“Yes, I’ll do my best.” I wasn’t sure I sounded confident, but I wanted to make this guy proud.

  “You go ahead and check in and Cameron will take you over to see the doctor, we schedule a physical first thing and then I’ll see you at practice.”

  “Ok, thanks Coach.”

  “No problem. Prove me right son. That’s all I ask.” I smiled and coach hit me on my stomach, dipped his head and walked to the other side of the room.

  I followed the signs to check in. Got my information and made it through my physical, grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed to the locker room to get ready for practice.

  Cameron stood inside in the halls laughing with some other guys, but stopped when I passed. I headed into the locker room. Inside the doors, the equipment room set off to one side. They stocked any and all type of practice gear an athlete would need. Back in San Diego, I would have stuffed stocked for me. It’s a whole new situation here. No one even asked. I wasn’t the first round draft pick any more. I was one of the guys vying for a job.

  The guy behind the counter, grabbed a nylon bag and handed it to me.

  “Stuff you don’t want, put it back in the bag and drop it back here.” He pointed to a basket at the end of the counter.

  I grabbed it and headed further into the locker room. The plush red carpet looked new. The Cardinals helmet embroidered in the center. The lockers lined the walls, the defense on one side and the offense on the other. I walked around and spotted my locker. I got chills seeing my jersey with the number nine and my name across the back. I touched the lettering. I tried to hid my excitement. As a veteran, I had done this before, but I felt like a rookie all over again.

  Besides a nod, and a hey man, no one had spoken to me. I get it. My job was to take a job away from one of their teammates. Everyone knew it. I hoped their hesitance in welcoming me meant they thought I had a chance to take Marcus Sampson’s job. Sampson and I came out together. San Diego drafted me in the first round, Sampson went to Arizona somewhere in the third round.

  We had been on the same track all through out college. We only had the chance to play against each other once and I won that match up. People assume that all football players either liked each other or they hated each other. I had no reason to hate Sampson. We were different guys, different players, different kinds of quarterbacks. His was part of the new breed of play action type quarterbacks. Good instincts, could pass, but could run better. Sometimes that got him in trouble.

  I was what you call a traditional quarterback, at six foot four and two hundred ten pounds. I had a great arms, but I had something to show these guys. I had the legs, too. I worked in the off season to get smaller and faster. You had to have that skill in this NFL.

  I pulled my jersey over my head and heard my name.

  “Jackson Mitchell.” I turned and found Sampson standing in the middle of the locker room, calling me out and establishing his territory. He stood with his arms crossed, with baggy sweat pants and no shirt. His chest puffed out as far as it would go as he rocked on his six foot frame. I took my time and walked over to him, meeting him in the middle of the room where he stood flanked by his tight end Christians on his right and a lineman I didn’t recognize on his left.

  “Marcus Sampson.” I extended my hand, he grabbed it and pulled me in for an awkward man hug considering he only came up to my shoulders.

  “It’s good to see you man. You excited to be here?” He asked, looking up at me. He still had a firm grip on my hand. I put a hand on his shoulder and pulled my hand away.

  “I am.”

  “I’m happy to see you. Looking forward to picking your brain. Get some of of those trick you used in college to win. Maybe you can bring some of those FSU winning ways to the Cardinals.” He made the tomahawk gesture, but with a limp wrist. Lame insult, but we were playing nice for the moment.

  “Yeah, well, I’m hear to help the team.”

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” He stepped close to me and I had to lean down to hear him, “And, you have my permission.”

  “Permission for what.”

  “That hot little lawyer with the great ass, you have my permission to get with her. I’m done with her anyway.”

  Sampson looked up at me, winked and hit me in the chest. He walked way giggling, as I stood their with my mouth open. No way would Carrington hooked up with him.

  “Hey man, don’t pay attention to anything that comes out of that trolls mouth. He’s scared.”

  I turned. James Towson stood next to my locker. I walked back shaking my head.

  “Scared?”

  “Yeah, he knows he’s about to loose his job.” James extended his hand, “James Towson.”

  “Jackson Mitchell.”

  The Cardinals drafted James in the first round last year. He won rookie of the year and should have been in the top five of wide receivers in the league if his quarterback didn’t have a hard on for his tight end. At six three, two twenty. He was a stereotypical big time NFL wide receiver. He needed the right quarterback.

  “Five minutes guys.” A trainer yelled into the locker room and the guys who were sitting around started pulling stuff out of their locker and getting dress, grabbing equipment and tying shoes. I grabbed my helmut and some tape and followed James out towards the practice field.

  As we stepped outside, I looked around and inhaled the smell of fresh cut grass. The heat hadn’t quite reached it’s peak. The pristine field got me excited, ready to tear it up.

  God I love football.

  “Listen, you every want to work on routes after practice, let me know,” James said as we stepped out on the field.

  I grabbed his shoulder, “I’m letting you now.”

  He smiled and we both took off in a jog to the other side of the field and back. We jogged in step back and forth until coach called us to huddle.

