was also a big fan of Nick at Night. “I’d do Mrs. Brady.”

“Yeah, me, too. Man, was she hot.”

It was Willie’s turn to putt, and, as Cal moved out of the way, his right guard lined up for the same mug. “Somebody said her and Greg got it on in real life.”Willie’s putt rolled past on the right.

“No shit. Did you know that, Cal?”

Cal took a sip of scotch and watched Willie miss his second putt. “I don’t even know what the hell you boys are talking about.”

“Mrs. Brady on The Brady Bunch,” Melvin explained, “and Mrs. Partridge on The Partridge Family. If you had the chance to fu-” He stopped himself just in time. “If you got to bonk one of them, which one would it be?”