Chapter 25: Decision Made

Friday January 13
Uncle John and I bailed on everyone and went to breakfast together. I received a text from Manaia that promised serious harm if I didn’t tell him where we went, so I did. He came in once we’d received our drinks, but before we ordered.

“Nice,” he complained.

“He just wants me to feed him,” I told Uncle John.

“There’re still bagels at the house,” Manaia pointed out.

“Do you two bicker like this all the time?” Uncle John asked.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“When we first met, we didn’t like each other,” Manaia explained. “Now, I treat him like a little brother who I have to babysit all the time.”

I let that one go ... for now.

“Normally, he’s much better behaved,” I told my uncle.

Uncle John just ignored our little spat. Manaia was just pissed because I ditched him. Granted, I hadn’t tried to pull that with him to this point. From the whining I heard from Chuck and Paul, I was aware that Fritz took a dim view of them losing me. Manaia was a fairly new hire and was still on probation. I was sure that if something happened to me because I slipped away, he would be looking for work.

“Your dad and I have done some research on the decisions you have to make. Can we agree that you, at the very least, plan to play football and go to college?” Uncle John asked.

“Yes. I talked to the guys, and they’re strongly leaning towards Michigan. Of the three schools, they have the best baseball team, too,” I said.

“Which schools are you considering?” Manaia asked.

“Michigan, Oklahoma, and USC,” I said.

“We talked to several coaches to determine how valuable a quarterback is to an NFL franchise. We wanted to get a better idea of whether quarterback is your best position. The reason we asked was that coaches told us that you might be even more successful on the defensive side of the ball,” Uncle John said.

While the logical side of me already knew that my best position was quarterback, the caveman in me would love to play defense.

“The NFL has been trending towards offense,” Uncle John continued. “Of the thirty-two NFL teams, half pass the ball at least sixty percent of the time. Bud Mason told us that four positions are most valuable in today’s game. Those are the tackle that protects the blind side of the quarterback, the quarterback, any player who can sack the quarterback, and a shutdown corner.

“Obviously, you can’t play tackle and, according to Bud, he thinks you don’t have the speed needed for cornerback at that level. He did say that you would make an ideal stand-up defensive end or linebacker.”

“Why did you ask about all this? I’m sure Bud told you I should play quarterback,” I said.

“He did, but we wanted to cover all your options,” Uncle John explained.

It sounded like they had been busy behind the scenes working on this. This told me that my dad and uncle had taken my request for help in solving this predicament seriously.

“Let me point out some interesting stats that Bo Harrington dug up for us. Of the 192 first-round draft picks in the last six years, only 19 were quarterbacks. Compare that to 36 defensive ends and 33 linebackers. That works out to an average of just 3 quarterbacks taken in the first round each year. When you figure there are 236 Division I football teams, the odds of making it into the NFL as a first-round pick are slim,” Uncle John said.

The numbers were sobering. They’d told me that the chances were slim that I would emerge at the top of the college game by the time I graduated. A multitude of things could happen to derail your ascent to the highest levels. I guess I didn’t understand how long those odds were until he’d pointed out the cold facts. I’d assumed that because I was the number one overall prospect, I would simply continue on that path when I got to college. Uncle John made me want to rethink whether I should lean so heavily on football moving forward.

“When we heard the stats, we were a little worried. Then we talked to other coaches,” Uncle John continued. “To a man, they felt that even if you weren’t drafted in the first round, you would make it into the league and play. Some paths would be easier, though.”

“What did you find out?” I asked.

“Michigan might be the hardest of the three schools you’ve selected in terms of having their quarterback drafted. USC has the most recent success at getting a quarterback to the NFL. They told us they feel that Oklahoma might be the best place for you to go to highlight your skill set. They explained to me that Michigan is in one of the toughest divisions in college football as far as defenses go, unlike the other two. USC is rebuilding and is a few years away from competing for the championship, even though your friend Ridge Townsend will be a first-rounder next year. Oklahoma plays in the Big 12, where offense is king.

