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"Yeah. Who is this?"
"Lawson Hayes, the Miami Hurricanes coach. We never met, but I saw you at the NFL combine a couple weeks ago. I have to say, we were very impressed." I was standing already, but suddenly, I felt like I had to start moving. I started pacing around the room.
"Thank you, sir. That's always good to hear."
"That's why I'm calling you today. I don’t know if you’ve gotten a lot of calls like this already, Roman. Honestly, we hope you haven’t. We're very interested in signing you and we want to make you an offer." I stopped cold and suddenly, I had to sit again.
"Sorry?" I asked.
"You're our first pick for this upcoming season, son," he said. For a second I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
"Uh, thanks. You were right about me not getting a lot of calls like this."
"Does that mean we have you?" he asked.
"I couldn't tell you today, sir. This is...unexpected."
"I understand," he said, laughing a little. "Take a little time to get back to us. Sleep on it, whatever you need. This type of offer doesn’t last forever, though; I hope you understand that."
"Of course. Just give me a few days. I'll get back to you in a week."
"You have until Friday," he said in a way that wasn't really mean, but sort of sounded like a threat. I thanked him anyway, and he said that he would be looking forward to hearing from me.
I didn’t know what happened for the ten, maybe fifteen minutes after the phone call. All I know was I realized I had been sitting on the edge of my bed, staring into space when my phone accidentally dropped out of my hand, hitting the floor.
Did this mean... Was I in? Were they recruiting me? What the hell was going to happen on Friday if I told them yes?
First thing in the morning was the worst time to get news like this because it was all I could think about the whole day. I tried to forget while at the gym, then at practice, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was Miami and how much fucking space was between here and there.
Don had texted me back by the time I got back home. He suggested that we hit a bar, but we couldn’t do that today. I needed him focused. I headed out to his ranch. He didn't live in the farmhouse that his dad stayed in, even though his place and his dad's were on the same property. His house was smaller, a little less than a quarter mile from his dad's. A porch wrapped the whole way around and it had two stories, even though he stayed there alone. He answered the door with wet hair and no shirt on like he'd just come out of the shower.
"Hey, man," he said. "What was up with those texts?" All I had said was that I needed to talk to him and that it was important. I followed him inside and shut the door behind me.
"Remember that trip I took a couple weeks ago?"
"To play football? Yeah. What about it? I thought it went well. Didn’t that guy on the plane or wherever tell you that he wanted to get you on the team he works for?"
"The coach called me today," I said. He turned to face me, holding a beer in each hand that he'd pulled out of the fridge.
"That's good, right? What did he say?"
"That I was their first pick. I have till Friday to accept or refuse their offer."
"What the fuck, Rome, that's great," he said, slapping me on the arm. "I don't see what the problem is here. You told him yes, right?"
"I asked for the extra time before I had to decide," I said. He put his beer down and crossed his arms.
"Why the hell would you do a thing like that?"
"Because the team's in Miami." He was confused before it dawned on him. He scrubbed his face with his hands.
"Godammit, Roman. I swear to God. I'll drag you to Miami myself if that's what it's going to take to make you go."
"I can't leave. Not now."
"Yes you can and you're going to," he said forcefully. "Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about throwing this offer back in their faces."
"If I have to trade it for Ron, then yeah. I just might." He swore, crossing his arms again.
