Chapter 4: Fulfilling Wishes

Monday September 5

I skipped the dojo tonight so I could go to my mom’s real-estate office. She’d gotten a new listing, and I was assigned to take photos for my Photography class. Mom took me to a ranch-style home that was your basic three-bedroom, two-bath, two-car garage on a quarter-acre lot.

“When I shoot a home, I try to do it the same way every time. The Multiple Listing Service allows up to thirty-six pictures, so don’t skimp. I like to start with the outside and then work my way inside. Most realtors just take the traditional head-on shot and try to get as much of the side yard in the picture as possible to frame the photo,” she said.

I stepped out into the road and did as she suggested. I made sure I didn’t have the other houses in the shot and then noticed Mom’s car in the driveway. She chuckled and moved it. She was just making sure I was paying attention.

She joined me on the road.

“What’s wrong with this view? Think in terms of putting the house in the best possible light to sell,” Mom coached.

“If I were being picky, I see that the curtains are closed in some windows, the blinds are halfway down in that one, the flowerpots aren’t lined up, and the hedge could be trimmed.”

She handed me the keys and sent me inside to fix the curtains and blinds. I came out, and she’d rearranged the flowerpots.

“Think of a house as a commodity. When you have several that look pretty much alike in a subdivision like this, you want yours to look the best. It’s why they pay people to ‘face’ canned goods in a grocery store. Someone figured out that they sold more if the aisles looked neat,” she explained.

The house was vacant. Mom explained it was much harder to shoot a vacant home than one that was furnished. For the next hour and a half, we shot the house at almost every angle imaginable. I learned some practical techniques like not to shoot a mirror straight-on because the picture would show your reflection. Mom didn’t buy my suggestion that having me in the photo was a selling point.

Other things she taught me were to make sure toilet seats were down and to bring a few items—like a brightly colored cookie jar or a bowl of fruit—to break up the counter space. She also pointed out that shooting straight-on at eye level wasn’t always best. Sometimes you needed to crouch down to get the best angle.

I was able to do my time-lapse pictures at different f-stops. Mom showed me she had an app on her phone that did the same thing.

We went back outside. It was just starting to get dark, and she’d turned on all the lights in the house. It was a cool effect with the lights making the house feel alive. She then had me shoot the front from different angles. She didn’t want to lead with the traditional shot that would make the first impression when people scrolled through the websites. She wanted something that slowed them down enough that they might click on her listing.

Finally, she handed me her phone and had me do a video walk-through of the house. To start, I turned it on her, and she introduced herself. For the local MLS (Multiple Listing Service), she would edit that part out, but for her personal website, she wanted people to put a face to the listing. Next, I simply held the phone up and walked through the house while she talked, pointing out all its features, and then she talked about the neighborhood.

I never realized how much work she put into listing a home. Now she had to go back and find the right combination of shots to make it stand out.

On the way home, she had some news for me.

“I had a football recruiter stop by from Southwest Central State. He wanted to know if you had any interest in coming to check them out. I told him that you already had the schools you wanted to see lined up. He then asked what it would take for you to make a visit. I got the impression he was offering money,” Mom said.

“Don’t tell Cassidy. She’ll figure out how she can make money on the deal.”

Cassidy had accompanied me on a recruiting trip and learned all about hundred-dollar handshakes.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories about inducements to play college ball. There are rumors about schools on your list that have ‘bought’ commitments. I’m actually surprised you haven’t had someone approach you.”

“Let’s get some information from someone who would know,” I said.

I connected my phone to the Bluetooth in my mom’s car.

“I was just talking about you and how you could make us contenders,” Bo Harrington said.

“I know, Alabama just needs me to get over the hump.”

“Did you call to commit?” he asked.

“No, I have a question. Mom was approached by someone, and she got the feeling they wanted to offer her money. How much would someone like me be worth on the open market?” I asked.

The phone went quiet.

“Bo, David isn’t serious,” Mom said.

“Thank God! I wasn’t sure if you were setting me up or looking for something.”

“Hypothetically, what do you think I might be worth?” I asked.

