“Last time I ever confide in you,” I mumble irritably.
“No, it’s not. I’m about to fix your noggin.”
“You like that word, don’t you?” I ask, perturbed.
“My pop uses it. A lot,” he admits.
“What are you two over here jabbering about?” Telly leans on his putter, Mr. Smooth and Cool.
“Kam thinks he’s the reason we lost. He’s carrying around ‘it’s all my fault’ baggage. What a damn ego. Take all the glory for the wins and all the blame for the losses.”
“Isn’t that how it works? Quarterbacks, pitchers, centers. We are in the spotlight and get the gas and the fire.”
“That is media bullshit. Team means together. No one person carries it all on their shoulders,” Rodney reasons.
“I’m sorry, I don’t see it that way.”
“Then look at it like this. You led us to the big game. We’re conference champs. Winning the Super Bowl just would have been gravy on top. But we are all proud,” Telly chimes in. “We have the best QB in the league, and it’s not just because you can throw a great pass. You’re a great leader. A great role model. A great friend. Losing that game sucked, but there is no one else I want to play for. You lose, we all lose. You win, we all win. And do you know what will be even sweeter?”
“No, what?”
“Going back next year and dominating that title. What better story is there than a comeback? Than redemption? The way I see it, we’re just set up to be legendary.”
I stare quietly at Telly, Rodney, and Landon. My guilt has been eating me alive. “Do you all feel the same way?”
Landon and Rodney nod vigorously. “Life is freaking amazing. I’ve been in the NFL for one year, and I’m a conference champ, went to the Super Bowl, and have endorsements coming out of my ass. And you are a main contributor to that,” Landon boasts. “One game doesn’t define you,” Rodney tacks on. “And maybe with all that extra money, you could hire a golf pro so you don’t kill anyone on the course.” He just has to throw a dig in at Landon. I swear it’s compulsive.
“Are we straight, Q?” Telly puts his hand out. A little bit of pressure alleviates in my chest as he smiles at me. I clap his hand and smirk. For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel so low, or tormented, or at fault.
“We’re straight,” I confirm.
“Good, ‘cause we got some partyin’ to do. It’s my last weekend of freedom. We need to get CRAZY!” he bellows, doing his victory dance around the green. It’s a booty shakin’ strut with a signature helmet swipe.
Rodney and Landon join in, and now there are three massive football players owning hole four the same way they own the end zone. Something inside me breaks, and despite my neck still throbbing, I bust up with laughter. A deep, rumbling laugh that ends up being cathartic.
“C’mon, Q! Don’t leave us hanging.” Telly does this robotic dance walk thing toward me. I shake my head but stand. Then I let it all go with my boys. I pull out some old school dance moves, pump my pelvis, and do a little spin like nobody’s watching.
I won.
After our little victory dance on the golf course, I started to feel like my old self again. And with that came my confidence, cockiness, and desire to win. So, I did. By four strokes. Not bad for a guy who hasn’t swung a club in months.
Landon has gotten nothing but hassled by the rest of the guys for nearly decapitating me. That story was priceless at dinner. My neck looks ugly though. It bruised bad and in the worst spot. Every time I move my head I’m reminded it’s there.
Telly’s bachelor party has lived up to expectations. Everyone is full, drunk, and currently being rubbed up on in a VIP lounge of a strip club. It’s not really my scene, but it comes with the territory. I sip my beer and watch the shenanigans as time winds down.
Football players party hard, especially when given an excuse and in the off season. The liquor is flowing, testosterone is raging, and bills are raining. God, I can’t even begin to think how much money is in those girl’s G-strings.
“Dance, sugar?” a busty blonde offers me.
“I’m good.” I tip my beer bottle. “Just watching.”
“You sure? Maybe something a little more private is your speed?” she hisses in my ear.
“Nope, not my speed at all.” I lightly push her away. “I’m good right where I am.”
“Okay.” She puckers her hot pink lips. “But if you change your mind, come find me. I’m Star.”
“I’ll remember that.” Not. The only woman I’m interested in disappearing into a champagne room with is my fiancée.
