Chapter 11
ELEVEN
reeve
“Let’s go with two dozen pink roses,” Cam says to the lady behind the counter at the flower shop. “Actually, wait. Can we do three dozen? Or four? Whatever it takes to make it look super deluxe and over the top.”
“Sure.” She pushes aside a display of glass jar candles and bags of potpourri to make space on the white countertop for a pad of paper. “We can do it up nicely.”
“What’s with the hundred roses?” I ask Cam. “If you’re not careful, Minnie’s going to think you’re accusing her of turning fifty this year.”
“Tell you later,” Cam says, then turns to the flower lady. “And maybe we can throw something white in there.”
“Baby’s breath?” she suggests.
I shake my head. “No way. Minnie doesn’t like that. What about that dragon flower?”
“Snapdragons?” the woman asks.
“Yeah, that’s it. That would work, right?”
“Sure, white snapdragons. That’ll be lovely.” She writes that down, then looks between me and Cam. “How sweet of you guys to remember your mother’s birthday. You’re brothers?”
“No,” Cam says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
I wink at the lady. “We are. He just likes to pretend we’re not because, you know, look at me. The only time Cam here isn’t the best-looking guy in the room is when he’s standing next to yours truly. Sucks to deal with that your whole life.”
She presses her lips together to hold back a smile. “Well, I’m sure she’s very proud of both of you. My son couldn’t tell you my birthday if he was looking at my birth certificate. So just the rose arrangement for today?”
“That’ll do it,” Cam says, pulling out his wallet.
“Hold on. The roses can be from you, Cam. Let me get my own for Minnie this year. What’s that big flower she grows in the yard, the huge one with all the petals?”
“Delilah?” Cam says.
“Oh, you mean dahlias!” the woman says. Flower lady for the win. “Yes, it’s the perfect time of year for them. What color family are you thinking?”
“Let’s do pink. All the shades of pink you have. A big bouquet.” But I catch myself. “Actually, do you think we could keep it under a hundred?”
The lady gives me an understanding smile. “I’ve got plenty of lovely filler flowers, don’t worry. And no baby’s breath.”
“Awesome. Thanks.”
Cam gives me a look. “What are you doing, man? We always go in on the birthday flowers together. She doesn’t need two.”
“For once I have money. And I owe it to Minnie—uh, Mom, I mean.”
As the woman scratches something down on a notepad, Cam puts his hands in his pockets. “That all we need?” he asks quietly.
I cut my eyes away from him. “That’s all.”
My mom’s birthday is a week after Minnie’s, a fact Cam knows because every year it’s a thing.
Half the time an unspoken thing, but still a thing, even in the years I don’t celebrate with her.
Even in the years—like this one—I’m not even certain I have her current address.
No matter the year, it highlights the glaring difference between my real mom and the woman who acts like a real mom.
After we pay and give the woman Minnie’s address, we head out onto the street to find lunch. “So all of a sudden you’re living large, huh?” Cam asks. “How’s the new job, anyway? Mom says the manager loves you.”
“Naturally.”
“So it’s working out?”
“I’m sitting on a decent stack of cash for a few hours of work, so yeah. Hopefully it doesn’t all go to the Bronco.”
“That’s half the reason you took the job anyway, isn’t it? Supporting your baby?”
“Yeah, but she’s going to need work sooner than I thought; broke down again last night.”
“I can loan you what you need,” Cam says.
“No way,” I say quickly. I still owe Cam for the generous loans he gave me back in high school.
And even if he only jokingly agreed to let me pay him back when I sign my first NFL contract, that’s the first check I’m going to write if I go pro.
“But you can give me a ride to the restaurant to pick her up.”
“How’d you get home last night?”
“Jade.”
There’s silence for a beat.
“I about went to bed with a headache after ten minutes in the car with that chick,” I continue.
“Uh-huh. She’s a lot.”
“No kidding. You know how much she hates me working there? You should see the way she glares when I walk in for the night. It’s pretty funny.
” I think back to my first night at Somerset Grill, the look on Jade’s face from across the room when she realized I was the new waiter.
Arms folded over her chest, nose in the air.
Even when she’s being hateful, she looks good.
Especially in that tight little skirt she has to wear at work.
I look over at Cam, who’s watching me and shaking his head. He narrows his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, dude.”
“What?”
“You know exactly what.”
I try to stop the smile sliding across my face. “No, I don’t.” I nod at the sandwich shop across the street. “Let’s get subs.”
“Don’t go near her. In fact, don’t even look at her. It’s too messy.”
“I’m not gonna go near her,” I say as we cross the street.
“That’s the last thing on my mind.” I try to pretend like it hasn’t even occurred to me, but Cam’s smirking; I’ve never been a great actor.
“I mean, she’s hot; not saying I wouldn’t tap that if she offered herself up to me on a silver platter.
” Cue the graphic image in my head of a fully naked Jade on a giant silver platter.
