Chapter Ten
JEREMY
March 2017
“So what did the judge say?”
My coach is leaning against his desk, his arms crossed and eyes glaring at me. It wasn’t my preferred choice to share with him that I’d been arrested for a DUI, but anytime you play professional sports, there’s an image component that can’t be ignored, even in a sport that gets minimal attention in the US, like soccer. So I had to let both Coach Kilzer and my agent, Bonnie, know about what happened.
Bonnie went into full damage control mode, talking to me about what I could and could not say, and what responses to use if I was asked by anyone about the ‘unfortunate incident,’ as she refers to it.
Coach has had a slightly different reaction. He’s furious, I’m sure. But also a bit sad. I think he’d pegged me as one of the ones who wouldn’t cause him any problems. So not only does he have to deal with the fact that thisisa problem, he also has to accept the fact that he might have been wrong about me.
Hopefully, I’m able to convince him that this was a one-time mistake and not something he has to be concerned about in the long run.
“$5,000 bucks, one year probation, six month license suspension, and mandatory community service,” I reply.
I let my eyes flick around his office. It’s not somewhere I have to be very often, mostly because he reserves this space for things that are a bit more sensitive. Comfortable couches and muted colors, with splashes of the Galaxy blue and gold. Only a few personal things are scattered around, mostly artwork on his cabinets from his daughter.
He nods in response to the outcome of my sentencing hearing earlier this week, and rubs a finger back and forth across his chin in thought.
“Well,” he finally says, “the fines and license suspension and probation are your own problem, so make sure you get that shit sorted. But I might have a connection for you on the community service thing.”
“Yeah, okay.” I lean forward in my chair and rest my elbows on my knees. “What do you have in mind?”
He stands from where he’s been leaning against his desk and walks around it, taking a seat in his desk chair and clicking onto his computer.
“I have a buddy that runs a youth sports league in Burbank for at-risk kids. I’m pretty sure he sent me an email about finding some players to volunteer with the basketball team.” He clicks a few more times, then glances at me. “You played basketball in high school, right?” At my nod, he flicks his eyes back to his screen. “I’ll take a look at it and see what can happen. I don’t know for sure if it will count as community service, but once I have the details, I’ll get them to you so you can check with your lawyer.”
Relief rushes through me. A community service project like working with at-risk kids is much less risky from a PR standpoint than cleaning up litter on the side of the highway.
“That would be great. Thanks, Coach.”
He’s silent for just long enough that I think that’s my cue to leave, so I stand and make my way over to the door.
“You know, Jameson, I never thought you’d be one of the ones that would get into a mess like this,” I hear from behind me just as I put my hand on the doorknob.
My head drops.
So close.
I turn to look at him. “Well, I hope to show you it was just one misstep and you won’t have to worry about it happening again.”
He nods from where he’s seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair and hands interlocked on his stomach. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. And I believe you mean it, too.”
He stands and walks towards me.
“You know, my best friend when I played league ball eons ago was a lot like you.”
I groan internally, knowing this monologue isn’t leading anywhere good.
“He was incredibly smart, charismatic and great on the field.”
My chest puffs a bit at the compliment, something that doesn’t come often from Coach.
“He was a marketing dream, and we were all a bit jealous, if I’m completely honest. But you can’t help it when someone just has thatitfactor, you know? He was able to wow everyone in pretty much every aspect of his life.” He pauses. “We didn’t notice the drinking problem at first.”
My stomach launches itself into my throat, and my eyes drop to the floor.