“Bo Harrington predicted that if you were to go to Oklahoma, you would have a great chance to win the Heisman as the best college football player. While you might not win the national championship, it would put you on the path to a long career in the NFL,” Uncle John said.

I agreed with his assessment. It was pretty much what I’d figured out.

“Michigan has the edge in baseball,” I said again to attempt to justify my pick.

“And USC would be the best for your acting,” Uncle John added to give me a hard time.

I let a little smile touch my lips. They had done a thorough job if Uncle John knew which was best for acting and baseball.

“So, where do you and Dad think I should go?” I asked.

“We ranked them Oklahoma, Michigan, and USC, strictly on football. If you consider other factors, we have Michigan edging out Oklahoma by a nose. Being here for a week, I might switch to USC for the weather alone,” Uncle John admitted.

“What were the other factors you looked at?” I asked.

“Quality of education, proximity to home, baseball, and several others. I think your dad created a spreadsheet with almost forty items on it. In the end, we think any of the three would work. We just felt that Michigan checked a few more boxes off your list than the rest. Your dad also said they were recruiting you the hardest. So, in the end, they want you the most.”

Michigan didn’t solve my biggest dilemma: my kids. The problem was that none of them did. It made me realize that obtaining my pilot’s license was more important than ever. With it, I could make a day trip if needed. Thankfully, college wasn’t forever.

I’d had several months to get used to the idea of going to Michigan. Frankly, if their offensive coordinator hadn’t been a jerk during the summer, I might have committed at their camp. I felt confident in my decision, knowing that the two men I trusted most for advice had agreed with me.

“I’m going to Michigan,” I said to put an end to this.

Before I made it official, I called Wolf and Tim. They were over-the-moon excited. Our fellow teammate, Ty Wilson, and now fellow Michigan commit, took full credit for talking us around and into joining him. I had Wolf and Tim talk to their parents to make sure they were on board while I called mine. Now that I’d decided, I wanted to put this to bed.

While that went on, I made calls to Coach Mason, Coach Harrington, Coach Styles, and Coach Hope, for two reasons. I wanted to thank them for all their help and to share my decision with them. Coach Harrington had news.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m leaving Alabama. I’ll be announced as the new head coach for Western Michigan in the next few days. If you wait to announce, I might have some open scholarships for you and the boys.”

“Ah ... no,” I said to shoot that idea down.

I wished him luck. One benefit of his new job was that he would be reasonably close to the University of Michigan; Western Michigan was about a two-hour drive. Since I’d been in LA, that didn’t seem quite so far.

Coach Styles had been the first to offer me when I visited Kentucky during my freshman year. He’d also been a straight shooter.

“I’m disappointed in the news. The silver lining is that you didn’t pick Alabama. I would hate to have to play against you.”

While Kentucky and Alabama were both in the SEC, they were in different divisions. That meant that they didn’t play head-to-head every year.

“I didn’t see myself fitting into their system,” I shared.

“I think your choice of Michigan is a good one. With you under center, I predict that the balance of power in the Big 10 is about to change. You’re the missing piece for them offensively. If that happens, then Michigan will be in line to pick up one of the four slots in the national championship playoff each year. The other two schools seem to be hit-or-miss as to whether a member of their conference can get in,” Coach Styles said.

“Thanks, Coach. I wanted to tell you what it meant to me that Kentucky offered me first. I see that you’ve got the program headed in the right direction.”

Both Coach Hope and Coach Mason’s calls were short. We’d already talked about my options, and they were on board with the decision.

“Michigan Athletic Department, how may I direct your call?”

“Coach Haber. Please tell him that David Dawson is calling,” I said, and then she put me on hold.

I listened to the Michigan fight song play as I waited. I’d tried Coach Haber’s cell, but it had gone to voicemail. I suspected it was being charged because he always took my call.

“David, Coach Hightower. We’re in a meeting with all the coaches right now. Would it be possible for Coach Haber to call you later?”

