Owning and running a cattle ranch isn’t for the faint of heart, or for the lazy, and my Dad and Momma didn’t raise me to be either of those things.
“You’re late,” Tara shouts from the ring in the far right corner where she’s coaching a dude who’s almost three times her size. “You’re buying dinner.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off because I know.
I’m the one who came up with the damn rule, so I gotta bite the bullet.
On Mondays—our only day off most weeks during the season—Derek, Appleton, and I come to Tara and her husband’s gym. We work out lightly for an hour or so and then we go get dinner. It’s the way things have been for the past three years.
I can’t regret being late, though, not when I could tell Cam was struggling with something, so I have my normal smile on when I walk over to where they’re warming up on the treadmills.
“All good?” Appleton asks me as soon as I walk up to the treadmill next to his.
“Yeah, was just at Cam’s and we had some shit to talk about.”
Derek Johnson, the star safety for the LA Warriors and a man of few words, grunts in response—grunting is his language of preference and we let him be. That’s the main reason he allowed us to become his friends, I think, and I can’t say I blame him.
People are always trying to get him to talk more, but the only one who succeeds is his husband.
I dump my duffel right there on the floor since I’m next to the wall, then I drop in my cap and my watch—don’t need either of those—then hop on the treadmill and get to work. Maybe moving my body will help me think. At least, that’s what Dad used to say while I was growing up.
I still don’t know if he said it just so I’d go out with him to herd some heads around, or if it was his genuine attempt at helping me figure out math in middle school, but it almost always works.
And I’ve got some problems to figure out.
Cam is a good guy, one of the best in my opinion, and he’s been helping me my whole career. He deserves the celebration of his peers, and he deserves one weekend where he can reminisce about the good ol’ days and talk shit with his buddies.
I know my suggestion wasn’t... normal, like at all, I know, but I couldn’t have stopped it from bursting out of my lips if my life depended on it. I just feel it’s all kinds of unfair for him to skip his high school reunion because of some douchebag, who as far as I can tell didn’t deserve him then and for sure doesn’t deserve him now.
It was fucking jarring, the way he turned so insecure all of a sudden, when the Cam I know is confident, poised, always with his game face on.
He’s a great fucking agent, and I regret to say that most days I forget to be grateful for following my gut when it came time for me to sign with someone. I didn’t know much about the world of business at twenty-two—hell, I barely know anything right now—but he seemed so excited for me back then, and yeah, my gut told me he was a good, smart guy.
Even when he told me he was opening up his own agency and would be leaving the one he’d worked for all his career, then asked if I’d move with him, he didn’t lookas doubtful and hesitant as he did today, and even I know that was a fucking gamble. I already had one Super Bowl ring five years ago, and like I’ve always been, I was his biggest client then, so I know that invitation and the possibility of this reunion really rattled him.
Can he blame me for wanting to help him out when he’s been taking care of me and my business for more than a decade?
Who cares aboutcan, I don’t think he should.
With that, my resolve to help him no matter what strengthens, and suddenly I’m aware that I’m running and in the gym.
“The season’s looking good,” Appleton bumbles. He just retired this past Spring, but he’s my best bud and I threatened him to keep him coming to our workouts every Monday, and he’s never let me down.
He was an Edge, played defense with Johnson, and he’s as ripped as he was a year ago, so he clearly doesn’t need to come here for his workouts. I’ve seen his home gym and know he uses it. But he’s also the first friend I made in LA. He was the first guy to welcome me to the Warriors as a rookie—even the guy who played QB before me wasn’t as welcoming—and I haven’t let him out of my sight since... metaphorically, of course.
“Yeah, it’s going pretty well,” I agree.
“We’re for sure making the playoffs,” Derek says, the strength of his determination behind every word.
“God, it would be just like you to win a Super Bowl this season after I retired,” Appleton complains.
“We’ll do it as a revenge for you leaving us,” Derek snipes with a surprising hint of humor in his voice.
“Don’t listen to him,” I pipe up. “You didn’t leave us, and we’ll do it to make you proud. You can even be my date to the ring ceremony.” That’s always a fun night.
Appleton snorts and shakes his head.
“I know you think that sounds nice, but that would just be rubbing it in, AJ.”
