CHAPTER 5
GRAYDON
OC: Got your number from Gretchen. Thought I would start a group chat with all of us. So…how’re the zoo chores going for you?
I stare down at the text message and groan because no. This is not happening. I’m not doing this whole bonding thing.
My phone dings.
Christ.
OC: I ask because yesterday I fell into a pile of giraffe shit, and I can still smell it.
On the other hand…hearing about OC falling into shit is appealing…
Graydon: Face-first?
Please say yes.
OC: You wish!
Yeah, I really fucking do.
Graydon: So you didn’t eat shit?
OC: Ha…HA! <—note the sarcasm. No, but thanks for your concern. I sat in it.
Bennett: At least sitting in it made your ass smell, which is better than your face.
My lip tugs up because look at the young one chiming in. Didn’t even think he had a personality.
OC: Don’t want my ass smelling either. Don’t want anything smelling.
Graydon: Maybe stop playing in giraffe shit then.
Bennett: That would be my suggestion as well.
OC: Normally, this kind of chatter would piss me off, but…look at us bonding.
Graydon: And you just ruined it.
OC: No, don’t leave. I think…I think we need to help each other out. I don’t know about you, but doing zoo chores wasn’t on my list of ways to improve the public perception of my team. It only feels like a way to make people laugh at us.
Well, look at him. He does have a fucking brain.
Bennett: Yeah, I’m not doing much. Just sitting and reading facts about lions.
Grumbling under my breath, because I don’t want to bond but it seems like they’re in the same headspace as me, I text back.
Graydon: I washed dishes yesterday.
OC: How dare they make a man of your stature perform such an inconsequential task that could wrinkle your fingertips.
Graydon: Seconds from blocking you.
OC: Fine, but I want you to remember just how concerned I am for your fingertips. Washing dishes…preposterous!
Bennett: I’m not concerned about your fingertips.
Graydon: That’s how I prefer it.
OC: Stop, we need to focus. This is serious. I think we need to hold a meeting, get a grip on what’s going on.
Graydon: Already tried that with my coach, didn’t go over well.
Bennett: I’m in the middle of my season. I can’t be wasting time reading facts about lions.
OC: Exactly, there needs to be structure, there needs to be accountability, and above all else, if I’m sitting in giraffe dung, there at least needs to be a camera crew following me so I can get the public on my side.
Graydon: You think they’re going to get on your side from watching you sit in shit? That’s laughable.
OC: You know what I mean. I thought this would be a vlog thing, but it doesn’t seem that way right now. It seems like we’re just doing dirty work.
Bennett: I mean, I wouldn’t mind a meeting with Gretchen.
I blow out a heavy breath because I feel like I know how this meeting is going to go, but then again, the last thing I want to do is cut out my training time to go wash dishes, so…what could it hurt?
Graydon: Fine. Set it up.
OC: It would be my pleasure.
Gretchen shifts on her heels, hip jutted out, looking at all of us in her office. Her lips purse, and her stare would probably wilt a lesser man, but I hold strong.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasure for me, seeing all three of you in here?” She sits on the edge of her desk, her villainesque stance revealing she’s ready to strike.
OC, wearing a goddamn necktie like he’s about to go on trial, sits taller in his chair and says, “We have concerns.”
Gretchen’s eyes shoot to me. “The same concerns I already spoke to St. John about?”
“It’s Graydon,” I correct her.
OC clears his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m just going to say it. This assignment is bullshit. You know it, we know it, and the zoo staff knows it. We are glorified fetching boys for them. I don’t see how this is helping the way the public perceives us.”
She picks up her phone and flips through it. “It’s been…ah, yes, two days.” Her eyes find us again. “Two days and you guys can’t cut it. It’s no wonder we don’t have any championship titles.”
“Hey, this is our inaugural year,” OC states. “You can’t throw that in my face.”
“True.” She looks him up and down. “But from the way you’re crying about sitting in giraffe dung, it doesn’t bode well for your chances at winning.”
“How did you know I sat in giraffe dung?”
“Because.” Gretchen pushes off her desk. “We didn’t want cameras following you all the time, so we had some cameras installed around the facilities you’ll be working in with the hope that we can capture some real interaction and then bring it all together for the public.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see OC’s mouth drop.
“You don’t think we should have been told that?” Bennett asks in a calm voice.
“Well, if you had given me a moment to collect everything, you would have seen that I was sending you an email today about our goals for the zoo visit. Excuse me if working with someone unreliable like Phil has pushed me behind in delivering information. There seem to be a lot of moving parts with a lot of unintelligent individuals. Therefore, I’m chasing information. ”
I have to hand it to her for at least telling it like it is, because I agree with the unintelligent individuals part, especially pertaining to Coach Keenan.
