Chapter 18: Voice in My Head

Monday March 13
Manaia drove Cassidy and me to school this morning. We were in the back seat, and I was checking social media on my phone. I was impressed that nothing about me being at a strip club seemed to have leaked out. Frank would be disappointed he didn’t get to gouge me for extra money as my PR guy.

“Hey,” Cassidy said to get my attention.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” I asked.

“Is it always like that for you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m trying to figure out why I threw myself at Hayden. I think it may have been a mistake,” Cassidy admitted.

Several responses ran through my head. Logically, she should have known that if she hooked up with him, it would never go anywhere. Long-distance relationships never worked, as far as I knew. Especially when they’d just met, and she was still in high school, and he would turn pro in a year. I was a great example. Brook and I cared for each other deeply, and we separated when she moved to Cincinnati. But I could see that this wasn’t a matter of logic for Cassidy.

“Did he mistreat you? We can rent a plane after school, and I can have a one-on-one talk with him for you,” I said, acting tough.

“No. It wasn’t that. I think he’s secretly in love with Tawny.”

She did pick up on that.

“You may be right.”

That didn’t make her happy, but I wasn’t going to lie to her.

“Hey,” I said. “I don’t think he has a chance with her if that makes you feel any better.”

“Why’s that?” she asked.

I chuckled.

“You know, what I was about to say would end up making you kick my butt.”

“Just say it.”

“I didn’t get the impression that she would be interested in someone like him. She doesn’t want a guy to just sleep with her, and it be another notch on his bedpost.”

“Are you saying you think I’m...”

“Hell, no!” I said, interrupting where that was going.

She looked me in the eyes to see if I was telling her the truth. Then she slumped back in her seat.

“Honestly, I thought he would be a lot like you.”

“But he had small ... uh ... hands,” I said with a straight face.

That earned me a slug in my arm.

“Shut up! I’m not talking about that,” she complained and then slugged me again when I got a big smile.

“I can’t help that he came up short in the bedroom ... ow!” I yelped.

“Don’t make me come back there,” Manaia said from the front seat, doing his best dad impersonation.

That cracked us both up.

I reached over and pulled her into my arms.

“You know I love you,” I said.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Next time, just think of it as a hookup and have fun.”

“Like you and Lexi?” Cassidy asked.

“Just like that.”

“You really are a ‘stupid boy’ if you think it’s just a hookup for Lexi,” Cassidy said.

“Pfft. Lexi has no interest in me beyond my mad skills in the sack,” I said dismissively.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” Cassidy said.

My ego was stroked when Cassidy didn’t contradict that I had ‘mad skills.’ But we would have to agree to disagree about Lexi Andon. She wasn’t interested in a relationship beyond a professional one and the occasional hookup. How did I know? She told me so.

At lunch, I had to take a conference call with Ms. Dixon, my lawyer; Mr. Morris, my sports attorney; and my dad. They had news on my exemption.

“We’ve come to an impasse in our negotiations with the NCAA,” Mr. Morris said to kick off the call.

“I thought they signed a letter of understanding,” Dad said.

“They’ve had some new developments that have made them rethink what they’re willing to agree to. The state of California had passed a bill that grants student-athletes the right to negotiate endorsement deals. From what I could glean, the NCAA plans to fight that vigorously. Rumor has it they may ban schools in California from participating in NCAA-sanctioned championships,” Mr. Morris shared.

“Wow. That would be a double-edged sword. I could see where in basketball, the one-and-done types would probably want to go to school in California so they could start getting paid legally. I doubt they would care if they won a national championship. For the majority, they would go elsewhere,” I reasoned.

“The good news for you is that if you pick USC, the law won’t go into effect until after you graduate,” Ms. Dixon said.

“So, if that’s the case, why are they backing off on what they agreed to?” Dad asked.

“They aren’t totally. They’ve agreed that any work David does before he steps on campus, he can continue to either do or promote. What they’re not willing to do is give him the right to continue to do acting or modeling when he’s in school. They are afraid that it might be used as a precedent when they take the state of California to court,” Mr. Morris explained.

