I heard the crack of the starter pistol and I was up and gone. Arms pumping, legs churning, heart racing, eyes homed in on the finish line. I blew past Ray-Ray and kept going another ten feet. I rested my hands on my knees to catch my breath for a moment, waiting to hear my time. The run had felt fast. But at this point felt didn't mean squat.
Ray-Ray shouted, "Four point nine seven, Rocket."
Fuck. That was too damn slow. My team record was 4.59 my rookie year-which was the same forty-yard dash time as our star running back.
What did I need to change?
React no differently than when you've got the ball in your hand. Burst of speed at the beginning to deflect the defense; additional burst at the end to score.
"Fifteen seconds, Rocket," Ray-Ray said.
I dropped into the starting block.
You got this. Nothing hurts, hit it hard.
The pistol went off and so did I. My existence boiled down to the air billowing in and out of my lungs, my steps eating up the blacktop and the fast thud of my heartbeat in my ears.
Whoosh, right past Devonte and Leon.
Leon yelled, "Four point seven four seconds!"
Okay. Better. That'd been my preinjury speed average for all four seasons.
I cranked my neck side to side. Swung my arms around. Did a couple of vertical jumps.
"Fifteen seconds," Leon warned me.
One more. That's it. I blew out a long exhale as I set my feet in the block. Head up, eyes on the prize, body pumped with adrenaline.
Same drill. Put those motherfucking doubts to rest for the last time today.
It seemed my feet barely touched the ground after the pistol popped and I was racing past Ray-Ray.
I spun around.
Ray-Ray whooped. "The Rocket is back! That last run was four point six two, my man!"
I quickly did the math in my head. That averaged out to 4.77-which was an excellent percentage for a guy my size with my recovery history. Chances were good with more sprint training I could lower it by a tenth of a second.
Almost before I could catch my breath I had teammates surrounding me, clapping me on the back, slapping my ass.
Bebo gave me a chin dip and returned to texting on his phone.
One guess that he wasn't in contact with his wife at this time on a Sunday morning.
But I couldn't be unhappy about it.
"Word's gonna get out about this, White Bread," Devonte said.
"If it had gone the other way?"
He shrugged. "Word still would've gotten out. The front office knows how to spin. Let's just be glad this is one thing they ain't gotta put a shine on. The shine is all you, Rocket."
And it'd keep the media's interest off some of the other stories we'd managed to keep on the down-low.
"Now that you've proven you still got prime jet fuel in those legs, let's hit the weight room."
• • •
I must've mixed up the times for the brunch because the servers were tearing down the buffet when I arrived. I managed to heap two plates with food and considered my mother's point about me needing an assistant to keep track of this kind of stuff because apparently I sucked at it.
My sister and her husband, Axl, joined me.
"What's your excuse this time?" Annika asked.
"Work."
"Work?"
"My job as a football player, remember? I got cornered to run the forty-yard dash. Nothing I could do but do it."
"And?" Axl said.
"Three runs averaged four point seven seven, so not bad."
"Jens, that's great and you know it," Annika said.
I gave her a fist bump. "Training has paid off. So what'd I miss here?"
Annika started listing family members. "Let's see . . . Lucy dropped Mimi off and things were tense between her and Jax. Nolan showed up with flavor of the week and I swear she's barely legal."
I glanced over at the pink-haired chick wearing a leopard print bodysuit, clinging to Nolan like he was catnip.
"Ash," Annika continued, "I don't know why he's not here. Walker and Trinity left right after we ate because Walker is psycho about Trinity getting enough rest. Brady and Lennox are playing lord and lady of the manor up at the cabin. And Dallas . . ." Annika exchanged a look with Axl. "She was here briefly but she bailed because she's having a rough go of it."
"Why? I saw her Friday and she seemed fine."
"She is fine when no one brings up Iron Man." Annika's gaze narrowed. "Which I assume you didn't do since you were too busy ogling cheerleader boobs and butts during team tryouts at the U of M."
Naturally Dallas had blabbed about that to my sister. "Did she tell you I was there strictly in an educational capacity?"
"She mentioned it-not that I believed her. Anyway, today as soon as she saw Axl, she started grilling him on whether he'd heard anything from Igor."