The Gambles(2)

AJ squinted up into the desert sun as if hoping by some miracle a little good fortune would fall out of the sky, but as I looked around, I knew that wasn't gonna happen, not with our luck.

"Well, it's better than your car," he said. He tilted his head and slung his remark with a playful glare. "Oh, wait, that's right. You don't have one."

"Hey, I got crazy-hot chicks in high school and I drove a Moped back then."

"You've really moved up in the world. Your agent should have comped you a car like others do for their NFL prospects. What's up with that? If it weren't for my car, we wouldn't be going anywhere on spring break. We'd be sitting in the training room, sweating out about a thousand sit ups while everyone else got blowjobs and free college-age pussy from bikini girls on the beach."

"Fuck you very much." I raised a teasing eyebrow.

AJ was my roommate, my best bud, and we always gave each other an endless hard time, but it was all done with friendship and affection.

Aw, geez.

Did I just say affection? I meant, the buddy kind of affection, of course.

I watched as he kicked the shredded tire with the toe of his low slung, skater shoe, pursing his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, giving me a deadpan look.

"What … don't give me that look," I said. "This is not my fault. Why the hell doesn't your dad give you a better car anyway?" I continued as I followed him around to the back of the car where he popped open the trunk. "We can't attract chicks with a broken down car. We need something like a 5.0 Mustang, preferably in red, with a sweet leather interior. Your dad's rich enough. Why the hell doesn't he throw you a bone and get you a decent car?"



       
         
       
        

AJ handed me the crowbar then removed the jack and the spare tire. "Says he wants to teach me something. Morals and values, or some shit like that. Says, he'll buy me a new car when I graduate college and join the family business."

I dropped the crowbar on the ground where AJ crouched, and pulled out my cell phone, wondering if I'd even be able to get a signal out here. I glanced up the length of Interstate 40. "Hey, how far do you think the next exit is? I'll find the nearest place to get a new tire. It can't be far."

AJ just grunted as he cranked the handle of the jack.

"Why couldn't that fucker have waited to cut us off just a few more miles? I said. "There's an exit right there."

I looked down at AJ kneeling at the tire. The car was sufficiently jacked up and he was spinning the wrench to remove the lug nuts. "I don't know. Here, make yourself useful," he said, "hold these nuts."

"Sorry, bro. I don't hold nuts," I said, holding out my hand anyway.

"You're a dickhead."

"Alright, I'll hold them...gently, but I'm not going to fondle them."

AJ placed the last bolt in my hand, shaking his head at my bad joke. I noticed a smile struggling to break out. Just the reaction I'd wanted in order to diffuse his frustration at our crappy luck.

My friend, AJ, was a good guy, but way too tense sometimes, and a little hyperactive. Qualities I'd noticed when we first met, freshman year in college. Now, in our junior year, we were first string on the Longhorns' football team at The University of Texas, Austin. I played quarterback. AJ was a kicker and today, we were on our way to Vegas for spring break.

This would be my last escape for some fun-filled guy time with my buddy, before the NFL Draft picks came out. Back in January I signed a representation agreement with an agent, Saul Rasmussen, a neurotic, worry wart with a flop of hair that refused to stay in place. He was a rather easily excited, OCD type of guy, but a good agent. He walked me through the process of submitting my declaration letter and had been mentoring me ever since, a little too enthusiastically at times, checking up on me with a voracious amount of phone calls and texts. But who'd blame the guy. When the day came he'd get three percent of my signing bonus.

With any luck, and the talent I'd been honing since I was a kid, I'd get drafted to a professional team and quit college. Yeah, that's right, I said quit. I wasn't planning on finishing college. Not right now anyway. A diploma could wait. The NFL wouldn't. I had to strike while the iron was hot. Get picked for a team at the peak of my skills, before anything like an injury could take me out of the game. I'd seen it happen to other players and I'd become consumed with the irrational idea that if I didn't do this now, I may never have the chance, not even if I waited another year until graduation. I was at my best now and a year was a long time for an impatient guy like me. In my mind, it was like a gamble. A lot could happen in a year's time that could ruin everything.