She grins and licks her lips. “I’ll take my chances.”
CHAPTER TWO
Eleven months later
I’m replacing a broken fence post high on the hill along the southern property line of the Grape Ranch, a winery known for its peppery pinots just off the Oregon coast, where I’ve been interning all summer. My old boss from the wine bar hooked me up since he’s good friends with the winery’s owner, Hector. Lucky me, because after my fiasco last fall, I was forced to pick myself up by the big-boy curlies and put together a plan F.
F is for fucked.
Let’s face it, though, I was never going to play football forever, and that degree in liberal arts wasn’t going to cut it in the real world. So I switched majors—business with a minor in viticulture. I figured it made sense given all the winery jobs around here. And if that dries up, I’ll have a business degree.
Look at me adulting.
Only now I’ve got a serious problem: six classes for the fall semester. All starting next week.
I figured I would have more time to study since I anticipated being benched for the season. Life doesn’t give passes to arrogant fuckers unless they deliver. Give ’em a championship trophy, the world will forgive just about anything. But act like a cocky asshole and then fuck it all up? You’re dead to them. Which is precisely why I loaded up on classes.
Unfortunately, switching majors means I’ve got two and a half years of classes to take when I’m already a senior, and my full scholarship runs out after this school year. That leaves me another year and a half of college to pay for on my own. I plan to apply for financial aid, but that won’t give me money to help Flip. For that, I’ll need a full-time job. And then some.
I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things happen, but then two days ago, life took another turn when Coach pulled me aside after practice.
“Everybody’s behind you, Dean,” he said.
When I asked what he meant, he told me everyone knows how hard it’s been dealing with my brother. “But let’s face facts,” he added, “the scouts want to see your head in the game no matter what’s going on in your personal life. Don’t fuck up again.”
So, basically, the football world believes last year’s fuckup, the one that cost us big, was because of family issues. I get another chance, but that’s it. Just one.
I remove my baseball cap and run a hand through my sweaty hair before getting back to my fence. I clip the last wire and inspect my work. A damned good repair job.
I really enjoy this kind of stuff, too. No noise. No cameras. Nothing complicated to remember. It’s just me, the fresh air, and lots of grapevines that don’t say much. It’s peaceful out here, for sure.
I step back and stare out at the long stretch of deep blue ocean off in the distance and watch the fog roll in. Soon the sky will go dark, and the air will turn drizzly and cold. Reminds me of how fucked I am.
Here’s the thing: If I play well this season and pick up a pro contract, I’ll have enough money to really help Flip. I would be able to afford a real therapist and private rehab for him instead of the shit, underfunded state facility he’s at that only makes him worse. They’ve introduced him to people who keep telling him he’s a victim of society and not to feel bad for being an addict, instead of giving him tough love. Bottom line, the past isn’t an excuse to keep using, robbing, and being a general fuckup. He has a future, just like everyone else, and it’s what a person makes of it that defines them.
I chuckle bitterly at myself and slide off my work gloves. Listen to me. There I go with my fucking PSAs. I’m preaching BS, like a guy who actually knows what the hell he’s doing, when I should be working on my game plan.
How am I going to play this season like I mean it, which requires me to practice five times harder than anyone else, while carrying six classes? Then there’s this paid internship here at the winery. It’s part of the viticulture program. A big part.
I could drop all my classes and take some basket-weaving shit—see where things go this season—but if football doesn’t pan out (and there’s a good chance it won’t), I’ll be exactly where I started: with a pile of classes to take, short on funds to graduate, and having to borrow even more money, all the while Flip rots away in that place.
Worse yet, they’ll eventually let him out when he doesn’t have his shit together, so he’ll just end up robbing some poor person again. Of course, he’ll get caught. He always does. And next time, he might land in prison, not rehab.