“It’s not that.”
“Skipping classes?”
“They’re boring.”
“But it’s not about your dad.”
“No.” Simon looked him straight in the eye. “Look, I went to therapy years ago. Dad died in a freak car crash when I was seven. I’m over it, mostly. It’s just…” He sounded as if he’d started to say something else but ended with, “I’m good, okay?”
Mitch didn’t push. “Fine. But you start mouthing off or cutting classes again, and there’s going to be trouble. I’ve done what I can to smooth things over with the coaches. School is another matter.”
“I know.” Simon groaned. “Look, it was two Lit classes. That’s it. I’m still getting As. My grades are good, and I’ll make up any work I missed. That should get my mom off my ass.”
“Simon.”
He flushed. “I’m tellingyouthat. I wouldn’t say that toher.”
“Good. Surprisingly, I like your mom. She’s cool and doesn’t fawn all over me.” Mitch was blunt but honest, as he’d figured that would matter to the kid more than platitudes. “She loves you and puts you first. Seems like she’s a good mom.”
“She’s the best.”
Mitch nodded. “So stop giving her a heart attack and play nice. Pretend, okay? We both know you’resomuch smarter than the world around you.”
“Sarcasm, Coach?”
“Like I said, I was once you. Then I grew a pair.” He smirked, and Simon laughed.
“Fine. Can I get to practice now?”
“Sure, just as soon as you apologize to all the coaches. Especially Deacon. I mean, it’s not like he has your entire football career in his hot little hands or anything.”
Simon frowned.
“Yeah, think about it, Einstein. You piss off the wrong people, the future you want is no longer the future you can achieve.”
“I get it already.” Simon seemed thoughtful. He stood. “So, you and my mom… You’re not trying anything with her, are you?”
“Did I stutter? I said no. She’s a nice person. And she has too much to deal with having you for a kid.”
“That’s true.” Simon gave him a strange look.
“What?”
“Nothing.” The kid smiled, but Mitch didn’t trust it. “See you on the field.”
Mitch watched him bounce out the door and wondered where his own energy had gone. He was only thirty-five but felt much older since retiring. As if after accomplishing all he had, there was nowhere else for him to go.
He stared at the blotter on the desk in front of him, seeing Deacon’s scrawl in a few notes. Deacon had made something of himself. He was more than a football star.
What did Mitch have? Besides a hefty bank account and a nice new home in the mountains, he had no woman, no job, and no goals for the future. He didn’t regret retiring while on top, having seen too many guys hang in until they embarrassed themselves. He’d tired of pro ball, to be honest. Not something he’d ever admit out loud. But now what? What did he do with his life?
He’d turned down offers for TV, not interested in being in the spotlight anymore. He didn’t want to endorse any products but the sports supplements company he’d bought into years ago, which continued to earn him a lot of money. And he kept track of his many real estate investments, which built equity and again, earned him money.
With no need to make another million and no drive to beat anyone into a starting lineup, he had no direction. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
“Yo, Coach Flash.” One of the kids stuck his head in the door. “You coming? Coach Dorset wants you.”
Mitch stood and stretched. “Yeah, I’m coming. Tell Dorset I’ll be out in a minute. And for God’s sake. It’s just Mitch. No Coach in front of my name, okay?”