“Oh.” OC crosses his ankle over his knee and picks a piece of lint off his jeans. “Uh, care to elaborate, then?”
Gretchen folds her hands together and looks between the three of us. “Although it’s charming that you three came in here together as a united front, I don’t need to elaborate on anything. You can wait for my email.”
She pushes off her desk, then rounds it, sits down in her chair, and starts tapping away on her computer. After a few seconds, she looks up and shoos us with her hand. “You can be gone now.”
I guess that’s that.
Grumbling, we all stand like a bunch of fucking idiots and take off into the hallway, then make our way to the elevator.
I knew this was going to be a waste of time.
It was a waste of time when I brought it to Coach Keenan, and it was a waste of time now.
No matter what, they have us in a choke hold because of our contracts.
There really isn’t much we can do, yet I allowed myself to get sucked into possibly attempting another challenge to get the hell out of this nightmare.
The elevator doors part, and we all shuffle in, Bennett pressing the button for the lobby floor. When the doors shut, we stand there, leaning against the elevator walls as we descend.
After a few short moments of silence, OC says, “I think we might have pulled the protest card too soon.”
“You fucking think,” I say, hating him all over again.
Mindlessly, I watch the Bombers game, keeping an eye on Bennett. Even though he’s fucking young, the guy has made some insane plays, launching the ball across the baseball diamond from his goddamn knees, getting the runner out every time.
Up at bat, he has a double to left center and a triple down the third base line. His last at bat, he struck out on a breaking ball, but Jesus Christ, the kid is good.
And the announcers wouldn’t stop jabbering about it either.
A prospect from their farm system, he came up two years ago to join the team before the playoffs. Last year was his first full year with the team, and he’s already made a strong impression.
They flash his face on the screen for what seems like the twentieth time, and there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s a PR move from the team.
Not only is he apparently liked by the public, but he’s also—I’m not fucking shy to say it—a good-looking guy.
He could build more muscle on his bones—he’s still in that phase of moving up from the farm system to the major leagues—but he’s not as scrawny as he used to be.
He’s old enough to grow some scruff on his face, and his blue eyes almost seem darker under his baseball cap. And the camera is taking full advantage of it as they keep showing him off.
Over…
And over…
And over again.
Look at the Bombers working overtime to save their image.
I take a sip of my beer as my phone dings with a text. I glance down to see it’s from OC.
What does this motherfucker want now?
OC: Are you watching the Bombers game? I swear it’s half baseball, half pornographic display of Bennett. The way they slowly slide up his body with the camera while he’s on deck. Tell me that’s not intentional.
I drop my phone. No need to respond, because I can tell you right now, this is not a build-a-friendship moment.
No fucking way.
But of course, my phone dings again.
OC: Have you gotten an email yet? Because I haven’t. Do you think she just said that to get us out of her office? I fell for it. Did you?
I drop my phone to my lap and drag my hand over my face.
A week ago, I didn’t have this annoyance, this stress. I didn’t have this extra thing to worry about. And now look where I’m at, getting irritating texts from someone I don’t care to know.
Blowing out a heavy breath, I check my email, and when I see nothing, I text OC back.
Graydon: Smoke and mirrors. Nothing.
He texts back immediately.
OC: What the actual fuck! I say we riot at dawn.
Does he realize when he says stuff like that it makes me want to shove my palm straight up his nose?
My phone dings again, but this time, it’s a notification from my inbox. I glance down at my email and see something from Gretchen at the very top.
My phone dings again with a text.
OC: Oops, never mind, looks like we have a very comprehensive document to look over now. Huh, pulled the trigger early on that too. Anyway…how about those Bombers?
Graydon: Lose this number.
I open Gretchen’s email and glance over it, barely giving her intro the time of day as she scolds us for not trusting the process.
My eyes roam over the details of what we are doing at the zoo, each of us helping bring awareness to individual animals, cameras in the facilities, needing to learn about the animals before the production crew arrives, galas and fundraisers and all that bullshit.
But the thing she emphasizes at the bottom is growing trust with our zookeepers because they will be helping us with our public image the most.
I roll my eyes and toss my phone to the side because it’s the same bullshit that they’ve said before. Not sure how this is going to help us in any way, but whatever. I’ll fucking do my time and be done with it. Not like they can fire me if they don’t like how I perform off the field.
Some of my teammates have done way worse…and hell, they get bonuses. I’m the best defensive end in the league, headed for the Hall of Fame, and no one can take that away from me.
Not a flamingo zookeeper.
Not Gretchen Michaels.
Not Coach Keenan.
And not his best friend…the asshole I despise most in this world, my dad.