Chapter 6
Chapter Six
West
“ I love you. You’ve got this.”
Even if I couldn’t read Blue’s lips from across the room, I’d feel those words from a mile away. She smiles when I place a hand over my heart—the subtle way I say ‘I love you’ when there’s too much distance between us to use words. Thing is, I mean it as much today as I did the first time I said it.
Hell, that’s a lie.
I mean it more.
I’m between my brothers, seated behind a long table centered directly beneath a row of spotlights. The large NFL logo hung on the wall behind us is surrounded by insignia from the team’s sponsors, and this feels so damn surreal. Not just being home but getting to do what I love with the two guys I trust most in this world.
My best friends.
My brothers.
Dane’s shoulders lift when he takes a deep breath, and I notice he’s doing what I’d done a moment ago. His eyes are locked on his girl because she centers him, even in the middle of all the stress and chaos. My gaze shifts to Sterling next, and he’s stiff as a fucking statue—arms resting on top of the navy-blue tablecloth, but where no one else can see, he’s bouncing his knee to shake off some of the tension.
I slide a look toward Tiffany next, seated beside Blue and Joss. Behind those big-ass sunglasses perched on her nose, her expression is hard to read. Clutching an expensive, designer purse on her lap, she’s the posterchild for ice princesses everywhere. Sterling swears she’s not like that, but I have yet to see proof.
It’s engrained in me to look after my brothers. By default, that means I sometimes overanalyze their decisions, but I’m careful not to overstep. Hell, if he’s happy, who the hell am I to rain on his parade?
Every major news outlet is here and no more than ten seconds pass in between camera flashes. Off to the side, from the shadows of the room, Tammy nods, signaling Micky to begin. He leans left to whisper briefly to Coach Wells, then adjusts the microphone on the table in front of him as the room goes silent.
“Good morning, everyone. Thanks for joining us,” he begins. “As you all know, today is an extremely momentous day. The Cypress Pointe Emperors aren’t only gaining three phenomenal new players, we’ve brought the city’s beloved Golden Boys back home where they belong.”
Micky pauses to glance toward me and my brother’s, flashing a proud smirk our way. To my surprise, most of the small, curated crowd of reporters begin applauding, too.
Most.
Definitely not all.
Coach Wells leans toward his mic to speak next. “We are beyond excited to get these three out on the practice field,” he says. “It’s gonna be a real joy watching them mesh with the rest of the guys, getting integrated into the family. And having them back on home turf is this old guy’s dream come true.”
Quiet laughter fills the room.
“But I know you’re not here to listen to Micky and I ramble on with hearts in our eyes about our latest acquisition,” he jokes. “So, we’re gonna give the guys a chance to speak.”
Off on the sidelines, Tammy points at me, nodding my way.
Shit. Of course, it has to be me.
Joss’s pep talk from the week prior has been on repeat in my head ever since. I’m supposed to keep things short, sweet, and friendly to the best of my ability.
I focus on Blue when I open my mouth to speak, pretending it’s just us here.
“Morning, everyone. It’s an honor and a privilege to be in this room, back in this city, and especially on this team. It’s common knowledge that my brothers and I were born and raised here, and that it was in this city that we discovered our love of football. Eventually, we were able to live out a childhood dream, playing football for North Cypress U. And it was at the university that we had the opportunity to play for one of the hardest men to impress in the division.”
Coach wells nods, proudly accepting my description of him when everyone laughs.
“But in all seriousness, it’s truly a dream come true to be here, and I hope we make you all proud.”
When I lean away from the mic, Coach Wells speaks up again. “On behalf of this team and this city, welcome home, boys.”
The audience applauds, and Coach shakes each of our hands before addressing the room again.
“At this time, we’re opening the floor for a few brief questions before we conclude.”
As soon as he finishes, it’s like the flood gates open, and everyone’s vying for our attention. Luckily, Tammy avoids this turning into a free-for-all when she steps up to a podium off to the side, pointing toward a small, grey-haired woman standing to the left. The woman accepts the microphone that’s handed to her, and I brace myself.
