10. Trash Talk
TEN
Trash Talk
CALEB
Caleb showed up every morning for his regular seven o’clock rotation in the training facility, even though he had only half a routine to follow. Rashid Jaggers, the running back who lent his room the night he met Shannon, occasionally sat out of his usual circuit and declared he was doubling up on his upper body routine in order to work out with him.
“What the hell happened to you and her?” he asked, loading weights onto the bar for the bench press. “I’ve never seen you all over a girl like that. Thanks for stripping the bed before you left, by the way.”
“Mom raised me to be a good guest. I didn’t know where the other sheets were, if you had any, or I would have made it up again,” Caleb said. “I appreciate the hospitality, but God, Jags, I wish you would have kicked us out.”
“You’ve got forty pounds of muscle on me, Fields. I’m not kicking you anywhere.”
Caleb situated himself on the bench. “Don’t act like I didn’t catch you about to bust up laughing. You knew my dumb ass was trying to impress her.” He grabbed the bar and lifted. “Damn. Am I out of shape, or did you add a few pounds?”
“A few,” Jags said. “You’re going to spend enough time rehabbing your ankle. You’ll be out of balance if you skip upper body on those days. Did the trainers say when they’ll start you on it?”
“Two weeks,” Caleb said. He lifted again and frowned for a moment at the extra weight, then refocused and continued his repetitions.
“You didn’t answer me,” Jags said. “What’s the deal with her?”
“She’s Hammy’s ex,” Caleb sighed. “Throw a few more pounds on there. I need a burn when I think about her. She pisses me off.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“What? Ten more. I can take it.”
“No, I mean… is she that ex from this fall? The one who faked it?”
“She is. Shannon Van Pelt. And that’s why I’m pissed.” He grimaced, clenching and unclenching his hands while Jags loaded the bar. “We were playing this stupid game and didn’t tell each other our names. I’m pissed at myself because if we’d introduced ourselves like normal people, I would have backed the hell off before anything happened.”
“Looked like a fun game, though.” Jags stepped back as Caleb began another set. “Hell of a lot more fun than the Sunrise Bowl was.”
He flushed deep red, and not from the weight. “Yeah. A lot better.”
“The bowl could have been worse, in any case. You’ve got to try, but those games don’t count. He wanted to show off for his draft stock, and he choked. I’d say your girl got him good.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Maybe she should be. I like her already.”
“Then you’re as nuts as she is. It’s the worst thing to lie about. I’d be crazy to set myself up for that. I won’t, and I can’t.”
“Does she like running backs?”
Caleb closed his eyes and tried not to snarl as he raised the bar. “What do you think of Hammy?”
Jags bobbled a weight between his hands and thought about their quarterback’s stats. “Bowl games aside, he’s solid in the pocket and has a cannon of an arm. When the O-line is getting it done, he’s accurate as hell, and made some tight passes this year that should impress anyone watching his tape. Roughly half of his interceptions last season are really on the receivers, but I won’t say that too loud.”
He checked Caleb’s rep count and continued. “His footwork is kind of middling but improved over the last year. He’s still crap on the run because his field position awareness is soft. I always thought he should fall back on checkdown passes instead of throwaways a little more when he’s under pressure, but if he goes through his progressions too quick, it’s like bam , his brain breaks for a second. He’s slick with the handoffs, thank you very much, but doesn’t improvise well and struggles with ball security when he’s sacked. But on the flip side, he’s pretty athletic with his scrambles and doesn’t get injured much. Zero concussions, and hasn’t missed a start in his college career.”
The bar clattered back into the stand, and Caleb took two deep breaths. “I meant what do you think of him as a guy? I didn’t especially want his draft prospectus.”
“Oh. Right on.”
“On the nose, though.”
“As a guy?” Jags blew out a low whistle and scanned the weight room. “Same as you and everybody, I guess. If he didn’t ball out on game day, I wouldn’t have any respect for his stuck-up dumb ass. He was everybody’s hero when he took over after Malik got sick, and we all made the mistake of treating him like it.”
Caleb released the bar and got up to set the weights for his friend, digging for something positive to chill the simmer in his blood. “He wasn’t so bad for a while.”
“That’s generous, coming from you.”
“I played it professional with the guy until he got in my face,” Caleb said, stiffening. “He made it personal, not me. I’ll keep my mouth shut and grind it out. I don’t care what he does.”
“Then why are you asking about him?”
Caleb ignored him and rapped his knuckles on the bar. “I took thirty off for you. Is that good?”
“You want me dead, Fields? We don’t all have those blocker arms like you.”
“It’s the future of the running back position. Pack on some muscle and you’ll double your value.”
