by B. B. Hamel
I laughed, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe the conversation had taken a turn like this, but he was surprisingly funny and charming.
“It’s definitely not mine,” I said. “You guys are gross. I’d get athlete’s foot just breathing in there.”
“Yeah, probably,” he conceded. “Can’t argue that.”
I smiled and laughed at him, shaking my head. “You could at least pretend like you’re not gross.”
“What can I say? I’m a man and I sweat.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve experienced that.”
He laughed. “Now who’s the one being dirty? Here I was under the impression that you were pretending like I never made you come nice and hard.”
“You did get me pregnant, so I guess it’s hard to really pretend.”
He smirked and was about to say something, but then he stopped. He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket and then looked at me. “Fuck,” he said. “I have to take this.”
“Sure.”
He got up and disappeared around the corner. I stretched my legs and smiled to myself. I had to admit, I was surprised by how well this was going. I’d expected things to be awkward, but instead it was shockingly comfortable.
I was even flirting with him despite myself. It was hard not to when he stared at me with those liquid blue eyes, so intense and deep. He was just too damn handsome, and I couldn’t hate him for very long before he pulled me back in with some dirty comment or joke that made me smile despite myself.
After a couple minutes he came back to the table, and I could instantly tell that something was wrong.
“I’m sorry to do this,” he said, “but I have to go.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed.
“My tutor dimed me out,” he explained. “That was Coach. I’m in some trouble.”
“Oh,” I said. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
He laughed. “You didn’t. This was my idea.”
“Well, I’m sorry anyway.”
“Look, stay here. Tell Kelly I said you can have anything you want and to put it on my tab.”
“I can’t do that.”
“No, seriously. The university pays for it anyway, and I promised you a meal. Please, stay and eat. Hell, invite a friend if you want.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, Gibs.”
He smirked at me then. “You’re welcome. See you later.”
He turned and quickly left, disappearing back into the crowd.
I had to admit, I was a little frustrated. Things had been going so well, and it sucked that he had to leave so abruptly. I wasn’t going to stay and eat on his dime, even though the idea of free food was pretty appealing.
Still, he risked getting in trouble for me. That was a pretty good sign. Though it was a sign of what, I couldn’t be sure.
Maybe I’d figure that one out soon.
7
Gibson
I didn’t normally start my Saturday morning out with wind sprints, but for some reason I didn’t mind it today. My legs pumped as I sprinted down the field, hit the ten-yard line, touched it, and then sprinted back. I did that over and over, getting farther and farther out until finally I hit the fifty-yard line and ran all the way back.
I was breathing heavily as I got back into the end zone.
“Two minutes. Then you do it again,” Coach said.
I nodded but said nothing. I knew he was punishing me for skipping my tutoring session, and I couldn’t really blame him. I had it pretty easy at MD, and the tutor helped keep me on track when I’d otherwise get derailed from all the practice I had to do. Coach took academics seriously, and I could tell he was pretty pissed off and disappointed in me.
I’d never skipped a tutoring session before. I knew that if I wanted to go far with this team, I couldn’t start pushing back against the rules, as much as they annoyed me. I wasn’t the type of guy to play by the rules normally, but I was smart enough to know that if I wanted to achieve my greater goals, I needed to play the game.
As the next set of sprints started, I couldn’t stop thinking about Avery. I kept seeing her face in my mind, the way she glared at me when I made jokes and the way she smiled reluctantly when she finally gave in to me. I couldn’t stop picturing her, even when I was exhausted, pushed to the limits.
After that set I got a longer break, and then I ran another rep. The sun was beating down on us and the morning session was getting close to an end. Fortunately, I didn’t have class today, which meant I got a little break in the afternoon before doing throwing drills for a couple of hours later on.
We were one week away from our opening game of the season. It was against some second-tier school, Blue Mountain State. We’d never lost to them in the years our schools had played, but they’d been getting better and better in recent years. I knew I couldn’t just blow it off.
Still, my mind was elsewhere as practice finally came to an end. I was dripping with sweat and breathing heavily as I hit the showers. I cleaned myself off and got changed before heading back toward the apartment.
I wasn’t in a talkative mood as I started back through campus. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but Avery and what I planned on doing for her.
“Gibson, man, wait up.” Hynes caught up with me. “What’s your deal?”
“Sorry, Hynes. Just not in the mood today.”
“I saw Coach riding your ass,” he said. “You piss him off?”
“I skipped tutoring yesterday.”
He laughed, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I don’t tell you everything.”
“Maybe not, but damn, man, what were you thinking?”
“I wanted to see Avery.”
“And your baby.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You’re not telling people that, right?”
