Working 2 Hard_An MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  Glancing around, I could see the other adult faces now. Who was thinking about their relationship or job? There was someone, staring off into space wondering if that promotion was coming. There was someone else probably thinking about a sick relative or all the housework they had to do when they got home.

  I was thinking about what minimum wage hell I’d be trapped in for the next five years. Dropping out of the internship would be bad enough. I had only just gotten into my groove there. No one would remember me if I left. As for college, I had a scholarship and there was no way I’d keep it if I left for a year much less however long it was going to take to save the house.

  All I needed was one more year in college and then I could get a good job. Then I could just slice off a piece of my salary to help save the house. But mom would never go for that, not now. I knew her tone. She had a plan and needed the family to pull together and stick to it.

  Of course, there was my brothers and sisters to think about too. They were mostly too young to work. Angelica taught music lessons after school, but she didn’t make much money. It would probably be at least a year before she could get a real job and really help out. Then where would I be? Probably stuck managing a Starbucks somewhere, wondering what my life could’ve been like. God! This sucks!

  Oops! Sorry God. Guess I should be asking you for help. I’m in a church after all, but I’m just not feeling it today. It’s probably self-centered of me to only think of myself in this crisis situation, but I just needed one more year! Just one!

  The Communion line started, and I got up with everyone else. The other adults were doing the 1000 yard stare like me, no doubt thinking about their lives and their problems. I couldn’t help but wish I had a husband to take care of this: someone successful with a good job that could just help out with money for a while.

  Michael fit the bill. He was my latest failed relationship. He wore a suit to work and drove a BMW. Michael was polite and, I thought, family oriented. Guess I can’t really say either way. Never got that far with Michael, just a few lackluster dates and his work email.

  I should’ve known that relationship was going nowhere. We never seemed to connect on a social level. I would talk, he would talk, but the talking might as well have been air escaping. Neither one of us seemed to listen to what the other was saying. Michael was into politics, sports and watching Netflix. I was into family, computers and my faith. I also wanted to be married, but that was an awkward subject to bring up on a date with a guy you barely knew. Something about us just didn’t click, but I guess we were both too polite to say it to each other. In the end, he stopped responding to my emails and texts and that was fine.

  Before that was Kyle. Kyle was trouble. At first, he seemed like a lot of fun. I guess technically in a way, he was fun. He bought me flowers, took me to clubs, bars, shows--- Sometimes we’d get a little drunk and go walking by the river. We’d make out on a random park bench or something. PDA was not a negative with him.

  But it turned out, it was all about the sex. The clubs, bars and shows were just a means to an end, getting into my panties. At first I thought the sex was hot, passionate and fun, but then I came to realize it was something else. The final straw was when I caught him cheating. He texted me when he meant to text another woman. I got the impression she wasn’t the only one he had lined up.

  How do these horn dogs find the time to juggle so many pseudo relationships? If they put as much effort into getting to know someone as they did into getting laid---But hey, that’s college guys, right? They think with the little head and not the big one. When the truth came out it was humiliating. I had told everyone about Kyle. I had told him I loved him. I had swooned over him, waited for him and longed for him when we were apart.

  All that time, he was just using me for sex. I should’ve known a few months in that he was bad news when he couldn’t remember the names of any of my family members, even the ones he had met. I had definitely told him those names, but he wasn’t listening. He just pretended to listen because that’s what he was expected to do. Thank God we had used protection. No telling what would’ve happened if he had gotten me pregnant and who knows what STD’s he’ll one day pass on to some unsuspecting girl.

  “Body of Christ,” muttered the priest, breaking my train of thought and putting the thin flavorless wafer on my tongue.

  A priest could never help you with relationships. How could they? You needed to be in one to really understand all the nuances. What experience could he possibly draw from? My mother, however, she would tell me to talk to a priest if she knew all my issues with men. Either that or that I should just find a “nice Catholic boy” to marry.

  I really did want marriage, but I also wanted a career. Sure, kids would be great, but I didn’t want to end up like my parents were now. Their marriage was strong, but very traditional, and we were poor. I was lucky to get a scholarship and go to college, the rest of my siblings--- Who knows?

  I took a sip of the wine, crossed myself and went back to the pew. We eventually went back to the familiar rhythm of singing, praying, kneeling, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was lost in thought, torn between helping my family and realizing my dreams. Maybe there was still time. Maybe there was another way.

  Maybe I could ditch the internship and get a part time job? Would that be enough? I could talk to the college. Maybe I could go to class part time and work full time. Were there enough hours in the day to be a full-time student and work full time? Geez, when would I do the homework or study? Maybe if I got a job as a security guard. All they do is sit around. I could study or sleep. I’d only have to do it for a year or maybe two if I went part time to class.

  There was an option of online classes. Would my scholarship support that? Could I even get a job that would pay the mortgage and the bills? I could if I finished college in a year. Dammit, I need more time!

