Chapter 4
CONNOR
Last night, while on a date with a tennis player named Bunny, the full moon hung over Boston. Before long, word started to spread as the papers churned out headlines, images, and articles. She showed me a post on her phone, illuminating four Bruiser backsides.
Despite ticking off the commissioner, I’d be lying if I claimed to have lost any sleep over what’s been dubbed “Moon-gate” by the press and #BruiserButt on social media.
I wake up as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. What can I say? The nickname Wolf isn’t for nothing. Then Coach Hammer calls Declan, Chase, Grey, and me into his office.
An hour later, the other guys shuffle in as if they anticipate what’s coming. I might be known for tackles on the field, but when it comes to face-to-face conflict, deflection is my greatest weapon. Then again, that never worked with my brother.
Hammer is on a phone call and gives us the one-minute signal with his pointer finger, along with the hairy eyeball.
I just smile.
Grey grumbles.
Chase shifts from foot to foot like his mama caught him with his hand in the cookie jar that subsequently broke, and ruined all the cookies for her book club.
Declan wears an unreadable expression, as if he’s been disciplined before. That makes the two of us. I guess we all have our ways of coping.
“Looks like Hammer is going to drop the—” Chase starts, practically shaking in his sneakers.
“Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so,’” I warn.
“Come on, we’ve done worse.” Declan shrugs as if to say, It can’t be that bad.
“Guys, Elyse was there.” Chase refers to Commissioner Starkowsky’s daughter.
Let it be known that she’s a grown woman.
Having been around the team her entire life and now a reporter, she’s often in the locker room pre- and post-game.
I can attest to the fact that she’s seen her share of football players in various stages of dress.
“It’s the principle. Would you want your daughter to see our backsides?” Chase adds.
“He has a point,” Grey says.
“We don’t have daughters,” I say.
Grey pokes me in the chest. “But if I did and a guy like you so much as...”
Point taken.
“You know what I mean,” Chase hisses.
I do, but I won’t indulge him by agreeing.
Declan laughs, as if any of us are anywhere close to settling down and having kids. That’ll be a cold day on the equator, at least as far as I’m concerned. Grey could stand to have a family. Chase will probably have enough kids to populate a football team.
Me? No, thank you. Not part of the contract or the terms of service for my future.
Coach Hammer gets off the phone and holds up his massive hand, indicating we keep quiet.
He paces along the bank of windows overlooking the practice field.
“I understand the pranks are part of the game, the camaraderie, and the glue that holds the team together in some ways. But you went too far. I’ve had a lot of heat coming down from up high lately about your—” He turns his hand in a circle. “About your antics.”
I lift and drop my shoulders. “Oh, come on, we were just having fun. We thought it was only going to be Brandon, not the commish.”
“Elyse was mortified.”
“More like the commish was mortified,” I mutter.
Hammer tilts his head at what we’ve collectively dubbed a shut up angle. “Connor.”
Truth is, all he needs to do is use my given name and I stand at attention. He’s alpha in this office and I respect that.
“Yes, sir.” My Appalachian accent slips out, revealing the many times I’ve uttered those two words.
“I need you to understand what is appropriate and what goes over the line,” Hammer says.
Chase nods.
“Filling someone’s car with balloons? Harmless. Coating the inside of a locker with molasses? Amusing. Stealing all the toilet paper rolls and removing them from the building?” Hammer winces. “Mooning the commissioner, his daughter, our newest player, and a bunch of officials?”
“Hilarious,” I say, only loud enough so the others can hear.
“Boys, there are consequences.”
“A fine? I’ll pay for it,” I say, taking responsibility.
Hammer gives a subtle shake of his head.
“Penalty?” Declan asks.
“Community service?” Chase suggests.
Having been around for so long and seeing the many moods of Coach Hammer, Grey remains quiet, as though he senses it’s bad.
“No, you’re going to finishing school,” Hammer says.
I bark a laugh. Confusion and questions fill the room, namely that this is some kind of joke.
“Sir, we all finished school and have diplomas to prove it,” Declan says. Then, under his breath, he adds, “In my case, just barely. But all the same...”
“I think Coach is saying that he has to make an example of us,” Grey says.
“Not me. This is coming directly from the commissioner.” Hammer plops into his seat and then tosses a newspaper down on the desk between us with the headline Full Moon Over Boston.
