Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)

“He’s panning out well,” Trask agrees. “Sounds like the two of you are getting along.”

“Absolutely.” Although to be honest, Leroy and I haven’t hung out much together.

We’ve grabbed a few beers, shared a few team dinners on the road, but he’s been married since college. Going out to bars when he could be seeing his two young kids isn’t real high on his to-do list, which I completely understand these days.

“Good. Good. There’s nothing on your mind?” Trask is still shaking my hand.

“Ah, no. Should there be?”

“Just that we all need to work together to field a winning team,” he reminds me.

A ping of worry bounces inside my head. This is a strange conversation to be having with Trask. Have I done anything to give him the impression I’m not happy with the Mustangs? “Agree a hundred percent, sir.”

“If you have a problem, I hope you know my door is open.” He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m basing my franchise on you now.”

Since I have no idea what this is about, I smile and nod. He finally releases my hand and, with one more pat, ambles down the tunnel.

Inside the locker room, I see a bunch of commotion over in the corner near my locker. Leroy is standing with a group of the defensive guys to the side watching the equipment staff, who appear to be dismantling a section.

“What’s up, guys?” I ask, thinking of Trask’s unstated suggestion that I spend more time with Leroy.

He turns to me with a frown. “You gotta problem with your locker location?”

“What?”

He jerks his head toward the corner. “Those guys are moving your locker. Why’s that?”

I blink in surprise. “Shit, Leroy. I’ve got no fucking clue. I—”

Before I can find out what’s going on, Chip comes up. “Coach wants to see you.”

“About what?” I can’t keep the annoyance out of my voice.

Leroy gives me a hard stare. “Maybe it’s about your locker situation.”

Chip merely shrugs. “Don’t know. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He leans around. “Shoot, you’re having your locker moved? Was the stench from Leo’s jock too much for you? Suck it up, princess. This is football, not ballet.”

“Wait a second—” I reach for Chip, but he’s already walking away. With frustration, I turn to Leroy and his guys. “I never asked for the locker to be moved. Why would I do that? It’s fine where it is. Hey,” I yell to the equipment guys. “Leave the locker. I don’t want it moved.”

Craig, the head equipment guy, swings around. “We already got it dismantled. Now you’re saying you don’t want to move?”

“I never asked for it to be moved in the first place,” I say between gritted teeth.

Leroy shakes his head. “QBs. They aren’t happy until everything is done exactly the way they like it,” he mutters, but not so quietly that I, and everyone else, can’t hear him.

I run my tongue along my teeth in irritation.

“Coach!” yells Chip from the doorway.

Fuck. I guess I’ll come back to Leroy after the meeting with Coach.

Coach’s door is open when I arrive. I knock on it anyway. “You wanted to see me?”

He gestures for me to come in. “Yeah, take a seat, Nick.”

He flashes me a smile, and a bit of the tension in my shoulders eases away as I settle into the cheap plastic seat in front of his desk.

Training camp is a portable thing. We’re only here for a couple of weeks, so everything we have can be dismantled and returned to the rental companies or put back into storage. At the end of camp, the makeshift headquarters will all be torn down—from the locker rooms to the small offices filled with rented metal desks and cheap chairs. Maybe the temporary nature serves as a reminder of how fleeting our time is in the NFL.

“How’s it going?” Coach leans forward, keen to hear my answer.

“Good. Timing’s a little off on the longer routes, but we’re getting there.” If I’ve learned anything during my short time in the league, it’s that you have to project confidence at all times to those who’d question you.

“You settling in okay?” He taps the end of his Bic pen, the plastic making an annoying, tinny sound each time it strikes the metal.

“Anything specific you’re asking about?” I’d like him to cut to the chase.

“Nah. Just general asking as I do for everyone,” he clarifies. “Everything is going okay in your personal life? Got no problems there?”

“I’m fine there, too.” I fold my arms and stare him down.

He makes a face as if talking about this subject is as uncomfortable for him as it is for me. “It’s come to my attention that maybe you’re feeling a little uneasy about your position on the team, and I want you to know my door’s open. We all want to be on the same page.”