Chapter 26
twenty-six
Cash
“Hey,” I say to Lorenzo as we walk out of another brutal training session. “Not a bad workout, huh?”
He towels off the sweat dripping down his forehead and cocks an eyebrow at me. “If by not bad you mean fucking killer, then yeah. You looked strong, though. You been sneaking in extra workouts behind my back?”
I nod, satisfied he noticed. “I looked good, right? I’m feeling amazing lately. Better than I have in a long time. Hey, let me run something by you.”
“Go for it.”
“I think I changed my mind on the draft.”
“As in you want to get drafted?”
“That’s right.”
“Wait, is this a pride thing? Or are you talking you really want to go pro?”
“I’ve always wanted to go pro.”
“Don’t bullshit, you know what I mean. You’re gonna go for it?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna go for it.” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. Hearing those words out there makes anxiety and excitement ripple through me.
“No shit.” He grins. “Finally, the news I’ve been hoping to hear for the past three years. Where’s this coming from?”
“I’ve just been thinking.” I shrug, playing it cool. “I’ve worked my ass off for this. I’m pretty fucking great at it. And I’ve got this award now that’s gonna mock me for the rest of my life if I don’t give it a shot.”
Lorenzo arches one eyebrow, waiting for more.
“And Georgia might have said something convincing.”
He laughs. “Knew it. You can cut the bullshit with me, man, because of course it’s Georgia.”
“Hey, I’m doing it because I want to. But maybe part of the reason I want to is for her.”
“I’m not criticizing. She’s as good a reason as any, considering it’s clearly what you’ve always wanted to do anyway. I only wish I had that kind of influence over you. Would have saved me years of heartbreak thinking of all your talent going to waste.”
“And if you were the most perfect girl on earth, it might’ve worked.”
“So what’s next? You keep on doing what you’ve been doing, yeah?”
“Yeah, except I have to tell my parents.” Dread wells up inside me.
“That should be fun.”
“Right? I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna say to convince them.”
“You’re not,” he says bluntly.
I look down at the ground. “Come on, man, you’re supposed to lie and tell me they’ll be happy for me so I don’t end up pussying out.”
“You’re not gonna pussy out.”
I’m not, but my best friend could at least help me not be so tempted.
“Okay, you want me to tell you how it’s gonna go?” Lorenzo says. “They’ll be unhappy. Then they’ll get over it. Not like they’re gonna disown you.”
“Yeah, but nobody lays a guilt trip like my dad, man. I swear before I could even talk, I made it a life goal not to disappoint him, and this family shit? This is going to be the biggest disappointment imaginable. You know how it is with us.”
“I get family obligation. I’ve lived it.
” In an ironic contrast, Lorenzo’s spent the last few years chasing a pro football career because of family obligation instead of in spite of it.
“It’s heavy, but you’re gonna shoulder it until you decide not to.
Your family’s not in your head, they can’t understand how deep football goes.
And even if they did? They don’t know what you need better than you do. ”
What I need and what I want.
“Besides, can I tell you something you probably already know? Mad love and respect to Amy and John, but the Hartnells take family loyalty a little too seriously sometimes.”
I snort. “Yeah, no shit. But I’m a Hartnell.”
The diner’s familiar greasy smell does nothing to settle my nervous stomach as I cross the sticky checkerboard flooring.
Still no place I’d rather be, though. No, scratch that.
I’d rather be two hours into the future, where I’ve told my parents the news and endured the blowback.
But barring access to a time machine, dinner with the one person who understands what it’s like to be Amy and John’s kid is as good as it gets.
“I ordered for you” is the first thing Maisy says when I slide into the black vinyl booth across from her.
“Why’d you do that? I don’t even know what I want.”
“Because I’m hungry and you’re late.”
“By what, six minutes?”
“Plus, you don’t know what you want, and I do.”
“No you don’t. I’m not eating.”
“French dip.”
I look at her as the thought of melty Swiss cheese and beef broth infiltrates my mind, and my mouth waters, that whole not-eating thing flying right out the window. I wave her off. “Get out of here with your twin shit.”
She smiles triumphantly. “Sounds delicious, doesn’t it? I knew you’d want it.”
“Whatever, I got bigger problems.”
“What?”
I exhale. “I changed my mind about the draft. And now I have to tell the old folks about it.”
The self-satisfied smile drains from her face and reappears as joy. “Cash, seriously? You’re going pro?” She squeezes her hands together in front of her chest.
“That’s the plan.” Every time I say it, it sounds better.
