Callan
“Three weeks until our first preseason game,” I announce, wrapping up the first day of training camp for the rookies.
“Now’s the time to prove you’re supposed to be here.
You’ve got the best team in the world at your back, so make sure you take advantage of every opportunity.
Every coach. Every trainer. Every single person is here to make sure you’re performing at your peak.
So, work with them and give it your all. ”
Motivating the team is one of my favorite things about being the quarterback. Well, that and being in control. As someone who experienced high levels of chaos as a child, I naturally gravitated toward the positions where I got to be the one in charge.
I hand out a round of back slaps as I leave the rookies to go get fitted for their equipment.
“Thanks for coming in today, Devine,” Coach Phillips grunts as I reach the back of the team meeting room.
He’s in the far corner, observing everything, but allowing his staff to run things.
Two offseasons ago, the Stallions upgraded most of the spaces in which players spend significant time.
The team meeting room now looks like the fanciest movie theater you’ve ever seen, complete with faux-leather chairs, designed specifically to fit the extra-large frames of our linemen.
“Of course, Coach. You know I’m happy to help out. Plus, who better to intro the playbook to the new guys than me?”
The first week of training camp is only for the new players.
They’re long, administrative-heavy days.
Most of the veteran players won’t come in until next week, but I like to help out, to make sure the new players know I’m here.
As exciting as your first week with a team is, it can be overwhelming, too.
“I think Vernon might be able to handle it,” Phillips says, naming our offensive coordinator.
“Maybe. But I’ll be back on Wednesday to help out when they start walkthroughs, anyway.”
“It’s not in your contract, Devine.”
I tuck my right hand into the pocket of my black gym shorts. “I know. But I’ll still be here.”
“Of course he will.” AJ Pitt walks into the room and offers Coach and me a grin.
“Pitty.” I grip his hand before leaning in to slap his back. “What are you doing here?”
“I just finished up with the trainer. Thought I’d stop by and see what we’re working with.”
I nod toward the almost empty room. “You just missed them.”
Pitt chats with Coach for a few minutes before we head out together, discussing the new recruits on our way to the parking lot.
I nod at the security guard as we walk by. “Hey, Byron.”
Byron raises his hand in greeting. “Mr. Devine.”
“Callan, or Devine, Byron,” I remind him. “No mister needed.”
“Yessir.”
I sigh. “He’s never going to call me anything but Mr. Devine, is he?”
Pitty chuckles. “Never.”
I stop next to my personal parking spot, unlocking the black Audi R8 waiting for me. “You coming to my house on Friday night?”
Hosting a dinner and party to celebrate the last night of rookie training camp, on the Friday before the rest of us report, is a tradition I look forward to every year. I love getting all my people together and showing them a good time.
Pitty nods. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. I’ve been coordinating the menu with my chef for almost a month. She’s bringing in the cook from that new steakhouse downtown to prepare the porterhouses.”
“You know you could have us all go to the steakhouse, right?” Pitty asks.
“You’re not required to host every function at your place.
Or to come to the first week of training camp.
Or, while I’m at it, to foot the bill for Rip when he decides to buy rounds at the club without checking what they were serving rounds of first.”
I shade my eyes; the July sun is too bright, even with my baseball cap on. “He’ll pay me back.”
“He won’t,” Pitty disagrees. “We both know the man is an idiot with money.”
“I have more than I know what to do with, anyway. And I like to help people out.”
Pitty shakes his head. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days if you keep helping out everyone who asks.”
I lift one shoulder. “Maybe, but it’s worth it.”
Pitty says goodbye, and I climb into my car, checking the clock before deciding to head to Nan’s.
On my streaming app, I scroll past my “Games” playlist and select “Music.” The opening lyrics of “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World blare through my speakers, the exact same beat I’ve pulled out of this parking lot to thousands of times.
Traffic is terrible at this time of day, so “American Idiot” has already started by the time I pull into the parking lot of Sunshine Hills, rather than the closing notes of “Snow (Hey Oh)” like it is when I come by earlier in the day.
I look up at the large red building, trying to catch a glimpse of my grandmother on the porch of the communal dining area.
When I was traded to the Stallions seven years ago, Nan was happy to make the move.
Unfortunately, when she fell during the first snowstorm, we quickly realized she needed more help than the neighbor boy shoveling snow for her.
I offered to get her a full staff, but she refused.
So, we started the very depressing process of looking for an assisted living center.
We toured twelve of the best places in Denver before settling on Sunshine Hills.
It’s home to the who’s who of the over-eighty crowd, and the only place that felt good enough for Nan.
“Hey, Callan.” Ginger brushes her dark brown hair over her shoulder as she calls out her greeting. “Can’t wait for the season to start again, though it’s going to be much harder for us to get that drink…”
I let her unspoken request go unanswered, opting for a simple “hello” instead.
