Page 38 of Cleats and Pumps

I started the car, grabbed my phone, and texted Owen.

Me:Dude, do NOT give my number to Amos.

I pressed Send.

Owen:You’re as much of a dumbass as him.

He texted back, but then didn’t text anything else. Yeah, maybe I was, maybe we both were, but Amos was still my kryptonite, and I needed to get off the train now before it derailed… again.

24

Amos

“Youknowwhat?I’vehad it. Had it, Dad. I love you. I owe you everything because you’ve stood by me and supported me when things went down. Helped me invest and keep my head on straight regarding my finances, but I’m not letting you control my life. I’m… I’m just not going to.”

“Boy, you need to have some respect,” Dad said, standing up.

I stood up too. “Or what, Dad? You're posturing like you’re going to hit me or something.”

He stared at me and shook his head. “Fine, throw your damned life away, and for what? To put on some silk fucking panties?”

I looked at my mom and brother, whose eyes grew with my dad’s last remark.

“Are you kidding? Is this what you think this is about? Fuck.”

“Watch your mouth. This is still my house!” Dad thundered.

“I’m leaving your house, Dad. I’ll pack now.”

I could hear him cussing as I went back to the bedroom. He hardly ever got that mad these days. When we’d been young, hehad a temper problem. Thank God he never hit any of us, but there had been times when I think we’d all been concerned he might.

I needed to go. My father wanted my career more than I ever could. As I stuffed the last of my clothes into the duffel bag, I gave myself a moment before walking back into the fire.

I don’t think I’d ever fully admitted, not until now when all the chips were down, just how much I’d played football all these years for my father. He loved the sport. He’d had dreams of the NFL. Josiah had never shown any interest, except maybe his aspirations to be an agent. I remembered my dad expressing frustration over that. But I’d been the son to make it. To get where he wanted to be.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket and texted Owen.

Hey, I’m going to crash at your place for a while if that’s still okay.

He texted back immediately that the apartment was available, although I’d be just as happy spending a few nights in his guest room. I’d have stayed at Josiah’s, except I knew Saram was spending the night, and I didn’t want to interrupt that.

Erissa had told me not to come back to the city. “You’re best keeping your distance, especially with summer training camps starting.” It would be obvious when I didn’t show up. I knew Erissa was concerned I’d say something derogatory about not playing. It’s not like I didn’t have the right to, but if I wanted that career, I had to think before I acted. Not something I was good at doing.

Right then and there, I decided to take Jason up on his offer. I wanted to help the high school team practice through the summer. Mostly, I just needed to be somewhere useful. Also, it wouldn’t hurt if reporters saw me doing something proactive and generous within the community. They might not bite so hard about me missing training.

I needed time to think about what was next. Wanted a moment to get my head screwed on right, and I hoped Jason’s high school coach friend was willing to deal with me and all the press my involvement would bring their way. Even though I was going to try to play in the background for as long as possible, it would just be a matter of time before that fell apart.

By the time I got to Owen and Jason’s place, my excitement for the summer had beat out the sheer frustration about my dad being a total jackass of epic proportion.

I came in, tossed my bags next to the door to the apartment, then sat across from Owen. “So, yeah… I’m up for it. I will do the summer high school thing, if Jason’s friend wants me, that is. I’m going to text Tommy and let him know. What’s his number?” I asked and Owen’s face fell.

I stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “He doesn’t want you to give it to me, does he?” I asked. Owen just shook his head. “Well, fuck… I guess I’m not surprised.”

I could tell Owen was struggling, so I stood and clapped his shoulder before going into his kitchen to fix myself a glass of water. The rejection stung, worse than I had words to say, but I wasn’t going to continue to drag our buddy through the mud.

I came back in and sat across from him again. “So, this whole high school coaching thing sounds fun. Do you think they’ll let me coach in drag?”

Owen’s mouth fell open, and I leaned back in the chair and belted out laughter. “Oh man, I needed to record you when I asked that.”

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