“He’ll want to take this call,” I said.

“Good news?”

“Depends,” I said, to not totally give it away.

“David,” Coach Haber’s voice boomed. “I put you on speaker.”

“I wanted to call because I’ve decided to make my commitment, and I wanted to let you know so that you could plan who you recruit moving forward.”

“You’re killing us...”

“I’ll announce on signing day that I plan to play my college ball at the University of ... Michigan.”

I heard the room erupt. Uncle John was right; they did want me. Coach Haber took me off speakerphone so that he could talk to me.

“What about Wolf and Tim?” he asked.

“I’ll let them call you. I want them to have their moment.”

“I take it you want to keep this under wraps for now,” Coach Haber guessed correctly.

“I’d like a chance to call all the other schools that recruited me and let them know personally.”

“That’s something I wish more recruits would do. It’s a classy way to handle it. Plus, who knows, in this game, you might run across any of them later in your career. You don’t need to burn any bridges.”

“I’m excited to put this behind me and look forward to playing ball at the University of Michigan,” I said.

“As you heard, you made our day. I’ll be in touch. I understand your unique circumstances with your movie commitments, and we’ll have to work out the logistics for all that. I also want to get you on campus since you’ve committed. You’re part of the family now. Welcome to Michigan,” Coach Haber said and then needed to get back to his meeting.

Now I had to deliver the bad news to everyone else.

While I made my calls to the programs we’d turned down, Lexi found me.

“I talked to Frank Ingram, and he’ll put together a social media and traditional campaign to announce your decision.”

Once again, she had proved herself invaluable.

“Thanks.”

“He had something else for you. Chubby Feldman heard that you’d completed your J-drama. He’d like to get the cast together at his house tomorrow so he can share some information about the upcoming James Bond movie,” Lexi said.

“If we don’t have any conflicts, set it up,” I said.

I wanted to remind her that we still had commitments with the J-drama.

“I talked to the producer for College First, and they’re still checking to make sure they have everything they need. He said if they did, you could take off Sunday,” Lexi said to give me the good news.

I might get to go home a day early.

I had lunch with my family. I caught them up with all that had gone on since Tim, Wolf, and I had decided to play ball at Michigan. Frank had sent me a link to a few of the football message boards at different schools. Ty had put out a text hinting that we might be joining him, which caused a frenzy to ensue. It was amusing to see all the ‘insiders’ scrambling to either debunk the rumor or prop them up with their ‘contacts’ inside the various football programs.

I always found it fun to read these message boards and see how invested the posters were in the lives of teenagers. I hated to break it to them, but teenagers sometimes did illogical things that had nothing to do with them or their school. The Ohio State board was in total meltdown because they couldn’t see any rational explanation as to why I would decide to go to their hated rival, Michigan. They were blaming everything from the rumors about their coach’s health to Michigan being a bunch of cheaters by holding a camp at our high school. It had to be someone’s fault they’d lost the battle.

Then there were the ones that were the embodiment of hope eternal. It wasn’t over until I arrived on campus. They would continue to recruit me, and if the rumors were true, I would see the error of my ways.

I was almost done with lunch when my phone rang. It was Coach Foster from Southwest Central State.

One of the apps that Fritz had added to my phone was the ability to record conversations. The app was originally designed as a way to spy on cheating spouses or your teenagers. I had explained to Fritz that I had zero desire to have him recording all my conversations. It was bad enough that he had access to my tablet and could review my browser history. How did I know that? We’d been joking around and taking shots at each other when he let it slip that he was confused as to why I liked a certain kind of porn. He had to swear on a stack of Bibles that my mom would never find that out.

I put up with this level of intrusion in my life only because I knew that Fritz and his team were trying to protect me. If anyone ever hacked their server, I shudder to think of what they would find out about me and the other people they protected. Fritz had explained that they downloaded everything to a stand-alone storage device that was not connected to the Internet. For someone to hack it, they would have to hook up to it directly.

