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I hurl my coffee cup across the room as a feral scream rips from my throat before I collapse on the floor, irrevocably broken.
Part II
Breaking News.
In a shocking, unprecedented move, Coach Joe Sinclair has officially stepped down as the head coach of the number one most winning team in NFL history. Rumors have been rumbling all season that this one was going to be his last, but Sinclair, Sr., has responded as always with, “No comment.” Today, as we start week eleven of the regular season, with one week before our beloved Kings have a rematch on Thanksgiving with their Super Bowl rivals, the Nashville Fury, Scarlet Kingston-St. James announced the organization would forever be home to Sinclair before transitioning to how excited the team is with what his son Declan would bring to the table as the newly minted head coach.
Now the question on every Kings fan’s mind is what is happening behind closed doors to make this coach step back. Was this a forced transition by the team owners? And if so, why? Our Kings are seven and three in a season rife with injuries. Why change things now?
Only time and this reporter will tell. Stay tuned, football fans.
#KroydonKronicles #BehindClosedDoors
CALLEN
“You want to talk about it?” Maddox asks from the other side of the bar in West End. Everyone and their brother saw the press conference earlier. It’s a fucking miracle Dad managed to keep things quiet for as long as he did. But that’s all going to change soon. The spotlight will be blinding now. Someone is going to find out.
“Nah, man. I’m good.” Lies. All fucking lies.
I haven’t been good in months.
The only thing good is my ability to lie.
I’ve perfected that.
“You should have stayed in Ellwyn longer. The whole scene was crazy.” Maddox pushes the beer my way with a smirk as Killian agrees.
“Yeah. Maybe next time. You two shits already knew I had to fly home with the team. What was so special about it anyway?”
The league has been scheduling international games for us for the past few years in an effort to bring football to other countries. It’s not my favorite thing, but it’s not the worst. We played in Ellwyn three weeks ago, and apparently, since we won, we’ll be playing there again next year.
Oh, yay . . .
“Yeah... been a crazy few weeks. But now it’s time to get down to business,” Killian announces like he’s psyching himself up for the hell his life turns into when he’s in training mode. “I’m gonna miss having a life.”
Maddox lifts his beer and taps it to mine as Kill stares at us with a bottle of water in his hand. “Here’s to missed chances,” he toasts, and I choke on my drink.
“The fuck?” I cough.
“Come on, man,” Killian shakes his head. “It’s not like it’s your first casual fuck. Just the first time it’s with an actual princess.”
I look between the two of them, relieved he’s not talking about me but definitely not following whatever he’s talking about. “What’d I miss?”
“Madman bagged himself a princess.”
I blow out a long, low whistle. “Fuck, dude. An actual princess?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Maddox tells us, ending the conversation. At least he tries.
“Not like she’s next in line for the throne or some shit. You could call her,” Kill pushes a little harder, and the look Maddox gives him says it all.
He’s not calling.
“Wasn’t Lennon a princess?” I ask because it feels good to not hate myself at the moment.
It won’t last, but it feels good.
“Fuck off. Technically, I don’t think she had a title...” Maddox tries to take my beer away, but I pull it out of reach.
