Football might be a game on TV, but it was a serious, multi-billion dollar business in the real world, and none of these teams had any time to waste on players who wouldn’t perform or wouldn’t keep themselves out of trouble.
Drake Rollins. Holy shit, I was going to spend the next few months practically glued to Drake Rollins. Just thinking about him made me hot with lust, and I looked around the office to make sure no one was staring at me, finally satisfied after a few seconds that everyone else was more busy with their work than watching me fan myself back to a normal temperature.
He was such a jerk, but that didn’t stop me one bit from wanting him on a level I had never experienced before. And now I was going to be following him around the Patriots practice facility as long as he was on the team.
How would I stay sane? How would I handle that acidic wit of his while wanting to tear both of our clothes off?
This was quite the dilemma. What was I going to do?
I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t march back into Bill’s office and refuse the assignment. If I even tried to do that he would fire me on the spot, and for good reason. Worse, it would just confirm Bill’s suspicion about me, and possibly about women in sports journalism in general.
No, I had to stick this out. I had to make it work. And not just that, I had to make sure that Drake stayed on the team long enough that I could show off my journalistic chops and prove to Bill that I had what it took to make it in this business.
It was the only way I could salvage my fledgling career before it careened into a ditch. So I had to make this thing with Drake work. But could I? Would he listen to me?
Would I be even be able to come up with the right words around him? I barely was able to tutor him back at Cal, I’d get so flustered. He knew it too; of course he knew it. Drake Rollins was one of the most popular guys on campus - he could have any girl he wanted and he frequently did.
“Lily, I heard you’re shipping out?” I whipped my head around at the sound of Steve’s voice. Steve stood next to my desk, looking down at me.
“He-hey Steve, yes I’m gonna be staying with the Patriots for al little while.” How did he know about that so fast? I mean, this was a newspaper and all, but I didn’t expect information to travel THAT quickly. I’d just gotten out of Bill’s office like 5 minutes ago!
“Sweet gig, congrats.” I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not.
“Thanks.”
Steve didn’t move. “You at all worried?”
“Worried? Why should I be worried?”
“This guy, Rollins? He’s a nutcase! You must have seen all the stories about him, he makes rock stars look like choir boys.”
“I know all about him.”
“Oh yeah, you two were at Cal together. I bet he did some legendary things around there. Got any stories?”
I looked down at my desk, starting to gather things together. “None that come to mind at the moment.”
“Gotcha.” Steve’s tone changed. “Listen, be careful out there, yeah? Drake Rollins is going nowhere fast, but don’t let him drag you down with him, OK?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m just saying, don’t let yourself get too involved, and don’t let whatever dirt he throws up around him get on you. Careers with bigger track records than yours have been lost for less than that.”
“Uh, thanks for the advice.” I guess Steve was being sincere after all - this certainly seemed like it.
“Don’t mention it, we’re all expecting to see you back here soon. In fact there’s talk of setting up a betting pool.”
“For what?”
“For how long it takes Drake Rollins to crash and burn, get tossed off the Patriots and out of the league. Basically for how long till you get back.”
I don’t know what made me do it, but I stood up and looked Steve square the eye. “Don’t bet too short, then. Drake’s gonna make that team.”
Steve laughed in my face. “There’s no chance. Come on, Lily, can’t you see what this is? It’s a PR stunt. Armstrong would never go along with this unless it was just a side show. There’s zero chance Rollins has any shot of making that team. They just want to get some PR buzz.”
“Have you seen Drake play? He can catch anything that’s thrown even remotely in his direction.”
“That may be the case, but it looks to me like he’s more interested in doing things that would get normal people arrested.”
Steve had a point there. There was no telling what was going on in Drake’s head. I had no idea whether he was ready for the rigors of playing pro football.
I started gathering my things and putting them a bag. Luckily I hadn’t brought too much stuff to the office already. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that the guy is good enough that he gets one more chance.”