Chapter 65: Tuesday, Oct. 16

I awoke slowly with a pleasant, even comforting, weight on my chest. It took a few moments to realize it was Marie, staring at me with an inscrutable expression on her face.

“Mornin,’ baby,” I croaked, my voice not quite realizing it was supposed to be working now. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, leaning in for a sweet smooch. “You’re comfortable to sleep with. That’s lots better than sleeping alone.”

Marie slid off me and got out of bed.

“We’d better get moving, Daddy,” she said. “It’s almost 6. You need to get a shower unless you want everyone at football practice to smell me on you. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Cereal will be fine,” I groaned as I tried to make my body follow her, thinking I really didn’t care if my teammates smelled pussy on me. A few of them probably spent the afternoon and evening trying to acquire such a scent themselves.

Coach Tucker would be another matter, though. He was of the opinion we should be expending our energies in preparation for this week’s game. I went to go wash.

A quick shower helped me become a little more awake. It wasn’t lost on me that I’d need another one after practice. And probably a third this evening if the modeling agency had me engaging in as much physical activity as yesterday.

I returned to the front room to dress for the day. A check of the weather app on my phone showed identical conditions to yesterday morning — 44 degrees and rain, which I could hear hammering the roof again.

I was grateful the apartment didn’t seem to have any leaks. It’d be my luck that one would develop right over the head of the bed and drip on my face as I tried to sleep.

The good news was the rain was supposed to ease off at some point this afternoon or evening, but I don’t think it was going to stop completely. I’d just have to dodge the raindrops whenever I was outside.

That reminded me that I still needed to get some new outerwear. I’d meant to do that yesterday, but the situation with Zander must have taken over the space in my brain which had been holding the thought.

I again pondered things as I dressed in an almost identical outfit to yesterday’s and went to have breakfast. My mysterious caller last night had gone to great lengths to hide his identity. I’d better ask Marvin Johnson if he had any advice.

Marie had a bowl of cereal and glass of pineapple juice waiting for me when I reached the table. She wore a rather pensive expression as I sat down.

“What’s wrong, little one?” I asked, pulling her onto my lap.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about whatever’s going on with Zander,” she said quietly as she snuggled close. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Daddy.”

“I promise, baby,” I said, hoping I was reassuring her. “I’m going to bring it up with the security guys as soon as I see one.”

Marie gave me a fierce hug before going off to get ready for her trip to the health clinic while I quickly consumed my breakfast. Where I was admittedly concerned by the situation, she seemed positive I’d gotten myself into something I may have trouble getting out of.

I placed my dishes in the sink and stuck my head into the bathroom to tell Marie I was gone, then made sure I had everything I needed and donned the pullover fleece. On a whim, I decided to take my backpack. Maybe I’d have a little time to do some reading at the agency.

I headed out expecting to take the Rover to the fieldhouse — Kacie would get another day with my Beemer — but was blocked in by a black SUV.

“Mrs. Johnson said you’re riding with us today,” a burly fellow said through a window lowered just enough to speak without getting soaked. “Get in back.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, reaching for the door handle behind the driver’s seat.

“Don’t call me sir,” the fellow said as I climbed in. “I was a sergeant. I worked for a living.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” I grinned.

There were two of them, the other guy riding shotgun. I set my backpack on the seat beside me and buckled up.

As we backed out of the drive, I noticed the second fellow looking me over through the rearview.

“I’ve a question for you,” I said, getting his full attention. “I received a phone call last night from someone I hope y’all can find some information on. The caller ID came up as ‘Unknown’ and he used some kind of device to disguise his voice.”

“Probably used a burner, but we might be able to find something out,” the guy said. “Do you have your phone?”

“Right here,” I said, pulling it out of a pocket. “I won’t need it until after practice if you need to use it.”

“We’ve got a guy who can clone it and get it back to you before we head to the university,” he said, holding out a hand. “Give it here.”

I handed him my phone, thinking it was about time for an upgrade, anyway. He turned back around, dug his own phone out of a pocket and thumbed a button.

