“Rack,” he said. “How you feelin’?”
“Better now.”
“I saw Doc Travis on the way over. I guess he gave you the good news.”
“Yeah, Coach. Does this mean I’m playing on Sunday?”
He laughed. “No. You’re not.”
I blinked, surprised. “But he said I’m not seriously hurt.”
“Yeah, but you’re still hurt.” Kelly looked at Taylor. “Tell him how injuries work. Explain to the young man that small injuries can turn into big ones unless they heal.”
Taylor looked at me. “What he said.”
“It’s not that bad,” I said to Coach.
He shook his head. “Even if it’s not, we’re not practicing you all week, and you’re missing the next game.”
“Fuck,” I said.
This was my worst fear.
The NFL was full of stories like this. A guy got injured, giving his replacement a shot. The replacement played great, earning him a starting role, and the original guy never started again.
That was what had happened with Tom Brady. The guy was drafted in the sixth round, number 199. He was the fourth-string quarterback until he worked his ass off and earned the backup position. When the starter, Drew Bledsoe, got injured, Tom Brady took the field and never left it again.
Not many people talked about Drew Bledsoe, but he was a damn good player. One injury, though, and he was benched, never to start for the Patriots again. That one play had ruined his entire career.
That was my biggest fear. Missing a game could destroy everything I’d worked so damn hard to create.
“Relax, kid,” Kelly said. “Kennings isn’t nearly as good as you are. Even if he plays his ass off, you’re still our man.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Rest yourself, heal, and be ready for week four.”
“I got it.”
Kelly nodded and then left. I lay back on the mat, staring up at the ceiling.
“You okay?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah,” I grunted.
It was a fucking rollercoaster ride. One second I got amazing news, and the next I found out that I was being benched.
Coach had been reassuring me when he told me that I was better than Kenning, but that didn’t matter. Of course he’d say that shit. But in the long run, he’d do whatever he felt was best for the team. And if Kenning played well, that might mean starting him and downgrading me to his backup.
Taylor sat down next to me. “Well,” she said, “at least you’re healthy.”
“There’s that, I guess.”
“Want to say something totally dirty and inappropriate to me? I know you love that.”
“Maybe later. Let’s just get to work.”
“Okay.” She got back up and we went into our routine.
I couldn’t concentrate, so we lapsed back into a different sort of silence.
21
Taylor
I could tell that Owen was devastated, but he did his best to hide it. I knew that I shouldn’t push, or at least I had learned my lesson when it came to that strange man.
Questions still lingered, but I wasn’t going to let myself get hung up on them. Something was happening with that man, that much was clear, but Owen wasn’t sharing. If he wanted to keep it private, then I had to respect that.
We had other things to worry about. On Wednesday, I was ordered to work extra sessions with Owen in the hopes that we could get him ready for the next game. He was definitely sitting for the upcoming match, but it was a less important game against a team that was traditionally pretty bad.
The following game, though, was against our division rivals, the Dallas Cowboys. Coach wanted Owen ready for that game, and my rehab regimen was a big part of that preparation.
That was how I found myself working late with Owen. I sat on the rim of the hot tub as he soaked himself, my back up against the wall. It was warm, and I was sweating slightly under my work clothes, but I didn’t mind.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I asked him.
“Scarface,” he said.
I laughed. “Really? What a typical boy answer.”
He grinned at me. “I also love The Green Mile.”
“That’s a good one.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“I don’t know. The Goonies, maybe.”
“Great film. I used to want to be Chunk.”
“Really? They make fun of him the whole time.”
“Yeah, but he’s the real hero. He bears all that silently and then helps save the day when he befriends Sloth.”
“Good point.” I kicked my shoes off and stripped off my socks before dipping my feet into the tub.
“First CD you ever owned?” he asked.
“Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette.”
“You were a cool kid.”
“What can I say? I’ve always been awesome. What about you?”
“Big Willie Style.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Will Smith was an idol of mine back in the day.”
“I can see that.”
“Oh can you? It’s because I have such a clean mouth.”
“Not exactly.”
“That’s what he was famous for, at least. He didn’t need to curse to make music.”
“You curse plenty, though.”
“Good fucking point.”
I smiled at him. “Look at you now, living in Philadelphia, just like Will Smith did.”
“Sort of. He grew up rich, I think. Went to prep school.”
“You’re not exactly poor yourself.”
“Didn’t always used to be this way.”
I nodded. “Good point.”
“What about you? Grew up normal and middle class?”
“Pretty much. I didn’t have an exciting childhood like you did.”
“You’re lucky then. There’s nothing fun about growing up the hard way.”
“Do you ever wish things were different?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I guess I mean if your parents were like mine, maybe you wouldn’t have had the drive to succeed like you did.”
“Good point. I had to work hard early on to get anything in my life.”
“If you grew up like I did, maybe things would be different.”
“Maybe. But you had opportunity. You had comfort. I’d trade all this for a comfortable childhood.” He shook his head. “You have no clue how hard it can be.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a jerk.”
“You’re not. Don’t worry. The media can be worse.”
“Really?”
“Sure. They love to ask hard questions about my parents and about the way I grew up. One guy even suggested that my grandmother was unfit to raise me.”
“What an asshole.”
“He just wanted to get a rise out of me.” Owen smiled and shrugged. “It’s what they do.”
“Must be weird, being famous.”
“You saw a little bit of it. But I’m not that famous, not really.”
“Not yet at least. You’re going to be a superstar.”
“Maybe, if my knee doesn’t fall apart first.”
“It won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Well, you have a little more than a week to put me back together. Think you’re up to it?”
“I think so.”
“And how are you going to pull it off?”
I shook my head. “I have no clue.”
He laughed. “That’s really comforting.”
I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was half past six in the evening, and the place was already emptied out. I wanted to get one more stretch in before we called it a night, but there was just something so comfortable and relaxing about sitting around and chatting.
It always felt good when things were easy with Owen. There were times when we worked in strained silence, but mostly we chatted and laughed. I had to admit that I looked forward to coming into work just on the off chance that things would be great between us. My days were easy and good when that happened.
“Hey,” he said, “get in here.”
“What? No! I can’t.”
“You have before.”
“People are still here.”
“So?” He reached up for me.
“Owen!”
It was too late. He grabbed my hips and dragged me down into the water with him, laughing. I was instantly soaking wet, and fortunately I left my cell phone at my desk. My clothes were drenched as he grabbed me and pulled me toward him.
I laughed along with him and playfully splashed him. He grinned and pulled my body against his, and I felt my heart begin to race in my chest. I knew I should stop this, but I couldn’t.
He kissed me hard, and I kissed him back. I was kissing the guy who bought a Will Smith CD when he was just a little kid, not Owen Rack the superstar. I kissed the guy who made me smile and laugh, and who made my body feel incredible. I didn’t care about anything else.
Just as I began to press myself harder against him, my hips rolling along his leg, his phone began to ring. I kissed him softly on the mouth. “Get it,” I said.
“Fuck that.”
“What if it’s the coach?”
He frowned. “It’s probably not.”
“Get it.”
He moved me off him and sighed. He stood up, and I smiled when I noted that his cock was hard and straining against his shorts. He walked across the room and grabbed his phone from the chair.