Page 13 of Broken Play
He pushes my chest. "Don't you dare say that. You have a family—our family. Three brothers, a sister, and a father who loves you."
"Damn, it was a figure of speech. I thought Birdie would help with that anger you have inside you."
He drops his hands. "I'm under a lot of pressure. And you may not understand it yet, but you are too."
"You act like I'm a rookie. Don't forget I've won the big game."
"Yeah, and you would have lost one too if it wasn't for the backup. Your head wasn't in the game, and I think it had something to do with Sutton. I just don't want you to go back down that path when you..."
Is my brother and best friend going to the one place he's never supposed to mention?
"Don't you fucking say it." My head is spinning, and he brings up the past. "Why did you trade for me if all you're going to do is tell me how bad I am? That I'm not professional? You're lucky I'm at this two-bit organization that now has a general manager who knows nothing about football." I shove the chair a few inches across the hardwood floor. "I'm goingto bed. I don't know who thought this was a good idea to have you...coaching me."
Taking the stairs two at a time, I slam the bedroom door, and it's like I'm a teenager all over again. After I undress, I grab my earbuds and my laptop and watch film of myself in the big game—dissecting my footwork and my throwing position. I'd love to be able to blame the offensive line, but they protected me. Gave me time to throw. I was justoff.
Every player is entitled to an off day, right? Hell no. When you're getting paid millions of dollars per game, the switch always needs to be on.
Was I thinking about Sutton? Sure, but I prepared the same way as any other game. There were distractions other than the ones in my mind. All the interviews and appearances got to me. Took my mind off football. The first time, Denver only allowed me media day interviews and press. I did go to one party a week before for the athletic gear I endorse.
It wasn't Sutton, was it? It was all the media and sponsorships. I close my laptop, turn on my light rain sound, and finally nod off.
The next morning, J.D. apologizes again. "I'm sorry. We need to get off on the right foot."
"We're good. I still can't believe I'm here."
"It's Denver's loss, and I'm not just saying it to soothe your ego. Your backup had a great game. I can name one hundred quarterbacks who have had one great game but then can't repeat it. It was lightning in a bottle. Greyson, you are one of the best quarterbacks in the league. One game doesn't change that fact." He rests his hand on my shoulder, sincerity in his eyes. "Are you ready for the meeting?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
The next morning, we arrive at the stadium where the offices are located, and we ride the elevator to the executive floor. A guy named Marlon greets us. "Good morning, Coach."
J.D. shakes his hand. "Marlon, have you met our new quarterback, my brother, Greyson?"
"No, sir. Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Ryan."
"Greyson's fine."
"Thanks, Greyson. Ms. Anders wants to meet with you separately. Coach, you can go in. Greyson, can I get you something to eat or drink?"
He's smooth, and I'm sure he has higher ambitions because of his suit and his slicked-back hair. He seems like an ass-kisser, so it's time for a prank. "Yeah, I'll take a mango-peach-carrot smoothie and a sausage biscuit."
As J.D. walks away, he smacks my stomach with a flick of his hand, just like he would do in church when I got out of line.
Marlon's eyes widen, like he has no idea where to get the smoothie I asked for, and it's a trek to the nearest McDonald's. "Um, okay. I'll be back. There's water and coffee over there with some bagels."
"Marlon, I'm joking, but if you show me where, I'll get a coffee myself."
"Nonsense, I'll get it."
I fiddle with a couple of magazines, then scroll to find pictures of Sutton. She has no social media, which is crazy for a professional tennis player, but the more I search, the more pictures come up of her with one of the men's tennis players, and they've been photographed together for years. It's like I'm watching Sutton grow up in front of my eyes.
I've met him before on a commercial shoot for a watchmaker.
This little tidbit of information only begs more questions.
J.D. taps my shoulder. "She wants to see you now."
"Is she a tiger or a cub?"
