Page 6 of Free Agent

Maybe just he had gone wrong.

I typed out several replies, deleting them without sending before settling on one that wasn’t a full-blown curse out, but got the message across that I was not pleased.

Today without a non-football headline would’ve been great.

I can’t control anybody but myself. I’m sorry that it’s today. – Money Monty

That response made my eyes bloom wide.

What?

What?!

Admittedly, I purposely hadn’t sought additional information about what was making the news now, but it certainly wasn’t touchdowns, like it should’ve been.

He definitely got those, was easily the best of his generation, a hall of fame level talent.

And instead of that being the focus… it was mess.

Always mess.

Messy Monty.

No, he couldn’t control anyone but himself, but goddamn, could he at least do that?

Seriously? That’s wack.

How can I make it up to you? I’ll come back to Blackwood tonight, instead of flying with the team in the morning. – Money Monty

For what? What you do with your dick is exactly the problem, so it can’t be the remedy. Don’t fucking bother.

I didn’t have the energy.

I suppressed the urge to fully block him, since I’d done that in fits of rage countless times already, and it never mattered, since I never stuck to my guns.

Instead, I took his ring off.

Which also never mattered, since I never stuck to my guns.

It didn’t even make me feel better.

My phone buzzed again, and this time it was Sierra, responding to my request to know what she was wearing tonight, so we weren’t looking mismatched sitting next to each other. When I got the picture of her clothes all laid out, I had a nagging suspicion she was going less casual than usual so that I would go less casual than usual as well.

Which… fine.

Maybe the distraction of getting dressed up, going outside, looking cute, would make me feel a bit better, take my mind off the shit with Monty.

Often, the ritual of it all was just what I needed to lift my spirits.

But not tonight.

Tonight I still felt shitty at the end of it all, even after a nice long stand in the mirror to survey how good I looked.

And it was, indeed, good.

The pretty face, high quality bundles, custom jewelry, designer clothes, all those things were nice—great, actually.

I liked all that shit.

---