Chapter 17 #2
A fresh burst of irritation coursed through me. Grimacing, I pointed out, “Am I his fucking keeper?” Everyone turned to stare at me in astonishment. I wasn’t sure why; I was being my usual prickish self.
“Watch your mouth, Carter,” Coach Samuels bit back, and my shoulders dropped.
“My apologies,” I rumbled insincerely. I was so done with this game, I wanted us to win quickly, then I could go and be with Harper.
“Save your aggression for the field, son,” he replied, grasping my shoulder.
“Don’t worry, sir, I’m on it.” And I was, if the opposition's linebacker pulled a blitz and tried to clothesline me again, I’d make damn sure they never found the pieces.
“Right, see that you are. OK, tactics ladies, let’s go through our next play.”
Samuels then fired off his suggested strategic adjustments like the Coach Bull Cyclone he endeavored to be.
Coach S had been pissed at the end of the second quarter, having chewed out the opposition's tight end, the fouling little prick.
And now he had us gunning for the other team like the predators we were.
The coach quickly sped through, reviewing the first half and giving us pointers on where improvements could have been made.
The animosity hadn’t just been on the field. On the sidelines, Samuels had paced like a caged tiger, his face contorted with a mixture of frustration and rage. Tempers soared, and adrenaline pumped through the air. But that’s college football for you.
During the first half of the game, we’d struggled for dominance, and even though we were in the lead, we still had our work cut out for us.
At the end of the coach’s notes, we all bumped fists, ready for battle. I was more than willing to continue the fight as I needed to impress my girl.
“OK, ladies, you have seven minutes. Get into your positions and look lively.”
“Yes, coach,” we all belted. I had decided to ignore those ‘adjustments’ the coach had suggested from how I’d played during the first half of the game. I was a do-what-I-want kind of guy, and so he’d expect me to go against his demands anyway.
“Get your ass over here, Prescott!” Samuels barked from behind me.
Glancing across the field, Reed was jogging towards us with a satisfied look on his face, no doubt for blowing his load down Storm’s throat. Talk about the last minute.
I chuckled as we regrouped, raising my eyebrows at Hudson, who was in the process of taking his meds.
“You might wanna go easy on that shit,” I suggested, punching him on the arm.
He ignored me and nodded across the field to where Harper and Molly were standing. Storm had just joined them. “She said yes then?” Hudson enquired with a smug expression.
“Yeah, man.” I hadn’t asked Harper out the traditional way. I hadn’t needed to. But yes, she was my girl, plain and simple.
Hudson popped another pill into his hand from the blister pack without batting an eyelid. “What if we win and they do a piss test?” I pointed out.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Coach has a copy of my prescription.”
“Just don’t overdo it, OK. You don’t want to feel drugged on the field,” I warned.
“Will you get off my ass already?” Pfft, I was only trying to help, and the dude bit my head off. That’s brotherly appreciation for you.
After chugging his tablets back with the water, Hud squirted the bottle at his face to cool off and rolled his shoulders.
“Look, I’m taking it to even the playing field.
If I don’t calm my tits, someone is going to end up in the ER.
Maybe that tight end fuck, when I snap his fingers off and then feed them to him,” Hudson rumbled with his usual serial killer expression.
“You’re mental,” I said with a wicked grin.
He shot me a bored expression. “That’s the consensus.” And he wasn’t lying. Hudson wasn’t born the other side of sane, but watching your piece of shit father murder your mother right in front of you brought out your crazy.
“What’d I miss?” Reed said, tugging on his helmet.
We both ignored his question as I added. “You mean whilst you were off fornicating.”
This caused both my brothers to snort as Reed shot back, “What’s that now, fornicating? What are you, fifty?”
“Gage, Carter, Prescott! Get your assess on the field,” Coach Samuels belted, waving his arms around. He was such a screamer.
My brother and I bumped chests. “Let’s do this.”
As I moved into position, drinking in the cheering from the crowd, I ignored the massive smirk on the opposing team's lineman. I knew he was baiting me, the cocky motherfucker. Turning away, I jammed my helmet on and pushed the mouthguard between my lips through the cage, and then I saw them.
Standing at the entrance to the tunnel into the main stand was my brother. And just behind him was my mother. What the actual fuck? She appeared to be talking to a guy I recognized as the mayor’s Press Secretary, David Burns. I’d been introduced to him at Storm’s party.
