by Claire Adams
“It is. I learned my lesson the hard way. I promise, I’m beyond all that. Thank you for giving me the chance to prove myself.”
We finished our meals, and I promised to see him tomorrow for the first practice.
Walking into the locker room on the first day was a lot like walking into a new school. Thankfully, my time in the foster care system had given me plenty of practice with that. It was always a little tense, and I knew I was replacing two QBs that were pissed because I was taking their jobs. If I could prove myself to be better than them, I knew I would hold the position as starting quarterback, even when they healed up and got cleared to play.
This situation was a little different, considering I had played against this team and the first-string quarterback and won. I could admit I hadn’t been very gracious about it, and there had been some things said face to face and on social media.
“Ready to walk into the lion’s den?” Coach Summers asked, meeting me in front of the locker rooms.
I grinned. “No time like the present. I promise to be humble.”
He guffawed.
“Okay, humbler than I have been. Baby steps.”
He pulled open the door, and it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees. It was going to be a tough crowd.
“Guys, welcome your new quarterback. Let’s not let this one get broken,” he announced.
“Hey, guys. Look, I want to clear the air. I can be a real ass sometimes, and I’m sorry about that. On a good note, I’m a great team player. I’m not an ass to my teammates.”
There were a lot of grunts, groans, and F-bombs directed at me, and I wasn’t surprised.
“Look, he’s your quarterback. I don’t care if you hate his guts off the field, but on the field, you better protect him. Got it?” Coach said, in his authoritative, no bullshit voice.
The response was less than lukewarm, but honestly, I couldn’t expect much more. I would just have to prove myself. That was the only way I was going to win these guys over. Play hard and keep my mouth shut. I could do that.
Coach left and headed for his office, so I was forced to deal with the guys on my own. I wasn’t too worried. This was a situation I had seen plenty of times in the past. Usually, I was on the other side of the coin. I was the guy in the locker room, already established on the team and giving the newbie a cold welcome.
“Alright, I know I’ve been a real dick to a few of you, but let’s put that aside and play ball together, okay?” I said, hoping I sounded enthusiastic.
“Well, don’t get comfortable. These ribs will heal soon enough, and I’ll be taking my place back,” the benched quarterback growled.
I shrugged a shoulder. “That’s fine. In the meantime, wouldn’t it be great if this team was able to make it to the playoffs so you have a chance to play?”
He grumbled something under his breath. I stared down the remaining few who chose to try and intimidate me with evil looks before finding my locker and stripping out of my clothes. I was nervous as hell, but I wouldn’t let them know. Never show any fear. That was a lesson I’d learned as a kid, and it still served me well today.
I changed and headed straight for the field. The atmosphere in the locker room was a bit too tense for me. I was going to step on some toes, but I didn’t give a shit. This was my chance, and I was going to take it. Broken rib guy could keep his sorry ass on the bench. He sucked. He only got a shot at first-string because the real QB was injured. He didn’t have a chance of making it in the NFL. I knew that, and I had a feeling he knew that, which was why he was feeling so threatened.
“You’ll be alright,” a voice from behind me said.
I turned around to see an unfamiliar face headed for the bench. He was a small guy, and I pegged him for either a running back or kicker.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, I’m Luke Dawson. They weren’t exactly friendly when I came on board a few weeks back. We can be the newbies together. I’m a running back, or at least that’s what I thought I was. I haven’t exactly got any playing time in yet.”
I nodded my head in understanding. So many college guys thought they struck gold when they got drafted. What they didn’t realize was that making first string in the NFL was tough. They could very well be on the team and never play a game.
“Milo Pastek. Good to meet you, and really happy to know there’s at least one friendly face on the team,” I said with a grin.
“Want to toss a ball a bit before the rest of then get out here? It’d be great to feel like a real player.”
I looked at the coaches huddled together down the field.
“Sure, we can do that. It doesn’t look like they’re ready for us anyway.”
It felt good to relax a little and enjoy something I hadn’t been able to do in a long while.
“You boys ready to get started?” Coach Summers yelled to everyone.
The relaxing part of practice was long gone. We’d been put through a series of grueling drills, and I was dripping sweat. I had to get used to the heat of Miami again. It had been a while since I had to train in the heat and humidity since I’d been up north for the past several years. Up there, hot meant eighty degrees. I’d kill for that weather right now.
“Are we going to be game ready on Monday?” Coach Summers yelled.
“Yes, sir!” the team shouted back.
Guys began shuffling off the field, but Coach Summers asked me to stay back.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Are you ready?”
“I think so.”
He shook his head.
“I asked if you’re ready.”
“Yes. I can do this. I’m ready. I’ll keep studying the plays. I won’t let you down.”
“Having only two practices makes me nervous. I don’t expect anything spectacular, but I need you to prove to these guys and the owners of the team that I made the right choice in picking you up. Don’t let me down, Pastek,” he said and walked off the field.
“No pressure,” I mumbled under my breath.