“Not my place to tell.” He shrugged. “You better be careful, though. You know how Coach can be when he’s in a bad mood.”
“I’ll win for him. That’s all he cares about in the end.”
“True, but don’t push it. This is your year, man.”
“It’s my year whether I go to tutoring or not.”
Hynes just laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say, man. See you later.”
I nodded as he took off, heading in the opposite direction.
Hynes was right, as much as I hated to admit it. This was my year, and it was my career hanging in my balance. It was going to be up to me whether I made it to the big show or blew it.
Still, I had other worries that needed to be dealt with. Maybe if I could get this money thing worked out, then I could concentrate more on football.
I took out my phone, making the decision. I scrolled through and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you today,” he said when he picked up the phone.
“Roy,” I said.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need your help.”
There was a short pause and then he started laughing. “I thought mister big shot college football star didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I just need a number.”
“And why the fuck would I give it to you?”
“Maybe because your son is asking for something and you don’t want to be a piece of shit.”
“I don’t know, Gibson. I’m used to being a piece of shit.”
“I just need Johnny Long’s number.”
He paused. “What do you need with Johnny?”
“That’s between him and me. You still got it?”
“I still got it. He’s an old friend, you know.”
“Bookies aren’t friends with their clients, Roy. Can you give it to me?”
“All right then.” He read me the number, which I quickly memorized. “How about you come and see your mom sometime?”
“Is she sober?”
“The fuck does that matter?
She’s your fucking mother.”
“Bye, Roy,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I felt gross after calling him, but I had needed that number and he was the only one who knew it. Johnny Long was a bookie for the Italian mafia, and I was hoping he could help me.
I dialed the number and sat down on a bench. It rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Finally, a machine answered and beeped.
“Johnny, this is Gibson Evans. My dad gave me your number. I need some help. Call me back if you can.” I rattled off my number and then hung up the phone.
This was such a bad idea. I hated that my father knew that I wanted Johnny’s number, and who knew what he was thinking about that. Maybe he had already sold the story to some bullshit gossip blog. Wouldn’t be the first time that drunk fuck sold some crappy story about me to some second-rate blogger.
But that was the risk I ran by doing all of this. If I could think of any other way to make money and make it fast, I’d do it, but I couldn’t. It was a risk getting involved with the mafia, but I couldn’t let myself become just another deadbeat dad.
After a minute or two, I dialed Avery’s number. It rang twice before she answered.
“Hello?”
“How was dinner last night?” I asked her.
“Better after you left,” she said.
I smiled. “Good. I paid dearly for skipping tutoring.”
“Sorry to hear it. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“It’s okay. I think it was worth it.”
“Really? Seems like it wasn’t worth it at all.”
“Listen, since we got interrupted last night, how about you come out with me tonight?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know.”
“There’s a football party just off campus on Maple Street.”
“That’s right around the corner from me.”
“Perfect. So you don’t have an excuse.”
“I’m bringing a friend,” she said.
I laughed. “Okay, sure. Party gets going at ten. I’ll text you the address.”
“Fine. Remember, I can’t drink.”
“I won’t forget again.”
“Good. Just making sure you’re not going to try to feed me shots.”
“I’d never dream of it. Plus, I don’t think I need to get you drunk if I want to taste that little pussy again.”
“Bye, Gibson.”
I smirked as she hung up the phone.
Campus was beautiful, green, and comfortable as I stretched my legs out. There weren’t many people around since it was Saturday and most people didn’t have any reason to be wandering around campus. It felt good to sit there, nobody bothering me, nobody staring at me.
I had to admit, MD had a really gorgeous campus. The area around MD wasn’t great, since its economy had gone downhill years earlier when local factories started shutting down. They called it the Rust Belt, probably because there were just a bunch of rusting factories dotting the landscape. But campus itself was a gorgeous little oasis, and I was thankful every day that I got to experience it.
My hometown was nothing like MD. My hometown was worse than the area around MD, actually. I came from a poor neighborhood where the idea of working a normal job all day long seemed absurd. People were more interested in making moonshine than money.
But I’d gotten out of that. I’d worked my ass off and gotten away. I left that all behind when I stepped off the bus three years ago. Or so I had thought up until I spoke with my father again.
My phone rang again. It was a number I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Gibson Evans,” the man said. “Do you know who this is?”
I had a guess. “Johnny.”
“How are you, kid?”
“I’m okay. You?”
“Good. I see your old man all the time still. We all root for you down here, you know.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“But listen, what can I do for you? It’s a little unusual for me, you know, getting a call from you.”
“I know that. I actually need some help.”
There was a pause. “What kind of help?”
“I need a loan.”
