Page 1 of Who's Playing You
PROLOGUE
NICK SOBA - DRAFT DAY
I’m sweating fucking bullets.
I’m trying to keep my proverbial shit together. I’m trying not to let on that I’m about to blow the top off of everything and pull off the biggest double-cross - nay, triple-cross - in pro football history. I might be the scum of the Earth and the most selfish dickwad on the face of the planet for the shit I’m about to pull off.
Yet, I’m The Diva.
I’m the guy who isalwayscool and collected.
I’m the guy who everyone relies on because I don’t fail.
I’m perfect.
Everything I touch turns to mother fucking gold.
So as I sit on this plush, ostentatious and pretentious couch up on this draft stage with all of the lights and cameras directed right at my face because - yeah, I’m a big deal - I can’t help but shift in my seat.
I drum my fingers on the arm of the couch in an attempt to center myself, while Nik, one of my best friends, can’t help but fidget in the seat next to me - taking it all in. He’s so fucking pumped up that if he’s not careful he’ll start acting like a chihuahua on coke. This is his dream. His salvation, even.
But it’s not just his dream, it’s all of our dreams.
Me and my two best friends - my brothers - the Trickie Nickies. We’ve been inseparable and have literally been through it all together. It was our dream to play not just in the pros, but on the same team. To play in San Francisco to be precise. And Nic Loving and Nik Papas already have their bags packed. Their boxes are just awaiting a San Francisco address to send their shit to.
But none of us are going there.
I look around at all of the hopefuls, which include my two best friends. Nic and Nik are smiling and talking to their families, talking to my parents and sister Nadine too, while I sit silently.
Drumming my fingers.
Papas can’t stop fucking fidgeting though and it’s starting to give me anxiety. And now’s not the time to lose my composure as the first pick of the draft is about to be announced. I unwittingly scratch at the inside of my right bicep where my tattoo is. The same tattoo that all three of us have. Three arrows, one singular line, all pointed in the same direction.
The depths of my betrayal deepen even further.
I take a fortifying breath, keeping my cool and keeping my whole confident-Diva personality in check. I nudge Papas’s shoulder, knowing I’m about to fuck over my best friend, “You sweating yet, Golden Boy?” I say like the two-faced mother fucker that I am and grin at him to boot.
God! If he ever finds out, him or Nic, they’ll fucking choke me until the last breath leaves my pathetic, back-stabbing body. Then they’d probably set my corpse on fire after pissing on me.
He smirks in return, none the wiser, “Nope. Just radiating calm professionalism.”
“More like radiating product endorsement deals,” Loving mutters from the seat next to us as he straightens his cufflinks.“Dude’s been signed to three cologne contracts and the ink’s not even dry yet.”
Papas fires back, “You’re just jealous you smell like Axe and poor decisions.”
Loving, ever the cocky asshole he is, grins and replies, “You’re damn right I am.”
We can’t help but laugh at the antics, this is how it’s always been between us. But at this point, it all feels fake to me. I’m a fraud. The three of us are aware of San Francisco's interest in all three of us, and that was the dream. Always has been. But this is the motherfucking draft! There’s no telling what might happen. Deals and trades can be made at the very last second, and so I had hedged every conversation between the three of us with that fact specifically.
Planting seeds of doubt. Preparing for what I told themmighthappen. Because nothing was for certain.
Except what I knew was about to happen. And it was time for me to put my game face on. I was a fan-fucking-tastic actor. I’d been honing my acting skills for years now. The media, my teammates, my fellow students at ZU, they all thought they had me figured out. But truth be told, the only thing they knew was what I wanted them to know.
And right now, all I wanted my two best friends and their families, along with my family, and everyone watching this draft to know was that I was sosurprisedandshockedto go to the team that would pick me. With that swirling in my head and running through my pre-orchestrated plan, the Commissioner made his way to the podium to begin the 2025 draft.
Papas’s leg was bouncing so bad that I’m sure it’ll cause a tsunami on the other side of the planet. Forget butterfly wings and their ripple effect, Papas’s leg anxiety is sure to do some damage. But not as much damage as I’m about to…
With that the commissioner says, “With the first overall pick of the 2025 draft… the New York Rage select… Nick Soba, Quarterback, Zeiders University of Arkansas.”
