5. First Game of the Season
Chapter 5
First Game of the Season
Mia
S cott and I sat, nervous and ready.
We had checked the sound board twice.
Kindness booking Bryce Prescott on my podcast was big.
He was the most sought-after sports interview, but not for football reasons.
People wanted access to his personal life but I held on to my code about respecting his privacy.
We were here to discuss football and analyze plays.
“Mia, this is big. Are you going to touch on the Vick situation?” Scott asked.
I sat in my seat and shook my head no.
“It’s not my place,” I said.
The vibration of my phone caught my attention.
A black Jag sat outside the studio.
Without confirmation, I knew it was Bryce.
“He is here,” I said.
“All right, let’s do this,” Scott said as he positioned himself behind the glass.
It took several minutes for Bryce and Kindness to enter the studio.
“Kindness,” I squealed and squeezed my friend until she patted my back.
“I see the locs. When did you get these?” she asked.
Getting locs was a last-minute decision I made after seeing Nathan and Latrice.
I needed something to signal a new journey.
My new locs fell to my shoulders, but my loctician told me to expect shrinkage as they mature.
“I love your necklace,” I said and pointed to the pink crystal.
“Ahem,” Bryce cleared his throat with a cough.
“Where are my manners? Mia, meet your co-host, Bryce Prescott. Bryce, meet the queen of podcasts, Mia Robinson,” Kindness said.
We exchanged handshakes, and Scott ushered Bryce into his seat.
“Is there anything off limits before we start, Bryce?” I asked, adjusting the mic pinned to my shirt.
“No,” Bryce said with confidence.
“It’s Mia, invading your podcast airwaves. We are the number one go-to for the culture and sports news. Tonight, my co-host is Bryce Prescott, the starting quarterback for the Houston Armadillos. Welcome, Bryce.”
“Thank you for having me on, Mia,” Bryce said with confidence.
“We’re going to start the show with the trending list of the greatest wide receivers, past and present. This week, a list circulated online and caused a stir. A few of the all-time greats spoke out about the viral ratings. Bryce, being a quarterback, we need your ranking. My top five are Johnson, Davers, Moss, Jackson, and Jones. Bryce, we’re listening?”
“Mia, if I’m being honest, I would replace Jones with Austin.”
The horns blared from the soundboard, and Bryce smiled at me from behind the mic.
“Bryce, you’re going to have to defend leaving Jones out of the top five. Do you hear yourself right now? We’re talking about a two-time Elite Bowl Champion with Hall of Fame numbers.”
“Let’s have a deeper discussion about Jalin Austin’s receptions,” he said and compared the two wide receivers’ stats.
I peered over at Kindness with a smile.
Bryce was comfortable with me.
The show flowed with ease as we toggled over to basketball and then baseball.
“What are your thoughts on the Fire Bombers?” I asked.
“I believe they can bring home the Series if Rex keeps throwing those fast balls,” he said.
“Rex is showing out,” I said.
“But if he wants the money, he gon’ have to drop his agent,” Bryce said.
Scott hit the soundboard and the sight of Kindness laughing behind the glass caused me to cackle.
“And on that note. Let’s go out to the new Icey,” I said, and cut on the music as Bryce and I spit his last verse.
“It’s a wrap,” Scott said in my earpiece.
Bryce and I slapped hands because we both knew it was magic between us.
“I need you back on the show.”.
“Work with my schedule and let’s do it,” he said.
Bryce left the studio with different energy.
I watched the security cameras confirming my suspicion about Kindness and Bryce being more than friends.
They couldn’t hide the new love spark if they wanted to.
“Your father is proud of your podcast interview with Bryce. People have been calling him for days,” my mother, Trendy, said.
I sat across the table, bunching my shoulders.
The interview had soared my podcast show to the number one spot.
Social media comments objecting and agreeing with Bryce’s picks commanded the threads.
Jalin Austin was being placed in the appropriate conversations.
“The credit goes to Kindness. She secured the interview,” I said.
My mother pushed around the lettuce on her plate.
“About time you called in some favors. Mia, your friends are there to help. Serena, Nikki, and I always helped each other,” she said.