  We filed out of church after mass. I put on a brave face when I said goodbye to the priest. I got in my car after I told my mother I’d meet them at the house for Sunday dinner. But, then I drove to an empty parking lot, parked the car and just cried. I punched the steering wheel and screamed. My life was unraveling and I needed a new plan. I begged God in that moment to show me a way out and help me get through this awful time.

  I looked around the parking lot. There was nothing but silence and empty spaces. I felt utterly alone.

  Chapter 2 - Mason

  Here’s the thing: I know how to play football and I’m pretty decent at it. But when I was a kid, my dad never went to any of my high school games. Something about that really annoyed me. I mean, it wasn’t like he was abusive or a drug addict or anything like that. In fact, my parents are pretty rich. My dad has worked for three Congressmen and a Senator, but he never has time for me.

  That lack of support has undermined my confidence for as long as I can remember. I mean, I try to get him to come to games. Once, I even had the tickets delivered to him. He said there was a “chance” he could make it. I even begged the referees to delay the start of the game for ten minutes.

  But no dice, he never showed up.

  Now here I am a freshman in college with a huge opportunity. The backup quarterback is out for the rest of the season with a collarbone injury. Highwater College doesn’t have a very deep bench and I was the top quarterback in my high school league. It was a decent league, mind you, but still it was only high school.

  This was a college try out for backup quarterback and there were upperclassmen vying for the position. There was no way I was going to win this, but my twin brother Logan insisted that I try. Fine Logan. I’ll just make an ass of myself and then we’ll see who was right!

  “Okay, let’s line up!” shouted the head coach.

  Head coach Randall went through the list of candidates. There were only five of us. He gave us each a ball.

  “Fellas, I want to see how well you throw for distance,” he explained. “We’re standing on the goal line. Let me see you reach the other goal l
ine,”

  “Any place in particular, coach?” asked William, the only senior at the try out.

  The coach looked around. I guess he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  “Uh, sure. See that trashcan just past the endzone?” he gestures. “Get close to that.”

  William hurled it. He got to the goal line and then the ball bounced towards the trashcan. The other guys threw too. There balls bounced around the endzone. I was having second thoughts.

  “C’mon, Cooper,” the coach rushed me. “Shit or get off the pot.”

  I threw the ball. The assistant coach Daniels missed where it landed and started looking all around the endzone.

  “Where did it land, Daniels? You’re supposed to be watching!” shouted coach Randal.

  “Uh, coach,” said William in astonishment. “Tell him to check the trashcan.”

  Daniels checked it and much to his amazement, found my ball.

  “Did you aim for that?” the coach said with such intensity, I thought I did something wrong.

  “Did you not want me to hit it? I thought you did,” I said nervously pulling my arms behind my back.

  “Here,” he said, handing me another ball. “Do it again.”

  I threw the ball. It hit the bottom of the trashcan and bounced out.

  “Oh, sorry, coach,” I apologized. “Guess it was just luck.”

  “Are you kidding me?!” he said, grabbing me by the collar of my jersey. “That was a great throw kid! Jesus Christ! Distance and accuracy?! William, go out for a pass!”

  He released me, and I fell back and straightened my jersey.

  “Aren’t we going to finish the competition?” William asked.

  “Yeah-yeah, just do as I say,” he commanded. “And you, cover him.”

  He pointed to one of the other players.

  “Now hit William in the numbers, Coop,” said the coach.

  William ran out for a pass about thirty yards out. I waited for my opportunity and threw the ball. I hit him in the numbers and he caught it.

  “You and you!” the coach barked to the other tryouts. “All of you, cover William. William! Drop that ball and go long!”

  William dropped the ball and took off running down the football field. The other players caught up to him. With a three man coverage, I threw the ball. It sailed between the players and into William’s arms.

  “Yes! Yes!” yelled the coach, pumping his fists in the air. “Oh, my God, kid! You’re exactly what this team needs! You’re the new backup quarterback!”

  “What? Really?” I said, not really registering the words. “Why?”

  “Why?!” laughed the coach. “First off, I made William try out. He’s really a receiver. The other guys are old talent. Not horrible, but not good. But you kid, holy crap! You got what they don’t! Pinpoint accuracy with a football! Jesus! You hit William with three men on him!”

  “So, you weren’t really testing the other guys?” I asked.

  “Actually, I had already picked a different backup quarterback,” he admitted. “But I wanted to try you out. I didn’t think you were any good, but boy was I wrong! Let’s see how you do with a little pressure.”

  The coach had the guys line up again. William was the receiver. One player covered him, while one player was my defense and the other tried to sack me. We started the play. I threw to William before the other player could sack me.

  “One more time,” said Coach.

  He pulled my defensive player aside and gave him further instructions. We started the play. As soon as I got the ball, I backed up to pass. The coach blew his whistle and my defense suddenly fell to the ground. I had no one to protect me. I scrambled.

  “Pass it! Pass it!” shouted the coach.

  I couldn’t get clear. I dodged the kid. He scrambled on his hands and feet, then lunged at me. I leapt into the air and found myself flipping over him. He did a faceplant and I landed on my feet. By this time, William was open and I threw.

