Page 22 of The Tiger in the Sack

Now I needed players and cheerleaders to be in it. That was going to be the harder part of the plan.

I’d review the team roster, and the list of last year’s cheerleaders who’d expressed interest in trying out for this year’s squad at home. With some Chinese food and cat treats.

Tig would likely die of desperation if I didn’t come home soon with at least one fresh bag of his favorite freeze-tried chicken lollipops.

After a round of snuggles and letting him smell my dinner twice just to make sure he was sure it wasn’t something he wanted to eat, I padded into my second bedroom turned home office.

The football roster was up on my second monitor and the production deck was open on my first, and the part of me that had spent four years on an award winning cheer team and a lifetime as Brick Freeman’s daughter knew exactly which player needed to anchor the launch video.

He was going to be a pain in my ass, I just knew it.

I clicked through the offensive depth chart anyway, because hope is a renewable resource and engineers don’t accept the first solution.

I already had picked out Fox Daws who had a face the camera loved more than the sport did. Literal movie-star jawline and sparkling white smile. He would take direction like the professional actor he was.

He was also a killer wide receiver, so that didn’t hurt.

After reviewing a lot of last year’s FlipFlop videos, I also picked out cutie patootie Blake Rutherford. He was a six foot six built like a brick shit house lineman with dimples to die for and sexy locs with a fade.

If I ever even thought about dating a football player again, he would be high on my list. Mmm-mm.

There were a few other guys, like our kicker from Scotland with his sexy accent, the cornerback with a big social media following as the Islander in Ohio memes, and franchise legend center, Mo Brown.

But what the launch video for a body-diverse cheer team rebuild needed was the franchise face and I knew it.

That meant a quarterback. There were exactly two quarterbacks on the active roster and one of them was a third-string backup who had been signed in May and would be a truly bizarro marketing decision on my part.

Which left Isak Kingman.

I stared at his roster line for approximately four seconds longer than was professional. Then I typed his name into the production deck hit save.

“He’s good-looking, sure” I said to my second monitor. “But definitely not my type. So what’s the problem? Nothing. No problem. Stop staring at his name.”

The monitor said nothing back. Which was its job.

Tig, on the floor next to my desk because he had decided my home office was a sufficiently boring space to occupy once his belly was full of treats, made a small chirping sound that I chose to interpret as agreement.

“Thank you,” I said. “Useful contribution.”

I scrolled the rest of the offensive roster, picked four more players for B-roll based on a sensible mix of name recognition and acting natural on camera, and sent the list to Dev, Gabrielle and Coach Roper with the details.

Then I closed my laptop and leaned back in the desk chair to stare at the ceiling for a while.

I picked up my phone.

I was not going to text Cat Daddy. I was not…

A text from Cat Daddy pinged into my notifications.

Cat Daddy

Vito would like to know if Tig has ever ridden on a bike or anything similar. Asking for a friend.

Tig requests it be known that he prefers stationary objects, ideally with snacks in them.

Understood. Phase one of the desensitization plan will involve a parked bike, full safety gear, and a chicken-flavored bribery situation.

I laughed out loud at my phone. Tig opened one eye, decided I was not the kind of laughing that involved snuggles or snacks, and closed it again.