Page 1 of Mr. Irrelevant
PROLOGUE
LIVVY
“We’re fucked.”
“We aren’tfucked,” my dad’s best friend, and the Renegades’ general manager replies from his spot at the luxurious mahogany conference table. I can tell he doesn’t believe the words as they come out of his own mouth, buthey—bonus points for the optimism, Tony.
“We’ve been at this all day, and no matter how we move these players around, we’re either over our salary cap or we don’t have the talent to see a single win this year.” He slumps in his chair, looking as deflated as ever. He’s normally such a happy guy, always the life of the party. But today, as we attempt to draft a brand-new roster using only the players the other teams are willing to let go of? Well, let’s just say I’ve been to better parties.
When we got word that the city of Cleveland would be getting the National Football League’s first expansion team in over two decades, my dad was determinedto buy it. He inherited my great-grandfather’s oil drilling company before I was born, but sold it almost immediately because that was never what he wanted to do with his life. Our family lives and breathes football, and the two-point-five billion dollars he received from the sale gave him the resources to make all his dreams come true.
And now, here we are—trying to make lemonade out of lemons with all the players the other thirty-two teams in the league are ready to do without.
The rules of an expansion draft are pretty simple. Each team is required to make six players from their active roster available for us to take. Kickers and punters are not included, and we still have to make sure we aren’t going over the amount of money the NFL has allotted for us to spend. When we take someone from any given team’s draftable list, they’re allowed to take one off, keeping those who remain as choices for our next round. Currently, we’ve claimed two wide receivers, a running back, and an offensive tackle, but we’ve been at a standstill ever since. My dad has a team of professionals working to figure out the best-case scenario, but apparently, he isn’t in love with the options.
Deciding that I’ve watched them struggle for long enough, I blow a rogue strand of blonde hair out of my face, standing from the chair I’ve been curled up in for the last hour. My dad and Tony both look over as I sidle up next to them and wordlessly slide the iPad they’ve been poring over in front of me so I can see what we have to work with. I chew the inside of my cheek incontemplation for several minutes before pushing it back over for them to see.
“The Sharks are willing to get rid of Austin Baker because they know he doesn’t have much left in the tank, and they have a backup quarterback who’s a two-time Pro Bowler,” I tell them. “I happen to know that Baker recently adopted a new training regimen that focuses on diet, pliability, and recovery. If he sticks with it, he could see at least another two seasons, and his contract would cost us next to nothing. Hilton at left tackle will protect his blind side, which should lessen the probability of an injury.
“With the money you save from taking the less desirable veteran QB, you can pick up Emmett Hayes,” I say, pointing my lavender fingernail at the face on the screen. “He’s been struggling to connect with his teammates on a personal level in Minnesota, and I think it’s been affecting his game. But his family is from around here, so maybe getting him closer to them again will help his mood. He had over eleven hundred receiving yards his last year in San Antonio, and I honestly don’t see any signs that point to him being unable to find that groove again with a new team.” I scroll down more. “Then, you can fill in the rest of the blanks with whoever’s left, but at least the most important puzzle pieces are in place.”
Both men look up at me with their mouths agape, although I’m not sure why. It’s no secret that I’m an absolute stats nerd, and that lesser-known facts about random football players just kind of stick in my head. As a fan—and the daughter of a lifelong football coachand athletic director at various Ohio high schools—that type of knowledge was more of a party trick than anything. But now that we own a professional team, it’s coming in pretty handy.
“What?” I ask, plucking a Twizzler from the candy platter in the middle of the table and taking a bite. My sister, Sydney, always makes fun of me for eating them. She says they taste like shoelaces, but it’s fine.More for me.“It’s a solid start.”
“Alright, smarty pants,” my dad says with a resigned laugh. “Let’s say Bakerdoesget hurt. What do we do then? If I’m using that much cap to bring Hayes here, I’m going to need a backup that’s competent enough to get him the ball.”
A playful scowl mars my expression, making him chuckle as I slide the tablet back in front of me. I scroll down the list of available quarterbacks slowly, not loving the options. But as I reach the very bottom, one name stands out from the crowd.
“Okay, hear me out,” I begin, earning an eye roll from Tony, who I promptly silence with a hurriedshh.He puts his hands up in surrender, pretending to zip his lips as I continue. “Maddox Dane has been sitting behind Carson Wellman for three years. I’m sure he’s picked up a few things. Plus, he looked decent during last year’s preseason games. He was an All-American in high school, and his completion percentage at Iowa State was actually pretty impressive. If he spends a couple years learning from Baker, you might just have yourself a solid QB.”