“I’m a bookie, kid. I don’t do loans.”
“I know that. But you work for an organization, right?”
“I do.”
“And they do loans.”
“Yeah. Some of them do.”
“I was hoping you could point me in the direction of someone who does loans. Someone local. Maybe someone in Chicago.”
“We have people there.” He paused again. “Look, kid, I don’t know if I should be doing this. You’d be better off going to a bank, you know? I shouldn’t say that, but it’s the truth.”
“If I could go to a bank, I would, but I need money fast and I don’t have any other options. I’m pretty limited.”
“Okay, kid,” he said. “I’ll look around and get back to you. Sit tight.”
“Thanks, Johnny.”
“Don’t thank me, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He hung up the phone.
I sighed and slipped my cell back into my pocket. That was what I had wanted, and he’d promised to help, but it didn’t feel good. In fact, it felt pretty fucked up. Even the mobster was trying to warn me away from getting involved with the fucking mob.
But what other choice did I have? I needed money to help Avery, and I needed it fast. I could pay them back when I got into the NFL. It wouldn’t be too long.
They’d give me the money. They had to. As far as I could tell, everyone was dying to get something from me.
The mob was going to love the chance to get me in their debt.
I stood up, my legs sore from the morning session. Campus didn’t look so serene or beautiful anymore. I started walking back to my apartment.
8
Avery
I stood outside the house, the booming bass music spilling out from the half-open windows, and felt nervous.
The last house party I was at, I ended up having sex with Gibson in his truck and getting pregnant. All I needed to do was not get pregnant again, and it would be a much more successful night all right. But I was still nervous for some stupid reason.
“We don’t have to go in,” Harper said.
“I know,” I said. “I want to, though.”
“Sure you do. I’m just saying, we can turn around and leave.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Come on. Let’s go.”
She smiled at me as we headed up the front steps. I knocked on the door and some drunk kid in a polo shirt answered. He just cheered as we walked into the mayhem that was the party.
It was only ten thirty and the place was already raging. There had to be at least fifty people crammed into that space. Up ahead in the kitchen was a keg manned by a large guy in a football jersey. People were milling about in small groups, and people were even coming up and down the steps. The house itself looked too nice to be owned by a college student, so I guessed it was another alumni thing.
“Do you see him?” I asked Harper.
She shook her head. “Come on. Let’s check out back.”
I followed her through the crowd. I didn’t recognize a single person there, but all the girls looked familiar. They were basically all thin, blond, and dressed like they were going to some upscale nightclub. I felt out of place, but I’d come too far to turn back.
Harper pushed through the back door. Outside, the night was cool. Smokers stood in small groups, and in the very center of the backyard, a shirtless guy whooped and shouted as another shirtless guy drank the beer bong he held up proudly.
I looked at Harper. “Unless that’s him taking a beer bong, I don’t think he’s out here.”
She laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe he gained some weight.”
I shook my head, smiling. We quickly headed back inside before the beer bonging idiots decided to come after us.
As we walked back i
nside, I spotted him. Just off the kitchen was a smaller room. Gibson was sitting on a couch, surrounded by people. I stood in the doorway, Harper just behind me, and he sat up when he spotted me.
“Avery,” he called out, standing. “There you are.”
He walked away from the group, and a few of the girls shot me dirty looks.
“Hey, Gibson,” I said. “Cool party.”
“Yeah, real cool.” He smirked at me. “Better now that you’re here.” He looked at Harper. “And you’re the friend, right?”
“Harper,” she said.
“We met before, at the party.”
“Right. The party where you got Avery pregnant.”
There was a short silence before he burst out laughing. I couldn’t believe she had said that. I wanted to kill her, but Gibson seemed to find it funny.
“Yeah, that party,” he said, grinning. “Do you guys want anything?”
“No, thanks,” I said.
“I’ll have a beer,” Harper said.
“Sure.” Gibson went into the kitchen and I glared at Harper.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What? I couldn’t help myself.”
I wanted to say something else, but Gibson returned a second later with a drink for Harper.
“I’m glad you came,” he said to me. “I thought you’d ditch me.”
“Harper made me come,” I said.
“Well then, thanks, Harper.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. “Oh shit. Is that flip cup?” In the other room, a group of people was gathering around a table. “I’m the fucking bomb at flip cup. You guys mind?”
“Go ahead,” I said, laughing.
She grinned and then went to join the group, hopping in on one team.
“She’s nice,” Gibson said to me.
“She’s easy to get along with.”
“Seems to be. Look at her blending into that crowd.”
“Harper is like that. Never had trouble making friends.”
“What about you?” he asked, standing close to me. “Do you have trouble making friends?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
“Me too.”