Declan and I chuckle. Chase cracks a smile. Grey is as stony as ever.
“You guys are terrible with the press.”
“They say any kind of press is good press.”
“The problem is we’re lacking in actual good press. You’re all cocky. Not at all humble.” Coach casts a look of disapproval, mostly in my direction.
“Come on, it’s all hype,” Chase says.
“The fans love to see us getting rowdy,” Declan adds.
“We’re the Bruisers. We have a reputation to uphold.” I elbow Grey, who’s been on the team the longest. “Tell him.”
The coach’s shrug is tight. His expression, unyielding. “Starky wants you to clean up, learn some manners, and prove that you’re well-behaved gentlemen.”
Grey snorts like that’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard.
“Think of it like a reform camp. You’ll be there a month.”
The room falls silent until Hammer clears his throat. “You’ll attend several classes for your betterment. I hope I’ve made my point and you’ve learned your lesson. No mooning the commissioner’s daughter, or anyone else for that matter.”
We erupt with protests.
“What about training camp?” I ask because I live for football. Nothing can sideline me.
“OTAs?” Chase asks.
“The program you’ll be attending is the only organized team activity you’ll be completing if you want to attend training in August.” Hammer, ever the picture of calm, grits his teeth.
“So, if we want to go to training camp, first we have to attend this camp?” Chase asks.
“That’s right. Your midpoint and final reviews will determine whether you hit the field with the rest of the team before the season starts.”
All at once, we each voice objections and try to talk him out of it. I’m not proud to say so, but I even try puppy dog eyes.
Hammer only hears one word among the chatter.
“Unfair? Poor Elyse cannot wipe the sight of four pasty rear ends from her mind—neither can the rest of the country.” Hammer points at the newspaper, which features the photo, blurred in select areas.
One of the officials must’ve snapped it with their phone.
“Hey, my rear end is not pasty. It’s muscular and tan,” Declan says.
“For an Irishman,” Grey mutters.
“Listen, my hands are tied. It’s this or walk, boys.” Hammer shuffles folders around on his desk.
“This team is my life,” Grey says softly.
“All of our lives,” Declan echoes.
For half a second, I feel like I’m in the center of a tunnel—can’t see one end or the other. The room blurs, but I snap myself out of it, not willing to give up.
“Consider this probation.”
“Did you mean walk as in leave the team?” Chase asks. “Considering the only thing I know how to do is play football, I’ll do it. I’ll go to the finishing school or whatever.”
“Can’t you have your father talk to the commissioner?” I ask Chase, trying for a Hail Mary.
“You know the answer to that.” Grey sighs.
“Which is—?” I ask.
“If he did, whatever the deal, would be worse, much worse.” They must know something about Mr. Collins that I don’t.
Declan gazes toward the ceiling as though asking for help.
“You’ll each be assigned a personal etiquette coach. And if you screw up, you’re off the team.” Hammer cocks an eyebrow because he means business.
It’s a group case of whiplash because I don’t think any of us could imagine our punishment being worse.
“All of you,” Hammer says with finality.
“What do you mean? If one of us screws up, we’ll all be let go?”
“Starky’s rules. He wants to see you all clean up and revamp your reputations. You can settle down and make honest men of yourselves, but no fooling around, if you catch my meaning.” He clears his throat.
Most of the guys on the team have a reputation for being players—off the field as well as on. I’m no exception. Chase is. I’m not sure what Grey’s deal is, other than he doesn’t kiss and tell.
“You mean we can settle down, as in get married?” Chase asks.
“If you’re not planning to meet her at the end of the aisle, don’t bother.”
“The grocery aisle?” A chuckle rolls out of me.
Coach looks like a defeated parent who doesn’t know what to do with the likes of me.
I shrug. “What? You didn’t specify which aisle.”
“The Bruisers used to be more family-oriented. Time we return to our values.”
Grey stiffens.
Not having signed up for this, I glare.
Chase wears a private smile.
Hammer grips the edge of his desk. “I’m not telling you that you have to get married, but Marsha was the best thing that ever happened to me.
She taught me what matters in life. And look at one of our own—Rylen learned that lesson too.
There’s something powerful about finding that special someone instead of playing the field.
There’s security, comfort, fun, love...”
“Ah, look. Hammer is getting all mushy on us.” Bitterness laces my voice. I’m all too familiar with how a sweet little love story ends.