Rookie Moves: A Quick Snap Novella

by Tarrah Anders

  I feel the heat in my face as anger boils to the surface.

  Fuck no, we played fair, we always do. Who does this kid think he is?

  “I’m sorry man, I think you are mistaken.” Conners says calmly.

  “You’re a big fat liar. How much do you guys pay the refs?”

  “Ask your team, bro. We don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.” I return my fists balling up.

  “The fuck you say loser?” Frat boy pushes his chin up in my direction. I stand up from my position and step up to the kid. We’re the same height, but I’ve easily got an extra fifty pounds of muscle on him. We’re toe to toe, his breath stinks of sour beer and his friends behind him, take a step back.

  “Sucker punch the rookie!” One of them says from behind.

  As if that was all the guy needed, his arm cocks back and meets my face not a second later. Then his elbow is meeting my nose and I’m falling back on the table. I pull myself up and pull my hand back into a fist to deliver a punch to the guy, connecting with his jaw. I send another punch, feeling bone crunch under my knuckles as I hit him in the nose.

  “Toolson! Toolson! Get the fuck off of him!” I hear Conners say as he tries to pull me off the guy.

  “Fuck that! This prick needs to learn a lesson.” I grit out through clenched teeth.

  Another fist hits the guy in his side. And another to his shoulder as he blocks the punch.

  “Alright, alright. Break it up. Come on guys, you’re better than that.” A firm voice says from somewhere close by. I feel hands pull me away and see another guy in a black shirt pulling the other guy back.

  “You two, need to leave.” The voice points at both me and the prick who started this whole thing.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.

  “Bullshit!” The douchebag says.

  “You threw the first punch motherfucker.” I try to step closer to him, but Conners has a firm grip on me. “Come at me again, bro! Are you still hungry for my fist?”

  “Not worth it man, not worth it.” He says into my ear.

  “Yeah, let your bitch tell you to chill out, listen to him, he knows what he’s saying.”

  “You guys all need to vacate the premises, or I will be calling the cops.” The guy, who I assume is a security guard for the establishment pins me with a glare, “and I don’t think that would look good for either of you two.”

  “We’re out of here, we’re sorry for all this.” Conners apologizes pulling me away.

  “You’re sorry, I’m not.” I sneer.

  “Ladies, it’s been grand, but we’re out of here.” He says to our table mates as we turn to leave.

  “I like cannot believe all that just happened.” Grace says.

  “Tell me about it, I just posted it on Facebook! I’ve got so many likes already, this baby is going to go viral.”

  Well, fuck!

  Chapter 4

  Grant

  I have Monday off and I’m thankful for the reprieve. After the fight at the State Bar on Sunday night, I need a full day of rest, especially since half of my face is swollen. A combination of tackles from the game and the fight at the bar, has my whole body aching.

  I showered in the morning and lay in bed playing video games for half of the day until my phone rings.

  “I need you to come in today,” Coach tells me as soon as I answer.

  “Sir, it’s my day off.” I whine.

  “Are you questioning my request, Toolson?”

  “No, sir. Just making a statement, sir.”

  “Get your ass in here within the hour.” And he hangs up.

  This can’t be good.

  An hour later, and I’m walking into the staffing offices. The head coach and my secondary coach stands at the whiteboard. The team owner and another gentlemen are sitting on the couch staring at their respective phones. All of them look up when I knock on the open door.

  “Come in, have a seat.” The team owner tells me.

  “Good afternoon, coaches, sirs.” I say, remaining as respectable as I can.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” The suit that I have no clue who he is asks.

  “No, sir.” I shake my head.

  “Have you looked in the mirror, son?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Care to explain your side of the story? All we have seen is the cell phone footage that’s traveling along social media and the news outlets. We figure that it would only be fair to hear your side of the story.”

  Shit. The damn blonde from last night, she wasn’t kidding that she posted it.

  “Well sir, Conners and I went out after the game yesterday. We had a few drinks, had some wings and this kid just comes up to the table and starts a fight with us.”

  “And what was this fight about?” Coach asks keeping his tone even.

  “They accused us of paying off the refs in the final quarter.”

  “You realize that that kid was likely just blowing smoke up your asses to piss you off, right? To cause a reaction?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Who hit who first?”

  “Excuse me?” I look up at the owner.

  “Who threw the first punch?” he asks.

  “He did, sir.” I reply without hesitation.

  The room is silent for a few minutes before Coach says anything more. He crosses his hands in front of him, as the team owner stands and stands beside him staring at me with his arms crossed.

  “This is what we’re going to do. You need to clean up your image. You’re getting DUI’s, drinking too much, and getting into bar fights. This all needs to change and it needs to change fast. We need to turn around some of the press on you. It doesn’t look good for the team or you.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” I reply, knowing that’s what they want to hear.

  “Don’t be sorry, change your ways. Improve the situation.” Coach says.