My elevated mood took a nosedive. Shit.
The snap seemed to go off in slow motion as the opposition surged forward. My feet moved, tearing up the grass as I tore through two players, knocking both on their asses.
The play was tough; the Vipers coach had clearly torn his players a new one at halftime. They were on fire, and I was all over the place.
“Carter, get your head in the game!” Coach yelled as I failed to stop a bounce pass.
My focus was shot. It was like an out-of-body experience.
I was physically on the field, but my brain was elsewhere.
I couldn’t concentrate; my head was fogged with unanswered questions.
After seeing my mother and brother, a flurry of emotions had erupted through me like a volcano going off.
My mother was at my football game. Why now, when I had decided to draw a line under that shit?
I tried to focus on the play, but they were coming at us from all angles. After taking down their fat-as-fuck kicker, I pushed to my feet and glanced back towards the tunnel, but it was empty.
I spent the last two quarters playing worse than I had in High School. My teammates and the coach were roasting my ass, but I couldn’t shake that feeling that something was off. What was she doing there? I would have assumed Alex had badgered her into bringing him, but that wasn’t it.
Thankfully, my teammates carried the game with little support from me, and we won 28-24. The crowd was going wild. I usually soaked that shit up, but not right then. All I could think about was finding out what was going on.
The post-game celebrations and Ala Mater shit seemed to drag on, but I plastered a smile on my face.
Once it was all over, I glanced across to where Harper had been standing, but she had left. No doubt the girls would be waiting for us out front, so we could walk to the beach where the after-game party was being held. I needed to send a message to say I’d meet her there.
Both Hudson and Reed bounded after me as I made my way to the locker room. I needed to shower and dress ASAP.
“What the fuck, bro?”
“I know, I blew it, OK. Alex turned up, and I got distracted.”
“As in, your half-brother, Alex?” Reed questioned.
“Yeah.”
The team was euphoric after our win, the locker room full of singing and joyous banter.
Grabbing my bag, I slid my cell out and found Alex’s number, firing off a text to find out where the fuck he was at. I then hit the showers at record speed, but the hot jet streams were less than soothing.
“What’s with you today, Brutal?” Sanderson belted with a cocky look as he appeared buck naked beside me. His big, hairy chest puffed out, the frigging ape.
I gave him a hard look. “Fuck off.”
My comment amused him as his eyes danced over my face. “Hey,” he replied, backing up an inch, before lathering his body in soap. “Shake it off, dude, we all have bad days.” God, I hated the prick. I remembered how Hudson had pounded on him last year after a practice game.
“You’re not helping dickhead,” Reed added from my six.
I rolled my eyes as more pumped-up players walked into the communal area surrounding me.
When we won a game, the guys rarely used the stalled showers; it stilted their ability to brag about how well they thought they’d played.
So, there I was, surrounded by my teammates in the showers, all hyped up at our success, when I felt like shit. Steller.
I ignored the usual banter. Well, that and them blowing smoke up Reed, the star player's ass. Major dick sucking was taking place, and that just added to my annoyance, considering how poorly I’d played.
After ignoring all their bullshit attempts to make me feel better, I rinsed off and went to my locker, towel drying myself before tugging on my jeans and a tight black tee.
I didn’t even bother with underwear. As I shoved all my stuff into a free locker, I grabbed my wallet, house keys, and cell phone and swiped open the screen. Alex had replied to my text.
He said his mother was meeting someone at the stadium, but he wasn’t sure who.
Where is your mom now? I thumbed in as I left the locker room, deodorant stinging my eyes.
The meeting’s in an office next to where the stadium personnel work.
“Nix!” I heard Hudson call out. Raising my head from my cell, I saw him by the main doors with Molly. “You coming to the beach?”
I scratched my jaw. I should have shaved earlier. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there,” I called over. “Where’s Harper?” I added as I noticed she wasn’t with them.
“Looking for you,” Molly replied with a coy smile. “She was by the stand a minute ago.”
At that moment, Storm walked into the corridor from the field. “What the fuck was your deal today, Brutal?”
Micah appeared behind her, also jumping up my ass. “You sucked ass, bro.”
“Blow me,” I grunted as they passed by. Reed had just left the locker room, and they all came together.
“Fix your shit and then get your ass to the beach,” Hudson bellowed over as they all prepared to leave.