Page 28 of Protecting Player #73
T.J.: Heard you called the station, what’s going on?
Me: My girl is being harassed. I need it handled.
T.J.: Meet me for a drink tonight and we’ll talk.
Me: Thanks bro.
Relief lightens the rest of the day as I work out and spend time mentoring one of the younger guys on the team who’ll make his debut during Sunday’s game.
“How are you settling into Portland?” The boy–not old enough for me to call a man yet–swallows like I’m a bully on the playground about to beat his ass.
“Okay, I guess. I haven’t found a permanent place to live yet.”
I spot him on the bench press as he lifts, pondering his dilemma.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for? I’m Portland born and bred; I could probably help you find something suitable.” His eyes widen at my offer. “What’s your name again?” I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t been the best at keeping up with the new guys, but he’s shaping up as a rusher. Hopefully, by mid-season, he’ll be on my line.
“Damaris Jones.” Placing the bar back on the rack, he sits up and offers his hand.
I shake it and grin. “I like you, Big D.” The kid is built, but he still has those puppy dog eyes and baby face. “Where you from?”
“Compton. My mom and sisters are still there. I’m trying to find somewhere in a good school district, with a house big enough for the four of us.”
“This is your way out, isn’t it?” I’ve never been to Compton, but I watch the news and hear about the gangs. It’s clear this kid is special from the respect he’s showing in a simple conversation. He’s going places, and I’ll help him get there.
“It’s theirs too. Wouldn’t be where I am if not for my mom busting ass working two jobs to keep me on the gridiron. She needs me now like I needed her then.”
“You talk to Brea about any of this?” She’s spent a bit of time with our rookies, and I get the feeling that if she knew Damaris’ story, she’d help him out.
“No. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh, she does, and before we leave tomorrow, the two of you are sitting down and talking about what brought you here, because I’ll tell you now, this city will help you find everything you need for your family.” He appears shocked at first but then agrees with me.
“Thank you, T.K. I appreciate you taking some time with me today. I was beginning to feel like I don’t belong in Portland. I can start seeing a future here now.”
Astounded doesn’t begin to explain my feelings. I’ve never made an impact on anyone’s life before, and here Damaris tells me that I changed his entire perspective on this city and his place in it. If I’m being honest, having this sort of impression on a rookie is the kind of legacy I want to leave behind. Being remembered as the guy who helped the next generation of players call this city and team their home throughout their career is something I could be proud of.
I walk into my condo to the sounds of music playing and Brea dancing in the kitchen as she cooks. Her eyes are closed, arms raised above her head, and she twirls around the island before stopping to stir something in a pot. Her swaying hips make my mouth water as I quietly step forward, hoping to grab her before she notices me.
My one hand slides around her waist while the other tangles in her hair, pulling her head back to steal a kiss from her surprised lips. “Mmm, you’re home,” she whispers, pushing her body back into mine, rubbing on my inflating dick.
“I am, and I missed you.” Kissing along her throat, I nibble on her ear. “I have to go back out to meet my brother, though.”
Pulling back, our eyes meet, and she smiles at me. “I’m going to meet Alex at our spot, too.”
“Your spot?” I raise a brow.
“A diner we’ve gone to since I was about seven or eight. Alex started it, and when we need girl-time, or time together, we always seem to end up at PB & J’s Diner.”
“Never heard of it.” Which isn’t surprising, since I don’t go out very often.
“That’s too bad. Their desserts are beyond delicious.” Her eyes glaze over as she thinks about it, and I get a little jealous.
“Keep that look on your face, pup, and I’ll be tempted to wipe it off by doing something very dirty.” She lights up and gets dreamy from my words. I almost say, fuck meeting my brother, because I’d rather spend those hours between her legs. “Don’t push me. You are a much more tempting treat than any dessert.”
“Why are you meeting your brother?”
I release her as she moves back to the stove to stir the delicious-smelling pot. When I hesitate to respond, she glances back at me, and I swear this woman can read me like an open book because she sighs and shuts off the stove before giving me her full attention.