  “I’ve set you up with some volunteer work as well as a charity dinner. I will have my assistant also line up some appearances with Seattle Children, I believe Montgomery has a connection there. These are requirements, they are not optional.” The team owner states standing up.

  “Actually, with all due respect sir, we don’t do PR stints there.” Coach corrects him.

  “And why not?” the owner looks to him with a grimace.

  “It’s a request that we abide by, it’s just not something that we do.”

  I sit there, pissed off at the decision these men are giving me. But knowing that as a public figure, there are obligations, and this will become one of them.

  “We’ll come up with something else. Are these instructions clear?” Coach asks with his arms crossed over his wide chest.

  “Yes, sir.” I nod.

  “I’ll be sending over a professional to your place, she will be coaching you on your etiquette and how to professionally present yourself moving forward. You will go where and when we tell you. Do you understand?” Coach asks.

  “Yes, sir.” I reply.

  “We think you have real talent, kid. But you’re a cocky bastard and that needs to be squashed. Your better known for fucking up, rather than portraying yourself as a responsible person. The DUI last week and the fight last night was too close to one another to just be overlooked. Do you have anything further that you would like to add?” Coach asks.

  “No sir, I will abide by these new directions and will assure you that I won’t mess up.” I say holding my head high.

  “Very well. Head home and expect a visitor.”

  I stand up and shake hands with everyone in the room before exiting.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! I wasn’t expecting that! I have to have an image clean-up? This is not something that I signed up for. Sure, from time to time, I screw up and get into trouble, but no one has ever really said anything before now.

  “Oh, and Grant?” My secondary coach chimes in.

  I turn around, stuff my hands in my front pockets and wait for him to speak. />
  “Make sure that you follow by the rules moving forward. Benching you wouldn’t be in your best interest, you’re an excellent player.”

  “Yes, sir. I don’t want to let you down, any of you.” I nod at the group of men now standing around the desk.

  “You’re dismissed.”

  As I walk out to my car, I pull out my phone and search my contacts for my agent then place my phone to my ear.

  “Johnny, what happens when a pro gets a DUI?” I ask upon his answering.

  “Shit, what did you do? And when did this happen?” I can hear the annoyance in his tone.

  “It happened last week.”

  “Why didn’t you use the safe ride program?” he asks.

  I search my memory for any mention of this and can’t find a thing.

  “Um, because I didn’t know about it?”

  “Why are you asking me a question. This was all provided to you in your contract and during orientation. I’m pretty sure that it was part of your conduct training.”

  “Shit, I just want to play, why bore me with logistics?” I reach my truck and slide into the driver’s seat, dock my phone and start the engine.

  “Because Grant, those logistics keep you employed. The NFL launched the safe ride program, which basically is like your designated driver.”

  “I also got into a fight with an LA fan last night.” I reluctantly tell him.

  “Fuck man. What the hell. Were you dropped as a kid? Are you attention seeking or something? Have you spoken with your coaches?” he asks.

  “I’m just leaving the offices, got called in on my day off. They’re pissed.”

  “I can imagine, that’s two fucking screw ups in a short amount of time, you need to stay out of trouble and keep your shit together if you want to keep playing.”

  “They’re making me do some charity stuff. There’s someone coming over, probably from public relations with a list of shit for me.”

  “Call me when they get there. I need to know what we’re up against. I’ll comb through your contract again and make sure you’re up to date on details. And for fuck’s sake, don’t do anything else stupid!” He hangs up on me as I pull onto the freeway.

  Great, I have to fix my image. What’s that going to look like?

  Chapter 5

  Grant

  Day one of the new me, and I’m standing around a giant table stacked with food. I’m hungry, but I’m always hungry. This food in front of me just makes me want to eat more.

  I’m up bright and early in the warehouse of a food bank. There’s a group of people here and we’re all eagerly awaiting our instructions. Because there are a few different athletes here, the media is here waiting for their picture perfect opportunity to put out to the outlets that we’re here.

  I’m casually leaning against a pallet of boxes, sipping on my morning coffee, when the room’s atmosphere shifts, music comes out of nowhere, and things turn into slow motion.

  She’s tall, with bronze skin, blonde hair and light colored eyes. She has shiny lips and stark white teeth as she nods and smiles at people as she passes by them. Our eyes lock for a brief moment, and nothing about her changes as she shares a smile with me, before she turns and stops about ten feet away from me to lean back on a counter.

  The world continues back in normal fashion and everything is back to normal. No more slow motion and the music fades. But my eyes are still glued to the beautiful blonde.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the Seattle food bank, we thank you for your time today. Now, you will be put into pairs and this will be your partner for today. Once I have partnered you up, please take a few minutes to get acquainted with your partner. You will find the instructions on the tables. Your work today will assist us in creating meal bags for needy families in the tristate area.” His voice trails off and then he’s walking around partnering people randomly together.

  The man says something to the blonde and her gaze turns to me. I’ve never had a woman make me blush until now. I can feel my face heating from her gaze and next thing I know, she’s walking in my direction.

