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Our passing game was clicking. I completed some tough passes on the following three plays to Dwayne, Jaxton, and Grady, the young tight end, respectively, for a collective forty yards. The Lone Stars clearly anticipated that our next play would be a pass, and the middle linebackers began dropping back on the snap. I read this, called an audible, improvised on the line, the guys nodding, readying the switch, so I called two running plays in a row that chewed up another twenty-five yards, leaving us inside the Lone Stars’ five-yard line. Dwayne and Jaxton lined up, the right side a mirror image of the left with Dwayne on the outside and Jaxton on the inside. On the snap, Dwayne beelined inside toward the goalpost while Jaxton headed outside toward the endzone pylon, crisscrossing each other on the field. I was fucking giddy watching the Lone Stars’ defense scramble around like fools. Yes, it worked! I threw a timed bullet to Jaxton just at the pylon for a touchdown. Condors 17, Lone Stars 3. We were back to trading punts for the duration of the quarter.
The Lone Stars had possession of the ball to start the last quarter. They took up where they had left off, not quite able to get their offense in sync, punting after three plays. I could almost taste the win, thinking ahead to the celebratory partying the team would be doing tonight in San Antonio. But hell, I was still tempted to get on a plane to Georgia so I could see her, even if it was only for one night. We took over at our own twenty-five. This time, Dwayne and Jaxton lined up near opposite sidelines. At the snap, Dwayne leapt into a “go” route, twisting and turning downfield, trying to outrun his defenders. My eyes were tracked on Dwayne while on the opposite side of the field, Jaxton halted after ten yards, shifting on his toes, readying himself for a catch. Jaxton’s defender eased back just enough, likely thinking the ball was aimed at Dwayne, so Jaxton took off downfield, sprinting past the defender and gaining three steps on him. Damn, my pass was a little underthrown, but Jaxton had sensed it, edging his momentum back slightly, allowing the defender to catch up, but it was too late. The ball was solidly in Jaxton's grasp for a forty-yard gain. The defender charged toward Jaxton, arms swinging as he pounced, taking Jaxton down—unneeded aggression during the tackle; asshole, get off Jaxton! When he and Jaxton stood, the defender fucking started jawing right in Jaxton’s face.
“Back away, Jaxton, come on buddy, back the hell away”; as I whispered that to myself, catching Dwayne out of the corner of my eye jogging toward the two, Jaxton took the bait, throwing a punch into the San Antonio defender’s chest, in full view of the referee. Damn it, he just got us a penalty for unnecessary roughness, a fifteen-yard penalty. The forty-yard gain became a twenty-five yard gain, damn it.
A penalty like that was deflating for our team. I could feel how it weighed on the guys. Dwayne huddled next to Jaxton, talking to him. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Dwayne obviously wasn’t happy. Still, he didn’t seem to be chewing the kid out. Take him to task, Dwayne! We don’t do that shit. Furious, I shook my head but kept my mouth shut. I’d discuss it with Dwayne later. I moved on, calling the play Coach sent in, looking to hit our tight end with the ball about eight yards out to get us in good position for a second down. Shoot, it was like I’d telegraphed my intention through my anger, and instead of our tight end making the reception, their middle linebacker intercepted in a dead run, and there was no catching him. I watched his back as he put ever more distance between us and him, scrambling into the end zone. Shit, we were only up 17-10. Damn, we can’t afford to lose momentum now.
And just like that, the negative psychology manifested itself. We couldn’t get anything to kickstart on the next drive, and we went three and out. The Lone Stars were licking their lips; I could tell they tasted blood, marching the ball down the field during their next possession as if we weren’t even on there. The home team crowd was standing, stomping, screaming, and that shit got in my head. I knew better, I was better than this, but that fucking penalty set us back, and I wanted to strangle Jaxton…that piece of trash! We suddenly went from playing like the top team in the league to a junior high team—abysmal. I saw Coach Mark’s face turning beet red as he shifted back on his heels, his eyes darting over to me. I shook my head, shrugging my shoulders, pointing my chin at Jaxton. Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. Coach Mark would be in my ear about the leader taking the fall. As I watched the Lone Stars march, I noticed Dwayne patiently—and for my taste, too gently—schooling Jaxton. Synapses were popping, my brain was short-circuiting, and my frontal lobe shut down. I wasn’t capable of rational thought. I stormed down the sidelines, straight toward the little twosome, chatting as if that kid hadn’t cost us the goddamn game! I launched into Jaxton, my mouth sputtering, spit spraying in this direction. Minutes later, I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d said, but it was something along the lines of, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Couldn’t you see they were trying to goad you? But you let them anyway?” I only bit out a few verbal jabs before Jaxton lumbered toward me, his fist balling up. I thought, just try it, kid, and that will be the last punch you throw in the NFL. Go back to the fucking trailer park that birthed your ass. Come on kid, one punch. It was as if the screen went blank, and the next scene appeared.
Dwayne positioned himself between me and Jaxton with all the fury of a bull, but not at Jaxton. He puffed up to me, eyes flaming as he signaled for me to back up. Then he lit into me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m handling this!” His eyes bore into me with a don’t you fucking dare say another word expression before I walked away, my rage still unabated. My head whipped around as I heard the roar radiating from the stands, the fans going mad. My eyes flew to the Jumbotron, and I saw that the Lone Stars had scored another touchdown. Fuck! Now we were tied at 17.
