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The team plans to meet at the Zanga Bar in the VIP section. I will only stay long enough to show my face and then disappear. I text Leslie, letting her know I’ll be running late. Then, I head into the showers and change.
Chapter Three
WAYNE
Can I Head Out With You?
We leave the locker room and run into a line of reporters and fans waiting for autographs. It takes an hour to get through the crowd and finally head to the official after-party at the Zanga Bar. By this time, I’m exhausted from signing autographs and giving handshakes. I will never complain because bringing my team victories like this is what I have dreamed of doing for so long.
When I get to the bar, I wade through the smokey, crowded building toward the VIP room, where the rest of the team has already piled in and started reminiscing about the game.
Jeremiah takes a swig from his beer and leans forward in his chair. “When you fell back in the pocket and launched, I had to think fast to shake Overton. It damn near felt like I was doing the Harlem shake to get him off my black ass.” He laughs along with a chorus of laughter from the team.
“Looked like you were Harlem shaking, too,” Rich jokes.
“Shit, I damn near was, but I got the job done,” Jeremiah touted, banging his fist on his chest.
“You got the job done well,” I agree. “You were very dependable in the clutch tonight.”
“Tonight?” Jeremiah scoffs. “Stop that shit right now. I’m always good in the clutch. Ain’t nobody else like me.”
I chuckle. “Cocky much?”
Mark interjects, “Fuck that. We’re all nice in our positions.”
“That’s right. We really are the best team in the league right now. We’re unstoppable.” Terrance lifts his glass. “To our win and journey into the playoffs.”
Everyone in VIP and those on the outskirts follow suit and lift their glasses for a toast.
Not surprisingly, Rich takes over the toast. “We’ve been through hell, and now it’s time to reap the benefit by going for that number one spot in the bowl. We will be the last men standing. There’re some championship rings in our size. We just have to go get them!”
Jeremiah yells, “What? You don’t have a Kobe quote to throw in?”
The room is drowned out by laughter from the team, who knows Rich for spouting Kobe this and Kobe that.
Rich glares at Jeremiah, “Fuck you! Kobe was the man.”
“No doubt about that,” Terrance agrees.
While the conversation shifts to arguably the best basketball player of all time, I take a drink for the toast and think about the past months. It's been a tough season on the team, with several key players out due to injuries. Those changes opened a golden opportunity for me to hold a starter position. I’m fighting to keep the starting QB title once Dariel Grant returns.
Grant has been benched by the medical staff. While he is gone, I will use this opportunity to show that I can take the team further than he can. He’s had six years to get us to the playoffs, and he hasn’t done it yet. I did that with just one-half a season in the starter position.
As my mind wanders, the guys shift their conversation to the game tonight as other guests in the bar boisterously congratulate us for the win. The VIP room is off the commonarea, but people stand around watching us and snapping pictures. Others lean over into the roped section for autographs. Some players eventually grab attractive ladies and invite them behind the velvet rope.
I talk with Mark, who has a fine woman on his lap. I’m not a cheater, but I can appreciate a beautiful woman when I see her. This lap warmer is not his wife, Caitlyn, who is an equally beautiful brunette with a banging body. From the outside looking in, this doesn’t make sense. Mark already has everything he needs at home.
The woman smiles and asks, “Do you mind if my best friend comes over to join me?”
Her question is directed at Mark, but Rich blurts, “Yes, bring her over. The more, the merrier.”
With the addition of her friend, we go from three to four people sitting on a black velvet couch.
I continue to enjoy the drinks and talk about the game. As a professional football player, I thought I would love being in the company of all the women, the parties, the free alcohol and food, and the traveling. But it was about this time a few years ago that I realized all the women in the world couldn’t compare to one Leslie.
I always wanted to play in the NFL but never thought much about the strain living on the road causes. The few days we get off here and there do little but further disrupt my life because I have to repeatedly apologize to the people I love for my continual absence. Most of all, I continually leave Leslie alone.
Speaking of Leslie. Shit, it’s getting late.I need to get home to my woman. I jump up to leave. "I gotta bounce. I'll see y'all tomorrow."