By Monday afternoon, I was all nerves. I had to go for a slow run to help calm down and get my head straight. By the time I made it to the locker room, I was in a good place. I couldn’t say the same for the rest of the team.
Coach gave a hell of a pep talk and sent us out of the locker room. I felt that familiar stirring of adrenaline as I walked towards the sidelines. The crowds were screaming and cheering. Soon, I hoped they would be screaming my name.
The game didn’t go as well as I had hoped. I hadn’t sucked, but holy shit our defense was awful. Now I knew why the team was 0-3 for the season. It didn’t matter how many points we got on the board; the damn defense couldn’t make a stop. I was disheartened but had full confidence in Coach Summers. He would start kicking some ass and whip the defense into shape.
“Milo! Milo!” I heard my name being shouted.
I turned to see a very attractive female reporter on the sidelines, and was very surprised that she apparently wanted me.
“Hi,” I said, walking over to where the blond woman was holding out a microphone.
“Milo Pastek, how’s it feel to be back in Miami after all these years?”
I immediately put on my best public persona, one that had managed to charm fans and sportscasters for years. A little flirting with the ladies was one way to ensure the interview went my way.
“It’s great. I missed it and couldn’t be happier to be back. I especially missed all the beautiful woman down here.”
The woman pretended to be embarrassed, but I knew the dance all too well. “This was your first game as starting quarterback. Are you disappointed with the performance of your defensive line?”
It was a loaded question, and although I was very disappointed, I could never publicly say that. “Not at all. Those guys played their butts off. We’re all getting used to each other. I have full confidence in Coach Summers and know he’ll pull us all together in no time.”
The woman nodded h
er head, and before she could ask her next question, a little girl went streaking by yelling, “Papa, Papa.”
My attention faltered for a brief moment, but the reporter pulled me right back in.
“Is this your last year in the game?”
“What? Hell no! I’m just getting started!” I shot back, only a little perturbed I would even be asked the question.
She batted her eyelashes, “Will you be starting in the game next Sunday?” she asked.
“I hope so, but that’s a question for the coach. My job is to be ready. I feel like I am just getting started. This team only had two practices together before this game,” I gave her my best charming smile, “and look how well we did. Imagine how awesome we’ll be after a couple of weeks together.”
The reporter started to say something else, but I politely excused myself. I looked back to see the coach holding the little girl while talking to a reporter. That was new. I didn’t even think to ask the man if he’d remarried. If so, good for him. I truly respected Coach Summers and wanted the best for him.
Chapter 5
Liza
I had been dreading this night for two weeks. Ever since my dad told me about his plan to recruit Milo Pastek to his team. Initially, I wondered if I could somehow change his mind, and maybe talk him out of it. As if. Ever since Dad coached him in college, the two had kept in touch. When the opportunity arose, my dad jumped at the chance to get Milo on his team.
I had been less than thrilled but knew it made my dad happy. I had thought I’d never have to see the man again. I mean, I caught a glimpse of him on television on occasion, and I had seen him at a couple of games, but that was from afar. This was going to be different.
“Are you ready to go, sweetie?” I asked Ainsley, who clearly wasn’t. She was sitting on the couch in our apartment with one shoe on, her focus on the iPad in her hands.
“Ainsley, get your shoes on, please. We don’t want to miss Grandpa’s first game.”
“It’s not his first game, Mama,” she pointed out.
I rolled my eyes. “I meant his first game with his new quarterback. Remember, Papa told us all about it. This is a big deal. We need to be there to support him.”
She heaved the heavy sigh that only a four-year-old could pull off. “We go to his games all the time.”
I laughed. In the past, we had typically gone to all of his games, but not this season. Now that Ainsley was in pre-school, I couldn’t justify dragging her all across the country on the weekends. This was only the second home game, and I wasn’t going to miss it, even if it was a Monday night.
“Come on; you can bring your tablet and play with it when you get bored.”
“Am I going to get to have snacks? I want a hotdog.”
“You just ate dinner an hour ago,” I reminded her.
“But I’m hungry,” she whined.
“Yes, you can have a hotdog, but no soda. It’s too late,” I told her.
She grumbled a little and I braced myself for that stubborn streak she had that I was certain came from that red hair she had. I often told my dad I was going to dye it. When she was three, I had been tempted to try anything. She was a strong-willed child. My Dad said that was all me, but I couldn’t possibly have been as bad as my own, sweet child.
Down on the field, Ainsley had bolted away from me and run straight for Papa. I would have to have yet another talk with her about running away from me in big crowds. Thankfully, most of the people who worked with the team looked out for her.
“Good to see you, Liza,” one of the coaches greeted me.
“You too. Tonight looked good. A huge improvement,” I complimented.
The guy laughed. “Will you please do your best to convince Coach Summers of that? I can already feel the ass-chewing headed our way.”
I laughed and made my way to where my dad was standing and holding Ainsley. She had become a fixture during these after-game interviews. I was convinced he encouraged her to cling to him so he would have an excuse not to talk to the reporters. He hated the field interviews and preferred to wait until the press conference after the game when he’d had time to get his thoughts together.
