Page 23 of Playing Games

After years in New York playing for one of the best football teams in the country, Quinn’s southern twang has faded just a bit—I guess fifteen years surrounded byfuggettaboutitswill do that to you. But I can still hear the hint of it in his every word, and the thought of possibly finding a home away from home with the Mavericks like he did makes me smile.

“Right. Quinn, then.” I shake my head, a rumble of laughter in my throat that makes Quinn freaking Bailey match my smile. I know there are other Mavericks alumni coming today, but for as exciting as that is, it could end right here, and I’d be a happy guy. “Thanks for coming today. I know meeting you has got to be a ton of these kids’ dreams come true.”

“I was that kid,” Quinn says simply. “We all were.”

“Yo! QB!” a big man with an even bigger smile calls from the tunnel behind Quinn. He’s got a beard and has changed his haircut, but Teeny Martinez is quite arguably one of the most recognizable faces in American football. He commentates some onFootball Tonightnow that he’s retired from the game, and just last weekend, he was at some concert dancing in a tracksuit in the middle of the band. He’s a personality and a half, and I’ve never met a single person who doesn’t love or idolize him.

“Teeny!” Quinn greets, doing the slap, handshake, hug thing you often see us men doing. They do a complicated handshake that ends in a spin, and Teeny finishes it off by holding out a hand for me to take. “Hey, Boden.”

“Teeny,” I say back, my face a layer of melting disbelief that all these guys know who I am. “Thanks for coming.”

“You bet, kid. Speaking of…where are the attendees? This isn’t some elaborate prank you’re pulling just to get some face time with me and QB, is it?”

I chuckle. “While I’m not entirely above that particular move, staging an entire kids camp through the Mavs organization is a little above my abilities. From what I understand, they were doing a meet-the-owner thing with Wes Lancaster and their parents first, touring the stadium, and then ending here, whereLexi is going to show them a highlight reel on the jumbotron before we get started.”

“Lex is coming?” Quinn asks excitedly. “That’s my girl!”

It’s an innocent statement from one of the people Lexi grew up around, and yet, I don’tlikeit.

Ridiculous, I know, but there’s a small, irrational sense of possessiveness I’ve already developed for Lexi Winslow. If she boxes me out like she could—like she has been up until now—that’s going to make for one hell of a crash and burn.

“She’s great,” I say, stopping myself there instead of going into a three-page essay on all the things I’d like to get to know about her.

“You friends with Lexi Lou?” Teeny asks.

“We know each other from Dickson, so sort of…” I laugh. “I’m kind of still convincing her it’s worth her time to be my friend.”

“Ha!” Teeny shouts. “God, I love her.”

“Where’s Sean?” Quinn asks then, looking back into the dark tunnel and cupping his hand over his eyes to shield the morning sun. “I thought he was supposed to be here too.”

“He is, but he and Six are doing their podcast for this week about Camp. They probably went with the kids so they could catch Bossman on audio giving his little speech.”

Six is Sean’s wife and an incredibly famous YouTube personality turned popular podcaster turned reality television star. Truthfully, it’s mind-blowing how much I know about these guys and their lives.

Quinn laughs. “Oh shiiit. Lancaster hates the limelight, that’s for sure.” He picks up a football, working it in his hands and spinning it constantly to get a grip with his fingers on the laces. It’s a classic quarterback fidget, one I was mere seconds away from starting myself. Quinn pumps a couple of times with some fake throws, and Teeny starts cackling.

“Look at this guy. Retired and still can’t stop himself. He misses the game so much, he calls me crying on the phone at night so I can put him to sleep.”

Quinn holds up a middle finger before throwing the ball to one of the catch nets at the other end of the end zone. Teeny laughs and winks at me before continuing. “You’d think a married fella like himself would be content once he got in bed, but nope. He needs a phone call with Teeny to make sure he has sweet dreams.”

Quinn turns around with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, a smile curving his mouth all the way to his ears. “Don’t listen to this guy, Boden. I have plenty to do with my wife, in bed, at night. He, on the other hand…”

Teeny snorts. “My wife is an angel on earth who takes care of her man’s every need and want, okay?”

“Does she also have a listening device on you?” Quinn asks with a snort. “Because holy hell, you’re laying it on thick.”

Teeny shrugs and pretends to whisper. “You never know.”

There’s a sudden jolt of noise as the jumbotron kicks on in the center of the field, the Mavericks’ intro playing at full volume. It’s a tiny taste of what it might be like to be a player in this stadium, and fuck, does it give me chills.

“Welcome!” the announcer's voice yells over us. “To Maverriiiiiiiickkkkks Kids Cammmp!” On cue, a surge of young boys and girls dressed in matching camp T-shirts comes running on a charge out of the other end zone tunnel, their tiny faces scrunched into warrior expressions and their screams permeating the space between us.

A golf cart zooms toward the middle of the field, and Quinn, Teeny, and I pick up a jog to meet it there as Wes Lancaster, Winnie Winslow Lancaster, and Lexi all climb from the back and take their spots to wait for the arrival of the running kids.

Lexi’s eyes are on the three of us, but at this distance, it’s impossible to tell who she’s focusing on. I want it to be me, but these are guys she’s known her entire life, so it’s probably not.

Fuck, I sound real damn annoying, don’t I?

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