“That’s hard to say, and just so we’re clear, I have no direct knowledge of what I’m about to tell you,” Bo said, and my mother snorted to share her thoughts on that disclaimer. “Basketball players seem to be at a premium. A top-five small forward might be worth $100,000, but a five-star quarterback would be worth at least that much, I would assume.

“For you, that would be the starting point because you bring more with you than just your football skills. Remember when you went to the Northwestern–Stanford game? You told me that you were surprised the place wasn’t sold out. What would it be worth to them to have a full stadium? If you draw even half as well as you did playing high school baseball, it would be a boon.

“I mean, do the math. If you could draw an additional ten thousand season-ticket holders at Northwestern, their cheapest plan is like $160. That’s $1.6 million in ticket sales, and we haven’t even touched merchandise sales. I know that if you came here, half our fan base would have your jersey.

“Then let’s consider the draw of additional students. Someone like you would help our numbers, just like Missouri took a hit when their football team threatened to boycott football games if their president, who they deemed ineffective in resolving the racist climate, didn’t resign. Believe me, we are very aware of what negative press of that kind could do to our program. At Missouri, they’re feeling the backlash in a big way. Enrollment is down, forcing them to close dorms and lay off over 400 employees. Good press and growth can have the opposite effect,” Bo explained.

“Bottom-line it for me,” I said.

“I would guess you could command at least half a million, if not double or triple that at the right place.”

“What’s Alabama offering?” I teased.

“A full ride, me as your coach, a chance to play in National Championship games, and then if you feel like going to school, we’ll throw that in at no additional cost.”

“Have you ever thought of selling real estate? I’m always looking for smooth talkers,” Mom said.

“If it means your son plays for Alabama, I’m sure they’d fire me, and I would need a job.”

“I just realized you didn’t guarantee me a starting spot or scholarships for my posse,” I complained.

“That’s life. Suck it up and sign with us and let’s end this insane tour you plan to do this fall.”

“I forgot to tell you. Wisconsin stepped on their dicks with my dad.”

“David, language,” Mom warned.

“I asked them what the best fraternity for me to join was. They told us I wouldn’t have enough time for a frat because I’d be too busy preparing for football. Dad wondered if I would have time to study.”

“Good. I can mark them off your list,” Bo said.

“I think so. They don’t have an architecture program for Tim.”

“Oh, shit. We might not have one either. Let me look into that,” Bo said.

“For one-point-five I think I can talk him into going to Alabama,” Mom shared.

Bo just laughed. I was sure that by now he knew my mom well enough to know when she was joking. Let the bidding war begin.

I came home to find Cassidy at my house, helping Dad make dinner. Before I could investigate why she was here, Duke informed me of an issue. It seemed Bandit was eating his dog food.

“Just stick your head in there and eat,” I told him. “Or better yet, eat Bandit’s food.”

Duke got brave and grabbed a mouthful of dog food. They would figure it out. If Duke could stand up to Precious, Bandit would be a piece of cake.

I walked up behind Cassidy, wrapped her in my arms, and kissed her neck.

“If Brook is ‘Hotness,’ what am I?” Cassidy asked.

Dad turned away because he was going to laugh. Cassidy said it so seriously he decided laughter probably wasn’t a good idea. While I’d never seen Cassidy take an adult down, I thought my dad made the smart play.

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but you’re right. You need a text handle so when I send you and Brook a message you know who I’m talking about.”

“Why can’t you just say ‘Brook’ or ‘Cassidy’?” Dad asked.

He had a point, but Cassidy wanted a pet name. We both ignored him.

“I sort of wanted ‘Hotness,’” Cassidy pouted.

“Let’s try these on. Stop me when you hear one you like. Bumpkin, Sparky, Giggles, Puddin’, Boo, Peaches...”

“David, you’re not even trying,” Cassidy said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I know. You should be my ‘Bad Girl,’” I suggested as I waggled my eyebrows.

I could tell she liked that.

“What should you and Brook call me?” I asked.

“Besides ‘Stupid Boy’?” Cassidy asked, and I nodded. “Big Daddy.”

It could be worse.

“Why are you eating with us tonight?” I asked.

