The bomb.
“A statement,” I repeat slowly, “like ‘I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be a better guy’?”
Nate looks up from the laptop. “More or less. Something that says you’re committed, that you’re participating in the personal growth program, and that you believe in the charity reality project. People love a redemption arc.”
I’m not stupid.
I know what this means: they’re trying to get me back on the field because the team needs me, and in the meantime, I have to play the role of the idiot.
I swallow.
Nate tries to sweeten the blow. “Think practically: you could be back on the team for the decisive games. They’d see you as the athlete who gets back on his feet, who works on himself, who supports a charitable cause. The sponsor loves these stories. And if you look good on the reality show, the signing becomes automatic.”
Right…
Heart leans forward. “This is a deal, Becker. We’re asking you to play the game for a few weeks. To collaborate with Sloane, to participate, to say two public sentences without insulting anyone. If you do that, you’re back on the field. And if you do it well, you’re back to winning.”
I scratch my jaw, staring at the wood of the table.
I sigh.
God, I hate all of this. Seriously.
I hate having to jump through these stupid hoops.
But… at the end of the day… why do I even care so much about what I say? All I have to do is bite my tongue and do what they ask for once in my damn life.
Everyone thinks I’m some spoiled brat… but when I snap at interviews, or lose my temper, or screw up, I do it because of my own moral code.
Going out there and saying I’ll be a good boy, that I’ll look for the woman of my dreams, that I’ll take part in some stupid Valentine’s Day show…
Yeah. None of that fitsanyof my moral principles.
Heart studies me. Maybe he’s reading my inner struggle. “Becker, I’m not asking you to pretend to be someone else. I’m asking you to prove that you are not the man everyone thinks you are.”
He’s never said that to me before. Is this his new tactic to make me say yes? Playing the coach who sees something more in me?
I know he hates me. That he would gladly do without my presence.
His blue eyes are fixed on me. They’re the same color as Sloane’s eyes… damn it.
Maybe I just want to wrap this up quickly. Get back on the field and forget all this crap I’ve gotten myself into.
I find myself nodding as if in a trance. “When?”
Nate and Heart look at each other, and I see them smile in sync.
Yeah, they won.
Nate claps me on the arm. “We’ll get you the details, man.”
Then they stand up and leave, closing the door softly.
I’m left alone in the kitchen, with the hum of the refrigerator as a soundtrack.
I look at the beer in front of me, open it, and take a long sip.
Release a statement.