That appeased me enough to put up with it. Where I drew the line was recording my phone conversations. With that in mind, Fritz had given me control of what was or was not recorded. I suspected that he went ahead and recorded everything and had given me the button to make me feel better. That unnerving thought aside, I swiped the record button before answering.

“David, Coach Foster.”

“Hey, what can I do for you?” I asked.

“I just wanted to touch base because we heard some rumors that you plan to commit to Michigan.”

“That’s what we decided,” I said to include Tim and Wolf.

“I thought we’d made a compelling ... uh ... case for you to give us an on-campus visit. I would hope that you would appreciate the effort we went to.”

“Did you want us to send the money back?” I asked to see if he would admit to it.

“What money?” he asked.

“The money I received for the charities.”

“I would think those were just coincidental donations and had nothing to do with us,” he backtracked.

“If you want the money back, just let me know where to send it. I don’t want there to be any hard feelings,” I tried again. “I don’t want to feel obligated to an on-campus visit if I’ve already decided.”

“Like I said, the money didn’t come from us.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m sorry for the confusion. Just so you know, the charities do good work. But if someone were to make a donation and have a change of heart, we would make sure to return their money,” I offered for the last time.

“Okay, then. I want to wish you luck at Michigan. If you ever have a change of heart, let me know,” he said, using my own words against me.

With that, he disconnected.

I made sure the recording was made and then forwarded it to my lawyers and my dad. I would let them decide what to do with it. I was done providing information to the FBI and NCAA, but my legal team could make that call. That was what I paid them for.

After lunch, I took my uncle aside. I wanted to get his take on my sex life over the last few months. I told him about Brook wanting me to dominate other girls while she watched, Gwen Larkin being drunk and then going crazy, and finally sleeping with Ben Cowley’s girlfriend. To get him up to speed, I shared Tami’s concerns and what Cindy had told me.

When I finished, he pulled a Dawson and became quiet. I’m not sure if he expected me to continue to spill my guts or if he was stunned. All I knew was I wasn’t going to play his game and be the first to talk.

“What are your fears?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know. I was hoping that you would have some ideas.”

He took a deep breath.

“First, I have a couple of concerns. We talked about how what you do now can hurt you later. The kinkier stuff, like tying up a girl, is okay if the thought process is appropriately introduced and limited. However, there’s nothing to stop someone with a victim mentality from later deciding that the activities were nonconsensual. Nor would it stop victims’ rights advocates from taking sides and demonizing the alleged consent violator. I’m not even talking about morning-after regrets. I’m talking next month, next year, or the next three- or four-decades-later regrets.

“I expect you probably think you trust all the girls involved right now. Believe me when I tell you that memories and perspectives can change over time. You’re smart enough to know that. My concern is that for some people, what you described could be twisted and weaponized to take you down at some point.

“Why do you think I never wanted to put my hat in the ring as far as politics go?” he asked, bringing me up short.

“Why, what happened?” I asked.

“When I was in college, I did much more than you have just described. I found a group of like-minded people and figured that it was college, and I was allowed to experiment. Someone got the bright idea to film a few of the activities. Even though I trusted the people involved at the time, I have no idea if one of them might come after me. For example, if my views don’t line up with theirs, politically,” he explained.

“I can see what you’re talking about,” I said in agreement.

“Let me give you some advice. If you decide that you ever want to do the bondage thing, you need to come out of this realizing that you, and your wants, need to be in charge. That’s the case whenever these situations come up. I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand because who knows what the future holds? What I would do is be honest with yourself and evaluate each situation. Where do they fall in your circle of trust? Are you comfortable with what’s being asked of you? I think you get the idea,” he said.

“No, I get it. I don’t want to have a few too many and end up with someone accusing me of anything. The last thing I want is to hurt someone,” I admitted.

“Is that why you’re worried about the submissives that Cindy told you about?”

“That’s a major concern for me. I’m afraid that someone like that might permit me to go too far, and it’s because they didn’t feel they could say ‘no.’”