“Sorry, Dad! I’ll get her,” I called out, getting his attention.
He looked at me and signaled it was okay. I chose to stay far away from the spotlight and hovered on the outside edge of the crowd surrounding the players coming off the field. A familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned towards the man I had been so afraid to see.
Oh. My. God.
There he was. I couldn’t believe he was standing just twenty feet away from me. I hadn’t seen him since that day in his room. Well, really seen him, like this close and in person. It was very different than through the safety of the television. He had essentially disappeared from my life after that day. I could have forgotten about him had I not seen that infamous red hair that was identical to his every damn day of my life. His daughter had been born with red hair. Over the years, it had lightened up and was now more of that light strawberry blond color that his hair tended to be.
I casually listened as he openly flirted with the reporter. My Dad was going to kick his ass. He had a rule about that kind of behavior when one of his players was in uniform. I couldn’t wait until he reviewed the post-game interviews, and he always did. He always checked to see what his players were saying.
I turned my attention back to my dad and saw that the initial mob of reporters had thinned out. I walked closer to him but made sure I stayed away from the cameras.
“How’s my little pumpkin?” my dad was muttering, hugging Ainsley close.
It wasn’t long before another reporter was shoving a microphone in his face, firing questions at him.
“I can take her,” I whispered.
“No, no. She likes to be on camera, don’t you sweetie?”
“Dad,” I said, in a warning voice. I didn’t like my daughter to be quite so front and center. She was already a bit of a celebrity around Florida. It made me a little uncomfortable to have so many people looking at her. Truthfully, I worried Milo would see her and figure out my secret.
“She’s fine. You don’t mind, do you?” he said to the reporter holding a cellphone up to record with.
The reporter was getting frustrated, but my dad didn’t care. The same reporter that was vying for his attention had given a horrible broadcast about my father’s ineptitude as a coach at the beginning of the season. This was Dad’s way of paying the man back.
Another reporter pushed his way in. This one was going to get the story.
“Coach Summer, can you tell us why you chose Milo Pastek for quarterback? His stats are not as impressive as a lot of the other quarterbacks you could have chosen. Why him?”
My dad shook his head in disgust. “It’s not about stats. It’s about heart. It’s about a willingness to play hard, get beaten down and get right back up again. I don’t need an over-inflated guy on my field who has great stats but a bad attitude. This team needs a morale boost. We’re all relatively new, and we need to work together. Milo’s the man who is going to help us make that happen.”
“Do you say that because you’ve coached him in the past? Is that what influenced your decision?”
My dad chuckled. I knew that laugh. It was a laugh of incredulity. “Well, yes it influenced my decision. I know him. I know what he’s capable of and I know he is willing to be coached. Unfortunately, there are too many players in this game who are convinced it’s all about making millions and getting their name on a pair of shoes.”
I bit back a laugh at his subtle dig at his laid-up quarterback.
“Coach,” the reporter started again.
He held up a hand. “That’s all the time I have. I need to get in the locker room. As you probably know, we have a lot to talk about.”
With that, my dad extricated himself from the throng of reporters hoping for the chance to nitpick his every decision in the game. It was the same thing every week.
“That was a good game,” I said, as I walked beside him off the field.
“It was better than the last, but we have a long way to go,” he sighed.
“You’ll do it. What’d you think of your quarterback?” I asked, secretly hoping he’d fire Milo and send him packing away from me and the daughter he didn’t know he had.
He shook his head. “I was pleasantly surprised. I wished we could have done better, but I think Milo will be good for the team. It’s the defense that I am worried about right now.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad. Hopefully, he’ll work out,” I lied. I wasn’t hoping for that at all.
I knew my secret was about to be uncovered. If my dad managed to put two and two together or if Milo happened to see my daughter, I would have a lot of explaining to do. There weren’t a lot of redheaded men in my life five years ago. My dad was a smart man. Milo, I wasn’t so sure about, but I couldn’t risk him figuring it out.
My dad stopped walking within a few feet of Milo. He started to shake his head, and I knew he heard Milo openly flirting with another female reporter. I grinned. Milo is going to get in trouble, I chanted inside my head.
“I better take her so you can get in there and give those boys a good, stern lecture,” I said, reaching out to grab my four-year-old daughter. “Ainsley, tell Papa goodnight. It is way past your bedtime.”
I watched as he kissed her on the forehead and she threw her arms around his neck squeezing tight. “Bye, Papa.”
“I’ll be over in the morning after I drop Ainsley off. We’ll go over the menu for Thursday so I know what I need to pick up from the store.”
When he didn’t immediately answer me, I looked up to see what had gotten his attention. He was staring at Milo. The new QB hadn’t changed a bit, apparently. There was currently a flock of females fawning all over him.
“I hope I didn’t make a mistake with that one. I will not have that from one of my players when he’s in uniform,” he grumbled.
I stared at the young women clinging to him as if he were the only lifeboat in the ocean. It was disgusting. He was all sweaty and gross, and they were still pawing all over him.