I arrange my face into a mask of marble. “Don’t you need a shower?”
“Yeah, I do.” His laughter causes a little tickle low in my belly. “See ya later, Donny.” He stops when he gets to the hallway where the bathroom’s located and glances back at me. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
“I will kill you.”
He winks and laughs, then disappears down the hall. But I can’t shake the way he looked when the crew asked him about his shoulder. It happened yesterday too. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about his injury.
“I can’t wait to tell Maggie about your budding relationship with the Bullet.”
I roll my eyes at Donny. “Oh, she knows.”
He gathers the plans up and heads for the door. “Thanks again for handling the new crew.”
The water in the shower cuts on while my thoughts are whirling. “So, I have carte blanche to do what I want?”
“Yeah, sure. I trust you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Once Donny’s gone, I start to formulate a plan and don’t stop to examine my motives.
Twenty-One
Cash
“Interception, Carolina,” the announcer says over the sound system at Thunder Stadium. “That’s McKay’s sixth of the day.”
“Fuckin’ hell, McKay,” Coach Rosser jerks off his headset and screams.
The offense runs off the turf murmuring similar expletives about the backup quarterback, while the defense groans and takes the field. Those poor guys have barely had a rest with all the turnovers that have occurred in this game.
The crash of helmets and pads hitting each other rings through the air. That, combined with the smell of Icy Hot and body odor, lets me know I’m home. This is exactly where I’m supposed to be on a Sunday afternoon. Well, not exactly. I should be out on the field making things happen for the team, instead of standing on the sideline nursing a bad shoulder.
“Bullet, when are you coming back?” Guthrie, the Thunder’s center, sidles up to me.
“You miss my hands between your legs that much, Guthrie?” I try to make a joke because I don’t want to be that asshole who’s sitting on the sideline hoping his replacement fails.
To be clear, I don’t want to be that asshole on the outside, but I’m pretty much that asshole on the inside. Every interception and missed route McKay’s thrown today only solidifies my position on this team.
My team.
“Always, buttercup.” Guthrie grins down at me. “But I’m also shit tired of losing. We’re never going to make the playoffs if this continues.”
I have mixed feelings about the Thunder making the playoffs. On the one hand, if they do, then I could jump back into the quarterback slot and save the day. But on the other, it ratchets up the pressure to get my shoulder back to playing condition.
“He’ll pull it together. He’s only a rookie; it’s a lot to carry.” See how magnanimous I can be?
“I hope you’re right. Hey, are you coming to the party at Warren’s after the game?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Guthrie’s meaty hand clamps down on my good shoulder. “Awesome. I’m gonna kick your ass at Ping-Pong.”
My easy smile and the relaxed, settled feeling in my chest are as familiar as breathing. These guys are my brothers, my ride or dies. “Bring it, big guy.”
A flapping arm clothed in pink catches my eye. It’s Amy Shirley, the sideline reporter for the Pro Sports Network, PSN. She’s calling me over for an interview. That’s the last thing I want to do, but I plaster a smile on my face. This one is familiar too, but far less pleasant. I hate having to talk to press under the best of circumstances, and now is not a “best of” sort of situation for me.
Too bad, King. This is part of the deal.
I make my way to the journalist. “Good to see you, Amy.”
“You too, Cash. Do you have a minute for a short interview?”
“Sure.”
“Awesome.” She turns to the camera guy. “Ready, Jim?”
“Ready in five, four …” He raises the camera and counts us in, while Amy pulls her hair over her shoulders and licks her teeth. “Three, two …” He points to indicate we’re on the air.
“I’m here with the Thunder’s quarterback, Cash King, who was placed on injured reserve after the Atlanta game.” Amy angles her body toward mine. “Cash, how is the shoulder?”
“Great. I’m working hard, doing my PT, and I’m confident I’ll make a full recovery.” My tone is untroubled, like I don’t have a fuckin’ care in the world.
Amy beams. “That’s fantastic. I know the Thunder nation