“Good. And don’t go soft on them either. These guys need a hard reality check and you’re just the one to give it to them.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Later, Brenda.”
“Bye, Destiny.”
After hanging up, I pulled up the research I’d done on the Cougars football team. I’d already known most of the players. Despite my distaste for athletes in general, I loved sports and was a big Cougars fan. It’d been imbedded in me since I was a child to always root for the home team. My father wouldn’t have had it any other way, and as a born and bred daddy’s girl, I wouldn’t either. For the fiftieth time I looked over the pictures, names, news articles, and anything else I could find regarding the Williamsport Cougars’ players. From this information I was to build a three-week course around financial literacy and management to teach these players.
My eyes somehow landed on an image of the Cougars’ star quarterback, Tyler Townsend. Not for the first time, I found myself staring into those hypnotizing hazel-green eyes of his. He wasn’t smiling in the picture but his eyes held a certain mirth. It was as if he was a part of some secret joke he wasn’t about to let the world in on.
“Whatever,” I mumbled to myself as I stood. No need wasting anymore time staring at pictures of these players when I’d be standing in front of them all in less than thirty minutes. I didn’t give a damn about smiling hazel-green eyes. I needed to get my head in the game so I could push through the next four weeks and get this job over with as seamlessly as possible.
****
Tyler
“Someone was training in the off season.”
I turned and peered down at Jack, the assistant to the head coach, and nodded. “What’d you expect?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Nothing less from silver spoon.”
I frowned, narrowing my eyes at Jack. I hated that fucking nickname. I’d gotten it my first damn year in the National Football League and still couldn’t shake it.
“Don’t take my head off, Ty,” Jack laughed.
“Don’t give me a fucking reason to,” I warned.
“Easy, double T. You know Jack just likes messing with you,” Kelvin Maynard, our team’s star wide receiver and the closest thing I had to a best friend, stated as he clapped me on the back.
I shrugged his hand off me. “I can’t stand that nickname.”
Kelvin laughed some more. “That’s exactly why they continue to use it, silver spoon.”
I whirled around on Kelvin but he ducked the jab I shot at his jaw. Ever since my induction into the NFL as the fifth overall pick by the Williamsport Cougars, I’d been plagued with this damn nickname. Seeing as how I was born with the proverbial silver spoon in my mouth, my counterparts didn’t seem to think I could or would hack it in the league. Despite my outstanding collegiate accomplishments, to some I was just the rich kid that’d bought his way into the league. I guess my reputation over my time in the NFL hadn’t exactly tamped down on those speculations. But my performance on the field should’ve long put to bed any bullshit about my not earning my spot.
“Let it go,” Kelvin yell-laughed after I took another swing at him.
“Do I look like fucking Elsa to you?”
Kelvin froze and cocked his head to the side, raising a dark, bushy eyebrow. “The fuck is Elsa? That chick you banged last—”
“No, jackass,” I laughed, holding my stomach muscles, “she’s a Disney princess. The coldest …” I paused when I saw the confusion on his face grow even more. “Forget it.” I waved him off.
“See, you spend too much time around all those kids in your family. They got you watching Disney movies and shit.” Kelvin pointed at me.
I shrugged. “Guilty as charged.” And I wasn’t about to apologize for it either. I loved every moment I spent with my niece and nephews. If Kennedy, the only niece in the family so far, wanted me to spend a few hours watching Disney movies while she talked my ear off, so be it.
“Man, if people only really knew you’re not as much of a troublemaker as they say you are,” Kelvin stated, patting me on the shoulder again.
I winked at him. “What people don’t know won’t hurt me.”
“Let’s go! We don’t have all damn day!” Coach McClellan yelled from down the long hall that lead past the locker room to the lecture hall where we spent the mid-mornings and early afternoons going over news plays. It was the third week of July and we were just starting the second day of our whole team’s training camp, hosted at Williamsport University. The college had a stadium and field large enough to house our team’s practices, along with available lecture halls for the off-the-field study.
“We’re coming, we’re coming,” I called ahead.
“Then move your ass, Townsend!” McClellan barked back, causing me to laugh.
“What’s this session about again? Why’re we all in here?” Kelvin asked as we made our way into the classroom with stadium-style seating.
