Chapter Three Cash #2
He lifted one questioning brow and took the ball from my hands, setting it on the turf as he dropped down into his stance.
In position behind him, I patted his right hip and called the numbers.
Dally hiked the ball, and I dropped back to pass.
Callahan shot off his mark and raced upfield, made the cut, and caught the pass as it fell directly into his hands.
“The fuck?” Dallas turned to me. “You’re showing Patty how to pass like that?”
“Look, I know you see me as a threat to the well-oiled machine that is the Wildcats, but I truly am here because our coach offered for me, and we both think I can help the team.” I might have emphasized “our coach” to remind the center that we all wore the same team colors.
Even though I lived in a world where everyone was massive, Dallas Cousins’ size intimidated me.
Though I topped him by two inches, the breadth of his shoulders was half again as broad as mine.
He was three hundred pounds of solid muscle, and when he straightened to his full 6’2” height, he had my attention.
“We don’t win with a controversy at quarterback.”
“Facts.”
“Stop hard-timing the new guy, Dally. Cash is good people. He’s going to help all of us play better.” The genuine smile that accompanied Patty’s words proclaimed his unwavering confidence in himself, his abilities, and his place on the team.
Maybe if I’d had more of that kind of confidence at my last stop, I might have found a starting position when I entered the portal.
Right then I resolved to make some personal improvements.
Not only did I need to pay attention to Patty’s technique to help him, but I also needed to pay attention to the way he handled himself to build my own confidence.
Callahan jogged past with an armful of footballs. “I gotta hit the showers. My first class starts in thirty.”
Pulling my phone from the pocket of my shorts, I checked the time. “Mine too,” I said as I joined him in gathering balls. Glancing over at Dallas, I asked, “We good?”
A bemused expression crossed his features before he nodded. “Yeah. For now at least.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out where Dallas was coming from. As long as I didn’t try to usurp his favorite QB’s place, we’d be fine. If I got a wild hair and decided to go after Patty’s spot, well, the center and I probably wouldn’t be “good.”
After tossing an armful of footballs into the bin, I hit the showers and gathered up my backpack to head to class.
I was going to school for kinesiology with a minor in business.
My plan was to attend chiropractic college after my playing days were done, which was looking more and more like when I finished my undergrad rather than after some fun in the NFL.
Playing backup at a D1-A school wasn’t how a guy got noticed by NFL scouts.
On my way to my first class, I stopped by the student union for a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, which I finished in two bites before hitting the sidewalk.
I slid into an empty seat in the aisle of my anatomy lecture and settled in to learn about musculature and bone structure.
As the professor scrolled through a series of slides, my mind wandered to Patty’s throwing motion, and I thought about his knees.
Since my knee surgery, I’d had to change the way I threw.
Something about Patty’s stance niggled at the back of my brain, giving me an idea for our next impromptu workout.
It’s funny how in hindsight seemingly mundane moments can turn out to be monumental.
A few weeks into the semester, as I laced up my boots after morning lift, our number-one place kicker, Dalton Sneed, wandered over to my locker and asked if I’d like to attend a party at his fraternity.
“You’re a frat rat?” I asked, surprised.
Dalton crossed his arms over his chest.
Picking up on his defensive attitude, I softened my tone. “How do you have time for a fraternity and football?”
“You have to live somewhere. I live in a frat.” He shrugged. “Last fall after I pledged SCR, some of my brothers sat me down and taught me how to play poker. I cleaned out Bax’s pockets on the first bus trip of this past season.” His wicked grin said a story lay behind that comment.
“I take it that was payback?”
“One of the sweetest moments of my life.” If anything, his smirk grew even more diabolical.
“By the time he was done with me last year, I nearly had to get a job to cover my losses, which is sad since we didn’t have that many bus rides.
” He laughed. “Bax was looking forward to more of my hard-earned summer money when the season started, but my frat boys taught me how to read tells.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Bax has a few pretty obvious ones once you know what to look for.”
“Your frat is throwing a party, huh?”
“Not just any party. The party of the season.” He wrapped one of his long arms across my shoulders and guided me out of the locker room.
Dalton could kick the shit out of the ball because he was built on stilts with arms to match.
“Every year, one of the fraternities takes a turn hosting the Mardi Gras Masquerade Ball. This year it’s our turn.
Though they don’t live in the house, Taco, Taylor, and Baker are all SCRs too.
” After we’d walked through the doors of the facility and into the parking lot, Dalton dropped his arm.
“Our goal is to throw the bash everyone remembers. We need guys from the team to help us meet that goal.”
“What? Like, to help you run the party?”
“No. To attend. The more Wildcats we have in attendance at our bash, the bigger our turnout. In case no one’s told you yet, chicks dig footballs players.” His loopy wink cracked me up. “Anyway, do you have a suit? This is a dress-up party, suit and tie required. And a mask.”
“A mask?” I chuckled. “Halloween is a long way off.”
“No, dumbass. A Mardi Gras mask. We have some extras at the house. I’ll set one aside for you.”
“I’m not sure how much of an asset I’ll be to your shindig, considering how few people I know outside the team.”
His expression turned speculative. “You’d be surprised.”
Huh. “All right then. Sounds like I’m hitting a frat party this weekend.”
With a smile, he held out his fist, we bumped, and then we walked across the parking lot to our respective rides. I’d been invited to a semi-formal frat party? Shaking my head, I climbed into my Jeep. My time at Mountain State hadn’t started at all the way I’d worried it would.