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Draft pick day was always like a perpetual first date: the teams’ and the players’, not to mention the fans’ anticipation would be frenetic, but everyone had to act cool because as much as you plan to do your due diligence, you couldn’t count on everything aligning. Especially with us; since we had won the Super Bowl, we would go last in the first-round of the draft. Coach Easton clarified that if Jaxton were still available when the Condors’ pick came up, we would nab him, and he should be invited to The Green Room. That invite was usually only for the guys who they knew would go in the first-round. I hadn’t been invited to the Green Room coming out of UT-Austin because my senior year had started off quite rocky. Still, Rodger had told me it’s almost more nerve-racking than being home with family because the cameras are on you through the whole thing. If you don’t go in the first round, it’s mortifying to be sitting there, left in The Green Room at the end of the night. But we knew that we would be taking Jaxton, and Coach Easton wanted him to have the experience of getting dressed up, staying in a nice hotel, and being with all the other first-round draft picks. Coach liked players to feel special, especially guys who came from difficult circumstances, and Jaxton may have had one of the most troubled pasts, not of his own doing, of any player we’d ever drafted.
My knees buckled slightly from the jolt that came barreling into my calves; at that same moment, I heard, “JAAAA.” Hitching forward, I knew exactly who the mini-tackler was. I swung around, lifting him in my arms. “Cameron, Uncle J missed you.”
“Sss…ii-im, wim…” he jutted out a few times, making a swimming motion with his arms.
His interpreter interjected before I could respond. “No swimming today. Today, we watch the TV,” Cassie instructed, speaking definitively, adding a few non-verbal gestures while looking up at us both. “Uncle J, please show him the ice cream he gets when the clock shows eight. Mom says he’s not going to school tomorrow.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper, exasperation dominating her tone. “It’s because they have a field trip, and the teachers say he can’t go unless he has an adult chaperone since he runs off. Mom can’t go tomorrow because a big client is coming to town, and, of course,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Dad is in Dallas, so Cameron has to stay home with a babysitter and doesn’t get to go to the science museum.”
I noticed a few friends looking our way, so I crouched down, still holding Cameron. He laid his head on my shoulder. “Eye cream, eye cream,” he repeated. I could see he was trying hard to get his words out. I rubbed his back, placing my fingers on either side of his spine, applying some pressure. Melissa told me his occupational therapist said that calmed him. It seemed to work. Hell, I think that would work on anybody.
“Cassie, maybe your dad has to work, too, and…”
Her hands went to her hips as she cocked her head, her stern expression aging her face well beyond her seven years. “Nope, not having it, Uncle J. He just doesn’t want to be a dad to…” When she pointed furtively toward Cameron’s back, my chest constricted, and a searing jolt of rage shot through me. My face contorted, and Cassie registered it before I could soften my expression.
Cassie’s mouth twisted as she observed me. “Uncle J, I promise Mom’s trying to make it better. It’s just that…”
“Hey, Cassie, I should talk to your mom.”
“Noooo,” she hushed, her eyes swimming with concern. “Noo, please, Uncle J. I’m not supposed to talk about Mom and Dad. I just get sad sometimes when I see how stupid adults are. I thought growing up made you smarter.” She stated, resignation twinging her voice as if she already knew that wasn’t the case.
It struck me as I listened to Cassie that she was not much older than Melissa had been when our brother, her twin, died. I hadn’t been born yet, and I’d never asked Melissa about it because, in my head, she was too young to have really processed it. Shit, knowing how much Cassie was observing made me wonder about Melissa at the same age and how much she might have absorbed around our brother’s death.
Cameron wiggled in my arms. “Not always. Just because someone’s an adult doesn’t mean they don’t do stupid things or make mistakes,” I murmured, for lack of a better explanation. “I won’t say anything. I would love to go on the field trip with Cameron, so I’ll ask your mom about that.”
As I was assuring Cassie, Dwayne offered me a beer, and I shook my head no. I was going to be getting up early tomorrow. A drinking night with my UT buddies, Dwayne, and some other friends would make tomorrow miserable. The last thing I wanted was to be hung over with a bunch of preschoolers, but damn, if it didn’t irk me that this little guy was being excluded from experiences because he didn’t have someone to be his chaperone. Weren’t there teachers’ aides who helped with stuff like that?
After I talked to Melissa, she told Cameron the news, pairing her words with sign language and pictures on her phone to make sure he understood. I think he got it because he squealed, though it might have been a reaction to seeing my parents walk in.
Coach Mark came up behind me. “Fingers crossed, we get our guy. I’m going to get Coach Easton and the crew on Zoom so we can try to do this as a group. They’re at the stadium. Even the Condors owners, Mateo and Nick, flew into Sacramento for draft day. So, Jake, the Sacramento Condors are no longer just a tax write-off for our playboy owners Mateo and Nick. These guys were hoteliers with more money than God. They counted on us losing money for the tax write-off. It made me giddy that wasn’t the case anymore. We’d shown them. They’re suddenly invested. I suppose that’s what winning a Super Bowl does.”
The city of Sacramento had really rallied around us, so our ticket sales were steadily increasing. Actually, Rakell cheering me on in the San Antonio owner's box had resulted in a quick spike in ticket sales. The media accused her of doing it to get attention for the upcoming cover of Sports Illuminated, but I think it did more to boost Sacramento’s popularity.
“Is Mannie there?” I asked, knowing that our general manager had to be present. Coach Mark smiled. “Yep, you know Mannie is. He already bought some fancy tequila, and I think he’s catering tacos, too. He’s got the recruiters on and ready to dial in. But we won’t know until the Broncos and the Jets choose…I know they need receivers, but I can’t see those teams taking on Jaxton. Too much of a risk.”
“I know, I know, I hope we’re betting right. Dwayne is all over helping this kid, but looking at that psych report and hearing from his college coach makes me nervous. He’s a loner; his coach said he never went out with the guys after games. When we did a Zoom interview with him, all I could see in his apartment were a couple of folding chairs and piles of books…probably more books than I’ve read in my life. His Wonderlic testing showed Mensa-level intelligence, but the emotional-psych testing was, well, let’s just say this guy's not charming anyone to get anywhere.”
Coach Mark nodded, agreeing before turning to hear what Dwayne was saying across the room.
“Mark, set up here so we can see Easton’s reaction when they announce,” Dwayne said, pointing to the coffee table and moving a few bowls of chips to clear a spot for the computer. “Then we can all see Coach on Zoom and Jaxton on the big screen.”
“Sounds good,” Coach Mark said, joining Dwayne. “Are Jordan and Delilah gonna make it?”
“No. Jasmine has some big assembly thing at school tonight, and since our pick is last, there’s no way they’d stay that late,” I shouted over my shoulder.
My mom and dad walked up, offering a brief hug before asking how they could help. I gave them the rundown of where stuff was even though they’d been here a million times; my dad always liked knowing exactly what my plan was to keep everyone fed and make sure they got home safely. He was the ultimate protector.
“Son, what about the pool?” my dad asked. I knew exactly what he was talking about.
His face did that somber dad thing, all softness dropping from his expression, his eyebrows lowering, mouth pulling downward at the corners, all in the midst of people eating and drinking, new guests tumbling in, Dwayne greeting people with high-fives, and the chaotic background chatter about the draft picks. I knew I had to give him all my attention when he asked, “Did you contact the service yet? There are a lot of people here, and the kids will be running around outside playing with Dolly, and, well, you know how your mom and I feel…”