“Lanny, Buck,” he said once the call connected. “Yeah, I know what fuckin’ time it is. Boo fuckin’ hoo, princess. Grab your laptop and snooper kit and meet us at the high school fieldhouse 10 minutes ago. Got one you’re gonna love.”

We pulled into the senior lot a little after 6:30, the sergeant thoughtfully pulling close to the locker room door to let me out. I hurried inside and changed into my workout clothes.

I noticed Jed had lived up to his promise as all my equipment was properly placed in my locker and my laundry was done. I was going to have to let him protect the property of the offense before Friday. Maybe I could invite him to dinner one of these nights.

With a few minutes to kill, I went out to the hallway to check the bulletin board. The Cougars were indeed in the top 10 at No. 9. They were one of two new teams in the poll after a couple of ranked teams got beat last week to fall out.

We were first among others receiving votes, which I guess made us No. 11. I hadn’t seen last week’s rankings, but from what I remembered from the week before, we’d pulled a little closer to what everyone considered our biggest hurdle in district.

It looked like we were in for a real head-knocker this Friday. I was still of the opinion that being at home would be in our favor.

I didn’t have time for anything else as Coach Bennett started shouting for us to get our lazy butts in the weightroom. The man truly loved shouting at teenage boys. I was just glad to have avoided it — somewhat, anyway — after he learned I’d fucked his daughter.

Lower-body day went at least as fast as upper-body. I attributed that in part to me not having to drop weight as a concession to my shoulder. If anything, it felt like I could have handled a little more on the leg exercises.

Back in the team room, we got our first look at film of the Cougars. They seemed pretty vanilla — one-back spread on offense, straight 3-4 on defense — but they executed everything the did very well.

The one thing I noticed about their offense was they used a tight end more than we did. The defense didn’t scare me, but they made tackles when they got to the ball. Their two inside linebackers were especially active.

We broke up into position groups and began getting more into the game plan. The wideouts seemed to think they could handle the secondary, which looked pretty aggressive. Sometimes a little too aggressive, kinda like the Eagles. The slots would occupy the outside linebackers, trying to lure them away from the play. We’d be running a lot of outs this week.

Of course, that didn’t factor in our use of the power sets. We’d be using at least two tight ends in those formations, it was just a matter of whether they set up on the line or as wings. If we employed a two-back set, we’d have two tight ends and an H-back to serve as a lead blocker.

I would never see the field in those packages.

A little after 8, Coach Tucker blew a blast on his whistle and told us to get taped and dressed. Buses would be moving as soon as everyone was loaded. We were encouraged to get a move on. We were facing the same time constraints as yesterday.

Somebody must have lit a fire under the trainers because I was taped and dressed by 8:25, and I was well in the middle of the pack. I went ahead and wore my backpack, into which I stuffed my street clothes, for one of the few times since school started. That made it easier to carry my gear.

One bus was already pulling out as I got in line to board one with mostly skill positions. Coach Sullivan made me sit next to him so he could question me more about the two-back zone read. It sounded like we might actually run it once or twice this week.

It’s not like I was an expert. I’d only seen it on TV the one time, but remembered the basics.

“I think one thing is to figure out how or if to use the H-back with it,” I said. “If he’s exclusively a lead blocker, they’ll figure things out soon enough and drop a safety into the box. You might consider sending him away from the play a few times to keep the safety occupied.”

“Already thought of that, even for other plays,” the offensive coordinator said. “I want you to shadow Reggie during the segment we work on this and let him know what you’re seeing. Coach Wilson won’t need you when we get to it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, half expecting him to tell me he was an assistant and worked for a living.

It wasn’t too long before we pulled up to the university’s indoor facility and piled out of the bus. We hustled inside, where student managers already had things set up, and helped each other get into our shoulder pads.

We were lining up for calisthenics before Coach Tucker blew his whistle to get things started.

As I expected, I mostly ran out routes when I rotated in at U and V. Unless we scored a few touchdowns or forced the Cougars to punt several times — ideally, we’d be able to make both things happen — I wouldn’t touch the ball that much this week.