“That’s what—that’s what tight ends—are for.” Jags shook out his wrists and gripped the bar again. “Dammit, go easy on your boy.”
“Show them how you can clear a lane and you’ll have twice as many snaps next fall.”
Jags cursed under his breath but lifted anyway, one set of reps and then another, and nearly dropped the bar when Caleb spoke again, staring blankly at a stack of weights.
“I wonder if what he said about Shannon is true.”
“And that’s why you’re asking about Hammy.”
“Yeah. I was into her before I knew who she was, and now I feel like I have to hate her on principle. I don’t even like him, and I don’t want anyone to pull that stunt on him.”
“Why would he lie about it?” Jags exhaled heavily and lowered the bar to the stand. “Yeah, it makes her look like a bitter, vengeful bitch, but it makes him look like he got taken for a ride and she was having a laugh at his expense. Even as an excuse for the choke, he looks like he failed because of a girl.”
“Are we doing abs?” Caleb asked, pointing at a rack of medicine balls. Jags’ logic made a little too much sense. Hammy wouldn’t lie to embarrass himself, and the twist in Caleb’s stomach demanded a burn like the one in his arms.
“My brother thinks she was a ringer and won big when we didn’t cover the point spread against Tennessee.”
“Now that would make it all worthwhile. Has she made any big purchases lately?”
Caleb stared.
Jags jerked a quick nod to his left. “Look who’s early for once. You could just ask him what happened.”
The qualities they all saw before Hayden lost the locker room still rose to the surface when he could use them to his advantage. He could be charming and witty and even laugh at himself occasionally, and greeted his teammates with shoulder smacks and smiles as they filtered in. Leaning close, he could whisper nothing of consequence and make the listener feel they had been granted a precious secret .
As a captain, Hayden fired up the team with the hype speeches, knocking helmets and screaming, telling them they’d win as a team or die as a team for the glory of their coach, their school, their legacy. Hayden had a competitive drive that excited Caleb when he signed with the university and thought he’d play alongside athletes as consumed with the game as he was. He brushed Isaac’s warnings aside.
The peek behind the curtain back in September wasn’t a pretty one. If Hayden’s loss of control could begin with the quiet, likable freshman safety, where would it end? The upperclassmen shared a silent understanding that if Hayden played well, he’d leave for the draft a year early, and their drive to get rid of him fueled their dominant season. They’d cheer him on and flip him off behind his back—double birds to match number eleven on his way out the door.
They got their wish. He’d be gone in a matter of months.
“Shannon’s not his type,” Caleb muttered.
“She never was,” Jags said. “I saw her a few times out this fall. She’s not a party girl or a groupie. You could tell just looking at her that she’s nice. Not showy or anything.”
“She’s… she’s…”
“Hey, there’s the Freshman Freak.” Hayden clapped him on the shoulder. “How’s the ankle?”
There it was. The nickname Hayden could write off as a compliment on what their teammates called Caleb’s freak athleticism, but always delivered with the slightest sneer. “Good, thanks,” Caleb said. “Back to the grind in two weeks.”
“Nice.” He leaned closer to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. “I heard you and Shan had a thing. Is that true?”
Caleb’s cheeks flushed red. “No big deal,” he lied.
Hayden blew out a long breath, and Caleb’s breakfast roiled in his stomach when he noticed how close he was. “That girl is nuts,” he said. “You heard what she did.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“Party.” Caleb hoped his brief replies would shut him up. Jags shrugged helplessly when he met his glance.
Hayden nodded. “Yeah, me too. She came to all the football parties in the fall. You never came out, man. Why not?”
“Because rest correlates with performance.”
He brushed off the insinuation about his poor showings against several key rivals. “I thought she was really something for a while,” he said. “Easy come, easy go, I guess. You’d have known that if you ever came out. Girls lined up, buddy. It makes all this shit worth it.” He gestured around the weight room. “You should get out more.”
Caleb couldn’t decide where to begin correcting Hayden and considered starting with his face. “Shannon’s a person,” he said, lowering his voice. “She’s not ‘just like’ any line of girls chasing you.”
“Whew, I agree with you there.” Hayden whistled. “Damn. When that girl gets?—”
“You know, Hammy, I’m really hurting with these activity restrictions,” Caleb said, gulping bile. “How about if I do some extra rotational circuits for you, and you double up on leg day for me? Looks like you could use it.”
Hayden drew back. “You talk a big game for someone getting lucky off sloppy seconds.”
“Lucky, says the guy who wouldn’t have started till next year if Malik Whitehead hadn’t gotten meningitis and nearly died. You were supposed to sit behind him for three seasons.” Caleb kept his face expressionless, ready to get under his skin.
