“She’s right,” Courtney said. “It should be at least fifty.”
Lisa’s cold gaze went from Courtney, her recent whipping post, to me. I could see Lisa considering her options. Some sort of decision was made, and her voice was low and threatening toward me. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Lisa nodded. She almost looked satisfied as she sank down into her first pushup.
-33-
JAY
Driving bass blasted from the speaker system in the gym. The lifting regimen for this afternoon was light. It always was before gameday. Today was about maintaining and priming our muscles, staying loose and not sore.
“Fuck me,” Darius said, looking around the place, “you getting nostalgic?”
It was our last regular season practice, but I’d spent so much time in this gym, it was hard to imagine ever missing it. Plus, it looked like someone’s basement from the 1980’s, and I was pretty sure some of the machines might give me tetanus. I didn’t care much about it. It was a place to get lean and mean. But nostalgic? Forget it. “No. You?”
“Nah, man.” He turned his gaze up to the sentence scrawled on the wall. ‘Those who stay will be champions.’ “Maybe a little.”
I went to the squat rack and Darius followed. He hovered around me like a goddamn helicopter parent. “I don’t need a spot.”
“Okay, dude.” A proud grin widened on his face. “You can stop freaking out now. I did it.”
Um . . . okay. “Did what?”
“I hid your playbook. While you and that ball-busting Buckeye were out, I stuck it in your backpack.”
I hung the bar back in place with a loud, metallic clang. In between rounds one and two of sex last night, I’d taken Kayla downstairs to the vending machines, where I bought us snacks and soda. I’d told her we were carb loading for our next session.
What the hell was he talking about with my playbook?
Darius’ shit-eating grin drained away. “Damn, man, you didn’t even notice?”
I couldn’t find my playbook the other day, but no one ever accused me of being organized. I knew what was in my bag today though, because I only had two classes, which meant two textbooks. My blood pressure climbed. “It wasn’t in my backpack.”
“I stuck it in there. The black one, right by the door.”
Sound from the weight room faded out. Everything around us stopped moving. “That was Kayla’s bag.”
His eyes went so wide, it was scary, and he turned into a statue. On the field, he had great reflexes, but it looked like he’d just been run over by a bus.
Abruptly, he blinked. “I gave your playbook to your girlfriend.” He clearly couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “The one who goes to Ohio State.”
“Sounds like it,” I said, keeping my voice hushed.
“Fuck. Shit! What the hell are we gonna do?” Panic tightened his shoulders up to his ears, and he took off pacing. One circuit and then he was back, his expression full of relief. “Maybe we’re okay. It’s not like she knows how to read that shit, right? Or who to give it to.”
I was going to throw up. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had puked on the mats, but my rolling stomach had nothing to do with a physically overwhelmed system.
“Right,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “Because it’s not like her dad used to be the Ohio State defensive coordinator or anything.”
Darius stumbled backward, knocking over a kettlebell, which put the guys around us on alert. I jammed a hand through my hair. I needed to settle down and figure out what the fuck I was going to do.
“Jay . . .” He couldn’t find the words to finish whatever sentence he’d started.
“I’ll get it back. No one will know.”
He looked at me with zero confidence.
“I gotta piss,” I lied, needing privacy. I took the most direct path to the locker room, which Darius was standing in, so as he stepped out of my way, my shoulder slammed against his chest. He was a bigger guy, but he gave ground instantly.
All our plays were detailed in that book. Routes our receivers would take. Audibles for Evan to call. I’d scribbled shorthand in the margins the ways I’d read coverage and adjust.
I pushed through the door and scanned the locker room. It was empty, thank fuck. I pounded across the tiles until I reached the stalls, ducked inside one, and shut the door. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and punched Kayla’s number.
“Hey,” she answered, sounding out of breath. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”
“I’m doing weights right now.” A noise came through the phone, which sounded like a car door slamming shut. “Where are you?”
“I just left the fieldhouse. You should be proud of me. I told Lisa I’m done with—”
“Did you know Darius put something in your bag last night?”
“No, let me guess.” Her voice was bright. “He decided he wants to play for a real team and it’s a request to transfer to OSU.” There was the sound of rustling, followed by a zipper.
“I need you to not look at—”
“Oh, holy shit!” She rushed the words out. “Is this what I think it is?”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my fingertips over the crease in my forehead. So much for her not knowing about it.
“Dad, watch the road!” she said. “What the hell is this doing in my bookbag?”
“Your father is with you? Shit, don’t show it to him!” Jesus, this couldn’t get any worse. “I need you to turn around and drive it back right now.”
There was a pause from her, and my heart slowed to a crawl.
“I can’t,” she said. “My car broke down outside of Toledo this morning.”
“What?” I shoved aside worry for myself for a moment and focused on her. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you don’t have time to spare, and I’ve got it covered.” Like she was trying hard not to need something from me. It sucked extra hard because I needed a big favor from her now. Her tone firmed up. “I can’t get back there today. I’ve got a parade performance tonight.”
My mouth went dry. “Just losing a playbook will get you benched. Imagine what’ll happen when they find out Ohio State’s got it.” I’d be riding the pine the biggest game of my career, and could kiss the post-season goodbye, too. “Please.”
“If I miss an event, I’m done. Lisa will make sure of it. I’ll find someone, or—”
“No, you can’t let anyone know you have it. If it got out, it’s not just me who’s fucking done—it’s my whole team.”
“I can borrow a car from my parents, and drive it up right after,” she said quickly.
“Yeah? What time does the parade end?”
There was a long pause. “I’ll probably be dismissed by ten.”
Hope died as quick as it had started. “So, best case scenario, you’re here at one a.m. and then you gotta turn around and drive right back, all through the night. No way you’re going to stay awake and be able to cheer tomorrow. You’ve got to leave now.”
“Jay, I can’t.”
Frustration itched across my skin and balled my hand into a fist. I pressed my knuckles against the stall door. “Why? Because you’ve got the keys to winning now?”