I wouldn’t be here at this table if it wasn’t for Stacie and Kindness.
They loved on me when I had no love for myself.
“How are things with you and Addison?” she questioned.
“He is a great friend,” I said.
Trendy’s bunched brows sent a giggling sensation through me.
We were identical with our looks, including our almond-shaped eyes, straight proportioned noses, full-figures, full lips, toasted golden-brown skin, and high defined cheekbones.
However, I was several inches taller.
“Friend? What are you going to do with a friend?” she questioned.
I chuckled because I knew she was ready for grandchildren.
“I’ve decided to date around a little. But, no immediate commitment. The dating pool has changed,” I said.
Observing her shoulders rise, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.
“About time. A man can’t find you if you’re always in the studio and at home. And move the laptop from his side of the bed,” she said.
“Why, Mom?” I asked.
“A man can’t find your bed if something is occupying it,” she said.
I sipped my water to suppress my laughter.
“Oh, there is something I wanted to discuss with you. Stacie mentioned there is a smear campaign going around about Nathan. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?” I asked.
My mother dismissed me with a hand wave.
“Let’s not say his name. It makes me itch. But I don’t know anything about a smear campaign. He isn’t worth a phone call to spread a rumor,” she said.
As I listened to my mother lie, my phone vibrated.
Addison
Batting Cage?
Me
Bad day?
Addison
Seen my ex.
Me
Seven.
Addison
I’ll be there.
“I hope you are talking to a man while you are ignoring me,” Mom said, and I smiled.
Marcus
I carried my daughter out of the airport while Ms.
Renee pushed Granny in a wheelchair.
We migrated toward the signs with our names.
The plane ride from Ohio to Houston was too much for Harley.
As I carried her through the airport, I remembered the first time I held her in my arms.
Those brown eyes focused on my voice as I made her promises to provide and protect.
She gave me a run for my money those first six months.
I would be at football practice, tired, because she wouldn’t sleep at night.
When she learned to walk, Harley would follow me to the door and cry when I left for school.
With the rookie minicamp and OTAs scheduled to start, time wasn’t on my side.
A moving company picked up my cars and personal things three days ago.
I paid extra for them to unpack and set up our furniture.
Ms.
Renee stayed with Granny and Harley at a luxury hotel until I landed yesterday.
The management company I hired in Ohio already secured a renter for our old house.
By morning, we were in the air.
Traffic alone took us an hour to pull into our rental.
Harley’s head remained on my arm as she yawned from being restless.
Hell, we both were.
With Granny’s knee, I found a one level traditional style house.
Ms.
Renee agreed to come with us for the first year.
I gave her the option to move in or I would pay the rent on an apartment of her choice.
She opted for the apartment, because living separately gave her the ability to disconnect.
Unbuckling the seat belt, Harley sat and waited for the adults to pile out.
Instead of walking, I held her as she wrapped her hands around my neck.
“Are you ready to see your room?” I asked as we moved toward the front door.
“No, I want to go back to Ohio,” she said with her head facing the opposite direction.
I rubbed her back.
“Princess, I know this last month has been hard on you. Can you at least give Texas a chance,” I said as I punched the code in the door.
She shrugged her shoulders.
Before training camp started, I knew I had some work to do.
In my first team meeting, I sat one row down from Bryce.
I wanted to watch his interaction with the veteran players, especially Vick.
Before leaving his house, Bryce let me in on his game plan.
It was simple: he was going to ice Vick out of the plays.
Whether I preferred it or not; it was going to benefit me.
“The biggest change this year lives within the play book. We’re switching to a West Coast offense. Bryce will call shotgun plays, go no-huddle when needed, and pre-snap motion will be a must,” Coach said.
The team flipped through the play book and Vick’s eyes traveled up to Bryce.
And it begins.
For appearances, I flipped through the playbook, mirroring everyone else.
The rookies knew these plays, but we all played along.
We had no business at Bryce’s house, but we were hungry to make the 53-man roster.
The offense would spread the ball to me, the tight end and running back.
Vick’s production would be cut in half.
Last year, they were a dynamic duo, but things had changed.
