Page 14 of Fumble Into the End Zone

“Not yet,” I said, and her eyes lowered.

“Hey, hey. I know things are hard right now, but hang in there with me. Why did Daddy leave?” I questioned.

She pinched her lips together and pushed them to the side. “To make a better life,” she quoted.

“And,” I encouraged her to continue.

“Take care of me and Granny,” she said lowly.

An email notification and text message came through, but I pushed them to the side.

“Tell me what you did today,” I asked, and she sighed.

“My teacher said she would give me her telephone number,” Harley said.

I bet she did.Ms. Denver tried several times to give me her personal phone number after the first parent teacher conference. She was expecting Ms. Renee, my grandmother’s helper, until I walked in the classroom. Ms. Denver was slim with a long weave, brown-coated skin and eyes. But, she was too thin for my liking. I preferred a full-figured woman.

“Sounds good, Harley. I found us two houses. First, we will move into our temporary house while the forever house is being built.”

“Will I get my castle bed?” Harley questioned.

“I will build it with my own two hands,” I promised.

“Can I help paint it?”

“You are the best painter I know. Are you going to work for free?” I asked.

“Daddy,” Harley sang, followed by a round of giggles.

I rented a four-bedroom house in the best public school district in Houston, thirty minutes from the stadium. The fixer upper I bought stood a few blocks away from the rental. A five-bedroom modern traditional style house. With an all-cash offer and needed repairs, the seller came down on the price.

I stayed on the phone with Harley until she drifted off to sleep mid-way through our story time. I kissed the screen before ending the video call and checked my messages.

Unknown

Marcus, I’m sorry. How can we fix this?

I dismissed the message and opened my email from the Armadillos’ human resources department. The subject read:“Please review the revised changes.”Opening the email, my heart raced at the offer and incentives. Denise Jordan hiked everything by several millions. She offered a four year 40-million-dollar deal with 30-million guaranteed and a standard fifth year option. She added incentives for yardage gained after the catch, touchdowns and Elite Bowl appearance. I signed this deal with a hard hell yeah.

The weight of securing Harley’s financial future was lighter, but her upbringing was still a question mark. Granny had more days behind her than in front. Ms. Renee graciously took on more responsibility, and I awarded her with vacations and bonuses. I’m financially stable. I wanted a wife and more children, but it had to be right. My daughter would model whatever woman I introduced her to because she wanted a mother. Outside of her being a full-figured woman, she needed a pure heart and a willingness to love my daughter more than me.

Mia

Addison kissed my cheek before he put on my red helmet. I tried not to cringe at his show of affection and pretended to shy away. He stood behind me and helped with adjusting my bat.

“When the ball releases, do a quick three count and swing as hard as you can,” he said. “I’m going to load the machine,” he whispered as he moved away.

I froze in the position he placed me into, readying myself for the ball.

“Here it comes,” he said from outside the enclosed cage.

The first ball passed me, and my head didn’t move.

“Mia, the next ball is coming. Swing,” he said with a shake of his head.

As the next ball came, the tip of the ball hit my bat and bounced. I stepped back to slow my heart. The power from my swing excited me. Stepping upward, I zeroed in on the machine and smacked the next ball but it didn’t get far.

“Yea! Swing and release,” Addison said.

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