“What about David’s agreements with Oklahoma and USC? Do we need to worry about those?” Dad asked.

“No. They signed agreements that protect his full image rights, as long as it doesn’t interfere with their ability to do their normal sports and event marketing. That applies while he goes to school at either place. I would just advise that David not do anything new when he’s in college,” Mr. Morris said.

Schools wanted your image rights for games so they could be shown on TV, which made no sense to me because some of my high school games were shown on TV. My guess was it had to do with other things, like jersey sales.

“This is so frustrating,” I complained.

“I recommend that you go ahead and take what they’re offering. If anything changes, you can come back at them. Just be aware that it would probably end up in court,” Ms. Dixon advised.

“You didn’t plan to do any movies or anything while you went to school, did you?” Dad asked.

“It might be nice to have the option to do something like the sunglasses commercial if I suddenly needed extra money,” I said.

“This will allow you to finish the projects you started. I got an education from Ari Gould, your manager,” Mr. Morris said. “He explained that you might have to go back and do CGI or voice work. Ari explained that part of your contracts to do the movies included promoting them. That made sense to the NCAA, and they are granting that.”

At a bare minimum, that was what I needed.

“Okay. Do the deal and let’s put this to bed,” I said.

“Tell them that this is literally as far as we are willing to go. If they try to go any further, tell them we’ll have to put David’s side of the story out there,” Dad said, looking out for me.

Mr. Morris and Ms. Dixon both started talking at that point, but Dad cut them off.

“Look, every dealing we’ve had with the NCAA has been an exercise in frustration and broken promises. They need to know that enough is enough,” Dad said.

I knew in my heart I wouldn’t take it that far, but if push came to shove, I would back up what my dad had said.

“I’ll get the paperwork completed,” Mr. Morris said.

“Duane, go ahead and drop off the call. I need a moment with David and his dad,” Ms. Dixon said.

When Mr. Morris hung up, Ms. Dixon told us what was on her mind.

“I didn’t want to say this in front of Mr. Morris because he is negotiating your deal with the NCAA. I didn’t want him to feel compromised in any way,” Ms. Dixon said.

That didn’t sound ominous at all.

“Compromised how?” Dad asked.

“They’re leaving a huge loophole in their agreement. It says that you can’t do anything new.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“You currently have contracts to model for Range Sports, Dakora, and Jade,” she said to clue me in.

“But those are annual contracts,” Dad said.

“What if you were to sign a ten-year deal?” Ms. Dixon asked.

“You would have to drop Range Sports,” Dad said to me.

Whichever school I went to would have an agreement with a shoe company, and that company would frown upon me doing advertisements for a competitor. While I might legally get away with it, it would be a huge distraction at the very least.

“You didn’t want to tell Mr. Morris because he isn’t as devious as you are,” I said.

“I’m just looking out for your best interests,” Ms. Dixon said reasonably.

“I agree, he doesn’t need to know about this to get David his partial waiver. But I’m not sure it matters because I doubt he’ll be doing anything but going to school and playing ball,” Dad said.

“I won’t even deign to comment on that,” Ms. Dixon said.

“I’m his father. I have to tell myself that he won’t make the same mistakes we did when we went to college,” Dad said.

“Good luck with that,” Ms. Dixon said.

“Please! I’m much more responsible than either of you were at my age,” I said.

“Like going to a strip club over the weekend?” Dad asked.

Frick! He’d done an excellent job of not letting on he knew about that. He obviously hadn’t told my mom.

“Uhm, I have to go if I plan to get any lunch today,” I said and hung up.

I had a meeting with Mr. Quiroz, my business teacher. He wanted to talk to me about my class project.

“How is your project going?”

“Good. We’re about to launch the shopping app for the convenience store,” I said.

“What do you mean by ‘we’?” he asked.

“My team. Everyone that helps run my businesses,” I said.

He shook his head.

“The purpose of this project was for you to do all the work on it. Not to parcel it out to others to help you,” he said.

