Chapter 1
Chris
It was Thursday morning, and I was still feeling the effects of last night’s party as I climbed out of my car. My head already pounding, I slipped on a pair of sunglasses, unable to deal with the much too bright sun. I prayed the coaches wouldn’t ask me to run any drills today; I was far too dehydrated to work out.
“Good morning,” I said to the team’s front office receptionist. “I’m meeting with Coach Daniels today.”
“Certainly, Mr. Taylor,” she said, her blonde hair swishing as she swiveled in her chair to stand up. “Follow me.”
I followed the leggy blonde to the coach’s office. It was your typical football guy’s office space. There was a massive desk on one wall, papers and film were scattered atop of it in an unorganized mess. I sat on an oversized sofa that had obviously been slept in for most of the season. The scent was a mix of stale, sweaty clothing, old take out containers, and air fresheners. This made me trust the guy more. This was a coach who cared enough to live in his office.
I was hoping that I could make this city my home. The weather in Southern California was perfect, and the women were beautiful. It was a lot nicer than the home of my former team in Florida. There was too much trouble for me to get into down there. This would be a good change of pace for me.
“Chris Taylor,” a beefy man bellowed as he walked through the door.
“Coach Daniels,” I said, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you again.”
He gestured to a slim man in a suit. “This is Martin Stephens, our general manager.”
I shook the other man’s hand as well, and we settled back into the seats.
“First of all,” Martin said, “we want to welcome you to Los Angeles and to our fine organization. We’ve brought you here today, not only to see if you’re a good fit for us, but also if we’re a good fit for you. If everything goes well, we’d like to see you playing for us.”
“That sounds great,” I said.
“I’ve been watching a lot of your films,” Coach Daniels said. “I like what you’re doing in the passing game. We’ve got some great receivers on our squad, but we need someone who can get them the ball. You’ve got excellent footwork in the pocket, and smart field sense. We’re looking for a quarterback who plays with your kind of style.”
I nodded. I wanted to be on a team where my talents would shine.
“We also need to address some other factors, too,” the manager said. “Everyone here is familiar with your reputation. We’ve heard the stories about what led to you being released from your former team. Is there anything you want to clear up?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. I could hear my publicist’s voice in my head, telling me to promise that I would be on my best behavior. I didn’t want to make those promises though.
Or, I could just say that I was in no way sorry for what I did, save for the part where I got fired. As long as I got picked up somewhere, I still won. I hadn’t fit in on that team, and I’d do anything to get somewhere where I would be appreciated. When I signed a contract, it was to be the star player, the main attraction—not to play second fiddle to a run first offense.
“Well,” I started, “what happened was—”
“You don’t have to tell us what happened, son,” Coach Daniels said. “We read the papers.”
He and the general manager looked at each other and chuckled. I smiled too, like I was in on the joke.
I often forgot that as a professional football player, and a good one at that, everyone gets to know every tiny detail about your life. This applied especially to the unflattering details.
In the middle of our last season, I had been at a party, when things got a little wild. We had just lost a game, and I was pretty pissed off about it. Instead of going home and sulking, like some of the guys had, I went out and drank my problems away.
I was already in a bit of hot water with the organization, anyway. Our GM was a very uptight, conservative guy, and the coach was a hardass. That combination of personalities hadn’t meshed well with my wild lifestyle.
On the night in question, I had gotten very drunk, and went to the club with a few buddies of mine. We chatted up some ladies, and they shared a little bit of their coke with us. I wasn’t a regular drug user, or anything, but I liked to have fun.
One thing led to another, and I ended up in bed with some random chick. I was so messed up, I don’t even remember talking to her. Her friend showed up, and that’s when things got really wild. They loved me, and I loved the things they were doing to me.
The next morning, I woke up on a park bench, miles away from home, with no recollection of anything I had done that night.
Luckily—more like unluckily—for me, the events of the night were plastered all over the internet. One of the girls in the hotel room had filmed everything that happened, including me snorting a line of cocaine off of her breasts, and all of the lewd acts that had transpired between the three of us.
I still cringe at the memory of being called into the front office and having to watch myself commit unspeakable acts, while the coach and owners berated me. I wasn’t sorry that any of that had happened, I was only sorry that I got caught and my bosses weren’t cool with it.
That was the day that my friend, Wesley, became my publicist. He helped me get the video taken down, but the memory still lingered. The team wanted me to go to rehab and clean up my image. Wesley wanted to take my partying ways and make it my new persona. You can guess which option I chose.
The higher ups might not have liked it, but the media ate it right up. Paparazzi followed me around clubs trying to catch me misbehaving. Hot girls threw themselves at me in attempts to pick up a little secondhand fame. I was on my way to being football’s bad boy. I became someone that people wanted to see more of.
I went on radio shows and podcasts telling the hosts about crazy party stories, and the country couldn’t get enough of it. While parents hated me because I was a terrible role model for their young sons, young guys—guys like me—loved me. I became a legend off the field.
I chose to give the men a safe answer to their question. Wesley would be proud.