“Oh, you would? Really?” Cam asks, pulling open the door to the sandwich shop. “No shit.” He laughs. “Good thing you’re arrogant as hell. Jade wouldn’t let a guy like you within spitting distance.”
I shrug. “She didn’t argue too hard when I asked for a ride. Of course, she also thinks she dropped me off at some random chick’s house for a hookup, so I probably burned whatever goodwill I had.” I chuckle at the memory. Why is it so fun to push her buttons?
“Whose house?”
“Maisy’s. Not for a hookup, obviously—I decided to give tutoring one more shot—but Jade doesn’t need to know that.”
“Agreed. The more she hates you, the more she keeps her distance.”
“Nah, I could convince her to spend a night with me. I bet she’s fire in bed, wild as she is, but I don’t have the energy for that type of chick. I’m focused on the game.”
“Good, can we keep it that way? Because if you dick her over, Lenni’s going to get pissed at me.”
“Breathe easy, dude. Even if I did want to get tied down to some girl, Jade wouldn’t be it. I wouldn’t tie myself to her to save my life.”
“Good,” he says as we get in line at the counter. “I heard she’s got something going on with Bryce anyway.”
“Wait, what?” I whip my head around to look at him. “Bryce, our fucking dirtbag teammate who only made the cut because Daddy’s a donor? Are you serious?” The thought of his hands on Jade makes me see red. “What did you hear about them?”
Cam lets my demand linger in the air between us before giving me a knowing smile that makes me want to smack him. “Gotcha.”
I exhale, irritated by the relief running through me. “You’re an asshole.” After we put in our order and find a table, Cam asks, “So you getting fired up for tomorrow night?”
I’m hit with a little shock of nerves, but it’s the good kind.
Tomorrow night we play the number-three-ranked team right here at home, and I’ve got a good feeling about it.
We’ve won every game since our disappointing opener, and I’ve played pretty well, but I’m not racking up the stats I thought I would.
My shoulder has been quiet, but every time I walk onto the field, I feel like I’m one wrong move away from overextending it.
Maybe I’m holding myself back without realizing it.
This week, though, I’ve been feeling stronger and playing harder.
“For sure, man. We got it in the bag. Can’t say I wouldn’t kill for Lorenzo to be off the bench, though.”
“Seriously. Their offense is unreal.”
Lorenzo is our top middle linebacker, and his shoulder surgery came with a long recovery, which sucks for him personally and is made worse by the fact that it’s obvious our defense suffers without him.
Our D is strong but it’s not where it was last fall.
And lately, with this shoulder twinge I have on and off, every time I look at Lorenzo, I pray I don’t end up like him.
“So is ours,” Cam says. “You looked like a beast at practice yesterday. Hey, did you read Atkins’s article about you?”
“What?”
“Brian Atkins, the sportswriter for—”
“No, I know who he is, man, but what article are we talking about?”
Cam smiles, glad to be the one to break the news. “Read the paper. Pretty clear who he thinks should win the Heisman.”
“Seriously?” I grin, my chest puffing up. Brian Atkins interviewed me before the season even began, and I was starting to think he was never going to turn it into anything. “He made me sound good?”
“He doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t have favorites.”
“So I can expect a little extra attention on me tomorrow, huh? Good. I think this is the game I’ve been waiting for all season.”
“My mom’s bringing my aunt and a couple of her girlfriends,” Cam says unenthusiastically.
Minnie Forrester loves nothing more than showing off for her friends, and Cam’s football games are her favorite showcase.
“Hey, so the reason for the over-the-top bouquet? I told Minnie last night that I might not even enter the draft.”
“Shit. How’d she take it?”
“About like you’d expect.”
“So she’s sweeping up smashed vases this morning, huh?” As far as Cam’s mom is concerned, his being an NFL star was a foregone conclusion the day he picked up his first football.
“Okay, slightly better than you’d expect. No broken glass but some waterworks for sure.”
I look at Cam, trying to imagine what it would be like to actually choose never to play football again.
I love that he’s always flown high above peer pressure and what people around him think, but for once I wish he didn’t.
“So that’s really where your head’s at? You don’t think you’re even going to enter? ”
“I probably will, actually. Lenni thinks I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t.”
“She’s right. You’ve worked your ass off to get here, man.”
“To get where? Good enough to enter the draft? Yeah, okay. But I’m not going to end up some glittery top pick like you.”
“Bullshit. There are no guarantees for either of us.” This fact has been hanging over my head like a black cloud ever since this season got underway.
Hence why I went crawling back to Maisy last night.
I might actually need my degree. “And you have no worries because you’re golden either way.
If I had your brains, I wouldn’t be sweating this season so hard. ”
“You had one game where you didn’t look like a total stud.”
I shake my head. “I looked way better last season.”
“So what? It’s early. I guarantee you ninety-nine percent of college quarterbacks would kill for the season you’ve had.”
It’s true. But somehow that only adds to the pressure, knowing everyone’s watching, knowing how far I could fall. “Yeah. But promise me you and Lenni will save me a spot in the back of your broom closet just in case.”