Dirty Talk (Get Dirty 1)

I can’t take another answer from Derrick. Not if I want to get any sleep.

Chapter 5

Derrick

The restaurant is full, but not too busy as I scan the tables. It doesn’t take long to find my target. After all, there aren’t too many six-foot-five, two hundred and eighty-five pound men who have a build like my best friend.

“Jacob!” I call, seeing my friend turn. He’s so massive, I didn’t even see that he was talking to someone, a petite blonde girl who’s looking up at him with one purpose in her eyes. Jacob gives me a nod and turns back, scribbling a signature along with something else on the piece of paper the girl’s holding before sending her on her way.

“Good to see you, Derrick!” Jacob says as we embrace like we did back when we were roommates in college. It was a pure chance pairing, two jocks, one on the football team and one moving away from the sport, but it clicked.

“You too. How’s the shoulder treating you?” I ask.

“Not as bad as the sportswriters made it out to be. Mostly it was just one hell of a bruise. I’ve been resting it for two weeks now since we’ve got a bye week. I’m good heading into the rest of the season. Then, of course, contract talks.”

Contract talks. Big money. Jacob’s coming off two All-Pro years, and if he’s going to stay with his current team, they’re going to have to pony up some top-flight money this offseason to do it. Everyone’s saying the team would be smart to try and sign him to an extension before crunch time.

“Big contract so you can pay for all of your groupies,” I joke. “What is it, thirty-two girls for thirty-two cities now?”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Jacob jokes. “Green ain’t your color, bro. You ain’t a Notre Dame fan. Besides, I know that when I find the right girl, I’ll settle down. Until then, fuck it. What about you?”

“Not my thing,” I admit, sitting down at the table across from him. The waitress comes over, taking our orders, and then I continue. “I’m not gonna hate on you, but that’s just not what I’m looking for right now.”

“You never were,” Jacob admits. “No matter how many times I tried to bring you to the dark side.”

“What can I say? I saw the real thing with my parents, and I’ve never been able to settle for less. Besides, it’s not like I don’t get out there at all.”

“We all heard that. Lookin’ for that perfect freak in the sheets, lady in the streets, I guess. Anyway, I won’t bust your balls. How’s work?”

“Fine. Been busy, more folks calling in and we can’t even get to them all in a three-hour show. But the show seems to be helping people and the ratings are through the roof.”

Jacob laughs, sipping his sparkling water. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. I heard last night’s show. You probably caused every woman listening to come right then and there. Shit, I’m good, never get complaints for damn sure, but hell, even I was taking notes. Never hurts to up your game a little bit.”

We laugh, and I remember what Jacob told me last time we got together. Apparently, more and more of his teammates are listening in to my show as well. It seems odd that celebs and people I know would be listening to the show, but I do majorly appreciate the support. Somehow, when I’m on the mic, it feels more anonymous. The ‘Love Whisperer’ is just more of an amped-up facet of my personality, not exactly the real everyday version of me.

“You ever miss ball?” he asks me after we finish our food. “I mean, you helped me train during the offseasons. I know you still had the skills back in college.”

I shake my head, leaning back. I remember those days, sweating it out in the winter weight room, the summers running wind sprints with Jacob up and down the steps of the stadium. Even though I’m ninety pounds lighter than him, there were too many times I was a step behind or busting my ass just to keep pace. I had the love of the game, but not that one in ten thousand talent like him. “No, not really. I miss the teamwork, the brotherhood. But it wasn’t meant for me. I’m happy where I landed. You?”

He nods, rolling his shoulder unconsciously, and I wonder how much of what he told me about his injury being just a bruise was bullshit. If it is an injury, his season’s going to be a lot harder than he’s letting on. “Definitely happy. It’s a crazy amount of work and I already feel like an old man on some days, but it’s all I ever dreamed of.”

“I’m glad,” I reply honestly. “You think you’ll make All-Pro again?”