Jett
“Aspartame is an artificial sweetener found in diet sodas, sugary drinks, dairy products, chewing gum, and all kinds of unnatural foods most people eat,” Beau Fudd explains in his uniquely deep voice as the boys all hang on his every word as though it’s gospel.
The man is a giant. He’s at least six feet, eight inches and three hundred pounds. He’s got short, light hair, and more muscles than I’ve ever seen on a human being. He’s the best defensive player in the league, and I’m blessed to coach him.
“Unfortunately,” he continues, “it’s chemical castration.” He points to the crotch area of his gym shorts. “It damages the cells in your testicles, which reduces testosterone production. Basically, you can’t build as much muscle if you eat that crap.”
“And fuck properly,” Daylen Humblecut proudly announces. “No fake sugar on days that I fuck. Got it.” His lips gradually turn up. “I guess I can’t have fake sugar…any day.” He winks with a smug look on his face.
I sigh at the always odd conversation topics that have permeated our stadium’s weight room.
We have a bye week this week, so I gave the guys the entire weekend off.
We’re doing a team workout this morning, and then they’re free to enjoy themselves.
I know several of them have Layton Lancaster’s wedding on Saturday.
A few of them, Daylen and Vance in particular, are extremely close to him.
I adore the guys on my team, but some of the veterans have been with me for a long time, and they hold a special place in my heart.
Vance McCaffrey was drafted as the quarterback to replace me when I announced my retirement ten years ago.
He’s like a son to me, even resembling me, with a similar build, dark hair, and green eyes.
He takes his job seriously and works his ass off every single day.
He’s never given me a moment of grief. I wouldn’t be the successful coach I’ve been without him.
We were able to steal Daylen later in that same draft class.
His talent was undeniable, but he’s a party boy, and teams were afraid to take a risk on him.
He slipped far enough in the draft that we were able to scoop him up in the second round.
It was an absolute steal and widely considered the best draft class in franchise history.
Does he party? Yes. Is he immature? Absolutely.
Does he drive me insane half the time with his antics?
Affirmative. Is he one of the best tight ends to ever play the game?
You’re damn right he is. Sometimes his goofy sense of humor drives me mad, but he’s a great player and works his ass off for us.
Despite being opposites in personality and appearance—Daylen has wild blond hair and blue eyes—he and Vance are the best of friends. They have a special chemistry, the kind all quarterbacks dream of.
Beau stares at me and my coffee cup. “Coach, it’s in coffee too. You should quit that stuff. You don’t need coffee to wake up in the morning.”
I stare at him and grumble, “Yeah, well you don’t need a parachute to skydive, but it sure fucking helps.”
Daylen laughs loudly enough to rattle my coffee. I’ve never met a human being with a louder laugh. It stops you in your tracks.
Daylen places his big hand on my shoulder. “Coach, you’re the funniest motherfucker I know.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “And you’re hot AF. You’re the full package.”
“What’s AF?” I ask.
“Ummm…after forty,” he assures me.
I narrow my eyes at him, and he grins widely. “I’m not kidding. You’re a hottie, and you’re at an age where you could date women born in both 1979 and 2001.”
I shake my head in disgust. “2001? Are you crazy? Why would I want a girl when I could have a woman?”
He shrugs. “The ladies born in 2001 still have perky boobs. Boobs are very important. You can’t motorboat a woman’s personality.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t know why I bother.
As much as I adore Daylen, I equally want to strangle him at times.
There’s no bigger womanizer on this team than him.
He sleeps with a new woman every night and has no problem walking into the locker room to discuss his sexual conquests.
I know boys will be boys, but he takes it to the extreme.
Fudd, on the other hand, is a genius. An actual Mensa genius.
He takes classes toward his PhD in the off-season.
He’s all about diet and nutrition and their effects on building muscle.
Sometimes it’s hard to follow what he says, but mostly it’s just fascinating.
He’s always getting the guys to try new things to help build muscle. You can’t argue with the results.