Exiting the team meeting, I tucked behind Danny keeping some distance between me and Bryce.
There was no way I was missing this action.
The more the coach broke down the new direction, Vick’s irritation became visible.
I smelled the confrontation from my seat, but Bryce instructed me not to get involved.
He wanted the pleasure of making Vick appear erratic and violent.
“Bryce, I need to rap to you for a second,” Vick said, and we all paused.
“What’s up?” Bryce said.
From my conversations I held with Bryce, this was deeper than Shaunie.
A QB’s relationship with his wide receiver was similar to a marriage.
Bryce and Vick were going through a divorce, and the asset they both wanted was the Armadillos.
“This is a contract year for me. I need the ball. Let’s keep our personal differences off the field,” Vick announced.
What he didn’t know was Bryce had already counted his pockets with the intention of emptying them as much as possible.
I hope he saved some of his rookie deal.
“Vick, I don’t have any issues with you. It’s a new offense, and it comes with growing pains,” Bryce replied with a smirk.
Anybody with eyes could see Bryce had plans for Vick.
They went back and forth with passive aggressive banter until Vick grabbed Bryce’s arm.
I knew it was getting ready to go down until Ed pushed past me.
“Vick, man, let him go,” Ed demanded.
“He’s playing with my money. I don’t have time for these little boy ass games.” Vick stood toe-to-toe with Ed.
Bryce remained silent and motionless for plausible deniability.
“Y’all need to get a handle on this shit before the season starts. Vick, do you need a reminder of what you did this off season? I know you expected some type of pushback. Personally, I would’ve beat yo ass, but he remained quiet on the shit.”
A few teammates behind him echoed his sentiments under their breath.
From what I could tell, the team stood split on what was going on.
The rookies stood with folded arms, ready to jump at Bryce’s command and the veterans leaned more to Vick’s side.
Ed shook his head.
“Bryce, man, keep your issues with Vick off the field. It’s fucked up what he did, but don’t penalize the team with y’all beef.”
A divided football team wasn’t going to get us to the Elite Bowl, but I had Bryce’s back.
These last few weeks of practice, preseason, and aiding in Vick’s demise couldn’t compare to this moment.
Standing in the tunnel of my first pro game, the crowd out rivaled my college crowds.
The fans were chanting for the team, ready for us to take the field.
Several of the veteran players rocked from side to side, finding whatever zone they needed.
A hand tapped my shoulder, and I found Bryce’s eyes.
For some reason, my nerves subsided because it was time for me to earn my contract.
“Stand on your feet for your Armadillosssss!” the announcer said and red smoke blew into the air as the cannons sounded.
I ran out with the team and the crowd was electric as they stood on their feet and cheered.
Thousands of people were swinging red towels above their heads.
Standing on the sideline, I scanned the stadium but shut my eyes to focus.
I was having an out of body experience being this close to the field surrounded by professionals.
These men were the best at their positions, leaving little room for an advantage.
Bryce, Ed, and Vick walked to the middle of the field for the coin toss; we won, and Bryce deferred.
Our special teams went on the field, and I tried to settle myself.
Wham!
Wham!
The sound of the strong, grown men smacking each other echoed to the sideline.
Marcus, focus.
The defense got a quick three and out, pushing the offense on the field.
Stepping in between the lines sent adrenaline rushing through me.
As I stood in my first huddle as a pro, I listened to the play.
“Alabama Hot sauce on three,” Bryce said, and I glared in his direction.
On the offense first play in the huddle, Bryce called an old play for Vick, and it puzzled me.
Being a rookie, defenses hadn’t figured me out yet, which gave us leverage.
The defense was playing off me by seven yards.
“Arkansas!” Bryce shouted, and the defensive back turned slightly inside.
Man coverage and I had him.
“Arkansas,” Bryce audible again, but opened his palm changing the play from what he called in the huddle.
He nodded my way, and I checked in to solidify the play.
“Hike!”
The defensive back tried to close in on me, but I had eaten up the free yards, putting us on the Arizona side of the field.
We ran back to the line and Bryce hurried us into formation and hiked the ball.