  I needed allies to win my job.

  Chapter Five

  Carrington Olivia Butler

  I stared out of my office window at the Cardinals practice field more often than I liked to admit. I couldn’t make out the players faces, but no denying who I was looking for. During the first week of training camp, I didn’t hear from Jackson at all. I didn’t expect to.

  Okay, maybe I did, but I shouldn’t, right? He texted Jack every night to tell him a little something about his day and I checked out the text on my eight year old child’s phone for something, anything. I was jealous of my son’s relationship with Jackson.

  So pathetic.

  I came into the office on Thursday surprised to see Adam.

  “Hey, I thought you weren’t back until next week.”

  “Yeah, well plans change, don’t they, he said distracted by something on his computer.

  “You ok.”

  “What?” he looked up. “Yeah, no I’m fine. Listen, I know how much you love begin around football players and all, but I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Why do you think I don’t like football.”

  “I don’t know because you seem reluctant to do anything remotely related to it even though we run a sport focused practice. If you weren’t so damn good at your job I would have let you transfer to another department by now.”

  “I don’t want to move to another department and I love football.”

  He blinked at me and narrowed his eyes before shaking his head and continuing.

  “Ok … Well, good then you will be all over this task.”

  “What?”

  “The summer associates are going to training camp for the day.” He handed me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the planned itinerary and the list of students and their schools. I need you to chaperone. The Cardinals will be in charge of everything, I want you there to answer any questions they might have about our practice area and let me know if any one stands out that we should be looking closer at.”

  “All these students went to Ivy League schools.”

  “You are a lawyer, you can relate.” He looked up at me. “Didn’t you do a summer internship during undergrad.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I was raising a child over my summer vacation.”

  Adam laughed and I joined him.

  “You really aren’t normal are you.”

  “I’ll take that as a complement.”

  “Good. That’s how I meant it.” The glint in his eye made me uncomfortable, I turned away. “You can take Jack and take Carrie and have her bring her daughter.”

  “Ok, but you owe me.”

  “Yeah, I’ll settle up at the end of the year.”

  I waited until breakfast the next day to tell Jack we were going to training camp practice. I didn’t want him to warn Jackson. Yes, I used my son as a pawn in my romantic games.

  “Hurry up and finish your cereal.” Jack read the sports page on his iPad.

  “Mama, did you know James Towson said he thinks Jackson is going to start for the Cardinals in the season opener.”

  “I’m sure Marcus Sampson isn’t exactly thrilled to hear that.”

  “Well, Jackson is better than Sampson. The better man has to play, right?”

  “Maybe, but sometimes other things go into the coaches decisions.”

  “That’s not fair. The best player should play all the time.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him sometimes life isn’t fair. He would learn that lesson on his own soon enough.

  “Well, why don’t we go and check out practice for ourselves.”

  “Oh my goodness. What?” He started tapping his foot and getting animated. Although, this only happens when it comes to Jackson and football.

  “I have to take a group of law students to training camp and Carrie and her daughter are coming and we can go watch the team practice and then we get to take a tour of the stadium and have dinner with the team.

  “No way. Really. Yesssss!” He jumped up and ran in to the laundry room. “Juli, did you hear. We get to go to training camp. Where’s my Mitchell jersey?”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” He ran back into the kitchen, hug me around my neck and almost pulled me off my chair.” “We aren’t going until after lunch. I need you to come to the office with me and sit quietly while I work and then we’ll go, ok?”

  “Ok.”

  “You’re excited to see practice.”

  “I can’t wait to see Jackson.”

  I had to admit, so was I.

  I followed the bus full of six law students in my own car with Carrie in the passenger seat and Jack and her daughter in the back. Jack grew tired of trying to explain to Carrie’s daughter why going to practice was such a big deal. Carrie’s daughter ten year old daughter preferred dresses and make up to football and getting dirty. She was also a little boy crazy which I thought seemed weird for a ten year old. When I looked over at Carrie adjusting her make up for the third time since we left the office eight minutes ago, I understood why.

  Thank God I had a boy.

  When we stepped out of the car and the students exited the bus, we were greeted by a tall blond haired blue eye woman in a tight fitted red suit and four inch wedge heels; Rebecca, not Becky or Becca, but Rebecca. That’s how she introduced herself to me when I met her for the first time last year. Nepotism got her the position as an assistant in the Marketing department.

  “Welcome to training camp for the Arizona Cardinals. We have any Cardinal’s fans.” She said. The students all looked at her and stared. Jack raised his hand.

  “You are? And who is your favorite Cardinal?” she asked bending down to meet him at eye level, her cleavage five inches from his face. I thanked God, he could care less about this woman and her cleavage, but got nauseous from the thought.

  “Jackson Mitchell.” Jack said.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Jackson Mitchell. The Cardinal’s new quarterback.”

  “Oh sweetie, the Cardinals quarterback is Marcus Sampson.”

  One of the law students, laughed and spoke up. “You guys like traded for Jackson Mitchell a week ago. I hate football, but even I knew that.”

