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A crease deepened on Dwayne’s forehead. “I looked into it. He doesn’t have to struggle with language or school stuff like Cameron to be on the spectrum. He’s what they call high-functioning, wicked smart, but the social stuff can be really difficult. I read that sometimes people think that someone with autism is being aloof or even rude. But that is not accurate. A lot of times they’re trying to protect themselves from sensory input that most of us are able to just ignore. Plus, when you consider his background, it’s no wonder it’s tough to get him to open up and feel comfortable around folks, especially super demonstrative jocks. I can tell he’s ready to defend himself at all times. Can you imagine how that must feel?”
Then, that phrase Melissa always hears about Cameron hit me, “behavior problems.” Shit, I had completely missed that about Jaxton. Damn, that is how people judge my little buddy, isn’t it?
“I didn’t think about that before. Damn you’re wise, Dee.” I cupped his shoulder. “If that is the case, I’ll take a whole new approach to interacting with him. In the meantime, we have another half of the Super Bowl to play. Let’s focus on the Tornadoes for two more quarters so we can hoist that trophy again.”
Dwayne nodded his chin toward the door and reached for my arm. “Jake,” he spat out, “learning more about Jaxton sort of made me face some stuff I’ve buried.” My arm stiffened, my eyes narrowing on him. “Listen,” he sighed, “not now but after…”
“We win!”
“Yeah, we win. I’m gonna need your help back in Austin.”
“Dwayne? I got something to tell you, too,” I murmured. When I heard Coach Easton start his ‘we got this’ speech, I snaked my arm around Dwayne’s broad back. “Let’s do this for each other this time.”
“Got it bro…each other.”
We hugged aggressively and, at the same time, uttered into the air, “Ride or die.” We had said that to each other drunk eight years ago, but it felt like we were back in that place, pledging to have each other’s backs.
I didn’t run out onto that field. I pranced somewhere between a noble prince and a lion cub. I couldn’t wait for this game to be over, to win this together, and then I had something big to share with him. He’d be the first to know. That was my reward to him for being here for me for almost a fucking decade. And whatever he was going through, I’d be there for him. We’d always be each other’s ride or die.
The second half was more of the same. We ran all over them on both sides of the ball. Jaxton had an additional 90 yards, and Dwayne had 80 more. All the nerve fibers in my arm tingled, adrenaline coursing through me, my gaze momentarily shifting to Coaches Mark and Easton. They both gave me the thumbs-up; they understood implicitly what this pass would mean if I nailed it. I’d seen this very scene in my head on repeat so many times, a looping daydream that you can’t really imagine materializing. The ball soared from my hand, slicing through the air. As the Sacramento fans sprang to their feet cheering, I didn’t have to look up to know what the Jumbotron displayed as the ball slid into Dwayne’s arms. I almost jumped up in celebration. He froze for a split second, a perceptible tilt of his helmet upward to the large screen, giving the impression he was stopping to celebrate. NO…not yet!!! Aware there were microphones everywhere, I whisper-yelled, “Run, dumbass, fucking run.” As if he heard me, dawning on him what he was supposed to do, he swiveled, leaping into a jaguar-like sprint straight into the endzone. Game over! I sprinted toward the endzone where Dwayne was doing his signature wiggle-hip dance and joined him; then he and I did a little sashay as a few other players joined us.
Damn, I’d done it. I earned the Super Bowl record for most passing yards and was honored with Super Bowl MVP. I had a million thoughts swirling through my head, but none was louder than Rakell, look at me. I did it. I can do anything. People flooded the field, and then I saw her, my mom holding her hand, my sisters adjoining them on either side, my dad just behind my mom, Georgia, Eva, and Damien scanning the field, looking for Dwayne; they veered off when they saw him being interviewed by Austin’s Cody Stark near the sidelines.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Sylvia Gonzales twisting and shoving her way through the swarming bodies. There was no way I was doing an interview before wriggling my sweaty limbs around Rakell. I was dying just to snatch her hand and drag her back to the hotel, but I knew hours and hours stood between me and her alone. I took a giant bouncing step in their direction, preparing to suck her up into a hug, but she hesitated. She opened her fingers, freeing my mom’s arm, shifting to the side, letting my mom have the first crack at me. My eyes glazed over, screaming internally, you let my mom go first? I have to fucking marry you!
I swallowed, my arms tugging my mom into me as tears dripped down her face. My sisters swooped in, spreading their arms like wings around us; my dad joined us, his face beaming. He mouthed, “Son, you did it!” Melissa pulled out her phone and Facetimed Cameron and Cassie. I thought I heard Tom in the background saying something about Cameron not calming down, but I deflected it. Nothing would taint this moment.
My mom broke off our embrace, her eyes flicking over her shoulder to where Rakell stood. I lunged toward Rakell, engulfing her in my arms as I lifted her off the ground.
“I told you, pretty boy,” she uttered in a burst of laughter.
“You did, Sweets, you did!” I spun her around, my teeth nipping at the base of her neck.
“And I’m always right!!”
“Always, always.” I pecked my way up to her chin.
Sylvia cleared her throat, halting my pursuit of Rakell’s lips. Looking at the three cameras focused on me, I shouted, “I’m MVP, two-time Super Bowl champ; you’re gonna have to wait,” my voice brimming with cockiness. ‘Turn it down, Jake,’ I could almost hear Sylvia say; she had said that to me repeatedly when I first took the job with Sacramento. She’d coached me about how to act in front of the camera so I’d come across as more humble. But hell, that all fell away as I covered Rakell’s lips with mine, swallowing her soft, protesting pleas.
“Jake, Jake,” Rakell murmured urgently, her eyes scanning the cameras circling us.
Finally, I pulled back, letting her feet slide to the ground.
When Sylvia approached, Rakell tried to duck from my embrace as the cameras panned in even closer. “Not so fast, Sweets.”
“Well, well, Jake Skyler, MVP and two-time Super Bowl champ. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that Sacramento is wild tonight. I hear downtown Austin is a ruckus party, too, celebrating their hometown boy. How does it feel to bring home another win for the Condors?”
“It’s amazing. This feels like my year. I’ll be thirty this year, and as a boy, I had dreams of what I wanted by the time I was thirty. It seems like everything is falling into place.” After my last word, I dropped my eyes to Rakell and then back to the camera.
I felt her back stiffen.
Sylvia's eyebrows arched, a knowing smirk consuming her face. She darted her eyes to Rakell, instructing the camera guy to zoom in, then back to me before asking, “Jake Skyler, do you have an announcement you want to make?”
“Huh? Jake…” I heard Rakell hush, her tone laden with surprise, or was it fear? I wasn’t sure, but I’m not a complete buffoon. I had plans to do this right.
“Yes, I do.” My hand slipped around Rakell’s waist as I leaned into the camera. “You’re looking at the next Hollywood star…Rakell McCarthy, my good luck charm.”
I had to choke back a laugh as I felt her fingers pinch the side of my waist through my jersey.