“I did all the planning myself, but the actual implementation I left to the people that do that kind of stuff,” I said.

“I’m not sure I can give you a passing grade on this.”

I took a moment to wrap my head around what he’d just said.

“Let me ask you something. Has anyone else actually taken their plans and made a real go of it, or is it all just on paper?” I asked.

“That’s not really the point,” Mr. Quiroz said.

“Did you look at my plans on paper? Were they ‘A’ work?” I asked.

“Well, yes, but the project was to do it all yourself. Not involve others.”

“So, if I hadn’t told you that we were actually going to implement my idea, I would get an ‘A’?” I asked.

“Like I said, it really isn’t the point. When you told me others were involved, I have to wonder how much else they helped with.”

This guy was a dumbass.

“Wasn’t part of the project to talk to actual business owners?” I asked.

“Yes. To get ideas, but not to do the work.”

“Who said anyone else did my work?” I asked.

“Well, no one...”

“You just assumed,” I said.

Mr. Quiroz gave me an exasperated look.

“Can I ask if you’ve ever run a business?” I asked.

“You don’t need to have practical experience to teach the theory of business.”

I sat back in my chair at that revelation. I had so many responses I wanted to make to that comment, none of which would endear me to my teacher at that moment. Making him wrong would just make matters worse, so I tried a different tack.

“I obviously took my project too far for what you wanted. I apologize for that and will confine my class discussion to the business plan and not the implementation. For the plan, I did all the work myself,” I said to reassure him.

“That works,” he said, seeming happy. “You’re actually the only one done with your class project. Would you be willing to assist some of the other students to get their projects done?”

This was almost too much. First, Mr. Quiroz threatened to fail me, now he wants me to help my classmates. If I’d done such a horrible job, why would he want my help? Then there was the whole ‘you have to do your work yourself’ tidbit. How would my helping them be them doing their work on their own? I needed to graduate from high school as soon as possible before my head exploded.

“Sure,” I said.

That seemed to make his day. If he could fob off his work, he seemed happy for it. If he worked for me, I might fire him. Then again, the old saying—’those that can, do; those that can’t, teach’—might have come into play here.

USC was doing their in-home visit tonight. The plan was for them to meet with Wolf and Tim separately and then come to our house. At the appointed time, I was somewhat surprised when only Head Coach Clayton showed up.

“Rob, Carol,” he said as he shook my parent’s hands. He then turned to me and smiled. “David.”

“Coach,” I said.

“I thought we would be most comfortable in here,” Mom said as she led us into the kitchen.

She had picked up cinnamon rolls from Granny’s West on her way home and had made a fresh pot of coffee. Coach Clayton made a mistake when he turned down a pastry. He had no idea what he was missing.

“Before we get started, I wanted to let you know that I reaffirmed my offers to both Tim and Wolf. I can’t think of a better way to kick off next year’s class than to have the three of you...”

Coach Clayton then went on to expound on the virtues of USC and their potential when it came to football. He made sure to point out the excellent education you would receive at one of the nation’s top business schools. I could tell by the questions my mom asked that she was on board with me going there.

Education-wise, I was, too. You could add the finer weather and closeness to where my parents were moving in Malibu. It would only take an hour and a half to go home for a weekend and be with my kids. Add the lure of surfing, and I was almost there.

My biggest concerns were football-related. USC had once been one of the go-to locations in college football. They hadn’t really been relevant to the title hunt since Pete Carroll was their head coach. There was some crazy stat that in the month of November, he had a 25–1 record. His leaving for the NFL had hit the football program hard, with the added hit of NCAA sanctions. USC had been banned from making bowl appearances for two years and had been required to forfeit 30 scholarships, due to a scandal involving Reggie Bush receiving improper inducements.

Since Pete Carroll left, they’d put together some good seasons, and they always seemed to be in the chase for the conference championship. But they couldn’t seem to get over the hump and get into the top four at the end of the year so they could play for the National Championship.

There were positive signs, though. They continued to land impressive recruiting classes, and most teams would kill to have their talent. On paper, they should be dominating their conference. They should be right up there with the Ohio State, Alabama, and Clemson. From what I could see, it had to be the coaching.

