“Who the fuck else did you think it would be?” He extended his hand.
I took it and jumped up, staring, not quite believing my worlds were colliding so explosively all at once. Grabbing him, I pulled him in for a hug.
“Oh, now you know me?” he grumbled before hugging me back, thumping his fist against my back.
“I didn’t even know you were going to be here.”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re a fourth-round draft pick.” He let go of me and rolled his eyes. “But when I saw our names on the door, I couldn’t believe it. I thought maybe you’d asked them.”
“I didn’t even see the names on the door. I was distracted.”
“By some world class fan attention?” He smirked at my rumpled bed.
“No, I worked out last night and then crashed.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “You worked out already? Like they’re not going to kill us for the next month.”
“It helps me sleep.” My shoulder jumped and I stared at the open bedroom door.
“We will not have that problem after today. It’s going to be brutal and I can’t fucking wait. Can’t say I’ll see much time on the field, but at least I get to say I’m a pro player now.” His grin was infectious.
I grabbed him for another hug. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” There was a sadness in his eyes. Apparently, that was the look everyone from my past gave me when they saw me again. “I haven’t seen you since the week after graduation.”
I dragged both my hands through my hair and stared at him. “I know.”
“You didn’t come back to town for breaks or anything.”
And now I felt like an even bigger asshole. The clean break I’d made after graduation hadn’t been as clean as I thought.
“There wasn’t anywhere for me to go back to.”
He held onto my shoulder. “I know, man. I heard about your dad. Thankfully his truck and the gas station took the brunt of his wreck. Still can’t believe he walked out of there with only a few scratches.”
The drunks always seemed to. If he’d hurt someone else, I’d never have forgiven myself. At least I’d made sure he’d never drive for a living again. A few calls had been all it took.
“Have you seen him lately?”
My muscles tightened so quickly I thought I’d rip tendon from bone. He’d sent me a few letters that had made their way through the campus mail system. Letters I’d trashed before even leaving the mailroom.
I felt the panting, wild, out-of-control rage that had ripped through me as I’d stood over him passed out from another drunken stupor. The weight of the wrench, solid and cold in my hand. “I haven’t seen him since I left.”
He nodded, a bit of anger dimming in his gaze. Join the club. “That’s probably for the best.”
“How are your parents? Are they here?”
“Nah, I said bye to them before my flight. They’re not making plans until the season starts, and they’ve let me know no matter what happens my room is always waiting for me. They’re still expecting me to fuck up and be sent home.” He laughed.
“They just want you back in your old room.”
“Probably.” He whacked his hand off my chest.
Would he ever get how lucky he was to have a real home to go back to? To have parents he knew would be proud of him no matter what?
“Does all this mean you’re not going to crash in my basement anymore?” With his arms open wide, he gestured to the bare college-apartment bedroom walls.
“This isn’t exactly five-star living.”
“You know what I mean. You were a third round draft pick. My pick came by carrier pigeon. And I’m sure your signing bonus is a hell of a lot sweeter than mine.”
I squeezed the back of my neck. “It was unexpected.”
He jabbed at my shoulder, grinning. “With the number of bowl games you guys won at Fulton U, I have no idea why you wouldn’t expect that.”
“After literally moving all my shit around like a hermit crab for the past four years, I couldn’t even fathom that amount of money. Even after my agent’s cut and taxes.” I squeezed the back of my neck and shook my head. When the signing bonus check had hit my bank account, I’d checked it at least twenty times. Even weeks later, I still expected someone from the bank to call me up and tell me there had been a mix up. I hadn’t touched any of it yet.
The fear of it all disappearing was too hard-wired after so many years of scraping by, smuggling out extra sandwiches and cookies from the cafeteria, and never turning down a free meal.
The reality was scarier than all the dreams I’d had about finally making it. The scraping and dedication had finally gotten me here, to the pinnacle of any football player’s career and a chance for me to fail on a stage never seen before. Cameras would be trained on us from the moment we stepped onto the practice field tomorrow.
If I screwed up here there was nowhere else to go and no more second chances. This was it.
“Tell me about it. I’m getting an apartment though. My agent’s setting up some places for me to check out after camp. Where are you going to be living?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t thought much past camp. One thing at a time.”
“Everybody’s going to start showing up soon; we should get a good spot.” He rushed toward the doorway.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Have you never watched the Report Day videos?” He looked at me like I’d said I’d left my playbook at home.
“No?”
He threw up his hands and walked across the living room to his bedroom. “It’s insane. Hurry up and get dressed.”
I grabbed my clothes and threw them on. From the window on the second floor at the end of the hallway, we had a prime view of the front of the building. Overnight, the space had been transformed into Lions territory. There were banners, flags, and everyone’s numbers out on the grass and leading up to the building. Fans, reporters and other people curious about what was going on lined the walkway to the building.
Players pulled up like testosterone-fueled prom entrances in Hummers, a Batmobile—which for all I knew was the legit car—and sports cars that cost more than my signing bonus. They played to the crowds, hyping them up.
Slipping in yesterday before the madness began had given me a chance to catch my breath after a cross-country move, but I wouldn’t be able to outrun this for long. This was my new life now.
The tiered lecture hall was packed with way more people than standard capacity. All the seats were filled, and there were also guys standing in the aisles and along the walls, but this wasn’t a class. This was our first team session. My first professional team meeting.
Coach Taylor, the LA Lions head coach, stood at the front of the room, walking back and forth, detailing how much the next four weeks meant to what could be the very abrupt end to our pro careers.
“There will be team building events. Bowling. Karaoke.”
A few guys cheered and others groaned. “A movie night and a concert. These will all be coordinated by the support staff you see lining the aisles. It’s not enough to work well with your teammates on the field. You need to know you have one another’s backs and build that trust. It’s not mandatory, but highly advisable you go.”