“I got kicked out. Dad had all the coaches over to plan for the Washington game, and they’re still trying to figure out what’s wrong with the offense. I told them it looks fine when you play quarterback.”

I gave her a high five.

“You can come eat with us anytime,” I assured her.

Tuesday September 6
During first period, I was called to the office. I was sent to Mr. Palm’s office and found him and Caryn waiting for me with a younger man.

“David, this is Chad Lutz from the Make-A-Wish foundation. Mr. Palm suggested that we all get together to plan Saturday’s visit,” Caryn explained.

“I wanted to say that we at Lincoln High will do whatever it takes to help with this,” Mr. Palm said.

“Great. Let me give you a little background and then we’ll talk about the child David’s hosting. The concept for Make-A-Wish began in Austin, Texas in 1980. A seven-year-old young man with leukemia wanted to be a police officer so he could ‘catch bad guys.’

“The wish was granted, but the young man’s mother was fearful that he might not be able to hang on much longer. They ordered a helicopter to take the family to Austin to give him his wish,” Chad said.

He held up a photo of a boy in a full police uniform. The child looked so happy, and the gear looked real. I could see how fulfilling a child’s wish would be powerful stuff.

“He was only seven years and 269 days old when he died,” Chad said as he got emotional.

That got to us. I saw a tear run down Caryn’s cheek, and I don’t think Mr. Palm and I were far behind her as we thought about the poor boy and his family. I would be devastated if anything happened to any of the little ones in my family. This started to feel all too personal.

“Wishes make life better for terminally ill children. That’s our mission. We’ve granted over 300,000 wishes, and we think it has made a difference in over a million people’s lives. I want to thank you for agreeing to grant a young man’s wish.”

“How could I not?” I asked rhetorically.

“Well, sometimes it’s not easy. Athletes especially sometimes don’t want to be reminded of their mortality. I will guarantee you that this experience will affect you. I just want you to be prepared.”

“David’s mom had cancer, and they set up a charity to assist families of cancer victims. I think he’ll be fine,” Caryn assured Chad.

“Good. I take it your mom is okay?”

“She is.”

“We had a local boy ask to spend a day with you. Wyatt is eleven years old and has a congenital heart defect, and his wish is to be a quarterback. He lives in Washington, and his parents felt that since your game was there this weekend, it would be easier on him. Wyatt has two sisters who are nine and seven and who are just as excited to meet you as he is.

“We’d like to arrange for you to meet Wyatt before the game and spend some time with him. If we could, we want to document the meeting and Wyatt’s experience,” Chad said.

“We just happen to have a film crew doing a documentary on Lincoln High’s football team. We could ask them to film it for you,” Mr. Palm suggested.

“I’m sure Jeff would love to help,” I suggested.

“Do you have anything specific you want us to do?” Caryn asked.

“Normally the host will donate a jersey,” Chad said. “Other than that, we play it by ear. It’ll depend on your schedule for game day.”

“Let me have Wyatt’s mom’s information, and I’ll coordinate with David and the school. I’m sure we can make Wyatt’s day special. I think we need to involve his whole family,” Caryn suggested.

“I’ll talk to Coach Hope and see what kind of access he’s comfortable with Wyatt having with the team. Sometimes the conversations in the locker room jump the rail and wouldn’t be appropriate for an eleven-year-old,” I worried.

“They’d better not,” Mr. Palm said, not able to help himself.

I resisted my urge to give him ‘the look.’ I think he realized what he’d said and the tips of his ears got pink. Everyone ignored his outburst.

After football practice, Chuck drove us to the dojo. I had a big towel wrapped around a surprise. Of course, Cassidy had to see what I had. She took hers and put it on. I pulled out my phone and selected mariachi music. Chuck couldn’t keep from laughing.

“What are you two doing?” Shiggy said, rushing over.

We had on our Mexican wrestling masks. I growled and beat my chest, which made Cassidy giggle.

“Carry on,” Shiggy said with a smile.

His beginners class came over and he had them sit on the side.

