The last few weeks have been balls to the wall with practice, games, studying, and working to the early morning hours. The drug business is booming, and Ray has been singing my praises, telling me how his clients don’t want to buy from anyone but me. I should be happy that I’m his best dealer, but selling drugs isn’t something I’m proud of.
It’s also sucking the life out of me. I can barely keep my eyes open in class, and running my ass through drills and workouts hasn’t been easy.
I’m gearing up to throw the football when Coach blows his whistle. “That’s it for today. Five laps around the track before you hit the showers. Miller, a word.”
Everyone scatters—some of the team pounding out their laps and others grabbing water before they do.
I remove my helmet as I trot up to Coach who’s standing on the sideline, reading something on his phone.
For a second, my stomach forms a knot. I can’t tell if Coach is mad or he just wants to talk strategy. He’s been pleased with my performance although he’s been quite moody for the last couple of weeks, which makes me scratch my head.
The fact I’m selling drugs to his daughter is something that weighs on me anytime he calls my name. I’m fucking terrified he’s going to find out, and it keeps me awake some nights. I’m risking a lot. But I can’t stop. Not as long as Mom and Phoebe need the money.
Speaking of Emily, I haven’t spotted her at any of the frat parties. I attended one last weekend solely in the hopes of seeing her. Zach seems to be deliberately keeping her away from me. Showing up alone when he needs to replenish supplies. And I swear he’s doing it to keep us apart.
Coach lowers his phone and squints at me. Practice was good, so I’ve no clue what he wants. But the way he’s staring at me leads me to believe he knows, and that knot I have gets tighter.
I’m not one to blurt out shit. So, I wait.
All the guys are jogging, and our assistant coaches are packing up.
Coach shoves a hand through his reddish-brown hair. “How’s Phoebe?”
I flinch only because I’m expecting something quite different. “Her pneumonia is gone, and she’s doing better.” I’ve made enough money recently to pay for the repairs to Phoebe’s vest.
“Good,” he says, shooting a brief glance at Coach Price who keeps looking over at us, for some reason. They stare at one another, and Carter runs by, his blue eyes wide. I lift a shoulder. I’ve no idea what’s going on. The tension between Coach Parker and Coach Price seems thick. They’ve been arguing about plays for the last week.
“Is there something else?” I ask Coach Parker. “I need to get my run in.” I have a full night ahead with an English paper to write and then several clients to see.
Mom still hasn’t found a job, and as much as she wants to, I want her to stay home. She needs to take care of Phoebe. But she doesn’t want me to ruin my future. I can’t say I blame her. I worry constantly that I’ll get caught or, worse, Ray will discover I charge a little over the asking price for a bag of Molly. It’s not much, and I don’t do it all the time, but it's risky. The guy will sever my head if he finds out. While I like my head, I can’t give two fucks about Ray. My family comes first.
Coach Parker breaks his weird face-off with Coach Price, giving me his sole focus. The lines around his eyes deepen. “I got a call from an NFL scout about you.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “What?” I splutter, attempting to shake the shock from my brain.
Coach grins, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re good, son. Don’t shortchange yourself.”
It’s not that I don’t think I’m good. It’s just I wasn’t expecting to hear from any scout so soon in my college career. While I’m fucking stoked as shit, my gut is telling me the timing isn’t good.
Fuck timing.
Coach folds his arms over his chest. “I sent the scout some tapes of the last couple of games.”
“What team?” My brain is clearing of the shock, and I’m eager to know if it’s the Carolina Panthers. If I could play for them, Phoebe and Mom could attend games since the stadium is one state over. I can also stay close to home in the event my family needs me.
“The Chicago Bears,” he confirms, as his phone rings. “I’ll let you know more when I do. For now, he’s just inquiring. I have to take this call.” He struts away, leaving me pumping my fist in the air. It’s not the Panthers, but so the fuck what.
It’s the NFL.
Coach Price follows on Coach Parker’s heels as they cross the field toward the sports complex.
I start into a slow jog.The Bears are interested in me!I can’t wait to tell Mom. But the moment I think how happy she’ll be, I decide it’s not a good idea to say a word. She’ll tell me to stop selling drugs.
Fuck. Drugs.
I pick up my pace, running like I’m sprinting in an Olympic fifty-yard dash. The team has left the track, and I don’t even see Carter. I forgo the rest of the run, getting in only a lap. I’ve got too much to do, and I can at least share the good news with my teammates.
I head into the locker room amid laughter and chatter. The guys are buzzed from the great practice. We’re all still flying high with our record this season, and the feeling is better than any buzz I get from alcohol.
