I checked the upcoming week’s schedule. Seeing it clear of any upcoming tests or physicals, I pulled the brown envelope out of my bag.
I opened it quickly, the pain in my shoulder a constant reminder of the injury I carried, and dropped the orange pill bottle into my hand. I shook a pill free and swallowed it dry. I closed my eyes for ten seconds and took a deep breath.
I’d asked the team for the same pill. But it was a limited supply, so it didn’t affect performance, and it wasn’t enough. I didn’t need that kind of attention it brought to me or my shoulder if I asked for more.
So I got the rest another way.
I rolled my head from side to side, knowing I’d need more before the end of the month, which meant another call to that fucker. I shoved the pills and the envelope back into a secure pocket in my bag.
When I was clear of the building, I pulled out my phone and dialed. No greeting when the line clicked open — just a voice waiting.
“Don’t bet on the basketball game this Saturday.” Silence. “Point guard’s still favoring that ankle. Backup’s quick, but he’s sloppy under pressure.”
Another beat of silence, then a breath on the other end — like they were about to speak. I ended the call before they could.
The text came seconds later.
Fucker: U forgot to say thank you for your package. Tell your sister I said hi
I read the text, and a flicker of my sister Jiana’s face flashed in my mind. She’d been through hell. The fucker was going to be a problem. But I’d deal with him later. When he was no longer useful.
I slid the phone back into my bag, the conversation already forgotten.
Back outside, the late-winter air bit colder than I expected, the kind of Southern chill that didn’t look like much but still got into your bones. The stadium loomed just as it had minutes ago, its steel ribs and empty seats standing quiet now, but still heavy with the echo of the championship.
Two weeks ago, the cameras had been on me, waiting to capture the ‘championship hero.’ I’d given them exactly what they wanted.
My phone rang, and I dug into my bag to find it. If it washim, I wouldn’t answer. Phoning the dick at all pissed me off. I didn’t need to hear his voice.
I checked the screen and saw it was Coach Sutherland.Shit, had he seen me?
“Yo,” I answered. “I did all the things.”
“Yo?” He let out a loud sigh. “You have a meeting with the academic advisors at seven-thirty tonight,” he said, bulldozing right over my bullshit.
I bit back a groan. “I already did all that preseason.” No reason they needed me again. “My grades are fine. I’ve been to every class.”
“Well, they want an appointment, so you have an appointment. Meeting room...” He paused, and I knew he was reading it from an email. Jesus, I must have just missed him. “Meeting room twenty-one, library.” He hung up before I could say anything else.
I checked my watch. Twenty-five minutes. Postseason workouts still ended late — weights, drills, sauna, massage therapy — and I’d gone straight from all that to the coaches’ wing. No time to eat, and now I was walking into a meeting I hadn’t seen coming.
And I was fucking hungry.
“Shit.” I started to jog back to the residence hall, hoping I’d have time to grab a snack and a change of clothes.
Wrighton University housed all its athletes in two large residences. The dorms were split into two and three-bed apartments with a shared living area and kitchen. The perk of being a junior was that our apartment had a cleaner who came in three times a week and did our laundry.
Dustin and I had roomed together since freshman year. It worked. Our other roommate, Noah, had transferred in from a D2 school last summer and slid right into the linebacker slot at the beginning of the season like he’d been built for it. The move had paid off — he’d played a big role in our championship run — but off the field, we still didn’t know much about him. Kept to himself. Didn’t cause trouble. Truthfully, I didn’tneedto know more than that.
I took the stairs to the third level two at a time and unlocked the apartment door.
“Just me,” I yelled, pausing to hear if there was any reply. Silence.Good.I wouldn’t need to explain where I’d been while the team ate dinner.
I pulled my shirt over my head as I opened the fridge door. Perfectly packaged and labeled food faced me, and everything would take too long to heat.
Opening the cupboard beside the fridge, I dipped into Dust’s protein bar stash that he kept ‘hidden.’
Two bars from Dustin’s hoard later, I was changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and an Alabama Lions hoodie, and out the door again. The ache in my shoulder was ebbing as the painkiller took effect.
