3. Buffalo Wings
THREE
Cam smelledthe sugary coffee drinks before he entered the room, and pressed himself against the wall just inside the open door, hoping to get his bearings before anyone noticed him. In a quick survey, he determined that the four girls and one guy in navy school shirts and white shorts must be the media team, each of them speaking noisily into headsets and striding from one side of the room to another over and over. Two photographers lugged lenses and lights, and a member of the stadium concessions crew tended to a buffet table that was largely ignored by everyone too busy sounding important and pacing.
He loaded up a plate of buffalo wings and had one in his mouth before anyone spotted him.
“Cameron Porter, finally.”
He glanced up mid-bite and shot a pointed look at the clock. He was five minutes early.
“My boss told me to expect you ten minutes ago.”
“My boss didn’t.” Cam glanced at her name tag and licked buffalo sauce off his fingers. “Nice to meet you anyway, Pippa. What are we doing?”
Her eyes widened as she looked him up and down. “Put the wings down, for goodness’ sake.”
“Why are there wings if I’m not supposed to eat them? I’m hungry.”
She shook her head quickly, like a twitch, and her sleek, dark bob swished over her ears. “You’re not hungry, and you’re not dressed, and you’re not ready. No, no, no. Shelby will kill me.”
“Coach specifically said to wear team gear and not dress up,” he said, setting down his plate. He folded a paper napkin and dabbed at his lips. “He said two-fifteen. It’s two-ten, and I am here dressed like I was told to dress. Whoever Shelby is can take it up with him if that’s a problem.”
“Please don’t be a pain in my ass, Porter.”
“You can call me Cam or Cameron, not Porter. And I’m not a pain in anyone’s ass when I have complete, correct instructions.” He dragged a finger through the puddle of sauce on his plate and slurped it loudly. “We’ll get along fine if you can chill the hell out and quit acting like I’ve done something wrong, when I clearly haven’t. Again, have your boss take it up with mine.”
“This is him?” barked a tall blonde as she shoved Pippa aside. “What the hell are you wearing, Porter?”
“It’s Cam. Cameron if you’re feeling fancy.”
“Your jersey says Porter.”
“Your name tag says Shelby, but I’d call you Susan if you asked.”
She stared. He didn’t really care if anyone from his team called him Porter, but she was not his team, and he wanted those wings.
“What am I supposed to be wearing, Shelby? Coach said team gear. T-shirt, pants, so what?”
“What the hell is that hat?”
He almost forgot he had it on. The Tennessee Volunteers cap felt as much a part of his head as his hair, and he fingered the frayed brim. “Lucky hat. Peyton Manning signed this for me.”
“You can’t wear another school’s hat at our press conference. You can’t wear a hat at all.” She snatched it off his head, and Pippa choked back a laugh. His dark curls were still damp from his shower, the top half flattened against his skull and the bottom ones drier and fluffing out.
He cleared his throat. “Can we meet in the middle on this? I will gladly wear a school hat if you can find me one. I’ll let my hair dry right next time, and you can comb it or fluff it or do anything you want except cut it.”
Pippa held her breath until Shelby pressed an expense account card into her hand. “Go to the varsity shop. I want a white hat with the shield if they have it, initials if they don’t, white shirt with a top-third logo in blue and gold, size large.”
“X-large,” he interrupted.
“Large.” She scanned him again. “Your pants are too big. They look sloppy. Pips, get him a pair of those navy joggers that have the logo on the thigh in gold.”
“Are my shoes all right, miss?” he asked, dragging out his slight drawl as he rolled his eyes.
She glared. “At least they fit and they’re clean. We’ll get you new ones later.”
“They’re white Nike Dunks. Everybody has these.”
“That’s why you’re getting the navy and gold ones.” She turned to leave, then whipped back around as he reached for his plate. “You’re not going to talk like that on TV, are you?”
“Talk like what? I’m from Tennessee. This is how I talk.”
She flicked her hand at him as if shooing a pesky insect. “From Jordan Ackerman to this.”
She stalked away grumbling about viewer comprehension and regional audiences, and Cam pushed his glasses up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He thought he offered a decent compromise with the hat. He saw professional quarterbacks at post-game press conferences looking like they hadn’t even showered sometimes, but his clothes were too big, his hair was wrong, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to lose a twenty-year old accent.
At least he wasn’t getting his head dunked for a shampoo.
When he rubbed his bleary eyes and lowered his glasses, he was greeted with the most beautiful sight he’d seen all day.
His friend Shay spotted him at the same moment and squealed as she ran to him. “Cameron! Oh, we’re going to have so much fun.” She brushed off her navy shirt and white shorts after a quick hug and his mouth hung open.
“You’re with my P.R. team?”
“Until I make some teeny tiny mistake and Shelby boots me,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m not the only one feeling a little out of my depth, am I right?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A training camp tan doesn’t show blushing so well,” she said, tapping his cheek. “But you are blushing now.”
Cam sighed and dug into the wings. Shay was the long-time girlfriend of his right tackle Kenyon Stewart, and he’d never been gladder to see a friendly face in his life.
“Is Shelby the boss?” he asked with a mouthful of chicken.
“The student boss. It’s her first time as a crew chief, and she is super intense. She’s in the Master’s program and reports up to our department chair.”
“She sent someone called Pippa to buy me new clothes. I was told to wear team clothes, but apparently not these particular team clothes. Can I request a style consultant so I don’t screw up anymore, and can that person be you?”
“Give it a shot. Most people on the team are nice, but we’re all a little scared of Shelby.”