“Oh my god. Oh, this is so great. I can’t believe it—well, actually, I can because I always figured you’d regret it sooner or later if you didn’t give it a shot, but…” She lets out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m so excited. What made you change your mind all of a sudden?”
“A lot of things.”
“The award, right?”
“That. And Georgia.”
Her smile fades. “Georgia convinced you?”
“She didn’t convince me of anything. Just something she said.”
“I see. I’ve been telling you for years you’ll regret not doing this, and Georgia says one word and you’re all in.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not, I just don’t get it.” Her lips press together as she shoves away a loose curl on her forehead.
“So what, now that Georgia gets the credit, this thing you were so excited for is a bad thing?”
“I never said that.”
I give her a long look that she refuses to return. “This thing with Georgia’s gone on long enough, Mais. You’re not being fair to her.”
“I don’t need friendship advice, Cash.”
“Fine. Enjoy your grudge.”
We sit in silence for a couple minutes until our food is served. I spread my napkin across my lap and look over my dinner. “Looks damn good.”
“Like I knew it would.” She gives me the briefest and smallest of smiles, but that’s all it takes; we’re good again.
“All right. Now help me figure out how I’m gonna break the tragic news to Mom and Dad.”
“Hey, Dad,” I say from the car an hour later as I back out of my parking spot, Maisy in the passenger seat at my side.
“Hi, Daddy,” she adds.
“Hey, kiddos.” His voice comes through the speakers. “How’s life treating you?”
“Pretty good.” I hesitate. Should I waste time with pleasantries or get on with it? Anxiety decides for me. “Dad, listen, I need to tell you something.”
A tense pause stretches on before he sighs and says, “Cash, you promised no more drunken foolishness this year. If you broke a bone this time—”
“It’s good news this time,” I interrupt. Good news for me, at least. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about next year.” I glance at Maisy, who gives me a quick nod of encouragement. “I decided I want to get drafted.”
Another pause. Longer than the last. Tenser too. “Hold on. Since when were you still considering it? We decided years ago that wasn’t in your future, did we not?”
“Kinda, but I changed my mind. I thought I wouldn’t care so much about being done with football, but now that it’s here…” I shrug even though he can’t see it. “Now I do.”
Dad exhales hard into the phone, an unpleasant crackle erupting from the speakers. “I don’t like this, son. I don’t like this one bit.”
I turn right, and Maisy catches my eye with a knowing look. Dad’s talking to me the same way he did when I was a little kid. I swallow the urge to get sarcastic with him. “I know you don’t.”
“I thought we were in agreement about the importance of this family—of you being part of the business. Now you want to leave me hanging to do what, be sent across the country and destroy your body in the process? This is—I really don’t get it. This is the last thing I expected to hear today.”
“The business will always be there,” I protest, guilt stirring up a flash of anger.
“If I’m even lucky enough to sign an NFL contract, it won’t be forever.
I’ll come back to the business, Dad, you can count on that.
” And now I’m angry at myself for sounding like a simpering little kid.
Why am I pledging my life to my father right now?
“Daddy,” Maisy cuts in, much to my relief. “Have you thought about what you’re asking him to do? Commit the rest of his life to his hometown and one—sorry to tell you—boring-ass job. People don’t do that anymore.”
“Some people do,” Dad grumbles, and I can picture him shaking his head, dismissing Maisy’s argument before he’s even considered it. Typical.
“Not if the alternative is experiencing new cities and new people and having a one-in-a-billion career,” she says.
“Maisy,” Dad barks, and something in his voice sets me off. I’m so sick of our old, tired family dynamic.
“Dad,” I interrupt. “It’s my decision. This is what I want to do.”
Silence rings out on the other end before he finally says, “I won’t support you financially, you know. That, I won’t do.”
“If I make it to the pros, I could make more money in a couple years than you have in your life.” But the instant the words are out, I hear how cruel they sound. “Wait—sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No, you’re right,” he says tightly. “And if that’s what matters most, I truly hope you get it, son.”
Maisy sighs loudly. “Drama queen,” she mutters for my benefit.
But for once, I don’t take the bait. “Let’s talk about it again in a few days, okay? Maybe if you think it over, you’ll see my side.”
“I’m not the one who needs to think it over.”
“Fine. Whatever. Don’t think it over, then, but know I’ve done my thinking. I’ve been thinking about it for years.”
Maisy nods approvingly at my closing line. “Love you, Daddy. Catch up soon.”
“Love you both,” Dad gruffs.
When the call ends and music resumes over the speakers, I look at my sister. “Not great.”
“No, but pretty much what we expected.”
“I guess he deserves time to digest the news. It’s gotta be a shock.”