Page 8 of Cursed Fox

Nancy stopped in front of the one on the left and raised her hand to knock. A few moments passed before a booming "coming" could be heard from the other side of the door.

When it flew open, I was surprised by the man standing on the other side. Well over six feet tall, the man who I assumed was Nancy's son stood eye to eye with me and towered over his mother's five-and-a-half-foot frame. There weren't many people who rivaled my height, but this young man sure did.

"Mom!" her son shouted in surprise and stepped in to engulf her in a hug. "What are you doing here? You normally call to let me know you're traveling." Despite his words, he stepped aside to let his mother in, but put his hand up before I could follow suit. "And who are you? I know every man my mother works with, and I've never seen your face before." He turned to his mother and asked again. "Who's this?"

"Lex Holland,” I offered. “A friend of Wes."

I didn't add that I knew twenty different ways to break his hand, and nothing he did would stop me from getting closer to his mother if that was what I wished to do. And I was fighting down that urge.

"Is that true, Mom?"

Only when Nancy nodded her head and told "Jimmy" to "knock it off" did her son deign to put his hand down and grant me entry into his apartment.

Jimmy was kind enough to wait until we all got further into the living room before he started in. "Is everything okay? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is that why this strange guy is with you?"

Nancy sighed. "Everything's fine. Lex isn't some stranger. He was in the Marines with Wes, and when I asked Wes for help, this was who he got for me."

I wondered how much Wes had told Nancy about our time together. I would have to remember to have a discussion with my old friend about that. There were certain things people didn't need to know. My time deployed was one of them.

"Help with what? If you need something, you should have told me."

"Not help for me." She pointed first at herself and then at Jimmy. "Help for you." Nancy sounded exasperated when she spoke, and I could only guess how many times they’d had this conversation.

"I've already told you I don't need help. Those letters are nothing more than some fan who's pissed I screwed up the season for the team."

Oh yeah. Based on Jimmy's tone, they'd had this conversation a few times.

"Fans can be pissed all they want, but when they start threatening to harm my boy, I take offense. And correct me ifI'm wrong, but even your agent advised you to take the threats seriously."

I was going to need to see these letters and catch up on the situation fast. I was about to say as much, but Jimmy and Nancy weren't done arguing.

"Fred worries too much."

Nancy threw her hands in the air and I chuckled to myself. It was good to know I wasn't the only one who frustrated her to that point.

"He's your agent. It's his job to worry and take things seriously."

"For now," Jimmy grumbled under his breath.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Nancy's arms were now crossed over her chest and her face was bright red. I was starting to consider if it was time for me to break things up for a bit. Family drama wasn't my thing, and I would've preferred to avoid it if at all possible. This was starting to get out of my comfort zone, and I wanted it to stop, but Jimmy decided to drop a bomb before I could make my move.

"I was going to wait until after I made my decision to tell you, but I guess now's a good time." Jimmy took a deep breath. "I'm considering breaking my contract and leaving the NFL."

CHAPTER SIX

Nancy

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" There was no way I heard my son correctly. Like many kids, playing in the NFL was his dream. Most never got the chance. And to just throw that away after one season?

No, just no.

"I've been contemplating it since the end of the season, and I think it's the right choice. Obviously the pressure of playing at a professional level is too much for me."

I couldn't believe the words coming out of this kid’s mouth. The man I raised to never be a quitter, to follow his dreams, was just going to walk away because he had a few bad games?

"No." That was the best I could manage without beating my son over the head to knock some sense into him.

"What do you mean, ‘No’? This is my decision."

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