  “Hi, I’m Emily.” She holds out her hand and smiles brightly. Close-up, her eyes are a bright blue with a hint of green. Her lips are glossy with a pink hue and damn, she’s hot!

  “Hi, I’m Grant.” Her small hand fits into mine perfectly. Her skin is soft to the touch and I’m pretty much undressing her with my eyes like a pervert.

  “Looks like we’re going to be partners today.” She studies me, “you look familiar, have we met before?”

  The fact that she doesn’t immediately know who I am, kinda sparks my interest in her even more. The anonymity of being able to not have to live up to the expectations right away of someone, is different than how I’ve spent that last year of my life. Sure, my photo is up on banners and also on billboards around the city, but this incognito atmosphere is kind of nice today. There are a few baseball players here, so hopefully that pulls away any additional media attention from me. None of the photogs are calling any names, just quietly snapping away around the perimeter.

  I shake my head, “I think that if I would have met you, I would surely remember it. I don’t think that we’ve had the pleasure though.”

  “Charmer,” she grins.

  “So, what brings you here today?”

  “Charity work.”

  “Well, yeah. But do you do a lot of this stuff?” I ask.

  “Oh, well sometimes. My family is huge on philanthropy. I try to make sure I do a few things each month to appease my dad, otherwise he would tell me what I will do and I’m not about letting a man give me directions like that, even if he’s my father.”

  “Ah, so you’re an independent woman. I like that.” I nod with a smile.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  We work side by side all morning, stuffing food items into the bags as instructed. We box up some of the bags and pack up the pallet. While I volunteered to drive the forklift with the pallet, the organizer voluntold me to stand down despite my eagerness. Normally, I would keep asking until I got my way, but I don’t want to cause a scene and become known as difficult. That would not be a good report back to the coaches.

  At the end of our time at the food bank, I’m dying to get to know Emily better. Conversation with her has been easy, and thankfully not too deep. She knows I’m into sports and I know that she kind of follows politics, which is hot. She’s got a sarcastic personality that draws me in, makes me laugh, and makes me want more.

  “Well, it was a pleasure stuffing bags with you,” I say to her causing her to stop as we’re exiting the facility.

  She adjusts her shoulder bag strap and looks up at me with a beautiful smile.

  Man, I want her to smile like that at me all the time!

  “Same. I wasn’t sure if you were going to expect me to do all the work, or not. Last time, the last guy I was partnered with sat on his phone and took more selfies than your average teenage girl.”

  “I didn’t know that was an option.” I deadpan as she gives me another smile.

  “It was great meeting you, Grant.”

  “Same to you, Emily.” I hold out my hand to her. “Think maybe we can exchange numbers and maybe do this again sometime?”

  She tilts her head at my question and gives me the once over.

  With her lips curled up, “I’d like that, but I’m just not sure. I really don’t give my number out to many people,” she says nervously.

  I see two guys hanging out behind us, talking to one another, but also looking like they’re watching her. I step in closer to her, lower my head a little, so that only she can hear.

  “Do you know those guys? They seem to be lingering and staring at you.”

  She places her hand on my arm and kisses my cheek.

  “Thank you, they’re harmless guys.” Is all she replies as the turns and walks away from me giving me a great view of her ass in her tight jeans. The two guys don’t immediately follow her, and
when I look at them, one of them nods, then returns to talking with the other. I shake my head and make my way to my truck.

  I get in and see the two guys leaving.

  Not sure who they are, but they sure are strange.

  Chapter 6

  Emily

  Being the only daughter of the mayor is a difficult task. While I wish that I was any twenty-five year old, who had the freedom and liberties to do whatever normal twenty-five year old’s do, I don’t have that luxury.

  I have a detail.

  Two gentlemen that follow me around from a distance. No one that I’ve come into contact with are aware of them, and that’s how I like it, which lead people to think that I live a normal life. Although, I rarely get privacy, when I manage to, I have a little fun. I get a small glimpse of how life could be if I was someone else.

  Don’t get me wrong. I have a good life, a great life actually. But there’s something missing, and I’m not quite sure what that is. I’ve grown up knowing my parent’s tight circle of friends, and therefore their kids became my friends. I’ve never had the opportunity to really make my own friends.

  That’s why I took my time yesterday at the food bank. Enjoying the conversation of a very attractive, friendly, large man. Even in the presence of my detail. He was quite polite and talkative.

  “Em! Can you come downstairs please?” My father asks from somewhere in the house.

  With a roll of my eyes, I make my way down the stairs and find my father sitting in the library.

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  “I hear you were at the food bank yesterday.” he says with a smile. “I want to hear about it.”

  “Yeah, it was nice. I always enjoy going there, knowing that I’m helping in some small way.”

  “Good, good. I’m thrilled that you are passionate about giving. Did you make any new friends? I hear there were some athletes there.” He leans on his arm chair toward me.