  “Cooper!” shouted Coach while he was clapping his hands. “You’re like a walking highlight reel! Are you really a freshman?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “And your high school team, did you win state champs?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” I said. “ I spent most of senior year giving hand offs. My old coach wasn’t much into a passing game.”

  “Well, he was an idiot, no offense. Let’s see just how accurate you are,” said the coach. “You see that Gatorade holder?”

  He gestured to the sidelines. There was a wooden folding table with two coolers and some cups with the word Gatorade on them.

  “Yep, which one?” I asked.

  “The one on the right. Think you can hit it from here?” he asked.

  “I’ll try,” I said.

  I threw the ball and took out the rightmost cup.

  “Wait. Were you aiming at the jug?” he asked.

  “No, the cups. You said the Gatorade holder. The cups have the logo,” I explained.

  “So you were aiming at that cup and hit it?!” he asked.

  “Yeah, was that wrong?”

  “It don’t matter! You just hit a cup from fifty yards! That’s all that matters!”

  The Coach danced a little. He looked beside himself with joy.

  “Dear God, thank you for this blessing of a backup quarterback,” prayed the coach. “This season will be dedicated to your name. Amen! Guys! Gather around!”

  The coach called in the rest of the team, including my brother, Logan. Logan was a linebacker and he had been practicing with the rest of the Defensive Line and the Defense Coach. They now took a knee in front of coach Randal.

  “Fellas, I want you meet our new backup quarterback,” he introduced. “He’s a prodigy freshman. I want you to make him feel really welcomed. Give it up for Mason Cooper!”

  The team applauded me. It was almost overwhelming. I had never had a moment like this. Logan was applauding the most vigorously. He kept saying, “That’s my brother! That’s my brother!” I felt some tears welling up. They were tears of joy, but still--- You don’t want to let your teammates see you cry.

  “Th-thanks guys,” I stammered.

  “All right, I need to go over some plays with our new backup QB,” he explained. “The rest of you, back to what you were doing.”

  Practice continued as normal, while we met in coach Randal’s office. When I joined the team, at the beginning of the year, I barely thought I was on it. I stood in the back of the group, I ran in the back of the pack and I got treated as--- Well, a freshman. Now I was sitting in the head coach’s office and he was talking to me like we were partners on the team!

  We went over most of the major plays. Then he gave me five binders outlining the other plays I would need to memorize. As a backup quarterback, I had to know almost as many as the coach. It was a lot of responsibility, but the coach seemed convinced I could do it.

  I met up with Logan after practice and he took me to the Campus Coffee House. On the walk over, I started to lose my nerve. How could I memorize all this stuff? College football was just one step away from being a pro. Was I really at that level? Maybe the coach was just desperate for anyone to take the backup QB position.

  “Mason, you gotta relax!” assured Logan, bringing back our drinks.

  “You’re a natural quarterback, bro! I told you that you were! Remember that throw in the junkyard?”

  Logan and I had gone to a junkyard with friends years ago. To prove to them I was a quarterback, Logan had me throw a rock into an open trunk on the other side of two piles of cars. I could barely see it, but I hit it on the first throw. I guess it was a pretty amazing throw, but for years I just counted myself lucky.

  “Luck had nothing to do with that!” insisted Logan. “You’re good. It makes sense. I’m a good linebacker. We got football in our blood!”

  “Was dad a football player?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he played on his high school team,” said Logan.

  “T
hen why didn’t dad ever come out to see our games?” I asked.

  “You know how he is,” said Logan sipping his latte. “He and mom are always doing something. So what? Who cares? He’ll regret not coming when we win the Sugar Bowl or whatever.”

  “I don’t know, Logan,” I said looking at the pile of binders resting on the round wooden table. “This is a lot of plays. How am I supposed to remember them all?”

  “I’ll help you study them. It’ll be like studying for a class, only cooler because it’s football!” said Logan, his eyes bright. “You’re like the second in command of the whole team now, Mas! Quarterback is like the key to everything!”

  “Don’t say that,” I said rubbing my temples at a sudden headache. “It makes me nervous. I have to process this.”

  “Mason, you have to have confidence,” said Logan. “You can do this! You hit that trashcan from the goal line! The goal line! I can’t even throw it that far!”

  “You probably could. It wasn’t that far,” I said. I grabbed my latte cup and nervously peeled at the hot beverages sleeve.

  “No! I can’t!” Logan insisted. “You are built to be a quarterback, Mason. What’s easy for you is like impossible for most people!”

  “Thanks for having my back, Logan,” I said. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one that understands me.”

  “I am going to get you laid to celebrate!” he announced.

  I choked on my latte and had to wipe my face with a napkin.

  “Whoa, slow down,” I said. “I don’t need to start a new relationship right now. I’ve got too much on my plate.”

  “Who says anything about a relationship?” he said. “I’m just talking a straight up hookup.”

  “No, that’s just not me,” I said. “You go ahead and do that.”

  “Well at least be open to the idea,” said Logan. “We’re freshmen in college. This is the time to meet girls, man! There’s so many on this campus and they’re all pretty hot!”