Turn Over

“Luke, you’re a train wreck.” Coach stood from his desk and paced in front of his windows. They faced the practice field. He could watch us sweat from here while he called plays to the assistants on the field. There was one thing this office had—AC.

“Hold on. I don’t even know this girl. You can’t expect me to respond to this. It happens all the time.”

“And that’s the problem.” He spun around. “The drinking. The gambling. The partying. The women. It happens constantly and it has to stop. You’re out of control. It’s all out of control.”

“I didn’t sleep with that girl.” I gritted my teeth. “She’s extorting you for money. You have to see it.”

Mr. McCade plucked the picture and returned it to the silk lining against his chest. “That may be, but she has a compelling case. And all we need is one woman to come forward to the press, and see how many more follow after her. She’s the beginning of your worst nightmare. How many kids do you think you have out there?”

“She’s lying. She has no proof because it didn’t happen. I didn’t sleep with her.” I paused. I hadn’t missed the last question. “And the answer is none. I don’t have any kids. I like women, but I have no interest in becoming a father.”

“See, Luke what you don’t seem to understand is that no one would believe you. There are more pictures of you stumbling home, than there are of you with nice, respectable women. You have a reputation in this town. You have given the Warriors a reputation. And it’s going to stop.”

I felt the anger rising. I refrained from balling my hands into fists. I wasn’t going to knock out the team’s owner or the Coach, but I was seeing red. One bullshit lie, and they were coming down on me like I had done something wrong. I hadn’t even touched that girl.

“What are you implying?” I asked.

Coach was doing most of the talking now. “There are provisions in your contract for moral conduct.” His eyebrows rose. “We can cite you for violating multiple infractions of the Warriors’ code of ethics.”

I shot up from the couch, almost losing my towel in my rage. “The hell you can.”

Mr. McCade folded his hands in his lap. “You’re a valuable quarterback, Luke, but right now you’re more of a liability to this franchise. I don’t want my family legacy soiled by your antics. The McCades have everything at stake here. This is our team—not yours. This is your last warning.”

I glared at each of them, my eyes darting with fury. “Where’s Linc? Why didn’t you call him in for the meeting?”

Coach pressed his knuckles into the desk. “Your so-called manager? Your brother?”

I nodded. We all knew who Linc was. Applewhite was just being a dick. Linc took care of the business aspects of my life. He should be here getting me out of this damn meeting.

“He has about as much control over you as a wild bronco. He wasn’t invited. This is between you and your contract.”

I was tempted to end the meeting right now. Refuse to talk without my manager present, but it was better to get this over with. I wanted to know where this was headed.

“Spell it out. What do you want from me?”

“Clean up your act. Stop coming to practice reeking from the night before. No more gambling. Hire a damn driver. Choose your friends wisely.” Applewhite rocked on his heels. “And no more women. None.”

I chuckled. “You’re fucking with me now, right?”

“Your contract is in jeopardy. Your position on this team is in jeopardy. The last thing I’m doing is fucking with you.”

Coach reached into the top drawer of his desk and placed a manila envelope on top of his clipboard. I saw my name written on the tab.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “Open it.”

I thumbed the flap, flipping it open with hesitation. I stared at the contents scattered in front of me. I picked up the top newspaper clipping. “What is this?” I questioned.

“Your file,” he muttered, turning his back to me. “It’s every article. Every picture. Every time you were pulled over for speeding and there was a write-up. It’s every headline about noise disturbances from the parties you throw.”

I spread the articles and notes around, digging through the stack Coach or some bored son of a bitch in human resources had collected on me. My life in Austin was compiled into this damn folder. But I couldn’t find anything on my quarterback rating or the numbers I put up every Sunday. There was nothing on my pre-season stats. No, this was a file on the dirty life I lived in the public eye. Austin’s star didn’t hide. He lived fully. That’s what the folder showed me.

“So this is what it’s come down to? No one here has my back? You don’t care how many points I put up on that board out there? What you care about is a fucking stack of newspaper clippings? Unbelievable.” I shook my head.

“We do have your back, Luke. That’s why we’re having this meeting.” Coach turned to his desk and handed me an invitation. “This is for you.”

It took everything I had not to crumple it in my hand. I lifted the wax seal and pulled the linen paper from the envelope.

“What is this?” I could tell from the swirly handwriting it was already something I was going to hate.