Page 19 of Go Deep (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)
“The choice is yours.” Mr. Howard tapped his toe on the door stop. He was getting impatient. “Either you work for me until this is paid off or I go to your parents and the fraternity.”
If he went to the fraternity, I’d be kicked out. My folks would freak, and they’d probably make me move back home for senior year. That would put a serious crimp in my independence, so I went with bussing tables. Working off my debt was the best way to go, but that meant it would eat into my study time and what little free time I had. I just had to make sure I didn’t let it cut into practice time.
“You know what, son? You don’t have to answer right away. Just think your options over, and come find me before next weekend.”
He turned and headed down the walkway to his truck while I stepped out on the porch and watched him walk away. I would rather have chewed glass than take this gig, but what choice did I have?
“You heard that, right?” I asked Ryan when he came out front.
“Yup. Man, I’d take his offer. Or there’s a good chance they’ll kick us all out.”
“Yeah. This sucks ass, man.”
“It’s better than getting shut down.”
“Pretty fucking easy for you to say. You’re not the one stuck bussing tables at some place half the campus eats at.”
“Take it for the team, bud.”
“Right up the ass.” I whipped out my phone and left a message for the landlord, letting him know I was on board. After I hung up, I went back to my room.
Slade Clark, busboy.
I cringed at the thought, but hell, I needed to get used to that pretty damn fast if I wanted to keep the status quo everywhere else for senior year. I was the star quarterback. I was being sought out by the top NFL agents. My future wasn’t just bright. It was huge. It was bigger than Mr. Howard and his stupid furniture. But it was only as big as I allowed it to be.
He phoned back about half-hour later. “You’re doing the right thing, son,” he said smugly. “Now, look, I know you’ve got practice every weekday, and you boys play every Saturday night. That means I’ve got to work with your football schedule. I get it. You’re a big deal, kid, and I don’t want to interfere with that. Stop by on Monday after practice and we’ll get you started.”
“Yes, sir.” I tried to perk up, but the defeat in my voice wouldn’t leave.
“It’ll be over soon, kid…and you’ll be a better man for it.”
Like hell I would. I waited for him to hang up, wishing I knew who that punk ass kid was that showed up and started shit at the party. He should have had to take at least half the hit for what happened. The anger and deflection didn’t stop the dread that came over me. Hell, I could have punched something, but that would have done me no damn good.
Wishing last night had never happened, I got back into bed to sleep it off. There was a game tonight, and I had to be ready. Hours later, I woke up and got myself ready. The time for worrying was long past, and now was time to focus on throwing touchdowns and keeping up my momentum moving forward. I was still Slade “Slaughter” Clark. I was still damn good on and off the field. I was still the most wanted man on campus, and I was going out there tonight to make all those college girls soak their panties while I played the part of raising hell on the field.
“Guys,” I called out to the few frat brothers sitting in the foyer as I headed out. “No more parties for a while. The landlord ain’t happy about last night, so we need to lay low until the storm passes. Besides, we don’t want any more asshats showing up and causing problems.” The guys nodded. “Oh, and if anyone can find out who he is, let me know. I need to pay him a visit.”
Now that it was post-drunken haze, I couldn’t even remember the guy’s face, just that he’d been talking shit to me, and I eventually grew tired of his little bitch ass thinking he was something.
“Leave that to us,” Nathan hollered as I got out on the front porch. “All you need to do right now is worry about tonight’s game.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
I got myself together, shook off the whole thing and got over to the stadium. I was never late for games, and didn’t want to start a trend or cause a bad omen. That reminded me, game night also meant seeing Cassidy again. She’d avoided me much of the week after our little warm-up session in her dorm room, but couldn’t try that tonight. The silent treatment wouldn’t last anyway. We had that project to work on, and I was primed and ready for that sweet piece of ass now. Nothing could lift my spirits more than getting one step closer to owning Cassidy.
