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“Think of what?” one of us asked.

“I have an idea. A great one!” Her mischievous smile made me nervous. Especially when she rubbed her palms together in scheming mode. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Mateo skewered her with a puzzled look, but his animosity for me didn’t apply to Amber. And like me…he was probably curious.

He motioned for Vanni to take over, then led us to his office, located down a narrow hallway opposite the kitchen.

This was my first backstage pass to one of my college haunts, and I felt almost giddy with anticipatory nostalgia.

Like every other football player at Haverton, Boardwalk Pizza had been a post-practice staple for me. As Mateo had implied, it was as much a part of the town as the amusement park at the pier and the statue of Colonel Haverton that stood at the top of the hill on campus, a la Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro. But I’d never seen the kitchen up close or checked out the collage of family photos along the narrow hallway.

The kitchen was smaller than ours and full of well-used appliances. Sal minded one of the giant pots on the behemoth stove while Jimmy kneaded dough at the flour-strewn prep space. They were too engrossed in their work to notice us, or possibly couldn’t hear anything above the din of the Springsteen classic on the radio. I wanted a closer peek at the small bagel kettle, but the collage wall was much more interesting.

The faded colors and styles of clothing hinted at the bygone eras. Grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and more cousins…and Mateo. I spied a photo of him in his high school football uniform. The roguish smile and mischievous glint were still present, but his youthful cockiness had soured into mistrust and weariness now.

Still hot, though.

Mateo sat on the corner of a battered desk littered with paper work and an old computer. “I’d offer you a seat, but…I don’t have one.”

“No worries. I’m tight on time.” Amber pulled her cell from her pristine apron and typed a message.

“What’s this idea?” I prodded.

“A bake-off.” She had the nerve to grin like a loon.

“Huh?” Mateo and I shared matching befuddled glances.

“Mrs. Malveney put the idea in my head at the opening party and after weeks of listening to you two nitpick and one-up each other, I think it’s time to do something positive with all this…testosterone.” She circled her wrist meaningfully. “I have a degree in marketing, and I’m good at highlighting positives to sell a product. I’ve been wracking my brain on ways to spin your feud, and it’s really so obvious. We’ll advertise it as a fund raiser for the football team, but let’s be honest, it’s great for business for both of us. Local jocks duking it out over pizza and bagels…for charity.”

“A charity bake-off?”

Amber beamed. “Yep! Brilliant, huh?”

“Wouldn’t that contest be between me and you?” Mateo asked. “I thought you were the head chef.”

“Yep! Rob’s a total disaster in the kitchen,” she replied, her gaze dropping for a moment to the phone buzzing in her hand.

“Hey!”

She slugged his arm playfully. “You know it’s true, and that’s what would make this fun. Okay, look, I gotta run. They need me next door. I’ll come up with some ideas, but I’m loving the contest concept with a couple of friendly judges. Maybe a food blogger or two and members of the current Great H football team. It’s October, and they’re in the middle of their season. The timing couldn’t be better. We’ve got to strike while the iron is hot…and all that jazz. Details to follow! Toodle-oo!”

She was gone in a blur of golden curls, leaving an awkward silence.

Mateo lifted one eyebrow, cartoon-style. “I feel like I just got run over by an eighteen-wheeler.”

“That’s Amber for you.” I scratched my nape and exhaled. “Uh…it’s not a terrible idea.”

He nodded thoughtfully as he stood. “No, it’s a good one. But she’s your business partner, so I gotta think this is gonna be rigged in your favor.”

“Is it possible for you to not be a dick for one whole minute?” I fumed. “Jesus, I don’t remember you being a cynical fucknut with a martyr complex when we were teammates.”

Mateo scoffed. “How would you know what I was like? We barely knew each other in college.”

“Except we were on the same fucking team. I guess you were too busy shining your halo while the defense did your dirty work to notice anyone else.”

Okay, I had no idea why I’d said that. It wasn’t true. Mateo had been a great QB. It was a stupid dig designed to get a reaction…and it worked.

“Myhalo? Not sure where that’s coming from, but it’s rich coming from a blowhard linebacker who’s got his jersey plastered on every inch of spare wall in a fucking bagel store.” He lowered his voice, his lips twisted in an evil sneer. “And you’re the one who wants to do cross-promo advertising. Why is that? It’s like you need me or something.”