When Nan first moved in, the staff tried their best to remain professional, but I was regularly asked to sign jerseys.
Then, when the women realized I was single—thanks, Nan—I was regularly asked out on dates, or at the very least, a willingness to spend time together was hinted at strongly.
Fortunately, that died down fairly quickly.
Now, Ginger’s the only staff member who continues to hit on me. Every time I visit.
An impressive level of dedication, really.
I make my way past the elevator, electing to take the wide staircase to the second floor, where the large dining space is located.
Nan plays cards with friends every day at this time, so I know where to find her.
It’s a cool enough day that the table of four is outside, their fair skin hidden beneath the large umbrella I know they all hate.
“Hey, Devine,” Billy Walsh says when I walk out. I slide my sunglasses back over my eyes.
“Billy. Jacob. Rose.” I wave at them as I pull over a chair to join their table. I never play, though they’d be happy to deal me in. “Hi, Nan.” I lean down to kiss her cheek before sitting.
“Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to be at?” Nan’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she asks.
I lean back in my chair. “I’ve already wowed the new guys with my intelligence and athletic prowess, so I thought I’d come find you all. Keeps me humble.”
“Humble. I wasn’t aware you knew that word.” Her raspy voice makes it seem like she’s been smoking for the last seventy-five years, even though I know she gave it up before having my father in her twenties.
“What’s the boy got to be humble about?” Rose asks, her gaze still entirely focused on the cards in front of her. “He’s loaded, has the body of a Greek god, and his face is as cute as a button. Plus, he plays pro football.”
Nan touches the spot next to her lips. “You’ve got a little drool, Rose.”
“I was more concerned about that big ol’ brown spot on her nose,” Jacob grouses.
“You all leave Rose alone,” I jump in to defend the sweet lady with excellent taste. “It’s not her fault she’s the only one with eyes that work well enough to see the truth in front of her.”
The entire table laughs, and my heart softens. It’s a warmth that makes me feel a sense of contentment unlike I find anywhere else.
“I got that new chair you sent me,” Billy says after playing a ten of hearts.
I force my expression into one of confusion. “What do you mean? I didn’t know you were in need of a chair.”
His heavily hooded eyes meet mine. “You damn well did know I needed a new chair, boy. I ain’t got no one else in my life that’s buying me one of those fancy-ass ones that lifts you into a standing position.”
That is exactly why I bought him one. Billy has an ungodly amount of money, but no family.
At least none who come visit. Nan’s favorite nurse quietly asked me to help Billy get out of his chair last week after the card game finished.
Upon further questioning, I learned he was leaving his room far less often due to the struggle of getting out of his recliner.
Luckily, the good people in the world had already come up with a solution.
All it took was a credit card and expedited shipping.
“You should send it back,” Billy continues. “I can buy my own damn chair if I want one.”
But he won’t. Won’t ever admit to the vulnerability of needing one.
“Don’t know anything about a chair,” I state again.
“Your name was on the damn receipt.”
Well, shit.
“Don’t be a grump,” Nan chastises as play continues around the table. “At least he didn’t buy you one of those fancy beds that use a remote like he did for me. Can you believe that? A remote. For a bed.”
“You mean the bed that also caused you to declare you felt like you were fifty?” Rose offers my grandmother a smirk. “You know, I could use a new bed…”
I shake my head. Like Billy, Rose could also buy herself anything she could ever want.
Everyone in this place can. But unlike Billy, she also has about a hundred family members who show up regularly to make sure they’re kept in the will.
Trying to get her various progeny to buy her the most outrageous things she can think of is one of her favorite pastimes.
I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it at this point.
“A queen bed?” I ask.
Rose’s nose quirks up like she smelled something bad. “King, Callan, dear. I settle for nothing less than a king. In all that I do.”
Nan shields her mouth with her hand and mock whispers, “Don’t believe a word she says, her husband was only a prince.”
“He would’ve done a far better job on the throne than that cousin of his ever did,” Rose complains with a huff.
I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message to my personal assistant, Wally, to let him know we need to get Rose the same bed I got Nan. I’ve put in enough requests for the people here that he doesn’t even ask follow-up questions anymore. A thumbs-up reaction on the text is all I get.
Nan watches me. “Don’t get her a bed, Callan.”
“Ah come on, Nan. It’ll get the grandkids in a tizzy, trying to figure out which of them is ahead. And I know how much you all enjoy it when they’ve got their undies in a bunch.”
“You’re a sweet kid,” Rose declares.
Nan shakes her head. “Too sweet. You don’t have to say yes to people just because they ask you for something. If you don’t figure it out soon, you might find yourself on a date with Ginger.”
“You know I can’t help but say yes when people ask for help.”