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He pauses, and I decide to address this head-on. No sense in trying to avoid what I believe is the elephant in the room. “Is this about the locker?”
Coach nods with relief and relaxes in his chair. “Yeah, it’s about the locker. I didn’t realize you were having a problem with where it was placed.”
“I don’t have a problem with it. It surprised me as much as anyone to see the equipment staff working it over. It would never have occurred to me that I could change it even if I wanted to and”—I hold up my hand to forestall his response because I wasn’t done—“I don’t want to change it. I was happy where I was.”
A brief moment of confusion passes over Coach’s face. “Seems to me there’s some communication problem.”
“Maybe so. I can’t for the life of me figure out what brought it on. But that kind of shit is disruptive and I get that behavior can’t be tolerated in the locker room. I’m not a prima donna. You know that,” I remind him, “from when you interviewed me back at the combine and at my pro day. No one has ever pegged me for having locker room issues. I’ve got my faults. I don’t deny it. I’m hardheaded. Stubborn. I like doing things a certain way.” We share a brief chuckle because Coach has been on me to slide more instead of trying for more yards and risking injury. “But I’ve always been happy to hear suggestions and critiques of how to make my play better, how to make this a better team, and never demanded special treatment.”
He nods in agreement but then stops when a new thought enters his mind. “Being the starting quarterback is a different animal,” he warns.
“I was a third-round draft pick and the fourth quarterback chosen overall. I know that I’m fortunate to have a starting role even after winning last year. And I’m not doing anything to jeopardize it. I think I proved to you last year that I’m worth the start, and I continue to work my ass off for this team every day.”
He squeezes his neck. “I hear you. But if you have problems in the future, come to me.”
That’s my sign to go. I rise, give him a tight smile and walk out. The frustrating thing about that encounter is I don’t know if he really believes me. Someone or something has planted a seed of doubt in his mind about my role as the leader in the locker room. Which fucking sucks.
Halfway down the hall, I run into Garrett Williams, beat reporter for the Dallas Morning News. “Hey, Jackson, got a minute?”
No. I really don’t, but I force myself to stop. Being nice to the press is good for business. “Sure, what’s up?”
His face is somber, but his eyes are lit up like Cassidy’s at Christmas time. I don’t have to be a mind reader to figure out that Williams thinks he’s sniffed out a juicy locker room scandal. “Heard there were some equipment problems in the locker room today.”
“Not that I know of,” I reply with forced joviality. “But it’s training camp. We’re all working out our kinks.”
“Like where certain players’ lockers are assigned?”
“Now, Williams, don’t make us sound like a bunch of middle schoolers. You know we’ve evolved to at least junior high.”
“So the rumors that you’re getting demanding are all untrue?”
I don’t let the easy smile off my face. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, man. Love the team. Grateful for the opportunity to play in this town. It’s a real privilege, and if my locker was in the men’s room, I’d still be on my knees every night thanking God for this chance to play the greatest game in the world.” I slap Williams on the back and move on down the hall.
Chip appears out of the blue. “Hey man, how did it go in there?”
With Williams or Coach Ross? “Fine.” I’m not pretending for Chip.
“You can talk to me if you need to blow off a little steam,” he invites.
I give him a cool look. There’s no way I’m sharing confidences with him.
“It’s all good.” I slap my hand on the door, but before I can exit, he grabs my arm.
“Hey, about your friend Charlotte—”
I shrug out of his grip. “If you’re asking if she’s single, she’s not.”
He furrows his brow in confusion. “I didn’t think you two were together.”
“We’re not. She’s like my sister. In fact, she will be my sister someday. You see my brother, the Navy SEAL, views Charlotte as his girl. And I have to tell you that Nate knows a hundred ways to kill a man and ninety-nine of them are undetectable.” The grin that crosses my face at the thought of Nate working ol’ Chip over is a genuine one. “What was it that you wanted to know about her?”
