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"Groveton."
Jack snorts. "Groveton. You're fucking kidding."
"Nope, and I'll tell you something else," I say, leaning back casually on the platform. "I think Tim Worth is as much a piece of shit as you do, and I'd get personal satisfaction out of tearing his championship prospects out from under him."
"Well, you're welcome, then," he says, winking. "I've already done that for you."
“You think Tim fucking Worth doesn't have more money and resources than God, and isn’t already actively recruiting the best replacements from across the country? Because my scouts are working the same circuits, and you can guaran-fucking-tee that there isn't a bribe he isn't capable of making to build the best team in the conference. There's only one thing that can come between him and a national championship."
"Oh yeah? What's that then?"
"You.”
His eyebrow raises, clearly interested but not sold.
I continue before he has a chance to interrupt. "With my help, I can not only make sure that you have a chance to rub it in Worth's worthless face, but I’m your best chance at being a first-round draft pick after one season. Your stats are good, but I'll make them better. I'll turn you into the kind of player that the NFL will start a bidding war for."
"The NFL wants talent. I can give them that without another year of bullshit."
I shake my head. He’s in for a rude awakening if he thinks being good at catching a ball is all it takes.
"You think the NFL is going to pick up some trouble making nobody from bumfuck Alabama after the mess you've made of your reputation? Tim Worth will make sure no other college will touch you, and your shitty academics are going to hold you back even more—you couldn't get a scholarship to a community college, and I know that this dead-end job isn't paying you enough to make tuition even at the cheapest schools. Maybe you think you can just skate into the NFL with old stats and a gap in your playing career, but you're even dumber than I think you are if you really believe that."
"And what do you get out of it?" Jack asks combatively.
"A championship," I answer honestly, shrugging. "But don't think that you're a shoe in because you can catch a ball and run fast. If you want what I have to offer, I need a commitment from you. It'll be a hot, hard summer. You’ll spend it training even harder. I'll push you until you break, tear you down piece by piece, and rebuild you into the best version of yourself. And that’s all before the season even starts.”
I extend the envelope with his offer, like it’s some kind of bullshit olive branch. Inside there is a bus voucher, my card, an explicit contract where he's going to more or less sign his life over to me, and an offer for a full ride scholarship.The dean wasn't happy about that; charity cases aren’t his thing, apparently. But he'll do what it takes to win, so he signed off on it.
"My card is in there if you have questions. But I expect to see you on the field on the first Monday in June. Check in with me the moment you arrive."
I get a sick sense of satisfaction watching the way Jack's mouth turns down in a frown at the mention of summer training.
"We'll get you down to less than ten percent in no time," I say, openly raking my eyes over his muscular form to guess his body fat percentage. If I can get him down to the eight percent range, he'll be lightning on the field.
I don't wait for Jack to respond further, turning on my heel to leave.
"I'm tougher than you think I am," he calls out after me.
"I'm counting on it."
CHAPTER 3
JACK
The fourteen-hour bus ride to Texas affords me plenty of time to rethink all my decisions. At every stop, I consider getting off and hitching my way back home.
I mailed in my acceptance letter for the scholarship weeks ago, but I still haven't signed the contract. There's no way this thing is legally binding. It's insane. He's asking me to sign away my autonomy. Give him full control of my life—from what I eat, to what I wear; and when and how I train.
I did my homework, looking up who he is and the team he's building. Bryant Nicks. First pick of the NFL draft after his senior year. He led Groveton College to three consecutive national championships back when he played for them. Spent the next decade trading up and living the dream as a three-time Super Bowl champion until a bad hit put him in the hospital with a concussion and torn rotator cuff. It was a career-ending injury for the once great quarterback.
I couldn't find anything on him for years until I came across a news article announcing he was stepping in as Head Coach for the Groveton College Jackals. After almost two decades of losing seasons, Bryant Nicks stepped in, gutted the staff, and turned the team around. They actually made it to the playoffs last season, which is an impressive turnaround for one season coaching.
Local forums are excited about the new coach; many are even reminiscing about what he was like when he played for Groveton. Apparently, he was quite the ladies' man, and cocky to boot. Not everyone was a fan, though, and some still seem to hold grudges. There was more than one person that mentioned the way he seemed to drop off the earth, some of them suggesting that he'd gotten addicted to painkillers and spent a year in a swanky rehab before coming back to Groveton as a favor to the dean. I don't know what's true, but I can tell, just on paper, that he knows what he's doing.
I'm willing to give this a chance. I'll do anything to make my dreams happen, to live exactly the life he had before it was all taken away from him. That won't happen to me, though.
Coach Nicks wanted me to report to him when I got here, but I'm not ready to talk about the contract and his unrealistic expectations. Instead, I check in to my dorm and drop off my things. Just like the last place, I don't bring much. Just a duffel full of clothes and a box of other random shit, mostly books. I throw it all down on the bed and it’s then I realize that I don't have any sheets or a bedspread for the twin loft bed. But at least I don't have to share with anyone since it's a single room. It's not as swanky as the room I stayed in when I was playing for my last team, but it's good enough. Aside from looking a bit like a prison cell, and having to share a communal bathroom with the whole hall, it's not terrible. Pretty fancy for what are clearly the poor people dorms.