After Pete Carroll, they’d hired an egomaniac who crashed and burned. Their next hire turned out to have alcohol problems. I hoped that Coach Clayton could turn the program around and get them back to being the old USC.

My other issue was they’d signed Matt Long. While I felt I was a better quarterback, Matt was not someone I could or should take for granted. He was the best pocket passer, other than me, in my class. Of course, I thought of myself as both a pocket passer and a dual-threat. He had all the tools to make it to the NFL and be a successful starter. Matt would also benefit from working out with and learning the playbook from Ridge Townsend, the possible first draft pick in next year’s draft, for a season. That would happen before I stepped onto campus. His experience in the system would be hard to overcome if I planned to start as a true freshman.

While I had no doubt that I would eventually become the starter, Matt was good enough to delay that goal. My other concern was how Coach Clayton planned to handle having two high-level quarterbacks on his roster. So, when he’d finished selling the virtues of attending USC, I asked him.

“How do you see Matt and me working together?” I asked.

“It’s not ideal. I told you that if you had committed, I would have passed on Matt. I’ll be honest with you. Matt will enroll this summer and will gain experience sitting and learning this fall. The way I coach is to give the lion’s share of practice and coaching time to our starter. While you will get your shot, I would expect that Matt will be in that role when you arrive.

“I would guess that your best option would be to redshirt your first year and possibly be our starter your junior or senior year when Matt heads off to the NFL,” Coach Clayton explained.

Coach Clayton just became someone I felt I could trust to be honest with me, even when what he said wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“Is there a chance I could beat him out?” I asked.

Coach Clayton chuckled.

“It would be an uphill fight unless Matt falls on his face. If you put in the work, and I suspect a lot of that would be on your own time, I’m not a fool. If you give us the best chance to win, you will be starting and get the majority of the coaching. The short answer is that you would have a shot to start. I just want you to come into this with your eyes wide open,” Coach Clayton said.

“Could I play defense?” I asked.

“In the short term, that might be your fastest way to get on the field. I watched your film going up against the Roth kid in the state championship game, so I’m torn. On the one hand, I see you could have an impact on that side of the ball. On the other, you might be too valuable to risk. We would have to talk about that once you got on campus.”

“So, that means you would consider it?” I asked.

“Absolutely. My job is contingent on winning games. If you playing defense will do that...” Coach Clayton trailed off.

Dad always said you should have a Plan B. While the thinker in me loved to play quarterback, the caveman liked the idea of hitting people.

We wrapped up the visit, and my parents wanted to talk.

“I think it’s an easy decision,” Mom said.

I still remembered when we’d gone to my uncle’s farm and talked to the old guys at the diner. They were big Notre Dame fans, but my mom had informed them that I would end up at USC. I had a pretty good idea where she was leaning.

“Let’s see what Oklahoma has to say tomorrow before David decides,” Dad said to head her off.

We spent the next half-hour talking about USC. My parents just confirmed what I’d been thinking. It was good to know we were on the same page. Mom was pushing for a better education for the long term while my dad advised we wait before I decided. Somehow, it sounded like they thought it was their decision to make. I kept the reality of what was happening to myself because I couldn’t stop the voice in my head from thinking that USC wasn’t the best place for me to go.

I think that voice might have been Mr. Happy, who wasn’t talking to me right now after I only ‘talked’ to Tawny last weekend. The thought of her ... let’s just say that it had crossed my mind.

I did something I hadn’t done in a while when I had a decision to make: I called Tami. She’d been my childhood best friend and pretty much ran my life through middle school. I figured she would be someone I could bounce things off of and get an honest answer.

“This is a surprise. I thought you lost my number,” Tami teased as we jumped onto video chat.

“I need you to tell me where to go to school,” I said, folding like a house of cards in a hurricane.

She burst out laughing.

“Just when I think you’ve moved on and can run your own life, you come crawling back. Tell me what you’re thinking so I can fix it for you,” she said.

