the hay, only to get up and do it all again. I rarely vary from my routine.
Successful professional athletes don’t stumble into their positions. They gain that level of success by working their asses off, with discipline, and pushing through pain and injury. I’m no exception. Football is all that matters, and it’s been that way since I was thirteen years old. I’m respected because of football. Without it, I’m no different than my dad and his brothers.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
I’m startled out of my thoughts as my mom enters the kitchen. “Nothin’. You’re up late.” I haven’t seen her since she left the meeting. She was in her room when Nan, Joe, and I got home.
She moves to the cabinet next to the fridge and removes a glass. Her palm opens, revealing a giant oval pill. “I forgot to take my vitamin. I have to take the fool things at night, or they make me sick.”
“Good Lord, that’s a horse pill.”
Mom pops the pill into her mouth and chases it with a drink of water. “You get used to them. Why are you up?”
“Nan and Joe.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “I should’ve warned you. Why do you think I sleep with earplugs?”
“It’s not funny.”
“The look on your face is funny.” The shoosh, shoosh, shoosh of her slippered feet as she moves to stand next to me is as familiar as the way she brushes the hair from my forehead. “What happened with the application, Cash?”
“No idea. I put a call in to Carlton but haven’t heard from him yet.” I reach for her hand. “I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. I should’ve returned your call.”
The nails of her other hand scratch over my upper back. She used to do this when I was upset as a kid. “I know you are. I’m sorry that I let my anger get the best of me. I should’ve talked to you today and warned you.”
If my mom has a fault, it’s that when she gets angry, she really gets angry, and it takes her a while to get over things. That’s why I haven’t told her about Wayland Estate. I’m not exactly sure how she’ll react.
She kisses my forehead. “Night, baby.”
I don’t let go of her hand when she tries to step away. “Um … Mom?”
“Yes?”
The chair across from me scrapes against the tile floor as I push it out with my foot. “Can you sit for a minute?”
My mom has very few wrinkles, but she has a very definite crease in her forehead over her right eye when she’s concerned. “What is it, baby?”
When she calls me baby, it’s like I’m back in junior high, trying to figure out how to tell her I busted the Lovette’s kitchen window when they weren’t home. I was working on my throwing accuracy. I had a bullseye drawn on our fence, and their window was about three feet above the boundary between our houses. In my preteen pea-brain, I thought it would teach me to perform under pressure.
Needless to say, I missed.
She was so mad. I’ve only seen her madder one other time. I thought she’d kill me when she found out what I said about Tiger at the homecoming dance. She insisted I apologize. I lied to her and told her I tried but that Tiger wouldn’t speak to me. Teenage pride, man. It’s a bitch.
“Cash? Is something wrong?”
I smooth on an adoring expression—not hard, since I do adore my mother. But I need to handle this just right. “No.” I squeeze her hand that I’m still holding. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to get me anything. I have everything I could ever want.”
Gulp. Oh well, I didn’t get where I am by wussing out. “The thing is, Mom, I bought Wayland Estate … for you.” I slap on my endorsement grin, the one that’s sold millions of sneakers.
She blinks … once … twice … three times.
The hum of the fridge is the only sound in the room, and with every second that ticks by without her speaking, I know I’ve screwed up. “Say something.”
“Why?”
“You always said you wondered what it’d be like to live in such a grand place. Now you can know.” I up the dazzle on my smile, hoping that will help get me out of the doghouse on this one.
“Cash, I used to say that like someone says they wonder what it’s like in outer space. And I sure as hell don’t want to