Illegal Contact (The Barons 1)

We showed up at the training center early, but it was still too late to get a good parking spot. There were so many damn people that I was convinced it would be impossible to grab a place to stand behind the barriers, let alone somewhere visible enough for Marcus and Simeon to see me. Jasmine fretted over not getting to meet Marcus, and I dragged her through the crowd in an attempt to big-body my way to the barrier.

Despite my lack of football-player size, we made it. Before long, we hung over the black-and-silver barrier to watch the Barons practice in their black-and-silver uniforms. I wasn’t an expert, but they didn’t look like game uniforms. They were less padded and included white pants instead of the standard black ones with the steel-gray stripe running down the side.

“Do you see—”

“There’s Marcus!” Jasmine shouted, pointing. “Look—he’s the one running!”

I zeroed in on the figure sprinting across the field and saw the silver numbers announcing “22” were on his black jersey. I didn’t fully understand football, but I knew enough about the human body to identify that Marcus ran magnificently fast. His long, powerful legs pumped as a couple of players in silver jerseys trailed him. He didn’t seem to be holding the ball so—oh. My eyes flicked across the field where number 13—Simeon—was throwing the ball in an arc so beautiful that it seemed to cut through the humid air as it hurtled.

There was no reasonable reason why another person should be able to judge the distance well enough to catch that fast-flying ball, but Marcus did. He turned and jumped right before reaching the end zone, and did a midair backflip just as his pursuers went to slam into him.

“Holy shit!” I shouted at the same time as Jasmine screamed, “Fucking hell!”

Some couple with two young kids by their sides gave us serious stank faces, but I didn’t care. Either Marcus had picked the best possible time to be a show-off daredevil, or he was ridiculously talented enough to do things like that on the regular. Either way, I was suddenly excited to see more.

The other guys may as well have been black-and-silver shadows drifting around the field. At first, all I paid attention to was numbers 13 and 22—just as Marcus had predicted. I clapped wildly when he caught the ball once again and sprinted across the field like a goddamn gazelle. He dodged around guys twice his size, making it clear that, even though he dwarfed me, he was still one of the smallest players on the team. And that size difference made him fast.

He was a blur as he rushed towards the end zone only to throw a pass just as a couple of three-hundred-pound guys swarmed him. I thought it’d been a wild Hail-Mary type of pass, but it sailed into the waiting hands of one of the guys on his side with eerie precision.

The next few series of plays sucked me in. I whooped when Marcus caught the ball, screamed when Simeon soared across the field, and cried out every time one of them was tackled. Jasmine reassured me that they would never use full force during practice or a scrimmage, but I couldn’t help cringing.

It was no wonder that the careers of football players ended in their early thirties, if that. I couldn’t imagine how much abuse their bodies took. I didn’t want to think about how awful their daily living would be once they were too old to ignore all the damage they’d white knuckled through for their entire career.

“They’re so insanely athletic,” I said. “And it’s crazy how big I thought Simeon and Marcus were at the house. Now, they’re like . . . dwarfed by some of the others.”

“That’s why they’re so agile, though,” Jasmine said. “The only player who has both size and crazy speed is Gavin. He’s bigger, broader and meaner than some of the receivers, but he’s one of the fastest guys on the field when he plays. He will barrel through a three-hundred-twenty-five-pound guy like it’s nothing, and then outrun everyone around him. Try to picture that.”

I couldn’t, but I wanted to. “Do you think he has clips on YouTube or anything?”

“Oh, hell yes,” she said. “Highlights, press conferences, but also clips of his dirtiest hits. That’s why he has such a shitty rep. Not just the media not liking his grumpiness.”

“I know.”

Jasmine didn’t look convinced. “I’m honestly shocked that he, Simeon, and Marcus are friends. They’re so outgoing and charismatic. And he’s . . . not. Like at all. I was surprised he even got fan mail.”

“A lot of fans think he’s an inspiration.” They also wanted to fuck his brains out. “And he and Simeon have a lot in common.”

“Rough childhoods,” she said knowingly.

“What? No. That’s something a reporter made up about Simeon. Well, I mean, neither of them had a lot of money, but Simeon has family where Gavin was bounced between homes.”