Page 5 of The Pass Protection
Hitting the bottom of the steps, I spot a guy sitting on the wall that separates his porch from the flowerbed.
“Hey, are you Rick?” He turns toward me and nods slowly. “Cool, I’m Bret, the new tenant in eight-thirty-four. JP made it sound like you sit outside and monitor the parking lot frequently.”
“Yeah, I guess you could say I do,” he says, and I can see the nervous energy radiating off of him. His uneasiness makes me want to chuckle. Rick’s probably afraid I’ll tell him off for running his mouth to JP about how a “hottie moved in” or whatever he said.
“Listen, can you let me know if you see anyone wandering around the apartments? Like they’re scoping things out or looking for someone?”
He eyes me quizzically, but he must sense the seriousness based on my tone and the expression on my face because he doesn’t question me. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thanks, Rick, I appreciate it.” I give him a small smile, and that’s when I see the CTU golf logo on his polo. “You golf?”
“Yeah, I’m on the CTU team.”
“That’s sweet. Good luck this season.”
“Thanks,” he calls after me as I turn and walk toward my Jeep.
Unlocking the doors, I toss my basketball onto the passenger seat and situate the rest of my things in their places. Climbing in the driver’s seat, I start the engine and quickly hit the button to retract the roof and roll down the windows. It’s another scorcher in Texas. You’d think I’d be used to the heat coming from Arizona, but I swear it feels hotter here.
My phone connects to the Bluetooth, and Mac Miller starts playing as I pull out of my parking spot. Something about his music gives me the mood boost I’m always searching for. It’s like a hit of serotonin. Too bad he was gone way too soon.
Ten minutes later, I arrived outside of the football facility. My mouth gapes open as I stare at this insane building. The facility has a massive red brick exterior and floor-to-ceiling windows in the center. I’ve seen pictures, of course. Dad sent a selfie on his first day coaching, but to see it in person is remarkable.
Closing the roof and windows on my Jeep, I climb out with my large water bottle in hand, already finishing my shake on the drive over. Maybe Dad will let me use the weight room while I’m here.
Digging into the side pocket, I pulled out Grant’s ID and swiped it on the keypad next to the door. If I thought the exterior was impressive, I was thoroughly wrong. This lobby would have me signing up to play for CTU in a heartbeat. Which I guess is the point.
Unlike its exterior, the lobby is modern, with a large open staircase and multiple large screens hanging from the ceiling with scrolling images. One of the screens has highlights from what looks like last season. It’s cool to see players flash across the screen with the highlights.
Trophy cases line the walls underneath the screens and are filled with awards from over the years. In the center case stands the national championship trophy from last year in all its glory. It is a beautiful sight to see.
A reception desk sits off to the right, manned by a woman wearing a CTU polo, and her graying hair is perfectly coiffed. “Hi honey,” she greets. “Is there something I can help you with? The facility isn’t open to the public at this time.”
I step up to the desk and flash her a warm smile. “Hi, my name is Bret Campbell. My dad is Derek Campbell.”
Her eyes widen, and she straightens her spine. I guess tossing out that my dad is the head coach is like announcing you’re part of the royal family. “The team is on the practice field right now. Do you know how to get there?”
“Honestly, I have no idea, but if you’re busy, I can figure it out.”
“I don’t mind at all. It’s easy to get lost in this building. I’m Ruth, by the way. I’m typically the one here during the day. Hank comes in around 5:30 if you’re ever here in the evenings.”
She leads us down a hallway where more video screens line the wall. Videos flash highlighting NFL draft picks, and I recognize a famous number thirty-one. Quinton Boyd is among the most recognizable NFL draft picks to come through CTU in recent years.
“That screen is on a loop. You’ll see videos from the season, NFL combine, highlights from players playing in the NFL, and everything in between. It’s fun to stand and watch.”
Ruth doesn’t stop to talk, she simply speaks over her shoulder as she leads the way. I assume she needs to hurry back to the desk in case anyone else comes in or tries to come in.
She leads us past the weight room, and my eyes widen at the equipment lined up. There are tons of machines, all in pristine condition.
Yeah, I want to work out in here.
“Here you go, honey,” Ruth says, pausing outside the glass doors where I can see the team practicing.
My eyes widen as I take in the room. “Wow,” I say, my voice filled with awe. The room before us has a full-length football field surrounded by large windows. The white ceiling somehow manages to let in lots of natural light. There’s room on the side of the field for the team to stand, but there isn’t much else inside.
Ruth chuckled at my slackened jaw, and what I could only imagine were stars in my eyes. “It’s an incredible facility,” she says, following my eyes. “The inside is temperature controlled too. We don’t want any of our players passing out from the heat.”
All I can do is nod. Not only am I impressed by the state-of-the-art facility, but my anxiety has crawled up my chest and settled in mythroat. My nerves are all-consuming, and I’m terrified to walk through the doors.