A whistle blew, stopping the play.
“Too many players on the field. Five-yard penalty, Arizona,” the referee said.
Bryce pushed us into a no-huddle and called a play from the line of scrimmage.
“Dinner at Janet’s house. Dinner at Janet’s house,” he called from behind the line.
We practiced this play at his minicamp.
It’s a touchdown play, coming in my direction on the outside.
“Hike!” Bryce said.
Instead of running straight down the field I crossed, forcing the corner to shift.
The cornerback tried pushing me, but he couldn’t move me off the route.
Running full force down the field, I checked back for the ball to find it spiraling.
I leaped in the air, secured it, and shook my defender, running into the end zone.
The cannons sounded, and I took in the people screaming around me.
Shit, this was my first touchdown as a professional.
After a quick process, I introduced the body roll as my celebration dance.
Bryce iced Vick the entire game, leaving me and the tight end to shoulder the work.
I secured three touchdowns before the game was over.
“Good game, Marcus,” several of my teammates expressed after we entered the locker room.
Vick, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with my performance.
During half time, he banged his helmet on his locker because Bryce wasn’t throwing him the ball and gas lit the team into believing Vick couldn’t get open.
I chuckled because there wasn’t much I could do about it.
After exiting the shower, I hurried to my station and changed into my clothes.
The locker room chatter was loud as teammates exposed their plans, including cheating on their partners.
With my back turned, I found myself boxed in by Vick and Stedman hovering.
“Don’t let Bryce get you caught up in some bullshit. I’m the wide receiver one and the captain. The offense comes through me,” Vick said, patting his chest.
I turned to examine both men before I smirked and Stedman grabbed my arm.
“He’s talking to you, rookie. Speaking of which, where the fuck were you last week? I don’t recall you treating us veterans to our dinner,” he said.
I learned in passing about the rookies being stuck with a $75,000 bill from the veterans.
Hazing worked on those who needed acceptance, but I didn’t give a fuck about crowds.
Losing two parents distorted my view of being recruited into groups.
People had to earn my trust, and no one in this locker room had done anything for me outside of Bryce.
My eyes traveled down to Stedman’s large hands and back to his eyes.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I demanded and snatched myself free.
“This one got heart,” Stedman said, stepping forward and enclosing our space.
“What you gon’ do to me?” he asked.
I smirked as I suppressed the angry ten-year-old in me who lived for a fight.
“Like I thought, not a damn thing. You better get Bryce on board, rookie,” Stedman said.
Being a single father meant I had to move differently to make a point.
Bryce taught me a few things, including how to destroy a man without using physical force.
Hitting Stedman with my helmet would be too easy and cost me my career, but ending his happiness was more appeasing.
I saw him kissing someone other than his wife last week.
Now I have to monitor the situation and may have to report my findings.
“Fellas, is there a problem?” Coach Owens voiced.
“Naw, coach, just having a talk with the rookie,” Stedman said, and they both stepped back.
Coach Owens turned his attention to me, and I answered with a head nod.
“Get y’all overgrown asses back to your lockers,” Coach said.
Both Vick and Stedman stepped away as Bryce entered the locker room from his press conference.
He gave me a nod, and I shook my head to downplay it.
Instead of seeing happiness in Bryce’s eyes, his expression gave me concern.
Before heading home, I stopped by the fixer-upper and pulled into the driveway.
Opening my car door, I walked toward the front door but paused as my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number
Good game.
Your father used to do silly dances.
I gripped the phone tight as my mind traveled back to the day before my first pop warner game.
“Dad, what kind of dance is this?” I asked my father.
He playfully pushed my shoulder and then returned to moving one of his legs in and out.
I bunched my nose as I watched.
We both laughed.
“Are you going to be there tomorrow?” I asked.
He rubbed the top of my head.
“You know it or I’m going to die trying,” he said.
The sounds of dogs barking pulled me back into the present.
I unlocked the door I planned to replace and stepped into the living room.
The tools I dropped off a few days ago surrounded me.
I picked up the crowbar and lunged it into the living room wall repeatedly.
The wall inhaled my rage, the hole growing larger with every impact.