“Oh, I see. You don’t like me talking about her.” Hayden leered. “This is sweet. You caught feelings for that lying bitch. I mean, I get it. She seems pretty special until you see what a sham her act is. I was good to my girl and got a hell of a payback.”
“If your version of ‘good’ to a girl is random hookups on every road game, Shannon’s well rid of you,” Caleb said, trying to calm his heart rate so he didn’t blush.
“You’re well rid of her if you got the goods and didn’t stick around. She sure made me work for it. Best stat all year for you, Freshman Freak. One and out.”
That nearly did it. The casual dismissal in Hayden’s tone lit a fire in Caleb’s core and set his blood sizzling with months-long resentment. When Hayden stepped close as if to elbow him with a playful jab to the ribs, he startled at the vise-like grip squeezing the inside of his throwing shoulder.
“We’ll be well rid of your ass next year, Hamster,” Caleb said under his breath as he cranked his hand tighter and dug in the name Hayden didn’t like. “And if you say another word about her, everyone on this team is finally going to hear from me exactly how I feel about you.”
Hayden wrenched himself free and rubbed his shoulder. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“You decided to get out when she made it a little too hot for you,” Caleb said, still keeping his voice down. The fire in him blazed Shannon’s name. “I know you’re not exactly friends anymore, but when you went behind everyone’s backs and declared for the draft like it was a big secret, you still made sure to tell Cory Thatcher up in Ann Arbor, didn’t you? And you know he told Cameron Porter at UND. Which means they told?—”
“Oh, yes. Your precious brothers are so tight with the quarterback gossip club.”
“Don’t act like you forgot how they’ve been serving you grass ever since a certain game last year, Hamster. I know you haven’t.”
“I didn’t feel like making a big announcement.” Hayden said, averting his eyes. “This shouldn’t surprise anyone.”
“Oh, everybody knows now. No one was surprised you made the call when you saw everything slipping out of your hands.” He poked Hayden’s chest and lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “It’s probably better this way.”
“Out of my hands?”
Caleb pointed at his shoes and Hayden’s face went white.
“Why didn’t we see the latest cleats this fall, Hamster? Supply chain issues? Or did they drop you after last year’s ‘off-the-field antics’?” He shook his head in mock sadness and pretended to pout. “No one wants a replay of that hotshot who came to Cleveland as a first-round pick. A Heisman winner, benched for booze, and worse.”
Hayden nearly swallowed his tongue. “There was a delay. That’s all.”
“Well, cheer up. College endorsements are nothing next to a professional paycheck, if that works out. You and Thatcher will be in a hell of a competitive draft class this year.”
“Thatcher’s a prissy little game manager.”
“A little bird told me New York’s about to sell the farm to grab Thatch in the top three.” Caleb yawned. “You know my dad played for Detroit, right? I swear, he’s still in touch with half the league. Who did you like at the combine? I wonder if we know the same people.”
“Chicago and Tennessee.” Hayden bit his lip and grimaced as soon as the words left his mouth.
“You don’t speak ten words in the entire season, and now I see you’ve been saving it up.” Hayden shook his head. “I won’t miss you, freak.”
“I won’t miss your pathetic attempt at a nickname. It didn’t catch on.”
“What would you prefer, princess?”
“You could be like the peasants and call me Fields or forty-seven, if you must speak to me at all.”
“God, you’re a dick.”
“And here I was going to say we’ll come root for you at Pro Day in a few weeks.”
“Take a walk to the transfer portal and go play with your brothers. Hang with that asshole Porter at UND since he’s too weak to even try for the NFL.” Hayden swung his head to the sign-in board and shot a glance at the clock, then panicked and took several steps away.
“You won’t be here next year, so I’m happy to stay,” Caleb called. “Whoops. Sorry, Hamster. That was loud.”
Isaac whistled his astonishment. “You always had some sweet trash talk, but I don’t think you’re supposed to use it on your own team.” Caleb’s oldest brother’s face on his screen was a relief after Luke and Eli’s constant ribbing since he told them about Shannon.
“He’s not my team anymore, remember?” Caleb said. “He declared, so he lost his last year of eligibility if he doesn’t get drafted. I don’t know why he’s even in the fitness center. We’re done with him either way. Whoever drafts him, if anybody drafts him, they had better be ready. I think he’s aiming to be the biggest off-field bust since that kid who missed a game because he was partying in Las Vegas.”
“You call him Hamster now?”
“Quietly, because I have good manners.”
“You’re feeling chippy today.”
Caleb grumbled under his breath. “I hate him.”
“ You hate him?” Isaac lifted his brows. “Buddy, you saw it last year. Justin Whitman was laid out on the field with his leg broken in two places, getting assessed for a spinal injury, and Hayden fucking Hamilton was smacking shoulders and telling his O-line they did a nice job. Your left guard looked about ready to cry, and Hamilton tried to make those guys look like they did it on purpose. Everyone else was respectful. Justin is my best friend, so I am not sympathetic to your locker room struggles.”
