Page 149 of The Backup Plan

She led them down the row of displays. Number two was the Vegas strip—Jordan on the run. Number three was a hospital room bedecked with cut-up CT scans where Jordan, his features blurred, faced a window into the dark. Panels four through seven were more cheerful, and took him on journeys to South America, the Badlands, Canada, and Monaco. Avery’s signature washes of pink snuck into every composition.

Ethan stopped in front of a bright green panel and shook Cory’s arm.

Panel number eight was overlaid with green plastic turf, and Avery had used field paint begged from the grounds crew to make tiny yard line markers for a section of the field. In the drawing, Jordan rested on a lounge chair made of thousand-dollar bills as though he were poolside, arm cocked to throw, wearing nothing but a mouthguard and football pants.

“Shadows and angles,” Cory snorted.

Ethan elbowed him. “Remember when Cam freaked out about that? I thought it was just one and done with that photo shoot, but the jokes just kept coming for weeks, and—” He cleared his throat when he saw Avery and Sarabeth staring. “I mean, Avery, that’s a very keen observation on the way men’s bodies are objectified as part of marketing the game.”

“I call that one ‘The show-off, silenced.’”

Ethan gulped.

“Marshall North really liked that panel,” Avery continued. “Cam sent him all the pictures, and Marsh said stuff like this is the reason he’s going to law school. There’s no one advocating for athletes like Jordan. Not yet.”

On panel nine, a collage of news articles about the disappearance framed Jordan in UND warm-ups, seated on a bench in the locker room, unlacing a football. The viewer’s angle, looking at the seated subject from a standing height, showed the unlaced cleats next to his feet. The original sketch for the panel showed the laces draped over the bench in an approximation of a noose, but Cam suggested a change after a conversation with his friend.

“It got dark for a while,” he said. “And Jordy worked really hard to make sure it didn’t get that dark.”

The final panel, with its halo of helmet shards tipped in gold, stopped both men in their tracks. Draped in a tattered practice jersey, Jordan gazed at the heavens, palms lifted in supplication. A golden tear shimmered on his cheek. The face mask of the ruined helmet was spattered in pink paint, flattened, and bolted to the bottom of the frame to separate him from the viewer like a fence. A real practice jersey, torn and singed at the edges, framed the canvas like a curtain.

Without thinking, Ethan reached to touch one of the shards. “Was this the real thing?” he asked, dragging his finger along a sharp edge.

“We don’t have access to the real helmets. Cam got this one from the castoff bin in the equipment room and we beat the heck out of it one night outside of town. I got a few good smacks in, but I think it was cathartic for Cam to just crush the thing. It was about a lot more than Jordy for him. I bet it would be for both of you, too.”

Cory rubbed the right side of his ribcage while Ethan winced, holding his neck.

“I’ve wanted to crush a helmet or two,” Ethan said. “I’ve tried. You kind of have to hate loving this game sometimes. It’s brutal and pointless, and it’s consumed me for fifteen years.” He rubbed his eyes, then poked at the sharp edge of the helmet again. “Still, I’ll concede that Cam was right about a sweet backup gig. The paycheck is more than enough, and it’s safer this way. I need to get a trade to New York and hang out with this jerk.”

“Ethan wants to be Dad now,” Cory said. “He owes me a few lectures on losing.”

A burst of noise from the next room snapped Avery to attention. She grabbed Sarabeth’s hand and nodded to the door. “I don’t know who’s going first, Coach or Cam, so let’s go.”

“Coach doesn’t know?” Cory’s eyes went wide.

Avery winked. “It’s easier for everyone if he can say he had no idea.”

They shuffled into the back of the media room as Coach Keyes took questions. “I have a little news,” Cory said under his breath. “Has Cam kept up with our old friend Hayden Hamilton?”

Avery stiffened. “We don’t have a friend by that name.”

“Is your brother doing well?”

“He’s fine. Enjoying Nashville, and no lingering effects from the injury.” She paused. “Why? What’s the news?”

“I saw Dale Gellar last week. He caught me after the game with a tip on a little follow-up from the mess Hayden caused last spring. Dale loves a rumor, and this one’s true. I’ll send Cam the link so you two can lose your minds over it together. It’s good.”

“It’s so good,” Ethan interjected. “I sleep better at night already.” He turned to Sarabeth, who was fighting giggles. “What’s so funny?”

“The next dinner party is all of you, and Isaac’s brother Caleb. You know they played together. He has a story about Hayden you might like.”

The coach stepped away and Cam emerged from behind the backdrop, half-smiling as he approached the podium. A member of the P.R. crew adjusted a light to reduce the glare on his glasses.

“Thanks, Coach,” he said, then cleared his throat as shutters clicked. “First of all, thank you all for coming out today. This is an emotional last call for me. I’ve seen so many of your faces at every home game for four years now, since my first days behind a microphone. Thank you for your patience as I learned to put sentences together. I swear, if you want to trust me with your home addresses, I’ll send each of y’all a Christmas card.”

A warm laugh arose from the assembled media. Avery caught Pippa’s eye and waved. As the new crew chief, Pippa ran a tight, efficient ship. Her social media representative was at her side, thumbs poised to post a farewell graphic—pre-made with an action shot, no special photoshoot required—overlaid with some words from Cameron’s remarks.

“That was quite a send-off out there,” he said. “What a game to be my last game at UND. From the day I got called up to be a starter, this team has rallied around me through thick and thin. As a team, we have lifted each other out of some scary deficits and into some beautiful wins. We held each other up when the comebacks didn’t go our way. My teammates taught me leadership, loyalty, and accountability, and I hope I’ve shared those values with others.”

Cameron looked past the media and caught Avery’s eye. He smiled before turning back to his remarks.

“I can’t believe he didn’t notice you,” Avery murmured to Ethan. “He’s got a shitty poker face. We’d know if he noticed you.”

“No one notices the backup,” he said. “And it’s pretty all right that way.”

“It’s been the privilege of my life to lead this team for four years,” Cameron said. “My teammates have truly been my team, on and off the field. They helped me with my footwork, my homework, and one of them even accidentally helped me find the words to talk to the girl I’m going to marry. In addition, I owe tremendous thanks to Coach Keyes, Coach Glamis, and all the coaching and training staff for their tireless faith in me and my dumb ideas. I know you all are expecting an announcement from me tonight about whether I have decided to enter the draft.”

Avery squeezed Sarabeth’s hand and spotted Pippa bouncing on her toes. Cory breathed slowly, still manifesting peace, and Ethan stood like a statue as Cam continued.

“I’ll be happy to get to that after one last heartfelt thanks. I owe this entire experience to the man whose sacrifice gave me the opportunity to lead, and I’d like to turn the microphone over to him for a few minutes. Ladies and gentlemen, Jordan Ackerman.”

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