I shake my head at Daylen. “Humblecut, when I enter my birth year, I have to spin that bitch like the wheel of fortune. If a woman doesn’t have to do the same, she’s not for me.”
He chuckles. “I get it. When was your last date, Coach?”
I certainly don’t want to admit just how long it’s been for me. “It’s been a hot minute. I’m not sure I’m cut out for modern dating.”
He nods. “Dating is like grocery shopping. You know what you’re supposed to shop for, but all bets are off when you see something yummy and bad for you.”
The truth is, after Fallon rejected me when I called to ask her out, I went and bought my first iPhone.
It’s been a bit of a process getting it set up.
The salesman indulged me by helping me turn it on and get the ball rolling, but I struggle with operating it.
Pierce won’t help me. I’ll be with Kennedy later today.
I’m hoping she’ll teach me what I need to be able to use it properly.
“Ugh, I don’t understand,” I groan in frustration. “There’s nothing to press. There are no buttons.” I continue trying to find a button that isn’t there on my new phone.
Kennedy rolls her eyes in annoyance. We’ve been at the restaurant for an hour while she attempts to teach me how to use my new iPhone.
I can tell she’s at her boiling point with my technological ignorance.
“Dad, it’s a touch screen. You don’t need to press so hard.
It senses the touch of your finger. I don’t know the precise technology of it—maybe it’s the heat of your finger—but it just senses it and acts accordingly. Don’t fucking press so hard.”
“Watch your mouth,” I mumble before I blow out a breath. “So it won’t work if my finger is cold?”
She lets out a laugh. “No, Dad, that’s not how it works. Watch me.” She moves her fingers, and the damn phone just does things. It’s like magic.
She’s looking at the phone, but I’m looking at her, my stunningly beautiful daughter with her dark hair and green eyes that so closely resemble my own.
She’s twenty-five now. It feels like she was a baby just yesterday.
I didn’t know how much I could love another human being until the day she was born.
I’ve barely seen her for the past several years, and regret fills every single pore in my body over the deterioration of our relationship. Growing up, her home life wasn’t a happy one. I was gone all the time, and my ex-wife lacks in the maternal department.
Ginny was attractive in her youth, but she was never in Kennedy’s league.
It was almost as if she resented Kennedy for all the attention she received, not only for her beauty, but for her incredible athletic talent and larger-than-life personality.
It was clear from an early age that Kennedy was meant for greatness.
She has the special “it” factor Pierce lacks.
I always pushed her on the basketball front but encouraged him not to look to play football in college.
He would have been doing it because he thought it was expected of him.
Football doesn’t live in his heart the way basketball does for Kennedy.
I love him endlessly, but he doesn’t have the same shine she does.
She had her choice of colleges and chose one in California, as far away from us as possible. She never came home and cut off communication. After college, she was drafted to the pro basketball team in New York City. Again, she never came home.
But five months ago, she was traded to the Philly Beavers professional basketball team and moved back to Philly for the first time since she left for college.
I’ve done my best in that time to slowly reestablish a relationship with her. I attended every single home game of hers this season until my season started. Then it had to be worked around my football schedule, but I do my best to avoid conflicts so I can be there to watch my superstar play ball.
We also share a love for the sport of pickleball. We won a tournament today. I knew inviting her to do anything competitive was the way to get her back in my life, and it’s starting to work. We’ve played a few times, and this is our first meal together in years. Many years.
Even though I’m frustrating her with my technology deficiencies, I love that we’re having this meal and bantering like family should. I can’t remember the last time we were so…normal. If ever.
At least she talks to me, albeit in small doses.
She refuses to speak to her mother at all.
When she was sixteen, she walked in on Ginny having an affair.
I don’t think Kennedy has spoken a single word to her mother since that day.
I don’t condone my ex-wife’s actions, but I would love to see them mend fences at some point.
Kennedy is so obviously aching for a maternal presence in her life.
She has a hardness to her that only a mother can soften.
I’m not sure Ginny Jeffries is the ideal candidate for the job, but she’s the only mother Kennedy has.