34. For the Team
34
For the Team
Anton
M y teammates are eyeing me with varying levels of concern. For good reason. I was a complete space cadet during our Friday walk-through. I wouldn’t make eye contact, wouldn’t talk to anyone beyond one-word responses during our entire flight to our away game. Instead of using my free time on Saturday afternoon to explore the city and grab dinner with the guys like I usually would, I holed up in my hotel room alone. I got room service and only came out for team meetings. When those were finished at a little after eight, I came straight back to my room. I’ve gone through the motions of the warm-up today on autopilot.
We’re waiting in the tunnel to take the field, and most of the guys are giving me doleful looks that say, Get your head out of your butt. We’ve got a game to play .
They’re right. Of course they’re right. I need to flip the switch and turn off all thoughts of facing my mother, which I’ll do when we get home to Wisconsin later this evening. I need to stop thinking about Rose too. About her betrayal and how she treated me like she did—not once, but twice.
About the way she looked in my rearview mirror on Thursday night.
I need to block it all out. I will block it all out. Because I’m a professional.
I slap my helmet a couple times and catch Poe’s eye. He’s flanking me on the left. TJ is on my right, and I sense Del behind me with the rest of the offensive line .
“You good?” Poe knocks his shoulder pad into mine.
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
We storm onto the field, and the home team crowd heckles us with a barrage of boos. I’m used to it, and I let their animosity penetrate my skin and seep into my bloodstream. I’ll use it as fuel.
We lose the coin toss, so the ball is in my hands first. Our offense runs three consecutive running plays—likely the offensive coordinator’s conservative decision based on my total lack of focus the past few days. I can’t blame the guy, but when we don’t get the first down, I stomp off the field, heated. The more time I spend on the bench this afternoon, the more time my brain will have to wander, and I don’t need that.
“Let me do my thing, Coach,” I mutter as I walk past him.
He reaches for my arm and stops my progress, yanking me back for a conversation. “Can I trust you?”
I look him in the eye. “Yes.”
He stares back at me and nods. “We’re counting on you.”
He’s right. My own family may have betrayed me, and these guys may not be my blood relatives, but they’ve had my back numerous times over the years. I’m more firmly resolved than ever to play for them and to finish out this game—this season—strong. “I won’t let the team down.”
“Good.” He slaps my shoulder. “You’ll get your chance to prove yourself.”
He’s right again.
Our defense is a bunch of man-eaters, and they force a three and out. Philadelphia’s punter shanks his kick, so we get excellent field position. I run into the offensive huddle, and through my earpiece, my coordinator calls a four verts deep pass play. Basically, our fastest wide receivers are all going to run vertically down the field and get open. I relay the play to the guys, and I can see them salivating.
We break with a clap, and I settle in behind Del. I run through my cadence, and he snaps the ball. I drop back, and the offensive line protects beautifully, giving my receivers a chance to get all the way down the field and putting stress on the safeties, who can’t keep up with the speed of my guys.
I air out of a throw and feel good about it from the moment it leaves my arm. It drops perfectly into Kennedy’s outstretched hands, in stride, and he high-steps into the end zone.
My adrenaline pumps through my veins as I sprint down the field to celebrate with the team. I glance over to the sidelines, and point at my coach, a wordless thank you for giving me a chance even though I’ve been a complete diva. He points back, and for the first time since Thursday, I feel like I have control over one aspect of my life.
After a blow-out victory in Philly, I’m in much better spirits on the team’s flight home. I can tell that Del, Poe, and TJ want to talk to me about what happened that sent me spiraling, and even though I’m not ready to hash it out yet, I owe them an explanation. We huddle up toward the front of the plane, and I unload everything, from Rose’s official position as a security specialist, to the way she lied to me, to my mother’s manipulation, and the threat on my life.
“Dude, holy crap.” TJ whistles.
“I’m sorry, man,” Poe says.
“There’s a lot to unpack there.” Del has got tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Delly, don’t blubber,” I warn him.
“I know. I’m not trying to. I just want you to be alright, emotionally and physically. Don’t need a crazed attacker taking out my QB.”
I offer him a wry smile. “I’ve had threats like this before, and they all amount to nothing. I’m not that important. I’ll be fine—physically, at least. ”
“And emotionally?” he prods.
I shake my head. “I don’t know honestly. The betrayal is still too raw to even process.”
The guys nod, and we fall into silence. I’m zoning out, and my eyes are about to fall closed when I register my teammates whispering amongst themselves.
“What?” I open my eyes and stare them down. They all hesitate, shooting looks at each other. “Just say it.”
“We would never take Rose’s side over yours,” Poe begins.
“Obviously.” TJ nods.
I tip my head to the side. “But?”
“But when you’re ready…when you take some time to do the processing that you need to do…it might be worth another conversation with her,” Del says. “There’s something special about what you two had.”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t know if I can trust her.”
“I get that.” Del nods. “She messed up with the lying and the secrets for sure.”
“But I give her credit for owning it,” Poe adds. “She did what she thought was right under the circumstances, and it sounds like she was only ever trying to protect you.”
I digest his words. They echo what Rose told me herself.
“We’re here for you, man.” TJ slaps my back. “No matter what.”
“I appreciate that.” I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.
It’s all too much to think about right now, especially when I know I have to face my mother when I get home to Green Bay.
My mom is perched on the edge of my couch when I arrive home.
She rises and sashays toward me. “Anton, darling. Good to see you. ”
“Mother.” My voice sounds mechanical. I drop my bag inside the door and give her air kisses—our usual, stupid form of greeting.
“How was your little game?”
This is so typical of my mom. I’m the star quarterback for a professional football team, but to her, what I do equates to some silly game.
“Good. We won.”
