When the CMC routine ends, there is applause from all sides. The crowd goes wild.
‘They don’t get that it’s a protest,’ Jewel raises her voice to me.
I look at Ms Conway. She’s so angry she’s practically baring her teeth. ‘I’m not sure they need to,’ I say.
I look at the tunnel to my left. The players should be making an entrance by now, but there’s nothing. I know Jake is back there. And I know what he’s about to do for me could cost him his entire career.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jake
‘Holyshiiiit,’ Hud Briar says in a low tone. He’s staring at the images from inside the stadium being shown live on a screen, as we all are.
To any onlooker, at the mouth of the tunnel, we look like any other NFL pro-team about to take to the field. Forty-six brawny athletes, eye-blacked up, padding on, the bottoms of our cleats clacking against flat concrete, helmets in our hands.
I smirk. Hud’s referring to the sight of Harmony, of course, the woman we already knew he was in love with. Because right now the love of his life is dancing with pom poms in a goddamn barely-there outfit with the ‘M’ for Mutineers right across her bikini-covered ass, just like all the other members of the CMC. It’s not exactly what you’d expect from women who are usually the essence of wholesome. They’re bringing it.
I can see the faces of the crowd, the noise whooshing down the tunnel. I can see their shock and curiosity at this non-standard display. But they don’t know the half of it.
I feel pride at what the CMC are doing for Serenity. I wonder if she made it into the Danube and if she’s witnessing this.
Yet still, my focus is elsewhere.
Coach Holland claps his hands. He’s wearing a hat and chewing gum. ‘Alright, Mutineers! Let’s go, let’s go! Kick ass out there!’
A small silence descends. His white gloves on, Hud Briar slaps me hard on the back. It’s a move that sayswe’re with you.
I fill my lungs. Nobody moves.
‘I said let’s go!’ Coach Holland says again.
And still, nobody moves.
Coach takes a moment to realize that something’s up.
I clear my throat, raise my voice. ‘Sorry, Coach. We’re not going anywhere.’
Dalton Briar takes up position to my left, like we agreed. I’m flanked by forty-three of my teammates, all of them briefed, all of them supportive of the plan.
Coach Holland stops chewing his gum. ‘The heck? You’re shit-talking me.’
‘Sorry, Coach,’ I say again.
‘Get the fuck out there!’
A ripple goes through the group. I glance back. Some of the guys shake their heads. I know these guys have my back, so it’s not aimed at me, but my stomach ties itself in knots. ‘Not moving, Coach,’ I say.
Coach looks to Dalton, a pleading look on his face.
‘Sorry, Coach,’ Dalton says. ‘He don’t move, neither do we.’
Coach throws down his hat in frustration. ‘Goddammit, you’ve all gone crazy!’
‘I’ll move when I’ve talked to Hank Conway,’ I say.
‘Hank Conway ain’t even here tonight!’ is Coach Holland’s retort.
‘His daughter, then.’