“I wasn’t about to switch schools because of one guy. Remember what Hayden tried on me after you guys destroyed us this year? I know what kind of person he is.”
“And I know we will continue to destroy you with scores like twenty-seven to three as long as he wears your jersey,” Isaac said.
“Well, he’s leaving. I have no clue how Shannon was with him for even a few months. She seems like she has a little more self-respect than that.”
“What are you going to do about the girl, anyway?”
“What should I do?” Caleb asked. “That’s why I called you. Help me. Please. ”
“You obviously like her.”
“I do not.”
“Then why do you need to do anything?”
Caleb was silent.
“You went to bat for her when Hayden tried to trash her, and you said she helped you out in that writing group,” Isaac said. “So she was decent. Just be decent and let it slide when you’re done in the class. It’s not up to you to be the morality police and judge her for what she did to him.”
“But it’s sick, man. She didn’t even know what he did to Justin. She didn’t see that side of him.”
“Are you sure she didn’t? And do you really want to judge people for their motivations when you don’t know the context?” Isaac asked, his big brother instincts rising to the surface. “I don’t think any of us really have that right, do you?”
“Our situation was different,” Caleb said.
“Maybe hers was, too,” Isaac said. “Or maybe she’s as shitty a person as he is.” He caught himself before his voice rose in frustration and spoke gently. “She’s not yours to worry about.”
Caleb held his breath so he didn’t accidentally declare how wrong he was. Isaac went on.
“And she’s not yours to judge.”
“She’s not anybody’s,” Caleb said, bristling as he thought of Hayden calling her his girl. “Do you believe in soulmates?” he asked suddenly. “You and Sarabeth took a minute to get yourselves figured out, and she’s the only girlfriend you’ve ever had. Do you believe she’s your soulmate?”
“I don’t know exactly what I think about souls,” Isaac said. “Some vague construct of who we are and what we’re worth, and how we linger after we die. None of that really resonates with me. Sarabeth is my person and I’m hers, as long as we’re on this earth. I know that for certain.”
“How soon after you met her did you know that?”
“I told you, remember?”
Five minutes. The twins nearly exploded with laughter when Isaac told them, while Caleb sat with his mouth open, utterly confused how his brother, then only nineteen, could make such a weighty declaration with all the emotional maturity it implied. He met her, and he simply knew. That was always Isaac, self-assured about every decision and as cool as lake water when anyone suggested he should reconsider his choices. His leadership on the field would raise his draft stock in another year, Caleb was certain. Isaac never doubted he’d play professionally. It never occurred to him to fail.
“Our brothers don’t know jack about this stuff,” Isaac said. “Eli’s got a girlfriend bossing him around now and he loves it. He never has to think about what Courtney wants because she’s giving him checklists of how to be the best boyfriend ever. And Luke is still scared of third dates.”
“That’s why I called you,” Caleb said.
“I know.”
“What do I do?”
“How long has it been since you met her?” Isaac asked.
Caleb frowned and counted on his fingers. “Three weeks.”
“Then wait,” Isaac advised. “Try and turn off your sanctimonious crap, get over the shock, and calm down. Avoid Hayden, which you should do anyway, and don’t let him determine what you do. Get to a better place in your head before you decide if she’s someone you should write off. If she’s really your girl, she’s not going anywhere.”
Caleb let it sink in. If he was going to believe in destiny or fate, he had to trust it.
“Do you think Hayden could be lying about her?” he asked. “I mean, he’d embarrass himself since she made him look like a fool. But he’s not that smart, so… maybe, right?”
Isaac paused and screwed up his mouth, an expression Caleb knew meant his brother was giving the question a serious consideration. “This is a long shot,” he finally said. “But it’s not stupid.”
“I’m tired of hating her already. I’ll take anything, as long as you’re not suggesting she was in it for a Vegas payout.”
“Maybe he wants to spread the word she’s a liar about the pregnancy scare because she knows something he did that was worse. That way, if she looks like a liar now, she looks like a liar later if she tries to call him out on whatever the other thing is,” Isaac said. “But it would have to be something big enough that he’ll take this hit looking stupid so he doesn’t have to take that one with whatever consequences. You follow?”
Caleb’s mouth hung open for a moment before he mustered his voice. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I follow. I didn’t think of it like that.”
“He might not be entirely stupid. It’s the long game, and you can’t let gut reactions to this emotionally charged stuff trip you up.” Isaac grinned and pointed down to remind Caleb of his ankle. “Watch yourself.”