“What you described before you spent time with the two girls last Friday is probably a good idea. Put it out there that they have the power to stop at any time.

“Secondly, I think you’re overthinking this. You’re not a predator,” Uncle John said emphatically.

“Maybe you should clarify that for me,” I said with a half-smile.

“When I was training to be a child psychologist, I learned about people who prey on children. They use a process called grooming. What they do happens in stages. They target their victim, then they build trust; fill a need or find something missing in the child’s life and provide it; build a ‘special’ relationship; introduce sex; and finally, reinforce the relationship. I know that all those steps could apply to dating, but the difference is the intent. I can’t imagine you actively using your unique knowledge to get into someone’s pants,” he said.

I would be willing to bet that books were written about each stage, and he’d just condensed it down for me.

“It is a fairly good outline for getting and keeping a girlfriend. All except for thinking of them as your victim,” I qualified.

“You’re right. The line between good and evil isn’t always clear-cut. The world is made up of a lot of gray areas. That’s why you have to be confident in who you are and what you want. Think of it in terms of the code of conduct your brother taught you, or your life goals, even. If what you’re doing is outside of that, you need to slow down and think it through,” he explained.

I hadn’t been doing that, obviously, or I would never have slept with Gwen or Isabel.

“But what if they’re hot? I mean, like, supermodel hot, and I would regret not going for it for the rest of my life?” I asked, half to give my uncle a hard time, but the other half was serious.

“If you were anyone else, I’d call bullshit. You face temptations that us mere mortals will never have. That’s why you need to take the time now, before you’re faced with decisions like that. You don’t want to have to figure things out in the heat of the moment,” he explained.

There were always consequences. Going for it, no matter how hot the girl was, could blow up in your face. I’d also made promises to my mom that I didn’t intend to break again. I knew I wasn’t perfect; none of us are. That wasn’t an excuse, though.

“Hey, good job today,” I said.

He gave me a curious look.

“You didn’t ask me even once how I was feeling.”

“On that note, go fetch me a beer. I need it.”

I happily did as he asked.

Saturday January 14
Manaia took my family to the airport. I was glad that they’d come out. I felt I knew Aunt Bonnie better, and I always enjoyed spending time with my grandmother. It made me happy to know I was her favorite, and Uncle John had come through for me once again. Outside of Mom, Dad, and Greg, he was the one person I could always count on for help. I cherished his advice, and I felt it was spot-on, for the most part.

While Manaia made the airport run, Fritz was my security. I decided to go to the baseball facility and hit some balls. They were packed, but they remembered me and asked if I would be willing to let people watch me hit like last time. When I agreed, they promised to get me in. I decided to wander around and watch some of the others take their cuts.

In one cage, I found two guys batting, a righty and lefty. They would take turns stepping into the box and swinging away. I could see how that would maximize your time. It was like Coach Mason had done with quarterback reps in practice. Instead of one guy hogging all the time, two could get their at-bats in faster. The only problem was they had the machine set at maximum, and they were whiffing badly. They were way behind the ball.

“You have to anticipate when the ball is coming out. When you hear the whump, start your swing,” I coached.

“Yeah, Ross. Try that.”

Whump

A swing and a miss. The next kid stepped in.

Whump

Same result.

“You guys suck,” I said to encourage them.

I got flipped off for my commentary.

Whump

These guys were terrible. I would think that they could at least get lucky if they stuck the head of the bat over the plate. The pitching machine typically sent the ball to the same location each time. I was about to suggest just that.

Whump ... ting ... oof all happened in rapid succession. Ross had fouled it off right into his friend’s nut-sack.

“Dude ... you okay?” Ross asked.

I admit that I started to laugh. Ross’s friend rolled around on the ground in obvious agony.

Whump ... thump ... ack made me suddenly concerned. Ross had bent over the plate to check on his friend, and the ball clocked him in the side of the neck. The kid went down like Cassidy had executed a perfect bone strike on him. He was out before he hit the ground.

