Taysom
Myphoneringsandat first, I think it’s my alarm.
Once it registers that I’m getting a call, I grab my phone and answer.
“Something’s come up, Taysom.” My agent, Matt’s, voice sounds like he’s been awake for a while.
“It’s like…” I pause to look at my alarm clock. “Five-forty in the morning?” I wipe my eyes and sit up, immediately regretting it.
I’m exhausted. Last night was a very late night with Charlotte as we did all we could to promote the fundraiser for the Early Childhood Center. Her Hail Mary idea was brilliant. We shot the video—with Miley of course, as she scampered around us in her ridiculous little feminine t-shirt while I flicked a cat toy around. I told Charlotte the video would not come across as manipulative, but with Miley in it, I can’t make any promises because she’s so cute.
The video—with Charlotte sharing her story simply and a rawness that made my heart burn—began garnering views and comments immediately. I texted the link to everyone in my contact list and asked them to spread the word. Several of my teammates posted the video and the link to the fundraiser on their socials.
And when I left her last night, a little past 1:00 AM, I wanted to check to see where it was at, but Charlotte refused, saying she didn’t want to know if it was a flop or a success until she’d gotten some sleep.
When I got home, I added my own donation, anonymously of course. I can’t wait to see how high it’s gotten since then.
It strikes me, again, how lucky we are. That after basically growing up on the peripheries of each other’s lives, we’ve found each other again.
I’m in love with her.
Matt clears his throat, and my lazy tired brain snaps back to the present. “Yeah,” he says. “The world of professional sports never sleeps.”
“Apparently,” I say and now that I’m a little more awake, a sense of dread hits me. Is this it? Am I getting traded?
“Look, Taysom, the Wolves have finalized their contract with Casey Riddock.”
A knife twists in my gut and I scramble out of bed.
“Word is they’ve held some extra practices with just him and a couple of offensive players.” At my groan, he stops me. “I can’t confirm or deny that, okay? And if they had, I agree it would really suck. But I can confirm that his contract is set. Looks like they want to make sure he’s not going anywhere.”
“Yeah.” I breathe out and roll my shoulders, stretching my neck. “When they drafted him, I thought, maybe it’ll be good for me to have someone like him as my backup quarterback, you know? That can only elevate my play.”
“It could have elevated it or eliminated it completely.” Matt’s always told it to me straight and I’ve always appreciated it, but right now, the past tense of his comment has me seeing stars. I sit down roughly on the bed.
There is certainly always room for improvement in my game, but I’m not even close to being past my prime yet. Some say I’m just starting to hit my prime now. Several media outlets included me in their top ten lists of quarterbacks for last season. Not that I pay much attention to that stuff, but it was nice to see that people still believed in me even after two losing seasons.
Coach Whittaker and the offensive coordinator have both reiterated how much they value me, and that this coming year, we’ll turn things around and start really winning again. But there’s been no sign of a new contract for next year, while Casey’s already gotten his?
“Are they getting rid of me? Officially?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
I massage my brow. “You’ve got to give me more than that, Matt.”
“I really wish I could. There’s been nothing from the Wolves to me concerning you. We’re in an in-between situation. There are still a lot of variables and unknowns, but I thought I’d let you know about Riddock.”
I curse under my breath. “Looks like they’re trading me.”
“I don’t know for sure, but it’s my job to be realistic, Taysom. There’s a chance they’re leaning in that direction. I don’t yet know the exact number they’re offering Riddock, but do you really think the Wolves can afford two big quarterbacks? I guarantee you he’s cheaper than you are.”
I’ve always hated feeling like we’re all commodities to the powers that be—cattle waiting to be sold off. It’s unsettling. It’s the way of the world of sports, but it still feels wrong.
“With our defensive line so in flux, I could see them taking your salary and splitting it up to pad the D line.”
The wind leaves my lungs.
“Is anyone saying that?”