I noticed the college coach I’d dealt with yesterday and a couple others dressed just like him standing off to the side observing. I wasn’t sure, but I don’t think NCAA rules allowed them to be here. It wasn’t like they were offering guys cars to come play for them, though.

When we got to the segment where we worked on the two-back zone read, I stayed close to Reggie and gave him my thoughts. He seemed to have a good grasp on things, but was still a little slow getting the ball to the second back when the need arose. His natural reaction was to keep it himself if the first back was covered.

Coach Sullivan had me take a few snaps to show our starting quarterback how to pull it and hand it back for the second back. The defense was apparently under orders to take the first back to permit that, then Marshawn had to be Marshawn.

“I haven’t got to hit me a pretty boy supermodel yet this week,” the linebacker growled as we lined up again. “Boy still owes me dessert!”

At the snap, Darius crashed down from the end, taking Javon, and Marshawn, screaming like a banshee, jumped through the A gap before Jed or the H-back could cut him off. I spun away and saw Jerome bearing down on Marcell, so I headed for the first opening I saw. Fortunately, it was forward.

I was a good five yards past the line before the coaches blew the play dead. I was just glad it was before one of the safeties got to me.

“Now I gotta make ya pay for runnin’ away,” Marshawn taunted me. “And ya still owe me dessert at Morton’s.”

“Maybe this weekend,” I smirked as I tossed the ball back to Jed, “if they even let us back in there after last time.”

Coach Sullivan put Reggie back in to run the offense, berating Marshawn the whole time. The defense behaved and Reggie smoothly executed the backward handoff on the second read a couple of times before we moved on.

In the special teams segment, we again worked on the fake that had me pitching the ball to a wing blocker running a drag behind the line. I don’t know if Coach Tucker was ever going to be in a position to call it, but we were getting pretty good at it.

Gassers, huddle, “TEAM!” on three.

I stripped out of my shoulder pads and looked around for Marvin Johnson. I saw him off to the side chatting with the guys who’d driven me to the fieldhouse and another fellow who looked like a bulked up computer geek. Imagine Wil Hutchins after a decade of daily weight training. They seemed rather agitated about something.

Before I could check in with my minders, Coach Tucker, Coach Sullivan and the college coach I talked to yesterday accosted me.

“I thought you said you were just a special teamer,” the fellow snarked. “You never mentioned you play quarterback, too.”

“That’s because I don’t, sir,” I said. “Unless you count Coach Tucker having me run scout team one week because he didn’t want to get a real quarterback killed running the option.”

“Tell me about that two-back read,” the guy said. “Your coaches said it was your idea.”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I saw it on TV a couple of years ago. I don’t even remember what team ran it. I think it was one of those compass-point schools in the MAAC. Their quarterback wasn’t much faster than I am.”

“I think I have an idea who you’re talkin’ about,” he said. “There’re some coordinators up there who’ll try damn near anything. Why’d you keep it that one time?”

“I wanted to live,” I snorted. “That linebacker I told you to recruit crashed the gap. He’s hit me enough this season.”

“Gary’s faster than he looks when he’s running for his life,” Coach Tucker smirked. “He’s had plenty of practice outrunning all his girlfriends’ fathers.”

“How many girlfriends?” the college coach asked with a smirk of his own.

“At least half a dozen that I’m aware of,” Coach said, feeling the need to yank my chain, “including the daughter of our superintendent and the younger sister of that linebacker. There are a couple of others I have my suspicions about.”

“It’s a wonder he’s still alive,” Coach Sullivan said, joining in the fun.

“That would explain his ability to avoid a hit,” the college coach mused.

I doubt he would’ve thought that had he seen Marshawn decleat me in shotgun alley.

“You’d better go change,” Coach Tucker said. “Be prepared to do this again tomorrow. The forecast isn’t looking very promising. Be at the fieldhouse by 7. The worst thing that’ll happen is you’ll have plenty of time to get ready if we can practice at school.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “See ya tomorrow.”

Morgan had appointed herself keeper of my backpack during our workout and I went to reclaim it. It was just my luck she was talking to Stephanie, who blushed furiously when she noticed me approaching. The girl couldn’t still be crushing on me, could she?

