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Fifty Yard Line 2
Brady
“Shit.” I shook my head. “Should I go see her or—”
“Not the best idea, Brady. I’m sure it’s filled with people dying to get a word with her.” Coach Roland shook his head.
“Fucking press.” I hated the press. Hated all the camera wielders with a passion. They were all smiles and joy when a game was won and all digs and snarky questions when we lost. We won this game, but at what cost?
I didn’t even see the person until it was too late. I knew when I left the pocket, there was a chance when I got close to that sideline and let go of that ball, I was still going to get hit. I had to get there. Once I let go, I could pay attention to something else, someone else. I thought it was some smaller man more concerned with getting his picture than a woman…too concerned with getting her picture. Yeah, no doubt she was like every other—
Coach said, “I can’t believe no one realized she was right there. She’s a student. Sophomore. This was her first assignment, so…she may not have realized she needed to move.” His eyes went wide and then he laughed. “Bet she will next time.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to laugh or smile, but he was right. It wasn’t like other camera people hadn’t taken a hit over the years in everything from a family pick-up game to professional ones. Came with the territory.
I told myself that all the way back to the apartment I shared with my cousin, Pricilla. I opened the door and announced, “I’m home.”
Had to do that.
“Hey, Stud.” The object of my nightmares, Candy, winked at me.
Pricilla, who wanted to be called Prissy these days, laughed at me and her girlfriend, Candice who she referred to as Candy, did a little finger wave of greeting. Prissy was sort of like my little sister since her parents took me in when I hit high school. My dad went off to war and my mom went off with someone else. Neither of them came back for me. One, because he couldn’t. The other because she wouldn’t.
I was doing okay, making my own way, and I had my dad’s survivor benefits. Which was the only time I heard from that woman who pushed me out of her womb and then at thirteen, out of her life because her new husband had to travel for his job and that was no way for me to live. Alone was apparently the way for me to live since my dad was deployed at the time. Thankfully, my dad’s younger brother didn’t mind making room for me while my dad was away.
We were a comfort to each other when he died. He helped me set everything up since I was just a freshman in high school and suddenly parentless. My mom had thought she was still the benefactor and wanted the money. I hadn’t talked to her since. She followed me on social media. I knew that. I had requests and I refused to connect with her.
“Ladies.” I puffed out a breath. I really missed Mick. He was pre-law, quiet, excellent football player, and he cooked gourmet style meals. He was a second-round pick when he graduated, so I knew the rest of law school might wait. I never understood why he was pre-law anyway. He planned to use his professional football money, which he would definitely continue to make if he stayed healthy and on his game, to open a restaurant someday.
“Pizza is on the counter.” Prissy indicated and I missed Mick more than I thought possible. I was hungry. They were dressed up, which made sense because it was a Friday night, they were young, freshmen, and had lives.
The only reason Prissy’s parents let her move this far away and attend this college is because I agreed to let her take the room the graduating linebacker left vacant this year. Prissy was a freshman and I learned too late she hadn’t come to this college because I was here. She was following her girlfriend. I would have been less disturbed to walk in on her with a guy. I was certain of that.
“Later, Stud!” Candy waved. I constantly resisted an urge to bark at her, something. She was…visually perfect, but my cousin wasn’t exactly ugly. I was supposed to be making sure she didn’t get pregnant her freshman year. Mission accomplished. My aunt and uncle were obviously in the dark or denial. Couldn’t tell which, hadn’t been home in years, so…didn’t know either.
I gave a head bob of acknowledgement as they walked out.
I dropped down to the couch and let the weight of the day, the game, the entire evening just roll off of me. I could sit there till morning.
My phone buzzed. I looked over where I had placed it. Damn it. I had to get up.
Once there, I went ahead and grabbed a slice of pizza. I took a bite, looked at the phone, practically choked on the bite of pizza as I read the headline then the wording underneath.
Was it worth it?When a pass is more important than the safety of an unsuspecting female journalist.
Pissed? Oh yeah. I was pissed now. I would go speak to that female journalist and let her know I treated her equally. I made a few calls and was on my way to see one Poppy Ziegler in her hospital room.
I was confronted with more life draining succubae as I entered the hospital.
“Holy shit, that’s him.” One journalist tried to get his shit together as I passed him in the hall. “Wait, Brady!”
I stopped, turned, glared, and asked, “Do you know me? Don’t call me by my first name like we’re buds. I don’t know you.”
I continued on my mission.
