This is Colt’s second year in the pros, Tyus’ third, and they’ve both been with the Kodiak’s program since the start of their careers. Tyus has always been a favorite with the fans with his incredible speed and cocky attitude. Colt is a different story. He was an unknown last year, and it wasn’t until this pre-season with Duncan Walker out of the picture that he really got a chance to show the league what he could do, both on and off the field.
Right now our waitress is leaning over the back of the couch laughing with her hand over her mouth, all sexy show and husky voice forgotten as Colt cracks her up, drawing her out. Making her feel comfortable. Vulnerable. That’s when he’ll strike. It’s not an ugly thing, the way the guy works. It’s pretty ingenious in its simplicity, actually. In its honesty. He’s fun, that’s the core of it. He makes people feel like having fun just being around him. And what could be more fun than spending a night with the prettiest face in the NFL?
“It’s messed up, right?” Tyus asks me. He sits back in his seat, gesturing to the girl still laughing with Colt. “He’s not even trying.”
“I’d hate to see him when he does.”
“It’s a bloodbath. You might as well go home because he’s shutting the place down when it happens.”
“And you still hang out with him?”
Tyus grins, a rare show of emotion for him. “Dude’s funny.”
“Who’s funny?” Colt asks, smiling as he watches the waitress walk away.
“Adam Sandler.”
Colt snorts. “Yeah, maybe twenty years ago. Now he’s old and making movies about being old. It’s sad.”
“Someday you’ll be that sad.”
“I hope I’m dead first.” Colt sits forward, pulling his phone from his pocket. He frowns, swiping through a stream of pictures.
“Are you on Tinder?” I ask.
He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m on TMZ.”
“That gossip site?”
“Yeah. I’m into it.”
“He Googles himself too,” Tyus tells me. His eyes drift down onto the dance floor, honing in on a group of girls with long hair and short skirts. “He loves that shit.”
“I’m not looking for myself,” Colt tells him, not offended by the accusation. “It sent me an alert that an article mentioned the Bucs.”
“Why do you care what the Buccaneers are doing?”
“I keep up on what all of the other teams are doing. I like to see if any of them get into some loud shit.”
“Anything good?” I ask him, barely listening. Tyus is doing the same; tapping out.
“Nah. It’s not about the team. It’s one of their coaches. He went out the night of the game. Some little dive with some little piece.”
“Who gives a shit what he does?”
Colt chuckles, turning his phone toward me. “You should. That’s your girl, right?”
I squint at the screen. It’s hard to see it clearly with the flashing lights, but the bright blond hair and haunting curves of Sloane Ashford are hard to miss. I feel my heart stumble when I see her on the guy’s arm. Same guy who was chatting her up at my Pro Day.
“She’s not my girl,” I grumble, looking away with a frown. “She’s my agent.”
“Dude, that’s what I mean. What’d you think I meant?”
I ignore his question. “How’d they end up on TMZ? They’re not celebrities.”
Colt pulls his phone back around to scroll through the story. “He’s divorcing his wife. She’s an actress. She’s a big deal on the show The Hilltop, the one about the woman trying to save her family’s old Victorian house in a small town. She turns it into a B&B, meets all kinds of crazy people.”
“Never heard of it,” Tyus says absently.
“It sounds horrible,” I add.
Colt pockets his phone, sitting back in his seat. “It’s good.”
“You watch it?”
“My mom watches it, so yeah, I watch it.”
“He does everything his mommy tells him to,” Tyus chuckles.
Colt shrugs. “She’s smart. I listen to her. Besides, it gives me something to talk about with women. Can’t talk about football forever.”
“You don’t listen to your mom, Tyus?” I prod him.
“Nah. She’s dead.”
I look quickly to Colt. He grimaces sympathetically.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” I apologize, feeling like an asshole.
“I was a kid. It’s nothing to be sorry about. My sister raised me. She’s cool. And yeah, I listen to her.”
I have no fucking clue what to say after that. Cossette comes back with our drinks. She hands me mine, carefully overlapping her fingers with mine when she passes the sweaty, chilled glass to me. She smiles in the dim light, her teeth brilliantly white and straight. Tyus takes his drink with a polite nod. Colt gives her a warm grin and a hand on her arm as she hands him his glass filled with glowing amber liquid. I watch her unconsciously lean toward him as he does, as though she thinks about sitting down next to him. At the last second she remembers herself, straightening to cast each of us an accommodating smile.
Tyus lifts his glass to me. “Hundred bucks he fucks her in the bathroom.”
I look Colt over, contemplating. Finally I raise my glass. “Coat closet. He’s classier than the bathroom.”
“Am I, though?” Colt asks skeptically.
Tyus clinks his glass against mine. “You got a bet, baby.”
“You guys make me feel dirty.”
I laugh. “You know what’s dirty? Club bathrooms. Remember that.”