“I’ll win for him. That’s all he cares about in the end.”
“True, but don’t push it. This is your year, man.”
“It’s my year whether I go to tutoring or not.”
Hynes just laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say, man. See you later.”
I nodded as he took off, heading in the opposite direction.
Hynes was right, as much as I hated to admit it. This was my year, and it was my career hanging in my balance. It was going to be up to me whether I made it to the big show or blew it.
Still, I had other worries that needed to be dealt with. Maybe if I could get this money thing worked out, then I could concentrate more on football.
I took out my phone, making the decision. I scrolled through and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you today,” he said when he picked up the phone.
“Roy,” I said.
“What can I do for you?”
“I need your help.”
There was a short pause and then he started laughing. “I thought mister big shot college football star didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I just need a number.”
“And why the fuck would I give it to you?”
“Maybe because your son is asking for something and you don’t want to be a piece of shit.”
“I don’t know, Gibson. I’m used to being a piece of shit.”
“I just need Johnny Long’s number.”
He paused. “What do you need with Johnny?”
“That’s between him and me. You still got it?”
“I still got it. He’s an old friend, you know.”
“Bookies aren’t friends with their clients, Roy. Can you give it to me?”
“All right then.” He read me the number, which I quickly memorized. “How about you come and see your mom sometime?”
“Is she sober?”
“The fuck does that matter? She’s your fucking mother.”
“Bye, Roy,” I said, and hung up the phone.
I felt gross after calling him, but I had needed that number and he was the only one who knew it. Johnny Long was a bookie for the Italian mafia, and I was hoping he could help me.
I dialed the number and sat down on a bench. It rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Finally, a machine answered and beeped.
“Johnny, this is Gibson Evans. My dad gave me your number. I need some help. Call me back if you can.” I rattled off my number and then hung up the phone.
This was such a bad idea. I hated that my father knew that I wanted Johnny’s number, and who knew what he was thinking about that. Maybe he had already sold the story to some bullshit gossip blog. Wouldn’t be the first time that drunk fuck sold some crappy story about me to some second-rate blogger.
But that was the risk I ran by doing all of this. If I could think of any other way to make money and make it fast, I’d do it, but I couldn’t. It was a risk getting involved with the mafia, but I couldn’t let myself become just another deadbeat dad.
After a minute or two, I dialed Avery’s number. It rang twice before she answered.
“Hello?”
“How was dinner last night?” I asked her.
“Better after you left,” she said.
I smiled. “Good. I paid dearly for skipping tutoring.”
“Sorry to hear it. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“It’s okay. I think it was worth it.”
“Really? Seems like it wasn’t worth it at all.”
“Listen, since we got interrupted last night, how about you come out with me tonight?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know.”
“There’s a football party just off campus on Maple Street.”
“That’s right around the corner from me.”
“Perfect. So you don’t have an excuse.”
“I’m bringing a friend,” she said.
I laughed. “Okay, sure. Party gets going at ten. I’ll text you the address.”
“Fine. Remember, I can’t drink.”
“I won’t forget again.”
“Good. Just making sure you’re not going to try to feed me shots.”
“I’d never dream of it. Plus, I don’t think I need to get you drunk if I want to taste that little pussy again.”
“Bye, Gibson.”
I smirked as she hung up the phone.
Campus was beautiful, green, and comfortable as I stretched my legs out. There weren’t many people around since it was Saturday and most people didn’t have any reason to be wandering around campus. It felt good to sit there, nobody bothering me, nobody staring at me.
I had to admit, MD had a really gorgeous campus. The area around MD wasn’t great, since its economy had gone downhill years earlier when local factories started shutting down. They called it the Rust Belt, probably because there were just a bunch of rusting factories dotting the landscape. But campus itself was a gorgeous little oasis, and I was thankful every day that I got to experience it.