“What’ve you got in this thing?” Morgan groused as she handed me the bag. “It weighs a ton!”

“I brought my schoolbooks just in case I have a chance to read ahead,” I said, taking the overloaded bag, “and a change of clothes.”

“Which are gonna be all wrinkled,” Morgan snorted. “Marie, Kacie and I are going to go look for some things for you this afternoon. Kace said she needs to get her car back, anyway. Apparently, your convertible is no fun to drive when it’s raining too hard to put the top down. I wouldn’t know, of course.”

“Maybe we can change that after the season’s over,” I grinned. “Your feet might even be able to reach the pedals by then.”

“They already do, smartass,” Morgan shot back. “Kacie let me check last time we went for a spin in it. I didn’t even have to move the seat all the way up.”

I didn’t want to think about my sister and my first girlfriend going off in my car. The local constabulary must have had to call in reinforcements to deal with the chaos they created.

“Tell Kacie her car is parked in Arlene’s driveway,” I said. “It hasn’t been driven since Sunday, so there should still be at least half a tank.”

I headed next door to change. I saw Mr. Johnson following, so I held the door to the locker room for him as he hurried through the rain.

“Can you shower at this modeling agency?” he asked as he caught up to me.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Hurry up and get changed,” he commanded. “I’ve smelled a lot worse. Oughta be able to tolerate you for a little while. We need to get moving. We’ll grab lunch on the way.”

“Yes, sir.”

I quickly stripped out of my practice gear and got my laundry and pads arranged for Jed.

“I’ll take this to your buddy,” the bodyguard said. “Get dressed and meet us at the Yukon.”

“Yes, sir.”

It only took a minute to step into my pants and pull on my T-shirt, then a little longer to put on socks and shoes. I grabbed the fleece and my backpack and hurried to catch my ride.

The black SUV flashed its headlights as I rounded the corner of the indoor practice facility. The rest of the team had already loaded on the yellow dogs, which were lined up ready to pull out.

I climbed into the seat behind the sergeant again to find the bulky computer geek seated beside me with Marvin Johnson in the shotgun seat. I have no idea what they’d done with Buck.

“Tell me about this phone call you got,” Mr. Johnson commanded as the sergeant pulled out of the parking lot.

I again explained about overhearing Zander’s conversations yesterday and the fact that he seemed to be setting up a meeting with Cyril Eliopoulos. When I got to the part about my suspicions that Zander had been claimed as a pet, the questions started.

“What makes you think that?” Mr. Johnson asked.

“He got a tattoo of a red star on his butt, said his new boyfriend talked him into it and paid for it,” I said. “That’s one way pet owners mark their pets.”

“How do you know that?” the sergeant asked.

“Marie Benson was a pet,” I said. “She has angel wings tattooed on her back.

“Zander also said his new boyfriend was rather controlling and wouldn’t be happy Zander was planning to see another man while the boyfriend was out of town. I contacted a pet owner I know and asked for his assistance in getting word to Zander’s boyfriend.”

“Why’d you do that? Marvin demanded.

“Zander Caufield was the one who sent the paparazzi my direction regarding Lela Subinski,” I said. “Cyril Eliopoulos was one of the reporters. He was especially nasty about the whole thing, said he was going to enjoy taking me down. Zander was planning a honey trap so Cyril could out me as gay. I’m pretty sure Cyril’s the one who wrote about me being a pedophile.

“I told the man who called that I didn’t know if Zander was actually trying to sneak around or if Cyril was trying to lure him away. I’m willing to let the caller deal with the matter. If something happened to Zander and/or Cyril, my hands are clean and my conscience is clear.”

“Well, something happened,” the computer guy said, speaking for the first time as we pulled into a Sonic. “There’s an unconfirmed report that two men were abducted from a club called Le Cage last night. One was described as young and very good looking. The other was older, short and had a swarthy complexion, possibly of Hispanic or Mediterranean origin. Police have no comment because no one’s filed a report.”

I can’t say I was overly disturbed by the news. The fuckers wanted to trash me for their own benefit. I’d already been through that kind of shit once this year.