“How nice for you.” She sounds bored. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered food for us.” She flips her gaze to the corner, and it’s only then that I realize Duke’s assistant, Charles, is here. That’s weird, but whatever. “Charles will pick it up. We have a lot to discuss.”
I walk into my kitchen and open the fridge, pulling out an electrolyte drink and taking a long slug. “Sure. Let’s start with how you’ve lied to me. Continuously. For my entire life.”
“For your own safety and good. I won’t apologize.”
I grunt.
“You are my only son, Anton.” She doubles down. “The heir to the Penwick crown. I’m going to do anything and everything to safeguard you and your future.”
“What do you want me to say to that? Thank you?”
“A bit of appreciation would be nice, yes.” My mom stands up straighter. “After all, what would you have done if I’d told you about the threats? Not a darn thing, that’s what. You’re way too flippant with your security. You have an entire country that’s counting on you, and you can’t be bothered to take any precautions. It’s selfish.”
The blood rushes to my cheeks, and I feel my face turn hot. “I’m a lot of things, Mother, but I’ve worked every day not to be selfish. Don’t accuse me of that.”
My mother rolls her eyes. “You’ve had no problems being a model citizen here in the United States, but you’ve completely failed your home country. What am I supposed to say to the press when they ask me why you haven’t returned? That my son chooses a life away from his family—shirking his responsibilities in favor of some sport? How do you think that looks?”
“It’s all about my image and the optics for you, isn’t it?” I lean on the counter between us. “It always has been.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You care about me to the extent that I do what I’m told and step into my role for Penwick. But if I swerve out of the line you’ve drawn for me and my life—even if it’s for a good reason—you do whatever you can to snatch back control. In this case, it was to stick Rose on me as your spy.”
My mom crosses her arms over her chest, her forehead creasing in grave offense. “I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“You weaponized a woman who I loved against me. How do you expect me to sound, Mother? Like I’m happy about that?”
“Oh, Anton, get over yourself.” My mom flicks her wrist as if I’m being dramatic. “You never loved her. Not really. She was acting. You fell in love with a fa?ade. I did you a favor the first time, demanding that she get pulled from your detail when I did. I could see it was headed for a train wreck. This time, the girl cooked her own goose. She never should have been allowed to work with you again if she couldn’t have been trusted to keep confidential information confidential.”
I turn my back and chug my drink. Discussing Rose like this feels like someone is cutting into my skin and peeling it back in sheets. I thought she was on my side, but she was working for my mother this whole time.
And yet…
Was she really that good of an actress?
The memory of Rose’s pleas at the restaurant mingles with the perspective of my teammates.
Is it possible that she got herself stuck between a rock and a hard place and couldn’t figure out a way out? And hadn’t she tried to get out when she told me the truth? Against all the rules and stipulations that had been put on her?
My heart starts to hammer, but I need to put a pin in these thoughts, at least for now. Because there’s something I have to get off my chest. Ironically, it’s Rose’s voice I hear in my head, reminding me I can be brave.
The door to my apartment opens. Charles must’ve stepped out for the food when I wasn’t paying attention. He’s returned now, and he places two large takeout bags on the counter before resuming his position in the corner.
I suck in a deep breath and face my mom. “I’m stepping away.”
She claps her hands. “Finally. Good. You’ve come to your senses. I’ll help with your transition, of course, in any way I can. Let’s set up a press conference. You can let your fans know you’re taking your rightful place back in Penwick.”
I hold up my hand. “You misunderstand. I’m not stepping away from football. I’m stepping away from Penwick. I’m abdicating.”
My mom stares blankly at me. “No, you’re not.”
“I’ve made my decision.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t abdicate.”
“I can. It’s in the bylaws. I’ve already spoken to Duke about it. I wanted to give him fair warning that the royal duties will fall to him.”
Granted, our meeting got interrupted by Rose and her admission, but he got the gist of things.
“I don’t believe this.” My mom’s voice is low with an undercurrent of fury building at the edges. “How could you?”
“I can’t live within the confines of Penwick. I’m sorry if that hurts you, but it’s the truth, and I need to be true to myself. I’ve got to go my own way.”
Her mouth opens and shuts like a fish, and she sways on her feet like she might pass out. I take a step toward her, but she holds up her hands in the universal stop sign. “So what? You’re staying here, in America? With your silly ball team? ”
I nod. “This team is my family.”
My mother pulls herself up to her full height. “How dare you insult me like that? Family is blood.”
I shake my head. “Not always, Mother.”
She swallows, and I can practically see the way the wheels in her head turn as she adjusts her argument. “What about when your career is over? Then what? You won’t be on this team forever.”
I blow out a full breath. “Honestly, I don’t know.” I don’t like to think about football ending. I know my time in the league is finite, but that’s a bridge to cross another day.
“This is a big mistake.” My mother grabs her bag. “You’ll be sorry. Mark my words. Football is temporary. But your family…your country…that’s who you are. This is not the end of this conversation.” She collects her things and storms out of my condo. Charles gives me a brisk nod and follows her out.
I stare into space for who knows how long, trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened in the past few days.
To recap, there’s a threat on my life, which means I need to coordinate a security detail and figure out what the heck is going on. I just made that way more challenging when I told my mom I’m abdicating. I don’t really want to deal with her or tap into my usual Penwick resources at the moment. So I’m on my own.
On top of that minor (read: major) issue, I’ve got a football team counting on me to lead us on a deep playoff run. I refuse to let the guys down, so I need to keep my focus.
And that’s already nearly impossible because I’ve got a broken heart.
I grab the bag of takeout and bring it to my couch. Stuffing your face with sweet-and-sour chicken is a decent coping mechanism, right? It’ll have to be…for now.