I made a rude comment in response and then laid it out for her. She waited until I was done making my case for both schools before she commented.

“Tell me about the stripper,” Tami said.

“How the heck ... you know what? Never mind. I’ll figure this out myself.”

“Quit being a baby. Even though Tim and I don’t see each other anymore, we keep in touch. He mentioned some gorgeous stripper that you just talked to. When I heard that, I knew you were interested in her,” Tami explained.

“Tim has a big mouth.”

“Is it true?” Tami asked.

I knew I could either talk to Tami, or she would talk to my mom. I didn’t need Mom learning that I went to a strip club, and one followed me home.

“Sounds about right. She’s a business major and plans to get her MBA. I wanted to learn about Oklahoma’s business school.”

“Tim said you slept with her,” Tami dug.

“We just slept. Nothing untoward happened. I was a perfect gentleman,” I said to defend myself.

Tami rolled her eyes when I said, ‘untoward.’ Sue me. I’d worked on my vocabulary before I took my college entrance exams. Untoward was a great word.

“Do you love her?” Tami asked.

“Jesus! What made you think that?” I asked.

“It’s a reasonable assumption. You’re the one who falls for a girl instantly. Just answer the question.”

She might have a point, but that didn’t mean I was about to admit to it.

“I like her, and if I go to Oklahoma, I would want to see if there is something there,” I said.

Tami gave me a big smile that meant she’d gotten her gossip fix and then told me what she thought about my school choices.

“The safe pick is USC. They have good football and baseball teams; it would be close enough to drive home; and it is the superior choice, educationally. Oklahoma is a better fit, though. It’s in the Midwest and in a smaller town. There is nothing else to compete for their fans’ attention. If you help them get a National Championship, you would be a football god there. It would also be easier for you to win the Heisman at Oklahoma because the East Coast voters don’t see many West Coast games. And finally, your quarterbacking would get you a lot more NFL attention there,” she rattled off.

“You don’t think that USC’s education would outweigh Oklahoma’s?” I asked.

“For you, I don’t think it matters. I look at a college education as a foundation, but real-world experience will soon win out. Whether you go to USC, Oklahoma, or the University of Pennsylvania won’t matter for most people when you’re wheeling and dealing in the real world. Can it open doors for you? Absolutely. But I suspect that you being David A. Dawson will do more of that than which college you go to,” she explained.

I thought about everyone I knew in business, and I honestly couldn’t tell you where they went to college, or for that matter if they had gone at all. It never came up in conversation. I take that back; I knew the Wesleyan clan all went to Kentucky, and that Caryn went to Berkeley. Maybe I should ask my parents if they used what they learned in college to do their jobs now.

“So, you’re saying that the level of education isn’t important?” I asked.

“I think college is more about growing up and getting the necessary skills to survive in whatever field you decide to go into. Having a degree from USC over Oklahoma could very well make a difference when getting your first job. After that, it’s all about your work experience and if you have a degree or not, no matter where it’s from. Like I said, you wouldn’t need the edge having a better degree would afford you.

“The only exceptions are if you’re going into a technical or professional field, but even then, most of those fields require you to go to grad school. And especially for you, if you go that route, your grades will be a lot more important than whether you went to Oklahoma or USC,” Tami explained.

“You think it’s more of a football decision, then?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. In the grand scheme of things, football, and for that matter, baseball, is not what you should use to decide. Wherever you go, I suspect you’ll be fine. I suggested Oklahoma because of the quality of life. Going to that strip club is a prime example of what I’m talking about.”

“This should be good,” I said.

“Think about it. If you’d pulled that stunt in LA, how fast would that have been all over the Internet?” she asked.

I blinked a few times as that settled into my brainpan.

“Think of the paparazzi,” Tami continued. “Did you see any when you were on your visit to Oklahoma?”

“No,” I admitted.

“How did everyone treat you? Were you swarmed with people wanting a piece of you?” Tami asked.

“Four girls wanted something,” I said with a smile.

“I bet they did.”

“Okay, I get it.”

