Fondle My Beard - Chasing Dreams
Chapter One
Mitchell Halstead
I’ve been playing professional football for a little over eight years now. All this time, I’ve played for New England, they are headquartered only twenty-eight miles from my hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. In fact, Hometown Hero is what they call me in the press. There are few who can say they now play for the team they’ve rooted for since they were in diapers, but I am lucky enough to say that I do. We’ve won five championships since I’ve been the quarterback and team captain, but I know there’s no I in team. We share our victories and our defeats as one.
“Gwen, come on, we’re going to be late,” I tell my little sister, who’s laying on the couch watching tv. She’s been staying with me for the summer while our parents take a second honeymoon to Greece. She’s been sixteen for all of three weeks now and thinks she knows everything. In Gwen’s case, she really does. She’s smart as hell and that usually means she’s bored as hell too, but I don’t have time to entertain her today. Training Camp starts up soon and July is my only free month this year. Once preseason starts in August, I won’t have a chance to see my charity, Team Halstead, fully realized. I filed all the necessary paperwork and was granted nonprofit trust articles, tax-exempt status, chosen the board of directors, and filed for and received all the licenses required by the state of Massachusetts to run a football camp for underprivileged kids. I wish something like that was available when I was younger, but everything costs money, so other than youth football and high school, I had no other outlets to learn my craft. Team Halstead will be able to coach five hundred kids a year at four camps. One in Boston, one in Florida, one in California, and one in Kansas.
“Where are we going again?” she asks from the living room. The townhouse I live in is small, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, but normally it’s just me.
“Downtown. I am meeting with a potential HR person for the charity,” I tell her.
“Oh yeah, wildflowers. Why do I have to go again?” she asks, turning back to the movie she’s watching on my eighty-inch screen. I now regret telling her about the girl who’s captured my attention.
“You said you wanted to go to the Prudential Center,” I reply, exasperated. She literally just told me she wanted to go during breakfast, not two hours ago. I get it though, she’s a teenager. She’s twelve years younger than me, but it might as well be a hundred. We have a sister, Gemma, between us, but she’s away at college in Montana.
“Oh, right! Let’s go,” she says. Why she can’t go to the mall in Foxborough, where I live, I’ll never know. We get into my 2020 Suburban, the only car I’ve found that can handle my height, and drive into Boston. Gwen reads on her phone while I listen to music.
The meeting is taking place at a local Starbucks as the office is being furnished this week. I’ve gone over Kylie Richards’s resume with a fine-tooth comb, not that there was much to verify. I’ve also gone over her social media with one as well. I didn’t do this for any other applicant, but her resume had hearts on it and smelled like wildflowers. I was intrigued enough to want to know more about her. When I saw her picture, I had to know her. Thank God, she’s more than qualified for the position as it would be unethical to hire her just because I want her. Fuck, I want her more than my next breath. I hear that patience is a virtue, but it’s one I don’t have. I pull up to the mall and park.
“I’ll be at Starbucks,” I tell Gwen.
“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m done to see where you are,” she says but doesn’t make a move to leave the car.
“Alright. Do you need something?” I ask, turning the car off.
“Money? Mom said she gave you her credit card.”
“She, uh, must have forgotten,” I reply, not wanting to tell my little sister that I pay all of my parent’s bills. We grew up poor, but every spare dime they had went into football for me. They sacrificed so that I could make it. Hell, my little sisters did too. College was my ticket out and now that I’ve gone pro, I owe them everything. My dad quit his job to make sure that I didn’t get taken advantage of. He became my manager and I owe them everything. Besides his ten percent, I pay for everything. It’s the least I can do. I wish there were more that I could do. “Here, take mine,” I say, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket.