Prologue
DRAFT NIGHT
NICO
Isit on the couch next to my mom, dad and little sister, Greer, by my side, chewing on my nails and feeling like all of my dreams are about to fall away. My best friends, Nick Soba and Nik Papas, have been pulled away to give interviews having already been picked earlier in the draft.
I didn’t expect to go first or even second. I assumed that Nick would go first, being the top QB in the draft, and Nik and I would follow in the later rounds. The plan was set. Preliminary phone calls had been made, and the Trickie Nickies were browsing apartments in San Francisco. Eventually we’d want to be on our own, but I couldn’t think of a better way to start my professional career than the way I started high school and college.
With my best friends next to me.
Now, I’m just hoping that I don’t have to walk out of here without a contract and the hushed conversations of why Nico Loving didn’t get drafted in the first round.
My hand is slapped away from my mouth and I glare at Greer. “Quit chewing on your nails. The cameras are likely to come around and you don’t want to be caught with your fingers shoved halfway down your throat.”
“I doubt the cameras are coming, Little G. Soba and Papas are going to different teams, and less talented receivers have already been selected. My hopes of going in round one are getting slimmer and dimmer.”
“Don’t talk like that son.” Dad stands up and pours me a glass of water, passing it over and urging me to drink. “You’re the best damn receiver in the draft. There is a logical explanation as to why you are still on the board. That probably being that the best of the best team is working behind the scenes to secure you.”
“Is there one explaining why Soba and Papas are not Revelers and I’m still sitting on this goddamn couch?” Mom slaps my leg and I quickly apologize.
“Things like this always happen. Tentative deals are made, but last minute trades are done on the clock. You know that.”
I gulp down the last of my water in one swig and hang the empty glass between my legs. “I know how it works, but it wasn’t supposed to go like that this year. This year, we were supposed to be packing our moving boxes and heading West. We were supposed to walk out on that field in September, all wearing the same color. And now, we’ll be on the field together but it will be on opposite sides of the line. Well, Nick and Nik will be. Who knows where I’ll end up.”
Mom smooths circles over my back and I know her hands are aching to pull me into her arms to hug me. With the way I’m feeling, I’d probably lay my head in her lap and let her tell me that I’m talented and loved and will always be her sweet boy.
“Why don’t you–” Mom’s words are cut short when the phone rings.
The four of us stare at it, every one rooted in place like cinder blocks are weighing us down. I gulp and stretch out a shaky hand. Dad stands, Mom clasps her hands to her heart, and Greer lights up like a slot machine hitting the jackpot.
With a sweaty palm, I grip the receiver and lift it slowly to my ear. “He-hello.”
“Nico. This is Will Wagner. Head coach of the Houston Drillers.”
My vision blurs and my heart pounds in my ears, making it difficult to know if I heard what I think I heard.
“Yes sir. How are you?” Words finally break free and my breath eases.
The tension that has my body in knots melts away and my confidence gets a little boost.
Is this it?Is it finally happening?
“I’m good, but I think I’ll be better if you tell me you’re ready to be a Driller.” I look at my family, all waiting on pins and needles, and I pass them a smile.
Mom starts crying and jumps up to hug Dad. His eyes glisten with unshed tears and it spurs on some of my own.
“I would love nothing more than to be a Driller, Coach.”
“That’s fantastic news. I have someone else who’d like to say hello.”
Muffled words are heard as the phone gets passed around, and a booming voice blares through the speaker.
“Mr. Loving. Howard Montgomery here. I’m realexcited about having you on my team, so you better pack those bags and get your ass down to Houston.”
I chuckle, already liking this old guy. “You betcha. I’m ready.”
“Okay then. A plane will pick you and your family up tomorrow but for now, enjoy the spotlight. You’ve earned it.”