“I’m not scared of her, but she’s pretty fucking rude.” He bit into a wing, and licked the sauce caught in the corner of his lips. “I just want to play football. I want to go to practice so I don’t embarrass the team by not being good enough for all this crap they’re hyping me up to do.”
“Is it so different from coaches in your face yelling?” she asked. “Just think of Shelby like she’s the quarterbacks’ coach, but with volumizing shampoo.”
“I’ll try. Do you know if I’m expected to say anything today, or just stand there? It would be a lot more efficient if I knew what to practice while I’m waiting for my new clothes. They probably plan to wait till I’m half dressed and then grumble at me about being late. Who cares if I look pretty if I play like shit?”
“You’ll play fine. I’ll brag on my man for a minute and point out that you have a fine offensive line, and you will have lots of time to throw. Now, sit over here. While we wait, we’re going to play a fun game called ‘Taking Questions.’”
“Oh no.”
“Cameron Porter. Congratulations on your promotion.” Shay leaned forward and held out an imaginary microphone. “What are you looking forward to most this season?”
He cleared his throat and tried to temper his accent. “Working with our exceptional coaching staff to lead my guys to a lot of wins and a lot of great football.”
“What are your personal goals as quarterback?”
“I’m in a position to grow a lot as a leader in the locker room, but on the field specifically, I’m going to dig into improving game tempo and pocket presence.”
“When was the last time you heard from Jordan Ackerman?”
He loudly slurped the sauce off a wing and smacked his lips before reaching back for a bottle of water. He cracked it open and took a long drink while Shay waited, brows lifted.
“Sorry, miss, what was the question?”
Marshall
Paging @CameronPorter. Saw your presser and you nailed it, my man. You looked good, sounded good. My media crew would love me for that.
I get my hand slapped for sounding “mumbly,” whatever that means.
Ethan
link> for whoever hasn’t seen it. Well done, Cam. You looked like a natural.
Cameron
That was not natural. Those are not my clothes and not my hat. That’s not even my voice.
But SHELBY thinks regional accents are hard for our audience to understand.
Ethan, how do you survive among my people?
Ethan
I love Knoxville. Y’all so much nicer here than up yonder with the Yankees.
Cameron
You really shouldn’t go up yonder. You can go yonder, down yonder, or over yonder. Up yonder pretty much means you’re dead, or in northern Michigan.
Everyone thinks they’re cute when they fake the accent.
Marshall
That’s the story of our lives, man. Everyone thinks they can throw a ball until they try to. Everyone can read a defense until they’re getting the bear hug. There’s a reason no one has “armchair running backs.”
Cameron
Are your P.R. teams nice?
Marshall
Demanding.
Ethan
Particular.
Cory
Mine are super chill.
Cameron
I had a friend work on questions with me while the rest of the crew went on about how my pants fit. I probably could have yelled “Roll Tide” and the crew chief would only be concerned I didn’t strain the seams on these tight shirts she likes.
Also, what planet am I on that all-white Dunks are not okay? I have navy and gold ones on order now.
Ethan
That’s a little intense.
Hayden
Women fawning over how your pants fit? Enjoy that shit. And the shoes. I should see if they come in my colors.
Cameron
I’m here to play football, not model.
Hayden
Why not do both and be a good sport? It makes people happy to cheer on their team, and you’re the face of the team. You get free stuff, and you’ll line up some juicy endorsements in the meantime.
Cory
I agree with Hammy. Try to shift your attitude.
Hayden Hamilton has taken a screenshot.
Cory
Oops. When did I turn that back on?
Hayden
Hahahaha saved forever. Cory agreed with me.
Cory Thatcher has disabled screenshots.
Ethan
Paging @DaleGellar, are you going through this yet?
Cameron
Holy shit! Chippy! The Chipper! Chipperson McChip!
Dale
Camster! Cameroni! Camembert!
Marshall
This sounds DEEPLY personal.
Ethan
Do I even want to know how you guys know each other?
Dale
We had the good fortune to share the weirdest dude to ever scout for college athletics setting us up for campus visits and clinics. We ended up doing UND, IU, Mizzou, Illinois, and Louisville together.
Cameron
And this toadstool thought it was the funniest thing in the world to call Dale “Chip.” Every time I saw him, he had some stupid chip name. I felt a little left out.
Ethan
Camembert?
Dale
We are men of taste. I also highly recommend the camelloni.
Cameron
Good to see you, man. How’s Louisville treating you?
Dale
Late to the bench as a starter and just battling through it, like you. My media’s going to be nothing compared to what they’ve got lined up for you.
Hayden
What do they have lined up for you?
Cameron
I don’t know specifics, but it’s a big anniversary year and the boosters and alumni have a lot planned. There’s a ton of print and video that already has Jordan on it, and we have to redo everything. Banners, magazines, whatever.
Hayden
I’m jealous. I’ve got two All-American seniors, jacked-up guys who look like God’s gift to the league, and they get all the photoshoots.
Cameron
I’m jealous. I just want some time to train and throw a football. I snuggled my playbook to sleep last night.
Marshall
Hit the weights, Hammy. You’ve got a pretty face, but you’re scrawny.
Cory
Don’t forget to go to class. Get your coach on them if your schoolwork suffers. Football comes first, which means school comes first, since it is necessary for football.
Ethan
New kids, what are your majors?
Hayden
Coach says to just take classes and at the end of my eligibility, they’ll call it something.
Cory
Your school gives me a headache.
Cameron
Studio art with a concentration in sculpture.
Marshall
Cam, what?
Cameron
Don’t tell anyone. I’d like to continue playing with power tools in peace.
Hayden
That’s what she said.
Marshall
Not the flex you think it is, Hammy. Sit down.