The sergeant pulled into a stall and put it in Park, but left the engine running.

“Whatcha want, kid?” he asked as he lowered the window.

“Cheeseburger, mustard, no tomatoes,” I answered. “Large tater tot with cheese, large cherry limeade.”

The others gave their orders and Sarge pushed the button and waited for the attendant. I was impressed the guy repeated everything word-for-word without having to ask us what we wanted again. He then used a credit card to pay once the order was confirmed, saving us a few minutes on the transaction.

“Here’s your phone,” the computer guy — Lanny, I finally remembered — said, handing the device over to me. “Turns out your caller didn’t use a burner. I was able to crack the phone company database and find a New York number that made a call to your phone last night from Beverly Hills.

“It’s registered to a Howard Tankersley and he sounds like a real piece of work. Lots of fingers in lots of pies, and not all of them necessarily on the right side of the law. I was able to hack his call history. Any idea why he’d make a ton of calls to a place called Cedar Springs? That’s not too far from here, is it? They just stopped cold about a month ago.”

“I think you need to pass that information along to George Patterson,” I said, putting the phone in my backpack. “You might want to see if any of those calls were to a J.W. Harkrider. Mr. Patterson can explain the connection better than I could.”

Our food arrived, Sarge distributed sacks and drinks and got moving before I even popped the first tater tot into my mouth. I dug my burger out and ate as we rolled toward the agency, finishing a couple of exits before we turned off.

“You go get a shower,” Mr. Johnson sniffed as we pulled into the parking lot. “I’ll be around. We’ll get you back to Mrs. Jenson’s when you’re done for the day.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, taking one last slurp of my drink and grabbing my backpack before opening the door. “Thank you, gentlemen, for the ride and the info. I’ll see you this evening.”

I hurried through the rain to go play Ken doll one more time. This should be interesting, I thought.

I hurried into the agency and proceeded directly to the shower room. I don’t know how offensive I smelled — I actually worked up a pretty good sweat in practice today — but the security guys seemed able to endure it without rolling down the windows.

Of course, part of that may have been because it was still raining steadily. Which was worse, smelly teenage boy or getting thoroughly soaked?

There seemed to be a buzz in the air as I made my way along. I’m sure I’d find out what was going on soon enough.

I scrubbed everything I could reach and shampooed twice just to be sure. At worst, I’d smell like sweaty flowers now.

I didn’t bother drying my hair. The stylist would just get it wet again as he worked on it. At least I got it trimmed yesterday. The big concern today was how much goop would be needed to get the cowlick under control.

The hair and makeup people seemed to be aching to resume the conversation they’d been having when I arrived. My presence apparently led them to quieten down, like when parents discuss something the kids don’t need to hear.

Once I was all prettied up, I went to meet the wardrobe lady. I wondered how many styles of golf pants I’d be expected to wear.

It turned out none.

Armand rushed over to me when he saw me, looking rather grim.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he said. “One of the boys never showed up today. I need you to go with Richard for the beach stuff.”

I didn’t have to think very hard about who may have been absent. And I’d worked with Richard (don’t call me Dick) before. He was the guy who shot my portfolio back in June and was pleasant enough as long as you followed his directions.

I was sent to dress in board shorts, a Hawaiian shirt that was to be left unbuttoned and flip-flops. Once dressed, I headed to the area of the studio that almost could have passed for somewhere on the Gulf Coast.

A handful of other guys and a matching number of girls in beachwear were standing around. Richard wasted no time in getting us arranged and started snapping.

It was almost like football practice with a segment clock. Every time a buzzer sounded, we were sent to change into a different color combination and repeated the process.

“I can’t believe he just blew this off,” I heard one of the guys say as we entered the changing area. “He knew what time we were supposed to start. I’m afraid something might have happened to him.”

“He was going to meet that guy he was talking about, the reporter from Hollywood,” another voice said, “but I never heard him say where.”