Whump

Staff appeared out of nowhere and shut the machine down. The cute girl who checked us in came and stood beside me.

“Once they haul these two out, you can use this cage. I’m pretty sure they’re done for the day,” she told me, then promptly turned around and walked back up front like this happened all the time.

Ross started to come around and looked a little goofy. Yep, they were done. I’d also figured out the downside of having two batters in the cage at one time. Maybe I could talk some of the younger guys back home into trying it.

Lexi sent me a text to let me know I should get home so I could be ready for lunch at Chubby Feldman’s. It felt good to see some of my old skills start to come back. By the end of my time in the cage, I was hitting the ball with authority. I could tell I was ahead of where I was last year at this time. Playing baseball last spring and all summer had made a real difference.

When I got home, I discovered that Lexi had laid out clothes for me. I also saw that she’d packed up most of my stuff and put it in boxes to ship home. It was amazing how much stuff I’d accumulated over the time I’d been here.

One box, in particular, made me grin. Lexi had packed the bar. I was torn between shipping it home where my dad was supposed to no longer drink or see if Lexi wanted it. I didn’t want it around if I planned to be in training for baseball season. Then again, I could have one kick-butt party.

After my shower, I was ready to go. Manaia was back from his airport trip. I found Lexi already in the car. She must have thought I wasn’t taking her. I hadn’t thought about it. I was confused as to what the protocol was for a meeting like this. In the past, we’d met at a restaurant, and everyone had brought someone with them. When we pulled up, we were just behind Rita James, who had Kent with her. Kent was both Rita’s and my manager.

Rita came to my car and opened the back door to let me out.

“I was so sorry to hear about your dad. How is he doing?” she asked as she hugged me.

“He’s home, so I assume he’s okay. We’re taking it as a wake-up call because his father’s death was due to heart problems.”

“And your mom?” Rita asked.

“She was a little shaken up, but she’s holding it together. I can’t wait to get home so I can check on them myself.”

“I was sorry to hear that Brook’s moving. Will you try the long-distance bit?” she asked.

“No.”

“I bet the girls will be lining up,” she said as she took my arm and led me to the house.

“With only a semester of high school left, I think I’ll focus on baseball and leave girls to college,” I said, realizing that was what would happen.

“Halle’s single,” Rita offered.

“Is she? I’ll keep that in mind. Who knows what’ll happen when we travel to New Zealand and only have each other there?” I asked to tease her.

She looked up at me and smiled. Rita was a terrible matchmaker. I think that is a mother’s prerogative, though.

Chubby Feldman was waiting for us at the front door.

“Rita, gorgeous as ever. And there’s my secret weapon. David, welcome,” he said as he kissed Rita’s cheek and then shook my hand.

I stepped into the foyer and was reminded of what true success could bring. Chubby’s home was one of the truly spectacular Hollywood mansions. If my horde moved in here, I might lose one or two of them in this sprawling estate. I’d been here once before at night for a party. Seeing it in the daylight showed how special it was.

“You’re the last two to arrive,” Chubby continued as he led us into the house towards the back. “I decided to have our lunch outside since it’s such a nice day.”

When we stepped out back, I only had a moment to survey the scene before two girls came sauntering up. It was Mia Hillard, who was cast as Bianca Fields, my love interest in the film, and Isabel Alexandra, Ben Cowley’s girlfriend and star in the recent Baywatch movie.

“Mia. Isabel,” I said in greeting.

Mia had a confused look when she realized that Isabel was standing beside her.

“You two know each other?” she asked.

“I know Isabel through her boyfriend, Ben Cowley. He and I were in Star Academy together,” I explained to Mia, and then turned to Isabel. “Why didn’t you tell me you landed a role in Devil May Care when I saw you Friday?”

“I just got the role. I play Miss Moneypenny, M’s secretary.”

“Well, welcome aboard. It will be nice to have a friendly face on set,” I said.

As soon as I said it, I knew I’d made a misstep. Isabel blushed, and Mia gave us a look.