Page 5 of Playbook
Two more teammates, Tripp and Merrick, jog up to us as we’re slowly making our way off the field.
“Looks like you’re still on Boone’s shit list, rookie,” Tripp says, grinning. “Seen his girlfriend lately?”
“It was his fiancée.” Merrick cocks a brow as his mouth pulls into a smirk at my expense.
“Absolutely not. And I didn’t know that she was in a relationship,” I say for what is probably the hundredth time. If I had, I wouldn’t have slept with her. I might not have vetted my hookup well enough, but I’m not out trying to be that guy.
“Well, whatever. He’s still pissed,” Tripp mutters as we get closer. “If I were you, I’d avoid him. Make a beeline for the locker room before he can pull you into another interview.”
Probably not a terrible idea. The last time I talked with him, he spent twenty minutes going on and on about all the mistakes I made in my first pre-season game without asking me a single question. By the time he was done,Iwas half-convinced the Mavericks should cut me.
The guy is an asshole with a grudge, but he knows his football.
“I can’t keep avoiding him all season,” I tell them. Also, I really don’t want to have an enemy so soon into my professional football career. Especially not one that gets paid to write articles about me.
“It’s your funeral,” Merrick calls after me as I veer off to approach Billy.
The stone-faced reporter’s brows rise as he notices me coming toward him. He can’t be more than a handful of years older than me, but he has this air of pretentious sophistication about him. He’s always carrying around a legal pad and scribbling on it. Scribbles that are probably outlining my mistakes.
I force my smile a little bigger. I’m borderline beaming at the guy, hoping it deflects him from any thoughts of me and his ex naked. We’re never going to be friends, but maybe we can put this whole thing behind us.
“Hey, Billy,” I say with a friendliness that he does not reciprocate in his expression.
He crosses his arms over his chest, still clutching that notepad.
“Six?” My name comes out of his mouth more question than greeting.
“How are we looking?” I ask.
He hesitates like he’s deciding if he’s going to humor me before he says, “Cody looks sharp, as always, defense is tight, and your fellow Valley U teammate, Archer Holland, is one to watch if he can keep his injuries from sidelining him.”
A spark of pride lights up inside of me for Archer. I play it cool, though, because if this guy knew he was more than just a fellow teammate, that he’s the best friend I’ve ever had and is by my definition a brother, he might let that cloud his judgment of his performance too. I can handle his hate, but I won’t stand for anyone taking shots at Archer.
Actually, come to think of it, I’m surprised ole Billy Boone doesn’t already know. Maybe he isn’t as good of a reporter as he thinks.
“I agree,” I say instead. And I hope what he hears is,See? Wehave common ground.
“I know what you’re doing.” His lips press into a thin line.
“Making small talk?” And hoping he stops thinking of me as the guy who slept with his ex and goes back to thinking of me as just another football player that he doesn’t want to destroy with words.
“You want to talk?”
It feels like a trap, but I nod.
“Fine, let’s talk about how you’re sleeping your way around town and making a mockery of the team.”
A strangled sound works its way up my throat. “I didn’t know, man.”
“You rookie players are all the same. You think the rules don’t apply to you now that you have a little bit of money and women are throwing themselves at you.”
“So you agree that she threw herself at me?”
His face reddens. Oops. Not the right thing to say, apparently.
“I know the rules apply to me.” I don’t even know what rules we’re talking about. A gentleman’s code? Whoops. On him for assuming I was a gentleman, then.
“Word of advice, focus more on football than getting laid. Or don’t, it’ll be fun to watch your demise.”