I felt gutted. My rational brain began splintering together what I had just done, the look on Jaxton’s face followed by Dwayne’s fury. I quickly realized that I’d fucked up with Dwayne. I had overstepped on his “territory.” Mentoring Jaxton was his gig, not mine. I owed Dwayne a big apology and a few beers, plus a couple of good single malts for this one.
In what seemed predestined at this point, our offense was about as potent as an eighty-year-old dick without Viagra. We went three and out for the next two possessions. At least our defense held during the Lone Stars’ next possession. On one of the Lone Stars' subsequent possessions, we were able to make it hard on them, make them work for every yard. They barely made their first down each time, but once they got those first downs, they kept on marching. Eventually, they snaked their way down to within field goal range. We held them from the next first down, so they kicked a field goal. And shit, Lone Stars 20, us 17.
On our next possession, we mustered a drive that got us down into Lone Stars’ territory but not field goal range. Since the game had less than three minutes left, we went for it on fourth and sixth. They expected a pass, so we tried a surprise run, but they adjusted fast enough to shut us down. We turned the ball over on downs. The Lone Stars played the “eat-the-clock” game and ran the ball on each successive play. Their running back got eight yards on the first run from scrimmage, so it seemed inevitable they would get the first down. Sure enough, on the next play, they picked up first down. We took a few time-outs during the next set of downs to stop the clock. We prevented the first down, so they had to punt back to us. Their punter kicked the ball inside our ten, and one of their cover guys was able to down it at our six. We had ninety-four yards to go with a minute thirty and one time out. We ran the predictable, safe play, gaining about ten yards per play, and then got out of bounds to stop the clock. They played “soft” to allow these small yardage plays. We needed much bigger chunks of yardage, so we shot down the middle of the field, got fifteen yards, but then had to burn our last timeout. We were at our own forty with forty-five seconds to go. Everything had to go right.
They tightened their coverage, allowing us even fewer “easy” yards. So now we were losing valuable time to gain two and three yards per play. We were facing a fourth and three with thirty seconds to go. We needed those three, or the game was over. We sent the wide receivers a bit farther downfield as a distraction and had the tight end run out four yards and then park himself there. He got to his spot, and I tossed him the ball with a lot of zip. Unfortunately, not enough zip because that same fucking inside linebacker who had intercepted my pass earlier read this play and got there with a big hit just as the ball arrived, preventing our guy from holding on to it. The San Antonio quarterback took a knee for the final play, running out the clock. Game over. The Lone Stars had beat us.
My first thought was, that rookie fucker just lost the game for us. Go back to bumfuck Louisiana, where you came from. Thoughts ping-ponged in my head as my attention went to the Jumbotron, replaying the heated exchange between me and Jaxton and Dwayne’s interference, rage emanating from his body. OH FUCK, I fucked it up with Dwayne, I thought, watching it. I looked like an asshole, and I’m sure the media was reveling in their speculations about my behavior. Screw them, I have to fix this with Dwayne. I jogged off the field, trying to exude the look of a professional, to convey that I’ve already shaken off this loss, we’re ready for the next game. Everyone knows it’s bullshit, but you’re supposed to exude it anyway.
In the locker room, I didn’t see Jaxton, and Dwayne wouldn’t freaking look at me or allow me any audience with him. “Come on,” I hushed, leaning toward him. He put his hand up, looking the other way. “Damn, okay, that’s not how we do stuff, Dee,” I whispered, but his eyes were focused downward. I was getting nothing from him, nothing.
My phone was blowing up when I yanked it out of the locker. A couple of calls had come in from Melissa, then a text from her telling me she was heading back to Austin with Mom and Dad. A few texts came in from Rakell…mostly sympathy. Yeah, you should have been here, I thought, throwing the phone back into the locker and trying to get to the showers before Coach Mark could find me for a lecture. I just needed a drink and for Dwayne to forgive me.
Chapter Thirty-Five (Dwayne)
I couldn’t even look at Jake in the locker room, and no way was I going to let him sidle up to me with a drink and try to smooth everything over. Nope, it wasn’t happening. I scanned the bar, knowing it was fruitless. Jaxton wouldn’t even attempt to join the team tonight. Damn you, Jake! After the last two games, Jaxton had come out to celebrate with us, which I’d seen as a huge breakthrough. The kid had not tried to join the team for anything off the field. When I’d asked him about it in a roundabout way, he plainly replied, “I hate drunk people.” Okay? What the hell was I supposed to say to that? But I got it when I remembered Coach Easton saying Jaxton’s dad had beat up on him and his mom regularly, probably when he drank. I thought it must have been bad. Well, it was bad enough for his mom to have blown his dad’s brains across the dining room wall, remembering the stuff Jake had mentioned when he’d tried to get me to review Jaxton’s psych report.