“As long as it wasn’t Le Cage,” a third voice said. “One of my roommates tends bar there. He said there was some kind of disturbance last night, but it wasn’t in the area he was working so he didn’t have any details. That’s too nice a place for people to be starting fights. Go to one of the biker dives in the East End if you’re looking for that kind of action.”

“You don’t think Zander was involved, do you?” the first guy asked, sounding worried.

“Zander get in a fight?” the second guy snorted. “Bitch, please, that boy practically wet his panties when the high school kid got on him last month for being a chronic fuckup. More likely he let some bear with a big dick tie him up in some dungeon and is still there.”

“Yeah,” the third voice said, “he is such a slut. I was surprised he admitted to having a boyfriend. He’s always been on the lookout for his next piece of trade.”

I hurried to get changed and got my ass out of there. I really didn’t want to hear about the mating habits of gay sluts.

When I returned to the set, Richard (don’t call me Dick) paired me with a brunette who was practically falling out of her electric blue bikini top.

“Sorry,” she said as she scooped a hand into a cup, giving me a flash of nipple as she got things settled. “I think this company’s sizes are smaller than what I usually wear. I need to ask for the next size up.”

Hey, no need to apologize for giving me a free show, I thought. I like looking at naked titties, especially nicely shaped ones like hers. Not too big, not too little, just right.

I think the agency had cranked the AC a little higher than necessary. That or all the girls in our group were just excited. There were pokies everywhere I looked during that sequence. I was having one hell of a good time.

After another outfit change, we moved to the beach bar set. Armand had decided he didn’t like some of the shots from yesterday and ordered them redone. Some of the models seemed a little perturbed about the increased workload just because somebody kept screwing up. As long as they didn’t try some shit like Photoshopping Zander’s face on my body, I didn’t have a problem with it.

This time, they served what looked and smelled like real beer. All the other models were at least 21. I just held my glass, taking an occasional fake sip, as we recreated the party scene.

One of the girls got a little giggly. I hoped she wasn’t driving tonight, but I managed to swap my glass with hers after she gulped the contents down. It wasn’t my fault she rubbed her nearly naked tits against me as we followed Richard’s directions.

I got the feeling I could have talked her into joining me in Marie’s secluded corner without too much difficulty. Better not, though. I was getting laid more than I should just with my official girlfriends. I didn’t need to chase after a strange piece. I was supposed to be on the shelf, after all.

We were told to take a break around 5 as Richard and Armand looked over the shots. I grabbed a snack and my backpack, then found a seat that was in a spot where I could be found if needed but not interfere with any of the other shoots going on.

I thought briefly about reading for Western Civ, but decided to go over my game plan instead. It was much easier to get out of the backpack than a textbook. Besides, I had to be ready for Thursday’s test, even if we weren’t in school this week.

“Whatcha readin?’” the brunette with the just-right tits asked as she looked over my shoulder.

“Studying my game plan for this week’s game,” I said, resisting the urge to turn and look at her chest.

“I thought the university had an open date this week,” she said. “I take a couple of classes there, but I can’t go full-time because of work. How do you find time for school, football and modeling? You must never sleep!”

“Actually, I’m still in high school and only take the occasional modeling assignment,” I said as I looked over the Cougars’ blitz package. “My school is on fall break this week, so my manager set it up with Armand for me to come in after I finish practice in the mornings. The weather’s kinda messed with our schedule, though. We’re having to use the university’s indoor facility.”

“So, it’s true, then,” she said accusingly.

“What’s true?” I asked.

“You really are straight,” she said. “Some of the male models were talking about you yesterday. Zander swore he could prove you were gay, but you didn’t seem to mind it when I flashed you earlier.”

“I must admit you have lovely breasts,” I said, flipping back and forth between the blocking schemes in our power sets and their blitzes; I thought we could pop some big plays if we could identify the blitzes presnap. “I might even go so far as to call them exquisite, but that would require a level of familiarity I’m not sure you’re willing to permit.

“And I’ve learned not to concern myself too much with what folks like Zander think or say. If he was really worried about me, he would have said something to me.”

OK, the little twink had the first time we worked together. He just hadn’t liked what my response was.

“Well, watch out for Tina,” the girl said.