And I did. USC was very attractive to me, but at heart, I still was a small-town boy. Every time I went to LA, there were temptations to go wild. I was sure that I could find enough excitement in Norman, and if I needed something extra, I could fly to either New York or LA. Tami was right. For me, I would fit in better in a smaller town.

Tuesday March 14
This morning, the rain was cool, and the air crisp against my skin. Typical for March. I needed my run, though, so this was terrible timing. Even Duke was smart enough to go back inside. With my toes pointed out to the street, I stood at the edge of the driveway. A chill wind whipped through my hair. I wanted to shiver, but I steeled myself and ignored the cold.

Rain puddled at my feet, soaking my running shoes. I usually enjoyed the rain during the summer. I liked the feel of walking barefoot through puddles in the grass and the smell of rain mixed with fresh-cut grass. This morning, it was just miserable. I took off at a brisk pace. I wanted to get this over as quickly as I could, so I planned to push myself.

While I ran, I contemplated what Tami had said to me. I’d been focused on comparing and contrasting only things related to education and football to pick where I went to college. Quality of life seemed to be an afterthought until Tami pointed it out.

She was right that if I lived in LA, I would, in effect, be living in a fishbowl. I would also need more security, and the traffic was terrible. But there was a lot I liked about LA, too. Besides the weather, which was a huge deal, really, I already had a circle of friends there.

I had to ask myself, would I really be happier in Norman, Oklahoma? Or did I need to step out of my comfort zone and embrace life in LA?

Right now, I wasn’t sure what I would do. What I did know was that I would make my decision tonight.

I sprinted the last block when the wind and rain picked up. Even with my protective gear, I was soaked through. I wondered if anyone else was dumb enough to be out running this morning. Hopefully, it would dry out so we could play our game tonight.

I felt much better after a hot shower. I went to the house and found Cassidy cooking while both Manaia and Paul were drinking coffee.

“Why are all of you here?” I asked my security people.

“We had someone come over the fence this morning while you were out running,” Paul explained.

Mom and Dad came into the kitchen carrying the boys.

“You’re going to have to do something about that alarm, or you get to deal with the boys’ hysterics,” Mom said.

“You said someone came over the fence. What happened?” I asked.

“While you were out on your run, the drones alerted us someone was at the back fence. I saw them start to scale it, so I set off the alarm and locked all the doors remotely,” Paul said.

“I got here first and subdued the intruder,” Manaia said.

Cassidy snorted.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“It was Brock Callahan. His brother tossed his hat into the yard. Brock climbed the fence to get it. He was a little pissed when Manaia body-slammed him,” Cassidy shared.

That would explain why the place wasn’t swarming with police.

“It was a good test run,” Paul said to try to put it in the best light.

“Fix the alarms, or you two can calm down Little David and Coby next time,” Mom warned.

Both Manaia and Paul flinched.

Angie and Peggy came down, and we all had breakfast. Cassidy was getting much better.

Paul drew the short straw and had to take Cassidy and me to school, while Manaia helped Peggy load the boys into the car seats to go to daycare.

“Jill Lacier wants to talk to you,” Cassidy said.

Oh, boy, that couldn’t be good.

“What about?” I asked.

“I don’t really want to know. She just asked me to tell you.”

“Couldn’t she have just left me a note in my locker like all my other stalkers?” I asked.

“Girls leave you notes?”

“I have a whole stack of them,” I admitted. “I can’t think of why I would want to talk to my little brother’s ex. Speaking of which, do you know what’s up with Angie and Greg? Greg sent me a text that he wanted to talk to me.”

“I don’t really know,” Cassidy said, looking guilty.

It was apparent she knew something.

“What about you?” I asked Paul.

“Your mom gave us orders not to talk about it with you. She said if you wanted to know, to ask her.”

I would wait to talk to Greg.

We found Dare waiting for us at the back door. There were still people showing up at school, so my security team had been given keys to this door so I wouldn’t have to face the gauntlet out front. I noticed he didn’t have his coat on and was shivering. By now, it had stopped raining, but it was cold enough he needed his jacket.