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“I’m twenty weeks,” she says, pulling out her phone and showing me where she jotted down a list of all the prenatal developmental milestones in her notes app. “This is when it happens.”
I shrug, staring at the floor, to give her a little privacy as she trades the gown for her sundress. “I don’t know. Deanna never made it this far.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I feel a buzzing in my pocket. I retrieve my phone and see it’s Freddy calling. He doesn’t usually call. I send it to voice mail.
“I think it would help me picture things. You know, pick a name, ask for things for a baby shower. You know Ainsley and the girls are itching to buy us some baby stuff.”
I let out a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I want to give her this. I really do. But there’s part of me that doesn’t want to budge.
My phone buzzes again. It’s Freddy.
“Do you need to get that?” Megan is trying to give me an out.
I sense it. But I also hear the disappointment in her voice.
“No…” I say, but then it rings again. I sigh. “I probably should,” I say, standing to take it out of the room. But when I see the disappointment in her eyes, I quickly cross the room and press a kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back.”
I step outside the room and pick up the call.
“What’s up?”
“We got Shumacker!”
“Kid from Boulder? Killer instincts? Devastating glove?”
“That’s the one! You proud of me yet, Coach?” Freddy says with mock earnestness.
“So proud, kiddo,” I say with a short laugh. “Not to be a dick, but I’m at an appointment with Megan. Can I call you back?”
“Oh, shit,” Freddy says. There’s the sound of a shutting door in the background. “Yeah, sorry about that. There’s just… look, just one other thing. It might be nothing. But I wanted to pass it along, just in case.”
“What is it?”
“I was at a bar with some of the other scouts last night. It was after one of those NCAA community building things.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Anyway, there’s some noise out there that your buddy, Hirschfeld, is under investigation. And there’s word it’s not just coming from nationals—I’m hearing the feds might be involved.”
“Shit,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.
A few years ago there was a sting operation that the FBI more or less bungled, and it led to a shift that allowed college athletes to be paid in some situations. Definitely a good thing. But an article came out earlier this year about how boosters were essentially banking pay-for-play schemes—directly paying athletes to pay at their school, which is expressly against the rules—and ever since, nationals have been on the lookout for anything that looks fishy. And I can only imagine that the feds would love to make up for what they messed up.
“Apparently some investigators have made some surprise visits to schools that recruit in our circles,” Freddy says.
“What are they looking for?”
“Who knows? Obviously pay-to-play structures, but the scout from Miami said he’d been questioned about agreements with other scouts. And the one from Niagara said he’d been asked about parties for recruits.”
Something about this sits badly in my stomach. I scrub a hand down my face as Megan’s doctor approaches the door and knocks gently.
“I know you’re not a fan of that douche nozzle, but there’s nothing there… is there? And if there is, don’t tell me—not that I think there is—”
“There’s nothing there,” I say.
Hirschfeld straight up asked me to work with him on sorting out recruits, but I refused. If anyone wants to ask me about it, I’ll tell them the truth. But I need to keep this away from my program.
“Just wanted to let you know. Sounds like heads are going to roll.”
