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My brow wrinkled. This was new. Though they asked me to attend every year, I usually couldn’t go due to football commitments. I straightened in my chair, on guard. Was it possible they just wanted to see me? Or was there some ulterior motive? The fact that I was even considering the latter made my head hurt. “Then I can probably make that, sure,” I said, even though flying to Naples to hobnob with their business associates was about the last thing I wanted to do during my only break of the season.
“Ahhh, I’m so pleased to hear that, Patrick.” After a few more minutes of chatter, she excused herself from the phone call, saying she and my dad had a dinner to attend.
Restless, I thumbed through my phone contacts after hanging up. There were plenty of names and numbers in there. I’d never had trouble finding anyone to keep me company, both when I’d played college ball or when I’d first gone pro, but for the last couple of years, nothing had stuck, nothing was exciting, and I was sure, as always, it was me, not the women. I was gone too much, was too closed off.
Could you be a more miserable bastard?The thought flitted through my head as I scrolled, then paused to squint at the three Madelines listed one after another—one of whom didn’t even have a last name listed, just the letterT—trying to conjure up their faces. The no-last-name one kept tripping me up. Whatever. Regardless, what I could remember of them wasn’t more tempting than my bed down the hall.
I scrolled down further, then zipped back up and halted at the name that had caught my eye. Malik Tucker. Why the fuck did I have his number? Had he put it in my phone? Had I? And when the hell would that have happened?
I scratched my jaw and racked my brain, the pleasant buzz I had spreading to my limbs and making me drowsy. Try as I might, I couldn’t recall any time in my life when we’d exchanged numbers.
I hesitated over his contact, considering asking outright, then thought of his face on the screen earlier and shook my head at myself before pocketing my phone and carrying my glass inside. Fuck that dude.
2
TUCKER
Iloved playing center. It was what I’d wanted from the moment I’d fallen in love with football. The guards and tackles to my left and right were badass and athletic as fuck, which I was, too, but I loved that the offensive line revolved around me. That it was me who made sure my line was in the right places to block the correct defenders, me who had to be able to make split-second decisions and understand the defense of each team we played.
People talked shit sometimes, said centers didn’t have what it took to play some of the other positions or we were a slower step, but the quarterback and I controlled the offense. Every fucking offensive play we ran, I was the director of traffic. Nothing happened without me and my quarterback kicking it off.
I took my spot at the line of scrimmage, my Rush teammates around me. Ramsey had called a play, and I watched Pittsburgh closely, trying to read what their plan was. I couldn’t ask for a better first game of the season since we were currently wiping the floor with them. As cocky as I was on the outside, I didn’t let it affect me inside, and I sure as shit didn’t let it risk my game. Until the final second of the clock ticked off, I wasn’t going to count this as a win. Anything could happen.
“White eighty! White eighty! Set! Hut!” Ramsey called out, and I snapped the ball to him, immediately blocking the nose tackle to keep his ass from crossing the line and getting close to my QB.
Phillips was a big motherfucker and wasn’t backing down as I fought against his massive body weight. Every muscle inside of me was bruised, but I didn’t feel it during the game. It was just something I knew was there. Later, I’d be miserable, though, and I fucking loved it.
Rams got the ball to Ward, who managed to push through and earn a few more yards.
“We’re gonna go long and get the ball to Garrett,” Ramsey said in the huddle, then let us know which exact play he wanted to run. It was the third quarter, and we were up by fourteen. Baby G was killing it.
“Let’s do this,” I said and headed back for the line of scrimmage.
I examined the defense, watching for any clues about what they had planned or if they’d changed anything up. If I had any suspicions, I’d be the one to communicate them to my offensive line.
Ramsey called out the cadence again, and as soon as the word “hut” left his mouth, I hiked the ball to him with perfect fucking accuracy.
We created a pocket for him, keeping Ramsey safe while Nance, who I fucking hated, and G bolted toward the end zone. There was a man on G’s ass, the space between them small, to the point where I wasn’t sure Ramsey was going to be able to get the pass off and he’d have to make a different split-second decision. At the last moment, Baby G put a little more space between them, and Ramsey launched the ball in front of him, right where it needed to be, Garrett crossing into the zone to get his first touchdown in a regular season game.
“Fuck yes!” I punched into the air, happy for him. Garrett did an excited dance, and then we nailed the extra point, putting us up by twenty-one.
After the game, Alice Andrews from NBC grabbed Ramsey and Garrett as I made my way to the locker room. It was always certain positions they wanted to speak with the most, the center not being one of them, and I was fine with that.
We showered there, my body starting to feel some of the aches and pains of getting my ass beat for a living.
We were staying in Pittsburgh tonight, so once we were all set, we headed for the bus that would take us back to the hotel.
I sat next to Ramsey, but he seemed distracted, probably because Baby G and Cross, another rookie, wouldn’t shut the fuck up, talking about the game. I got it, though. We’d all been there. Most of the time, I’d be right there along with them, but…I didn’t know. I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. I probably needed to get laid. It had been a while, if I was being honest. Fixing that was suddenly on my agenda for tonight.
“We’re out of here at 4:00 a.m. No going out, no women, get your sleep, and then get your asses up to get back to Denver. We won tonight, but that work’s not done,” Coach told us when we arrived at the hotel.
Fuck, there went my plan to get my dick wet.
I roomed with Cross, so the two of us headed to number 714 together. While I didn’t know him well yet, he was good people and played good football. He and G had already gotten close.“Turn on ESPN, would ya?” he asked the second we were tucked away behind the door.
“You say that as if it wasn’t going to be the first thing I did,” I chuckled.
I grabbed the remote because if we couldn’t get laid, watching football highlights was the next best thing.