I think Cassidy must have watched as much wrestling as I had as a child. I played the villain and tossed her around. I hammed it up, and the class booed me as I picked on the poor little girl. I held Cassidy over my head to finish her off. She wiggled and begged me, and then Chuck changed the music to the Rocky theme.

Cassidy perked up, and you could see her strength coming back. The class cheered. I put her down and acted scared. I got on my knees and put my hands together to beg. Cassidy strutted around and then began to abuse me. I thought wrestling was fake! Cassidy finally pinned me. It was either that, or she planned to kill me, so I took the coward’s way out.

When we were done, the beginners clapped for Cassidy and Shiggy took our masks away.

“Do you guys always goof around?” Chuck asked.

“I think my new security guy thinks he’s tough,” I observed.

“I’m not falling for that. Paul warned me that Cassidy can kick my butt. I was wondering if you’re any good.” Chuck replied.

“You just saw a girl beat me. What do you think?” I asked.

“Chuck looks like he’s had some training. I’m not sure you two should spar,” Cassidy said.

“Oh, come on. I promise not to hurt him. I just want to know if he can hold his own, for security purposes,” Chuck tried.

“As long as he can play football on Saturday,” Cassidy said.

Chuck squared up in more of a wrestler’s stance with his knees slightly bent and on the balls of his feet. I dropped into my normal fighting stance with my left foot forward. On Cassidy’s command, I closed the distance and sent a right to pop him in the ear. I quickly did the same from the left side. Chuck managed to block both and grabbed both my wrists. I knew instantly that he was a Krav Maga practitioner and I’d just made a grave mistake.

Chuck stepped towards me as he twisted to face away from me. My arms ended up over his shoulder, and he stuck his butt into me. It was merely a matter of him leaning forward and throwing me over his back. I landed hard, and he crouched down to deliver the finishing blow to my throat.

I knew before I got up that Cassidy was disappointed in me. I’d wanted to see if Chuck was any good, and I’d confirmed what I suspected. He could more than hold his own. I also knew that what I’d done was stupid. Once he got ahold of me, it was all over. I knew better.

In our next bout, Chuck was the aggressor. What he didn’t know was that I’d been on the defensive with Cassidy for nearly a year and a half. In that time, I’d learned to protect myself. Chuck wasn’t Cassidy. He was bigger and stronger than she was, but I had a longer reach and was faster and stronger than Chuck. I was also in much better shape.

I would give ground and then circle away from Chuck’s attacks. I could tell he was getting frustrated.

“Come on!” he barked, and motioned for me to counterattack.

When you get into these types of sparring matches, things happen in the blink of an eye. Chuck decided to escalate the intensity of his attack. He had me on my heels, but then I think I surprised him when I threw a wild-looking left. One second Chuck thought he had me, the next he was crumpled on the mat, out cold. I’d used a bone strike to catch him right below the ear and behind his jaw.

We’d learned about bone strikes in Cuba, and I’d had it done to me. Shiggy sprinted over when he saw Chuck go down. It took Chuck a few seconds and then his eyes opened.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked.

“You told him to fight back, and he just gave you a little love tap,” Cassidy said.

“David, I’ve warned you. My insurance will go through the roof if you seriously hurt someone,” Shiggy scolded me.

“Sorry. I didn’t plan to knock him out.”

“You’re banned for a week. If you do it again, I may make it permanent,” Shiggy ruled.

Shiggy went back to teaching his class. Cassidy didn’t look pleased.

“Why were you playing with him?” she asked me.

“What are you talking about?” Chuck asked.

“He bypassed several opportunities to turn the tables on you.”

“He’s good,” I said.

“I know he’s good, but that doesn’t mean you should hold back. Your goofing around could have gotten you hurt. You know the first rule,” she said, glaring at me.

“To end it as soon as possible.”

What was the fun in that, I wondered? I did feel sorry for knocking him out. I didn’t think I’d hit him hard enough, but I’d hit him in exactly the right spot. If I’d thought about it for even a nanosecond, I wouldn’t have thrown that punch. Cassidy was right. If I’d done as I was trained, we could still be sparring, and I wouldn’t have been banned for a week. I’d simply reacted to an opening.