After we won three games in a row, Jake had thrown to him twice, once resulting in a touchdown against the Seattle Seahawks—that made Jake especially giddy since he’d been their backup quarterback before moving to the Condors. Rakell had been in the stands with Jake’s parents, Melissa, and my sister Eva. Jake was practically kissing Jaxton after that touchdown. I felt a little pride about that, knowing Jake had been watching him like a hawk since our training week in Tahoe. I caught him several times, staring at the kid, eyes narrowing as if studying like there was something evil behind his icy gray eyes, and of course, Jake Skyler was going to figure it out.
Like when Jaxton had helped Rakell when she slipped on the Catamaran, the way Jake’s blue eyes steeled on Jaxton, his fingers flexing into fists. I clapped Jake’s shoulder and said, “Chill, Skyler. He’s just trying to help.”
“Yeah?” Jake had said, practically lunging across the deck, thinking he was fucking rescuing her from Jaxton. When I confronted him a few days later, he said, “I don’t want his hands on her for any reason. I don’t know, something about him…he doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Because he wasn’t raised in upper-middle-class suburbia, that’s what doesn’t sit right with you,” I’d barked back at him, walking along the beach, the dark waves lapping in, then yanking back before stealthily easing against the rocky perimeter again. Like a burglar, I thought, watching how the waves seemed to inch closer with each round, like they were sneaking up on us, going to swallow us whole with no one the wiser. Yep, I have an imagination, and I didn’t like nature in the dark. It freaked me out when you could hear shit at night but not see it. No, thank you! Even hanging out at Jake’s parents’ ranch, listening to all the bugs. The cicadas ruled the daylight, and I was okay with that, but once the sun went down, the hissing of the katydids and crickets was like a chorus for the other creatures lurking in the foliage. I heard leaves rustling from some furry-assed animals scurrying around in the brush or the hoot of an owl—yikes, it was like some horror movie. I always told that to Jake and his sisters. Melissa would agree with me, she’d laugh, then start telling me creepy-ass stories…until I would beg Jake to take me home or call his mom to get me. Ms. Annette always told me, “Dwayne, I’m your second mom, so if the kids give you a hard time about being afraid of the dark, I’ll come get you.” I explained it wasn’t the dark; it was not being able to see all the ‘nature’ going on in the shrouded night. I didn’t trust that at all.
Jake had picked up a rock and threw it in the lake. “Dee, cut the shit about suburbia. Just look at this team. It’s not made up of a bunch of boys who played Little League with their dads coaching on the sidelines and moms at home baking fucking cookies.” Suddenly, he craned his neck toward the sky as if stopping the protest on my lips. “Damn, look at that moon,” he said, pointing to the illuminated crescent hanging suspiciously close to the lake, creating shadows that intertwined with the light shimmering on the surface of the water. It looked haunted.
I almost laughed because this was Jake and me in the middle of an intense conversation, then he’d point out something like that, both of us diverting our attention for a second or two before we moved right back to the tough shit. We were brothers, yet our growing-up stories differed; no matter how many experiences we shared, I knew our lenses for how we saw the world would always have a divergent focus.
“Yeah, you're right on that, lotta these guys are here because of their mamas and their mamas alone—that’s all Jaxton had, but then he’d lost her, too. Sure, he visits her in jail, but it had to eat that kid up knowing that his dad had deserved what he got, his mom killing him because of Jaxton’s dog. I mean, that would tear me up. Like there’s no way…I couldn’t keep going, knowing my mom was in jail because she’d stood up for me that way.”
“I guess,” Jake murmured, looking at the moon before asking, “It’s haunting, isn’t it?”
“Sort of,” I’d said.
“That sense…” His hand gestured toward the shadows skipping across the lake. “The tingling feeling that makes my spine alert, wondering what’s going to jump out and get us, like some kind of monster’s going to all of a sudden burst through the lake’s surface and come for us—well, that’s the same signal I get from Jaxton, like what the hell is lurking in there…what are we not seeing?”
“Come on, bro,” I’d scoffed, “we all feel that way when we don’t understand something or someone. Using your same bullshit analogy, see the lake? During the day, you can see pretty far into its depths but not all the way, and it’s that part, the unknown, the unseen, that makes all of us leery. That’s human nature, but we have to push that aside to learn about the things that are unseen.
“That’s different. I don’t even have a starting point with Jaxton. Like, he gives nothing. I mean look at you and me, completely different backgrounds, but we both love football, our moms…and…”
I chuckled. “And women. We bonded because we’d happened to be young guys who got to have a couple of nights we’ll both never forget. I mean, that’s not typical.” I laughed. “Damn those two…Julia directing us to take her friend together. Us, like slap happy pups not knowing what to do.” I shuddered, adding, “Shit, that’s forever imprinted.”
“Yep, when I’m an old man, that one will not fade away with the rest of my memories. I may not remember my kids' names, but I will never forget those two women. Flavia and Julia… Flavia’s husky accented voice: ‘I want both of you in me.’ She’d tempted us with something like that; we’ve shared some pretty hot women.” Jake hesitated, stopped walking, shook his head, then said, “Do you think it’s obvious that other women can tell we, well, that we’ve shared, I mean...”
I snorted. “Like, I think Rakell knows I’m a possibility. I can only hope…”