“Maddox Dane?” my father replies, his facescrunching in disgust. “Olivia, he was picked dead last in the draft. Do you really think he has that kind of potential?”
I bring the Twizzler to my mouth, biting off a chunk before giving him a sly smile. “Yep. Make the call.”
ONE
MADDOX
“You ready?”my teammate, Jett Kingsley, says as I tie my cleats. It’s the second week of the regular season, and we’re gearing up to play the first game in our brand-new stadium—well,they are. I’m not.
When my agent told me I’d been picked up by the Rock City Renegades, it was bittersweet. I loved my home in San Francisco, where I was drafted three years ago, but I never had a snowball’s chance in hell of starting there. I was their third-string quarterback, and there wasn’t much hope of ever moving up on the depth chart. I’d accepted that, reminding myself of how lucky I was to even have a spot in the NFL at all.
As the very last player picked in the draft—or what the league and fans so lovingly refer to asMr. Irrelevant—I almost missed out on the chance altogether. I knew going into it that I wasn’t going to be a top choice, but the longer it went on and the further I dropped, I was kind of shitting my pants. Luckily, the San Francisco Storm saw something in me that the other teams didn’t.Unfortunately, with a solid veteran under center, I was nothing more than a decorative bench ornament. I had high hopes for the new opportunity here, but it seems the only real move I’ve made is getting one seat closer to the front of the line.
“Yeah, man,” I reply, standing from the chair in front of my locker and adjusting my thigh pads. “How about you? You ready for your first game with a new team?” Jett was traded to the Renegades from Boston last week, after our starting tight end was taken out for the season with a torn ACL. We’ll surely be hurting in the future with all the draft picks our owner, Mr. Grant, put up for him—but Jett is a solid addition, and I’m sure he’ll be worth every bit of it.
He nods. “It’s going to be weird, but yeah. It’s been a hot minute since I was the new kid. I just hope I hit all my blocks.” His normally confident expression turns to nervousness, and I can’t help but inwardly chuckle, because for a big dude, he looks like a toddler on the first day of school.
“It’s fine,” I say, slapping a hand against his shoulder pad. “Technically, we’re all new. You’re just a little…newer. But everything will come together once you’re out on the turf. Plus, you can’t be out here looking like a fish out of water. Didn’t you say that pretty girlfriend of yours is coming today?”
The tension in his body melts away as a silly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. We had lunch together earlier this week, and he told me all about how his girl, Bailey, is moving to Cleveland. They were childhood best friends and reconnected at last year’s Super Bowl,but she’s been living in Florida while they’ve done the long-distance thing. I guess it’s a fresh start for both of them, and he’s clearly ready for her arrival. “She should be out there now,” he tells me, lifting his chin toward the locker room door. “Her flight was delayed, but she texted about two hours ago saying that she had landed, and that she was going to drop her bags off at my place before heading here. I wish she knew someone besides me in this city, so she didn’t have to do it all alone, but I don’t know anybody enough to introduce her to the WAGs. How about you?” He raises a hopeful brow. “Got a girl out there today?”
I shrug halfheartedly. “Nah. I’m just trying to focus on football. I’ve spent the last three years with one cleat out the door. I know my spot here isn’t guaranteed, and that it could all be taken away at any moment. There really isn’t much time for anything else.”
Don’t get me wrong—I date. I sleep with women when the mood strikes. But I’m rarely good for more than a few hours of fun before returning to real life, where my career could be completely derailed by a single distraction. I can’t risk that right now. I’ve worked too hard to get here.
From the moment I stepped onto the field when I was seven years old, I knew I’d never be content if life took me anywhere besides the NFL. Even as a kid, I had to practice harder than everyone else because I wasn’t born with the natural talent that men like our starting quarterback, Austin Baker, were. But I was willing to do whatever it took to learn, and it paid off in spades when I was named the starter at Fallbrook High in Connecticut.We won back-to-back division championships my junior and senior years, calling scouts from all over the country, including the Big 12, to check us out. When my offer from Iowa State came, I jumped on it as fast as I could. I knew we’d likely never win a natty, but it was a giant step toward my goal of playing professionally. As long as I kept my eyes forward and showed that I’d be an asset to whatever team drafted me, I had a shot.
