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“Nah, I got a place. ’Bout a mile from the stadium.”
“Cool. Tuesday at your place then? I bet it’s sweet as hell,” Theo said.
I shook my head. “Nah, Sam’s got a designer redoing it. It’ll probably be barely livable until she’s done.”
“She?” Gid asked. “Speaking of women. You seeing anyone?” I shook my head, but before I could get another word in edgewise, Gideon continued, “Cool. Heidi wants to set you up. When I told her I thought you were getting traded, she started naming a whole roster of women she wanted you to meet.”
Gideon and his wife, Heidi, were college sweethearts. He proposed to her the night he got drafted, and they’d been living happily ever after. She had gone to every single one of our games when we played college ball. Heidi was great. She kept Gideon grounded and, unlike a lot of wives and girlfriends—or “WAGs”—didn’t let the fame go to her head.
“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “You know me. I don’t like to date during the season.”
Theo reared back. “Why would you say a dumbass thing like that?”
Before I could retort, Derek Tyson was hauling a punk-ass kid dressed like a knockoff version of Justin Beiber across the room. Seth McBride.
“Bryant,” Coach said. “Meet your new best friend.” He practically tossed the kid my way.
Seth raised his eyebrows and pushed his floppy blond hair out of his face. “T.J. Bryant? Thought you retired.”
I cut Coach Tyson a searing glare. “I got traded. Something that’ll happen to you if you don’t clean up your act and stop acting like a little shit.”
Apparently, Coach liked that answer because he left McBride in my custody. The punk plopped down in the row in front of us, reached in his bag, and cracked open an energy drink.
Fucker. He’d regret that when he was crashing in a few hours.
Gideon rolled his eyes, and Theo muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
Great fucking season.
* * *
“What doyou think of the new kid?” Coach Tyson asked as he sided up to my spot on the turf.
Today’s camp was a two-a-day. We had already completed one training camp session that started at six this morning and let out after lunch. We reconvened at four in the afternoon and had been running full-speed drills throughout the early evening, taking advantage of the slightly less hellish temperatures. We were in our last hour, and my body was done.
I peeled the hem of my practice jersey off my damp stomach and used it to wipe the sweat off my face. It just smeared it around and didn’t do much good. That rain shower in the condo sounded really fucking good right now. That and an ice bath.
I’d have to put the ice maker in my freezer on overdrive.
I followed Coach to the sidelines, away from the reporters who’d broken the news that I had signed with the Reds. “He’s got talent. I’ll give him that.”
“Yeah, and he’s gonna leave here and go party. Between you and me, drafting him was William’s call,” he said, referring to our head coach, Mike Williams. “The pros aren’t the place to be teaching skills and techniques, but I’d take someone teachable over a know-it-all who thinks his shit doesn’t stink any day.”
I snorted. “Make him run laps. Nothing will knock him down a peg like having to run the field in front of the cameras.”
Tyson dropped his head and laughed at the ground. “If he doesn’t get his head out of his ass, he’ll be running the entirety of his contract. I don’t trust him on the field yet. That’s why I need you at the top of your game.”
We watched with anticipation as another drill started. Gideon fired a pass down the field. Seth turned and ran, but he was sluggish. The cornerback on his ass distracted him. Seth’s fingers met leather, but it slipped.
“Fuckin’ fumble,” Coach muttered under his breath. Annoyance radiated from him, but his expression didn’t show it. “Do you think you, Gid, and Theo will be able to get in the groove by our first preseason game?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You think McBride will settle down?” he asked.
I shrugged. “That’s up to him.”
Coach sighed. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”
