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I’m about to tell him that he’s wrong. That I’ve been wrong.
But he understands that.
Instead he tells me something different.
“Go,” he says.
I nod my head. Clarity.
I need to find Colt and Ethan.
Colt
Jesus Christ, what a fucking week.
Actually, what a fucking month.
If I could go back in time and try to redo anything in my life, it would have to be this month. There's not much else in my life I want a do-over on, but this has got to be one of the major periods.
Although, I mean, what the fuck would I do differently?
If given the chance, I sure as hell would get naked and engage in whatever it was that Julianna, Ethan, and I did. I'd fuck her again for sure. Ethan and me? I have no fucking regrets.
Seriously. Despite the constant fucking media chatter, I wouldn't undo any of those actions.
What would I undo?
I look out the window of my condo on the Upper East Side.
I know what you're going to fucking say, okay. Mr. Bad Boy of the NFL lives in the buttoned down Park Avenue condo on 70th Street. What the fuck, right? Why aren't I living like Julianna, at the Time Warner Center in Columbus Circle, where Beyoncé and Jay-Z live. Why am I living amongst old heiresses and widows?
I'd tell you to shut the fuck up if you asked me that two months ago.
But not anymore.
And now you're asking why I'm not going to ask you to shut the fuck up?
Fucking Christ. I gotta spell everything out for you don't I?
Because I'm getting the horrible feeling that I've been doing the wrong fucking thing for too fucking long.
I mean, I hated Ethan. Hell, he probably hates me. But why do
I feel so fucking turned on when I'm around him? Why was my cock so hard as I jerked him off? Why do I still jerk off to thinking about that? Right about the same time I'm jerking it to Julianna. And then when I think about both, Lord help me.
I mean, I used to hate Ethan. I know I was wrong about that.
What else was I wrong about?
The way I treated women?
The way I thought the world was against me?
Did my family really never care about me or was I just so under pressure to win that I began to think these things?
Let's be real though. My thinking and even changing my fucking demeanor isn't going to do a whole lot.
Our games fucking suck. Our morale is shot to hell.
