Chapter 100

Monday-Tuesday, July 30-31

I dropped Morgan off with a goodnight kiss and a promise to take her to lunch tomorrow, then headed back to the apartment. My girlfriend seemed to know without me saying that Arlene had dibs on Tuesday night.

After a quick trip around the web on my tablet, I spent a little more time going over the special teams playbook. Coach Ramirez had told me that while we’d spend a little time on all of the plays through preseason practice, only two or three would be considered for each game based on what opponents liked to do. The main point of all of the fakes was to take advantage of the other team’s aggressiveness. We’d let them sell out to block a kick, then run or pass through the spot they’d vacated.

There was a lot of that in the overall offensive approach, as well, but it was much more read-and-react. Reggie Terrell told me that no matter what pattern the play call said I should run, what I actually ran would almost always depend on how the defense lined up. If a linebacker shaded my inside shoulder, I automatically ran an out. If a defensive back was on my outside shoulder, I’d run a slant. If they put both of them on me, then we’d already won because that would mean there was an opening somewhere else.

The situation I was waiting for was when, in Reggie’s words, a defense decided to ignore the “slow white boy” who obviously wasn’t a threat. If that ever happened, he said, a go route was sure to gain 10 yards before a safety could react and come up to stop me. Since Coach Tucker spoke like I’d only be used in situations where we needed 3 or 4 yards or less, I doubted I’d ever get to find out.

I finally shut things down about 11. Tuesday was promising to be an interesting day, and not just because Arlene had warned me I was getting so fucked.

Grandma again cooked breakfast, so it was pretty much a parental edict that I put in an appearance at the house before I went to work out. I made sure to limit myself to one egg and a couple of strips of bacon. I didn’t want to heave it all back up while running gassers.

My grandmother decided to tag along with Kacie and spend the day observing the childcare operation. Dad said — very quietly — that that ought to keep the two of them from buying out half the stores in the metro area.

As everyone else got started on their day, I got warmed up by jogging to the driving range. I was surprised to see some of the non-cabana guys from our skull session stretching out, chief among them Marshawn Taylor, the starting middle linebacker. He and Jed were engaged in playful banter about who had had the more productive summer.

“Real men do real work,” said Marshawn, who’d apparently spent his time on a construction crew. “Not everybody could spend the summer at the pool working on their tan.”

“I bet I put in more miles the first week than you have all summer,” Jed responded. “We’ll see who’s in shape when Coach hits us with those gassers.”

Marshawn wasn’t to be outdone.

“We’ll see who’s been doing their weight lifting,” he said, flexing his biceps. “How many sacks of cement mix can you carry?”

They went back and forth like this for several minutes as we stretched and prepared to do our running, and continued even after we started.

“All the way past the line and hand to the ground,” Jed chided after our first gasser. “And you’d better go hard.”

If Marshawn wasn’t going hard, he must have had world-class speed. Fabrice was the only one of our regulars he wasn’t outrunning, but I expect a linebacker should be faster than a bunch of interior linemen.

I had Jeremy throw me a few burners from 10 yards away while we were waiting for everyone to recover from the gassers. I wanted to see if that made Jed’s snaps easier to catch again.

Marshawn lined up on the defensive side as we practiced snaps and kept talking smack. Then he added an extra element to our practices when he pointed at me.

“I’m coming for you,” he said loud enough to be heard at the first tee, “and I’m bringin’ the pain!”

He then burst through the line screaming like a banshee when Jed snapped the ball. I hoped there were no golfers disturbed by the noise. I’m sure Jed would tell him if it was an issue. I grabbed the ball and put it on the tee for Fabrice as Marshawn dove at least a yard behind me, proving to be a distraction but not a threat.

The big linebacker laughed as he rolled to his feet.

“I made you flinch!” he crowed. “Don’t lie, I saw it. Admit it, you were scared!”

We lined up and did it again, this time with Marshawn coming off the defensive right end straight into my face.

“He flinched again!” he said. “Everybody saw it. You can’t deny it. I’m gonna get there next time.”

Next time, Marshawn came from the defensive left end, my blind side, but I could still hear him. I concentrated on the ball, catching it and placing it on the tee. Fabrice’s kick was away a full step before Marshawn dove in front of me. I admit it, I flinched as he sailed by.

“Man, I wish we were in pads already!” he said as he returned to the defensive side. “I’d love to be able to hit the pretty boy supermodel.”

It was obvious someone had been talking. I’m not one to name names, but I think his initials were Jed Richards.

We continued our practice with Marshawn running at me, trying to cause me to muff a snap. I just had to tune him out and focus on the ball, which was kind of sad. I’m sure his antics were entertaining the other guys.

As we finished up and huddled, he looked at me like it was just a matter of time before he broke me.

“I bet you were ready to run home to yo’ momma,” he teased. “You gonna have to start wearin’ your big-boy pants now. We can’t have no scared pretty boys on our football team.”

I looked at Jed, who seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious.

“He does know I went out with Coach Bennett’s daughter, doesn’t he?” I asked my alleged best friend.

“He what?” Marshawn yelped. “Jed, you didn’t tell me Supermodel was crazy! I don’t mess around with crazy people. They get you when you’re sleepin.’”

Jed was certainly enjoying the show. It seemed he’d managed to set both of us up with one prank. The rest of the guys enjoyed a laugh, at least.

Several of us got our lower-body lifting done while Jed and his morning crew sorted the delivery. I chased him down in the stockroom before I left to tell him I wouldn’t be available for tonight’s skull session.

“I have a prior engagement,” I said.

“Blonde, brunette or redhead?” he asked.

“Mrs. Jenson wants to discuss some modeling stuff,” I lied. “So I guess you could say redhead.”

“You dog,” Jed said knowingly.

I made it home a little after 9, showered, brushed my teeth and put on some clean clothes. I sent Morgan a text to call me when she was ready for lunch and sat down on the sofa in the family room with my tablet. My mistake was putting my feet up to get comfortable. The next thing I knew, “You’re The One That I Want” was blaring out of my pocket.

I was just able to pull my phone out and accept the call before it went to voicemail.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Morgan asked. “You didn’t reply to my text. It’s been nearly 10 minutes.”

“Sorry,” I answered. “I must have dozed off. Are you ready to go?”

“Why do you think I’m calling?” she said. “Think you can wake up enough to drive by the time I walk over there?”

That was a good question. First, I had to find my shoes and my tablet. Fortunately, the former should be in my room and the latter was laying on the floor next to the sofa.

“I’ll be ready,” I said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“I’m on my way,” she said.

I could hear a door open and close on her end before she disconnected.

I managed to get organized enough to collect my tablet and head to my room. I slipped on my deck shoes and grabbed a golf cap rather than try to tame my hair. I made sure I had my tablet, wallet, keys and shades, hit the bathroom, then went back to the family room to wait.

Morgan, clad in a jogging shorts combo with a cap and shades, rang the doorbell a few minutes later. I let her in and received a smooch for my efforts, then made sure the house was locked up. We exited through the back door for the carport and I held the passenger door for her.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked my girlfriend as I began backing out.

“Let’s hit the mall,” she said. “I want to check out some things for school. We can eat at the food court.”

Less than 15 minutes later, we were pulling into a parking spot not too terribly far from the main entrance. We wasted no time in getting inside in the air conditioning.

Morgan window shopped as we made our way to the food court, paying particular attention to clothing displays. I took it she hadn’t finished updating her wardrobe.