  I bit my lip to prevent myself from laughing out loud, Rebecca turned to hid her red face, “Ok, well we have special seats for you to watch practice and then after you will have time to meet some of the players before our tour of the stadium.”

  “Who’s that guy?” I motioned to Carrie referring to the football hater, “I like him.”

  “You would.”

  We walked into the stadium and then onto the practice field in a special section of seats set up on the turf. I spotted Jackson the minute we stepped on the field. He had his helmut off and leaned over a table to grab a water bottle. He squirted some in his mouth and then all over his face and the top of his head. He blew out the water and a spray of water dispersed in the sunlight. He shook the water off of his head, put his helmut back on and went back to the line to call the next play.

  “Carrington.”

  I gasped. “What?” I turned to Carrie.

  “Are you going to join us or sit their and stare with your mouth open?”

  I wore a hat because of the sun, I pulled it tighter over my head and found a seat.

  Between plays, Jackson waved. We waved back, but I couldn’t detected anything from his wave.

  The smart ass kid from the bus, walked in front of the group and tapped Rebecca on the shoulder. “You see number nine. That’s Jackson Mitchell.”

  “Oh, I know silly.” She said and patted him on the shoulder. “I just call him J.”

  “Right.”

  He walked over to a table with some drinks and snacks set up for our group. I followed.

  “You’re really not much of a football fan?”

  “Depends. If I tell the truth, will it get back to the hiring partners that I was disagreeable. And not a team player.”

  “No, your secrets safe with me.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s the assistants like yourself that run the firm anyway, right.”

  “You know I’ll kind of pretend like you said associates and ignore the fact that you just called me an assistant.”

  “Oh fuck. I mean, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s ok. You couldn’t know.” I pointed to Carrie,”She’s an assistant and looks more like a lawyer then I do.”

  He turned bright red himself.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Robert Sherman. Northwestern.”

  “Nice to meet you, Robert. I’m Carrington. Third year associate.”

  “I really am sorry. You probably think that was highly offensive, sexist and racists, but honestly, it was plain old stupidity.”

  “Well, I can deal with stupidity.” I laughed. A coach called Jackson’s name and I turned and found Jackson’s eyes on me. His coach called him again before he realized and he went back to practice.

  Now, what was that about.

  When practice ended, Jackson grabbed a towel and headed over to our side of the field. Rebecca attempted to corral the group off the field, but Jack and I waited for Jackson. She looked at Jackson as he approached, and her face turned red. She left us alone.

  “Hey,” Jackson bent over and hugged Jackson. “I didn’t know you were coming out today.”

  “Yeah, it was a last minute thing. I’m escorting some law students.”

  “Cool. You guys around for bit.”

  “Yeah, we get to eat dinner with you.” Jack said.

  “That’s great buddy. You want to come out and watch me work on some routes with James.”

  “Can I mama?”

  Jack looked up with his puppy dog eyes while Jackson looked down with the same expression.

  “Ok, but you stay out of the way and do what Jackson tells you, ok?”

  “Ok, come one buddy. We’ll meet you at dinner.”

  I turned away, but Jackson reached out and touched my arm. A chill ran up my spine. His hand ran down to my hand and he squeezed it as he turned to follow Jack who had already taken off down the field.

  What the heck was that?

  My head swam. I needed to stop analyzing every single teeny tiny gesture. I hated not knowing. I wanted to know. I deserved to know. Patience, not one of my strong suit.

  Jackson had consumed my thoughts since the moment he walked back into my life. I didn’t recall what I used to thank about before, my mind playing every word, touch, smirk over and over in my head like it was some grand puzzled for me to solve. This was my life.

  I followed the tour around the stadium, but didn’t pay attention. As Rebecca brought us to the owners suite, her exaggerated exuberance from everything related to the stadium faded away as I looked down over the field.

  I imagined sitting up here watching Jackson play. Being apart of his life and my life revolving around his. Living in two season, in season and off season. I pictured spending Sunday at the game and sharing in his wins and losses.

  I bit my lip thinking about how much I really didn’t know about Jackson anymore. I couldn’t decipher his looks and touches. I have no idea how he handled wins or losses. He and I had grown apart and I couldn’t fathom it considering how close we were in the past. I held on to this image of Jackson back in college when he gave up easy and normal to love me Back then he had no doubt it would work out, but I pushed him away. I kidded myself into think he even wanted me again.

  I wiped my face and joined the group as we shuffled out of the suite.

  “That was excited, wasn’t it.” Rebecca said as we gathered in front of the elevator. “We’ll head over and join the team for dinner. Now please don’t ask them for photos or autographs.”

  As we walked into the dining hall, I spotted Jackson at a table with a few of his teammates. Typical Jack, he stood at the head of the table and entertained them all. I smiled as Jackson spotted me, but something about the scene, made my insides clinch and I couldn’t breath. I covered my mouth and walked back out of the room.

  I needed some air.

  ***

  Jackson Latre Mitchell