Page 130 of Necessary Roughness
There was a commercial break, and then the second pick was announced. Then the third. There weren’t any surprises; everyone knew who was going to be selected with the first five or six picks.
I brought Knox a beer and rubbed his back. He smiled, but his eyes were still glued to the TV.
“Having to wait ten minutes between pick announcements,” Roman suddenly said beside me.
“Huh?” I asked.
“A mildly annoying thing,” Roman explained. “Knox told me you guys sometimes discuss things that are mildly annoying. I want to play, too. Waiting ten whole minutes between each draft pick is mildly annoying.”
“That’s a good one,” I said. I leaned closer to him. “Having a camera guy standing in the corner, waiting to record what should be a private moment.”
“Mmm, very annoying,” Roman agreed. He nodded in the direction of the loveseat. “Knox’s father sitting in my chair, fiddling with all the settings.”
“I can see how that would be annoying. Faking a smile every time Knox isn’t selected.”
“You’re faking smiles?” Roman asked. “I’m not even bothering. I’m frowning until he’s picked.”
“That’s easy, since you usually have a permanent scowl,” I teased.
He grunted. “I don’t like this game anymore.”
I reached over and gave his ass a squeeze. “You look great in those pants.”
Roman gave me a sideways glance. “If I tell you how you look in that dress, I’m going to pop a tent in my dress pants in front of all these people.”
“With the camera guy here,” I teased, “that might make the SportsCenter Top Ten!”
He rumbled with laughter, and glanced around before reaching over to cop a feel ofmyass. I playfully slapped his hand away, giving him my best fuck-me eyes. And based on the noise he made in his throat, it worked.
Later tonight, I told myself.If we’re not all too exhausted.
“The twelfth pick is what I’m predicting,” the football coach announced with a little too much enthusiasm. “The Patriots need a quarterback, and you’d fit well with their system.”
After the eleventh pick, the camera guy stood up and started recording us. He told us to act natural, but it was tough while you were being recorded. My smile felt fake, my enthusiasm forced.
“With the twelfth pick in the draft,” the commissioner announced, “the New England Patriots select… Andre Cummins, running back from the University of Florida!”
The air went out of the room. Nobody said anything for several seconds. The camera guy lowered his camera and returned to scrolling on his phone.
“Not a bad thing,” Knox’s father said. “New England’s rebuilding. I’d rather see you go to a team that’s ready to win now.”
“Same,” Knox said, but his heart wasn’t in it.
The picks continued being announced, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Each time, the guy from ESPN raised his camera just in case this was Knox Maddox’s moment. After a while, I stopped faking my smiles. Roman whispered something to Knox, and Logan crossed his arms and frowned at the TV.
As we reached the twentieth pick, the tension in the room grew thick. Today was the first round of the draft, comprised of thirty-two picks. The second round was tomorrow, with the remaining rounds the day after that. If we had to wait until tomorrow to see Knox drafted, not to mention regrouping here for a second day… it would kill Knox.
Which, in turn, would kill me.
I glanced at the list of remaining teams that had to pick today. Most of them were on the West Coast. I felt a stab of fear that the Seahawks or Chargers would take Knox away from me and send him all the way across the country.
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to think about that.
Knox’s phone rang.
Every conversation in the room abruptly ceased, and we all turned toward the quarterback. He held his phone in his hand, staring at it like it was a snake he only just noticed. He glanced at his parents, then at me.
Knox’s hand trembled as he raised the phone to his ear. “This is Knox Maddox.”
