Page 53 of The Silent Count
As the security guards slip their hands under Vince’s elbows and carry him off, Dad and I share a satisfied smile. It doesn’t matter if we win today, because sticking it to Vince Bradford will be the highlight of the night either way.
As we walk into the locker room, I pull out my phone from my back pocket and type out a message that I’ve been dying to send for weeks. I was waiting for just the right moment to pull the trigger, and there’s never been a more perfect time than now.
Lea
Hi, Jamison. It’s Lea. I’ve got some dirt on Vince Bradford. Specifically, a handful of testimonies from former teammates and people who worked with him while he was in The League that will easily detest that picture perfect persona he so desperately tries to maintain. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling it’ll be the big break you need in your career.
If you want it… it’s yours.
Jamison – Sports Reporter
You’re never wrong.
Send it my way.
If you do a good job with this story, I might let you have another one. It can’t break until the week of The League Bowl, though. I need it to be a strong article, but timed perfectly so that it’s drowned out by all the other chaos of the big game.
Give me the story on Vince, and I’ll do anything you want.
Music to my ears.
TWENTY-THREE
FORTUNE
I hearVince’s voice before I see him.
The friends and family area is buzzing with people, but there’s no surprise that Vince Bradford’s voice raises above the volume of everyone else’s. Very on brand for him to go out of his way to grab attention.
He thrives on it. He’s fueled by it. All eyes on him, all the time.
As much as I’d like to avoid seeing my father after such a tough loss, it’s inevitable. Coach and Lea kept him preoccupied pregame, scheduling him to take on some interviews with reporters during warm-ups so he wouldn’t have the chance of pulling me to talk.
I didn’t want to risk having his jabs rolling around in my mind during the game. It was already going to be a difficult one with October out, and Vince’s bullshit would’ve only made the inevitable loss feel that much worse.
Now that the game is over, I have some words I’d like to say to him. One last conversation before I cut him out of my life for good.
“Vince,” I call his name in a firm voice.
He might be keen on putting on a facade for the crowd, but my team knows where I stand on the matter and there’s no reason to hide it from their family, either. If any of them keep up with the team in the media, it’s nothing they haven’t already read about, anyway.
“There’s my boy!” Vince bellows with a smile. The crinkles around his eyes give away how unnatural it is for him, and I find it comical. “Tough loss, but otherwise a good game for you, wasn’t it? That catch in the third quarter… phenomenal.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder and I let out a small laugh. He sounds ridiculous. Making small talk and commending my games in front of others. The second we’re alone, I’m sure he’ll point out everything I could’ve done differently.
That fumble in the fourth cost you the game.
You should focus on your routes more during the off season. They’re looking sloppy.
I give a friendly nod to the couple Vince is talking with before turning to speak to him. “Can I talk to you in the hall?”
“Sure, son.”
Son.
The word doesn’t roll off his tongue like it should. It sounds forced. Which probably has everything to do with the fact that I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard him use it in my lifetime.
He finishes up his chat with the couple, and I slip out the door to the hallway for a second to gather myself before he comes out.
