Page 44 of Best Year Ever
We walk into his large TV room, filled with three huge gray couches, the ideal size for big football players to gather. His enormous TV is turned to the L.A. versus Chicago basketball playoff game about to begin.
“I’m starting to pivot to my training diet,” Johnson remarks. “We can order something else for you, but I had my chef create a large protein bowl for each of us. Grilled chicken, vegetables, rice—the usual.”
“That’s perfect,” I say as I sit down.
“So what’s the latest with you?” Johnson asks. “You sticking around Orlando before mini-camp?”
“For the most part. Taking Rawley and Chad out fishing this weekend on my boat if you want to join,” I say. Chad Grandman is another linebacker on the team that’s mentored me along my first couple of years. He’s been in the league seven seasons, so he’s been a great resource, and has become a good friend.
“Sure. Sounds great.”
I reach for one of the beers that Johnson has left on the living room table for us. “I’m also thinking of going to Wimbledon, actually. Take a few days to check out London overall too.”
“That would be fun. You’re catching lots of tennis this break, huh?” Johnson says, looking at me quizzically.
I start fidgeting with the cover of the magazine on the table in front of me. “Well, yeah. Yeah, so, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about…”
Johnson’s attention is locked in on me, despite his exhaustion. This is why he’s a great leader in the locker room. “So you said in your text.”
I decide I better rip off the band-aid. “I’m not sure where to begin, so I’ll just say it. I…I slept with Rori Reilly.”
“Slept with” didn’t sound right to my ears, but I didn’t know how else to describe it to Johnson.
“Wait. Wait. Like during the Triumph thing?” Johnson is sitting up straighter and looking confused. Or surprised. Or both.
I explain. “First time was that New Year’s party, and then also after the Miami photo shoot.”
“So you weren’t too unhappy to take my place for the ad campaign, were you,” Johnson teases with a huff.
“Not really.” I smile at that.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” Johnson asks, his brain catching up.
This is the question I’m waiting to discuss.
He looks at me expectantly and I go all in.
“You know the shit my parents put us through, and how I’ve avoided locking down anything serious for years. But with her, I don’t want to stop, J. I want more from her, with her.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“I know, not what you were expecting.”
“Not really, but things change,” he says. “Eventually just fucking around gets old. I’m kind of there myself. So what’s the problem?”
“Well, we’re supposed to meet up tomorrow night. I’m thinking I might talk to her about it, about how I’m feeling. I know we’re not my parents, so I’ve kind of pushed past that baggage in my head. I just want to make sure what I’m doing isn’t stupid.”
“Stupid, how?” Johnson responds.
“Having any kind of relationship, casual or not—is it going to be possible with football? You know how we live, the road trips, the parties, the women trying to get our attention, the demands for night appearances, on top of everything else needed to play the game. Is it too much to add maintaining a relationship to it? I’ve never even tried to juggle that.”
“Okay, slow down,” Johnson replies, waving his hands to stop my brain from spiraling further. “How many guys have awesome careers while married with kids? They have no issues. I’m sure they’re on the same page with their wives. Good communication is everything.”
I nod, absorbing his words.
He continues, looking me in the eye, blessedly taking this call for help seriously and not just making fun of me. “You’re just looking to date her right? Get to know her?”
“Yeah, we still haven’t spent that much time together,” I answer. “We talked daily the last few weeks when she was in Europe, but that was just texts. I don’t even know whether it’s something she wants. But she’s the one who reached out to meet tomorrow.”