I thought back and realized I’d done damage to all my security people the first time we sparred. My mom had read me the riot act when she saw the knot on Fritz’s head after I’d bopped him with my Bo staff. Coach Hope had been tossed and landed flat on his back. We might need a new security guy for me to try to kill.

“Are you implying that David could take me?” Chuck said, obviously not believing it.

Cassidy proceeded to educate Chuck on his deficiencies while I went to take a shower. When I came out of the locker room, they were in deep discussion as she demonstrated what she was teaching him. I think she saw that he was better at hand-to-hand than Paul was.

I went over to watch Brook as she practiced with a young boy who looked very serious. It was apparent they were evenly matched. Brook had gotten much better since she started. What I liked about her was that she was able to be rough-and-tumble and not complain if she broke a nail. Then later, she could be all girl and worry about how she looked.

Today they were learning to fall correctly. They were taking turns holding the other’s jacket, and the one being held would lean back. They would suddenly be let go and had to twist around and fall on their stomach. It was like if I held Bandit on his back and dropped him on the bed. He would flip around and land on his feet.

“Make sure you turn your head when you land,” Shiggy coached.

Then they went to an eight-inch-thick padded mat to practice different falls. I wondered why Cassidy made me learn on a regular mat. The feeling of bouncing off the floor was etched into my memory.

After practice, Shiggy pulled me aside.

“You know why I did what I did, right?”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t intend to hurt him.”

Shiggy sighed.

“I know that. It’s just the way Cassidy is training you. You two go at it full tilt, and then when you spar with someone new, they get clocked. In the future let them work with you for longer than a few minutes before you throw them in the deep end.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave me my masks back.

“The wrestling bit was amusing,” he said with a smile, and then kicked me out of his dojo.

When we got home, Chuck, Cassidy, and Brook joined us for dinner. I had Coby, who needed some Daddy time.

“Now that David got us kicked out of the dojo for a week, what’re we going to do with our free time?” Cassidy asked.

“Why did David get you kicked out?” Peggy asked.

“Traitor!” I said as I pointed at Peggy.

“Really? Like your mom wasn’t going to ask the exact same thing in about two seconds,” Peggy said with a satisfied smile.

“You don’t need to help her,” I reasoned.

“I think we’re getting off topic,” Dad said to jump in with his unwanted opinion.

“David knocked me out,” Chuck explained.

I thought about explaining, but Chuck decided on another tack.

“We could go shoot. I would bet it’s time for us to have a refresher course,” Chuck suggested.

“You could get serious about flying. You need to get your ground school out of the way,” Brook offered.

“Caryn mentioned you taking more Japanese classes for your part in the TV show,” Dad said.

“You could watch the boys,” Peggy added.

“Should have mentioned that before you turned on me,” I said as I glared at her.

“We could get everyone driving lessons,” Mom proposed.

“I like that one,” Cassidy said.

I listened to all their suggestions and recognized I was falling back into the same old trap of trying to do everything. What no one mentioned was me spending more time with Brook doing something that didn’t involve a group activity. Another was getting ahead on my studies. During my freshman year, I’d made it a point to read ahead. Somehow that had fallen by the wayside.

Something else that needed to be prioritized was spending more time with my guy friends. I’d always found time for Jeff and Alan, but I’d been falling down on the job with Tim and Wolf. If I planned to keep them as close friends beyond high school, I wanted to get to know them better. When I was younger, it wasn’t unusual for the four of us—Tami, Jeff, Alan, and me—to show up and hang out at each other’s houses. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone to either Tim’s or Wolf’s home. They always came to me. That just wasn’t right.

“I think we need to do all those things at some point, but I need to relax and not have any planned activities for after school for the week. I made a promise to myself that I wanted to focus on being a teenager.”

“The yard needs to be mowed,” Dad suggested.

“You know who to call. It’s not like you pay me an allowance,” I shot back.

“We could take your debit card away,” Mom threatened.

“I could take yours away.”

This had taken an ugly turn. Fortunately, Coby saved the day by puking on me.

I took him to the kitchen sink and cleaned him up. Peggy came and got him so I could go to my apartment and change clothes.