“Firstly, congrats on an incredible opportunity to return home. I, for one, am excited for the season to begin.”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod.
“My question is for any one of you three gentlemen. How did this deal come together?” she asks. “From the outside looking in, it feels a bit like fate.”
“You’re not too far off,” Dane says with a smile. “Honestly, the moment I heard Coach Wells got pulled up into the league, I was buzzing. There was just this gut feeling that this seemingly far-off goal was suddenly within arm’s reach, and it’s just been a whirlwind ever since. Speaking for myself, when I got the call from Coach, saying yes was a no-brainer. All I needed was to know my brothers were on board, too, and it was a done deal.”
“What an awesome opportunity,” the woman says. “Besides getting to play with your brothers, what are you most looking forward to about being back home?
Sterling leans toward his mic to take this one. “Having discussed this amongst ourselves many, many times over the last few months, I can safely say that what we’re all looking forward to most is being close to family again. Our mother is still local, our closest friends are all here, and for me, I’m grateful to be back in the same zip code as my son. Now that I’m pretty much settled, I’m planning to spend as much time with him as possible.”
The woman takes her seat, and the volume in the room picks up as the crowd clamors for Tammy’s attention. She doesn’t get rattled by the noise, casually pointing toward the back of the room where a gentleman has his hand raised.
The crowd goes quiet again as he makes his way toward the center aisle.
“Good morning,” he says, and I squint at him through the bright lights, taking in his features—dark haired, average height, mid-thirties. But despite his nearly non-descript appearance, I know exactly who the hell he is.
Ira-fucking-Woods.
My hands tighten where my fingers are interlocked on top of the table. I remember every single detail of this asshole’s article last week, piggybacking off the drama Pandora stirred up. Joss had the same idea about him that I did. That he’s trying his damnedest to get noticed and make a name for himself.
And he’s doing so at our expense.
“Ira Woods here, from The Tribune .” He stares directly at me, squaring his shoulders. “My question is for West. I’m curious what your expectations are in terms of team cohesion. Do you anticipate pushback from the teammates standing in solidarity with former quarterback, Reed Lawson?”
My heart’s racing as I force myself to remember Joss’s advice.
It’s like Dane and Sterling have telepathy, because I swear I hear them inside my head, begging me to keep my shit together.
“Thanks for the question, Ira. I’ll start out by saying that the guys on the team are all adults, and I’d like to think they intend to behave accordingly. With that said, we all come into this industry understanding that, above all else, it’s a business. So, for that reason, most of us know not to take anything too personally. This situation is no different. Reed is an excellent quarterback, and he’s still got a lot of good years left in him, but with the team being under new leadership, the vision shifted a bit, and all parties involved are making adjustments accordingly.”
Ira smirks a bit, and I already fucking hate this rat.
“Thank you for your response. Just a couple more questions,” he says.
I mirror his fake smile. “Go ahead.”
He glances down, flipping the page of a small notebook. “I hate being that guy, but someone’s gotta ask the hard questions.” He peers up at me before continuing, and I know for a fact that he fucking loves being that guy. “I think we’re all a little curious about your shoulder. Or, rather, how it’s healing. I, for one, was really surprised by Coach Wells’ decision to replace a perfectly healthy quarterback with one who’s sustained such a significant injury. A fairly recent injury, at that.”
My blood’s boiling, but a quick glance toward Blue settles me a little. “I suppose that’s a matter of perspective, Ira. My treatment was overseen by a team of world-renowned surgeons and specialists, and following surgery and ample recovery time, I completed the full scope of the required rehabilitation program. At which point I received a clean bill of health from that same team of professionals, so… some might argue that I’m just as healthy as any other QB in the league.”
Asshole.
Ira smirks as if he just heard the insult I only uttered in my thoughts, and I know he’s far from finished with this.
“Right, but… it was kind of touch and go for a while, was it not?” he asks.
“Only as much as with any athlete, in any industry, who’s ever sustained an injury,” I answer, trying to keep my cool. “But as I just stated, I followed the doctors’ orders down to the letter, and then worked damn hard to regain my strength and full mobility.”
