Chapter 9
Knox
Facing off against the Falcons, I played stronger than I have all season. I took the checkdown, and holy shit, make the feedback stop.
Melody still won’t text me before the games, but I’ve decided it’s okay as long as we’re winning. I catch up with her after, and her insights are frustratingly helpful. Why won’t she give me this first?
Austin
You’re playing better. Is it because of her or your coaches?
My lips tighten, and I remember when we were in LA, and he said I should listen to her a little more. He said she knew her stuff.
I said she never criticized him. He only laughed.
Knox
It’s not because of my coaches. They seem to think I’ll figure it out on my own.
Austin
Some players do. Did you?
My chin flexes, and I reply honestly.
Knox
No.
Our phones are silent, and I know he’s thinking I should have. I know he’s thinking I was raised in this, surrounded by the entire Bradford legacy, and it took a petite female podcaster to tell me to get my head out of my ass?
Austin
Whatever, it worked. We all have a tendency to get in our own heads.
And that’s why my brother is going to be a fantastic coach. He doesn’t make you feel like an idiot. He praises hard work, and he doesn’t shame you for your journey.
Knox
Thanks, bro.
Austin
Just experience talking. Atlanta is a tough team. You should be proud. You’re 2-1. Starting off strong.
I disagree with that last bit, but I’ll take his words of encouragement. Up next are the Titans. We’re traveling to Tennessee to see if we can make that 3-1.
The guys are all going out, ready to party, blow off steam, get laid. I catch the waiting rideshare back to my penthouse apartment overlooking the Mississippi River, the West Bank, Algiers.
As the SUV pulls away from the Superdome, I lean back in the seat, watching the lights disappear into the fog coming off the river, wrapping around the buildings. It’s beautiful and mysterious. It transforms this modern city into an old world of pirates and thieves and history.
It’s my mom’s hometown. It’s enchanted. I haven’t written in a while. Playing with words relaxes me, but my words seem to follow the same trail these days.
I wonder what she’s doing. Will she go out? Will she curl up in those terrycloth shorts and that shirt and watch a show? Would it be weird if I asked her?
Knox
What got you started in podcasting?
It starts to drizzle. My phone is in my hand aching to feel her reply, and I lean my head back, looking out at the night glazed with rain water. Beside the white chickens…
The device buzzes, and warmth spreads through my wrist, up my arm, across my chest as I look at the screen.
Melody
I started in television. It’s how I know Chet.
My brow quirks, but that’s not jealousy I’m feeling.
It’s not.
Fuck it.
Knox
I didn’t know you knew Chet.
Melody
Distantly. He was more friends with my former partner.
Knox
What happened to her?
Melody
We wanted different things. She wanted to do more…
A few seconds pass with no gray dots.
Knox
Fashion? Celebrities?
I think about what else Melody might be. She’s clearly got football on lock, but what else does she like? Exercise? Yoga? My eyes slide down her muscular legs in my memory’s eye. Sexy, defined, gorgeous…
Melody
She was more into investigative reporting, Jerry Springer style. Her brand was surprising guests with shocking rumors and innuendo.
Knox
Wow. That’s…
Sexy thoughts recede in the face of this new information. How could Melody be partners with such a person? Were they close? How much of her friend’s old behavior seeped into her? How much is she waiting to unleash on me?
Melody
Shitty. I told her it’s not how I handle my business. I gave her an ultimatum, and she left… taking our entire subscriber base with her. I almost got evicted. That’s why I was driving an Uber.
My brow lowers, and another piece of the puzzle falls into place.
Knox
Is that why you were so angry with me?
Silence falls between us, and I wonder if she’ll tell me the truth. When I asked her before, she said the show wasn’t about getting back at me. I still think it might be.
Even if it is, I can take her critiques. I’ve had tough coaches, and she’s basically the same, only her feedback is given with a healthy dose of snark in front of the entire fucking sports world.
As if I royally pissed her off somehow… in an Uber, almost a year ago.
It’s so rare for me to lose my temper, but how could she know that? Last year was stressful as fuck, and I still don’t respond well to having a mic shoved in my face asking for a hot take or some inside scoop.
Chet loves to catch me off-guard with an unexpected question. It kind of reminds me of how she describes her old partner.
Melody
I’m a fan. I want the Saints to win. As it stands, you’re the most talented liability on the team.
Knox
Thanks for not sugarcoating it.
Melody
I told you I’d never lie to you.
Knox
I’m sorry I shouted at you.
Melody
Play better.
* * *
Back at home in the Dome, I’m on fire against the Panthers. I manage to complete several long passes to Baker and Kyler, and they ran two of the three in for touchdowns.
I also took the checkdown as everyone insisted. It kept me from being sacked or us losing the ball, but nothing makes me happier than that long pass, the drama of holding my breath, every muscle in my body straining, nerves firing, waiting to see if it’s… complete!
Relationships are the best things about playing on a team. It’s a tough, brutal game. We’ve watched friends be carried off the field, and we know any season could be our last.
But the adrenaline rush we get from working together, winning games, is incomparable. Nothing, and I mean nothing beats winning.
Like we did tonight.
“We’re going all the way,” Gill grabs me around the neck as we jump up and down on the field, holding our hands up at the fans, as black and gold confetti pours all around us.
The Cheer Krewe is on the field high-kicking, and there’s going to be a party in the Quarter tonight.
Fonz is beside me, waiting as I talk to the sideline reporter. Tonight it’s a young woman with a short blonde haircut. She’s smart, asking me about my red zone failure in the third that could have cost us the game.
“Do you worry the Quarterback Princess will have something to say?” She grins up at me, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I’m sure she’ll have something to say.” I lift my chin, looking right into the camera and hoping she’s watching. “Bring it on, QP.”
“Woo hoo!” the reporter replies. “That’s what I call a challenge.”
Smiling, I give her a wink. “Yes, it is.”
I’m ready to stop texting and bring us face to face again.
As if on cue, TMI has a hot take locked and loaded under the headline, “K-brAD RECALCULATING!!!”
I scan further to read her words. Recalculating: When third and manageable turns into third and what the hell is he doing?
Time to let her know.