I lured Brook up to my apartment with me. When we reached the top of the stairs, I didn’t have a chance to tell her what I had planned. Her mouth hit mine with such force that it took my breath away, and then she was kissing me. Brook frickin’ Davis was kissing me. It seemed like we hadn’t had much of a chance to be alone recently. Brook was almost frantic.

My big hands came up to hold her head in place. I didn’t want her going anywhere. Our tongues clashed as we fought to see who was in control. I could sense her need. She was being demanding, and I had to break our kiss for a moment so I could gulp a breath. I let our foreheads touch as our eyes locked. Both our hearts were pounding, and I felt a touch light-headed.

The world fell away—it was just Brook and me in our own little universe. My whole focus was on her. A small smile touched her lips. She was about to rock me. Brook leaned forward, and our lips met. That moment. That kiss. That kiss ruined me for all other kisses. In the space of a second, she made me forget every other girl who’s ever put her mouth on mine. None of them compared to Brook.

My heart was pounding too fast. We were both breathing too hard. I pulled away and smiled. It took a long moment for everything to come back to me. What was she to me? Friend, confidant, lover. It finally came to me.

“I love you, Brook Davis.”

In that moment, I knew that I’d fallen hard for her.

Wednesday September 7
Bandit swatted my chin to wake me up. I also found Duke on my bed with his head on my thigh. Since Halle’s cat had moved in, it seemed all the sleeping rules went out the window. I might have to lock Duke in his crate for a while to restore order in my apartment.

“You guys ready to go outside?”

Duke thumped his tail and Bandit jumped off the bed and headed to the living room. Someone was eager. I chuckled when I went to the living room to put on my running shoes and Bandit bounded down the stairs. I looked at Duke to try to figure out what the hurry was. He was no help.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” I said when Bandit meowed at my lack of hustle.

I knew something was up when he shot out of the door and darted around the corner of the garage. I had zero desire to play ‘find the kitty.’ Then I heard the loudest catfight I’d ever heard. You could hear Precious’s bobcat yowl, and Bandit sounded like he was holding his own. Duke and I ran around the corner to break it up, and we both came to a sudden halt.

Bandit had Precious by the back of the neck and was ... uh ... getting busy. There was no way in hell I was going to get in the middle of that. Duke seemed to be of the same opinion: the hair on his back went up, and he made a big circle around the two cats. I had a feeling Brit wasn’t going to be happy.

It was soon over, and Bandit darted behind me for protection. Precious had that look that said someone would die soon, so I scooped up Casanova and put him in the back door. Precious decided she’d had enough and darted through the gate to go home.

I’d shown Ms. Saunders the pictures I’d taken of my mom’s listing. She taught me how to use Photoshop again. It helped clean up the glare issues that came with shooting a room with sunlight coming in. We then worked on the early evening pictures that showed the home with the lights on. With a few tweaks, they really popped. I sent the finished results to my mom so she could use them in her marketing materials.

I showed Ms. Saunders my mom’s website, and she found the video I’d done of my mom and the virtual tour.

“You took this with your phone?” she asked.

“Actually, my mom’s, but yeah, I’m the one who shot it.”

“With some editing, this could be quite good. I like how it feels amateurish in some ways, but there are things you could do to raise it up a level or two.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about your movies. Do they normally do one long scene where they follow you around, or do they break it down and show shots from different angles?” she asked.

“But that would mess up the flow as she’s talking.”

“Add her voice after the video is shot,” she offered.

I felt my face get hot as I realized how stupid I’d just been. My mind began to race with thoughts as to what could have been done differently to make it better.

My mom had told me that real estate was changing. It used to be prospective buyers would come to your office, and you would take them around to show them homes. I know she’d come home exhausted some days when she’d carted them from house to house.

With the Internet, people had access to a lot more information. She’d tried to make her website a one-stop place for home buying. When a customer brought up a home on her site, it had a lot of pictures, gave them information about the neighborhood, crime rates, school ratings, nearby shopping and eateries, and much more.

She said that she rarely had a customer in the car anymore because they did their research and then called her to meet them at the house to go see it. That was why the photos and video were so important.