Shit. I sound rattled. Relax.
This time, my gaze shifts toward Joss instead of Blue, and she narrows her eyes at me, in that same way she’s done practically my whole life. It’s the look she gives to let me know I’m treading on thin ice.
“Any concern that some might view your decision to abandon your team in Sacramento as… I don’t know… disloyal? I mean, Coach Howard did take a chance on you, bringing you back following your injury.”
I don’t speak right away, and you could hear a pin drop. Slow steady breaths flow out of me and it’s all I can do to keep from saying some shit on national television that I can’t take back.
“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, anyone who knows anything about this industry knows that it’s all business. Nothing personal.”
Ira nods slowly, and I imagine myself knocking his fucking teeth down his throat.
“Fair enough,” he says. “Final question. I get that you three are looking forward to being near family and friends again, but being back in Cypress Pointe can’t be all good, can it? I mean, there has to be at least some tension, moving back to a city where the Golden name was so highly scandalized. Your father, Vin Golden, was involved in a rather high-profile criminal case before his death. That has to?—”
“Enough.” Coach Wells stands and that single word booming from his mouth silences Ira and everyone else completely. “You’re a guest here, Mr. Woods, and if you intend to be invited back, I suggest that you remember to come at my players with respect. Is that understood?”
Ira doesn’t respond, but his gaze lingers on me a moment longer before he finally returns to his seat. There’s a strange vibe in the room now, dampening yet another pivotal moment that should have felt like a win. Now, there’s this cloud hanging over us, darkening as those in attendance are likely all thinking along the same lines as Ira.
That bringing me here was a risk Coach Wells shouldn’t have taken.
That we should only feel shame being back in Cypress Pointe after what our father did.
That we’re out of place, infringing on the other players’ territory.
That we don’t belong.
Tammy motions for Micky to quickly wrap things up, a sign that she too realizes this just unexpectedly went left. As Micky gives his closing remarks, smoothing over what’s left to salvage of this press conference, a thought enters my head I didn’t think would ever come to mind. I’m wondering if it was all worth it—taking this position, moving my family across the country, leaving Sacramento.
If I’d known then what I know now, that phone call with Coach Wells a few months ago might’ve gone a whole hell of a lot differently.
@QweenPandora:
Hold up.
Pause.
Is Mr. Woods trying to steal my thunder?
Sir, there’s only room for one catty gossip queen in this city, and I’ve got that position on lock. But all pettiness aside, kudos to you. There’s something to be said for a ballsy media professional who goes straight for the jugular and says what we’re all thinking.
While I’m not known to play well with others, this is one alliance I would possibly consider. In the meantime, Mr. Woods, if you find yourself needing new material, direction on where to dig next, my archives are a treasure trove of Golden-themed scandals.
On another note, #KingMidas, #PrettyBoyD, and #MrSilver were all just formally introduced as members of the Cypress Pointe Emperors. Of course, #NewGirl, #VirginVixen, and #TheSubstitute were all present on the front row. Good thing they were there for moral support, seeing as how the guys were definitely met with mixed reviews.
The looks on the faces in the crowd ranged from thinking of the #GoldenBoys as local royalty, to them serving as a reminder of a blight on this city’s past—the late Vin Golden (a.k.a. #BigDaddy).
As I ponder it, maybe neither assessment is too far off, but one thing I think we can all agree on is that this will quite possibly be the most interesting season in Cypress Pointe professional football yet.
No pressure, boys, but we’ll all be watching. In fact, the entire country will be.
Good luck out on the field!
You’ll definitely need it.
Side Note: #KingMidas, it was so sweet of Coach Wells to stand up for you today, shutting Ira down when he was just getting started. But I was looking through old messages the other night, things I saved over the years for a rainy day, and I came across something Coach Wells might find particularly interesting. It made me wonder if he would’ve been so quick to jump to your defense if this info were to somehow make it into his hands?
Hm… I suppose we’ll have to see what happens, but let this serve as a reminder for you and the rest of the #GoldenCrew…
Not much gets past me.
Later, peeps :)
—P