“I’m committed to changing my behavior if it gets in the way of my playing. The game comes before anything else.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Coach said. “I don’t need you to be a goody-two-shoes. The league has plenty of those guys. Hell, this team has plenty of those guys. They’re good for little kids to look up to, but we also need guys that other men aspire to be. Someone that can give their sad, boring lives some entertainment. Ever since your ‘incident’, your jersey sales have been through the roof. An organization notices things like that.”
“That being said,” the general manager added, “it’s best if you don’t do anything illegal. We can’t do much to help you if you get into big trouble, or if you do something that the general public finds morally reprehensible.”
“Of course,” I said. I wasn’t planning on robbing a bank or anything. I just liked to have some fun.
“We like your personality,” he continued. “And over the next week, we’ll see if you’re right for our team.”
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity,” I said. “A lot of players don’t find free agency to be a positive thing, but I’m looking at this as a great chance to show everyone what I can do.”
“Great,” Coach said. “I’ll introduce you to some of the guys on the team, and you guys can start to get to know each other.”
“Sounds great,” I said, shaking hands with both men.
I went down to one of the film rooms, thinking about what my potential future bosses had just told me. I didn’t have to change my image to become an absolute legend. If I could get on the right team, I could have as much fun as I wanted, and my fame would skyrocket. People would be retelling stories about me for years to come. I didn’t want to become some family man that retired at the age of twenty-eight and stayed at home with the kids. I wanted the fame and fortune this job could bring me.
“Hey, Taylor,” a voice shouted from the other side of the room. “How have you been, man?”
I went over to shake the guy’s hand. Lashawn David and I had been teammates when I was a freshman and he was a senior. This guy was an absolute terror at safety and a natural leader.
“Never been better,” I said.
He lowered his head and spoke softer. “Word on the street is that the team is in talks with you to sign on for next season. That true?”
“Yep. I’ll be here all week to work out, and if things go well, we may be teammates again.”
“That’d be good. I don’t want to speak bad about the squad, but our offense has fallen flat in recent years. We need some new blood in here to make some plays. We could really use someone like you.”
“I hope it all works out. I haven’t been widely recruited since the thing that happened last fall.”
“You’ll get past it,” he said. “I’ve seen guys bounce back from much worse. Besides, as long as your partying doesn’t get in the way of your game, some of the guys here will love it. By the way, a lot of us are going to Starlight Bar tonight around ten. Feel free to join us.”
“I will definitely do that. I was wondering what I’d do in the city all week.”
“You’ve never been here before?”
“Just for a game once, but we didn’t have much free time.”
“If you want to know where anything is, just ask one of the guys. Everyone’s pretty friendly around here.”
“Actually, there’s something I wanted to do while I was here.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Do you know where Russell Boyd lives?”
“Yeah, I’ve driven past his house before. He lives pretty close to the university. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve been wanting to meet him for years. He’s my hero.”
“So you’re just going to roll up to his house and introduce yourself?”
“Yep, pretty much.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. Good luck with that.”
We bumped fists and I walked outside and got in my car. I would certainly be going to that party tonight, but first, I was going to shake hands with an absolute legend.
Russell Boyd had been the quarterback at my alma mater and went on to be one of the best quarterbacks of the century. As a kid, I’d had posters of him on my wall. I hadn’t been alive yet when he played college ball, but my parents had always told me stories about the amazing plays he made to put my school at the top.
As a little boy, I had copied his style of play, and even today, people still make comparisons between us. He had always seemed so cool, and I wanted to be him. Where I am today, is largely because of him. He inspired me to play hard, but still have fun off the field.
I felt like being in the same city as him was fate. And who was I to ignore fate? I did a quick web search and found his address. He only lived about twenty minutes away. I drove to his house, practicing what I would say to him.
I wanted to tell him how much he had inspired me, and maybe he’d even tell me about his glory days at the university. There was so much I could learn from him. Hopefully, he would feel flattered by my visit, and not freaked out.
I pulled up outside of the gate to his mansion and pressed a button on the screen. There was a prompt to say my name, so I did. The gates opened. Man was his house big!
I rang the doorbell of his mansion and waited. I saw a figure walking toward the door through the frosted glass, but it certainly wasn’t him. I remembered reading that he had kids. I didn’t know how old they were now, but one of them was coming to answer the door.
“Hi,” the slender brunette said, almost like she was asking a question. She clearly wasn’t expecting any visitors.
“Hi, my name is Chris Taylor. I play for the Tigers. Well,” I corrected myself, “I will be playing for the Tigers. I was hoping I could talk to Russell while I was in town. Is he home?”
She looked confused. “My dad won’t be home until later tonight. Were you supposed to meet today? He can be bad about checking his schedule.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “I just thought I would pop by.”
“Oh, sorry. Maybe another time. I can tell him you stopped by.”
“That would be great. Are you his daughter?”
She stuck out her long, tan arm. “I’m Natalie. I’m a senior at USC.”
“Oh, very nice,” I said. She was gorgeous. Her long straight hair went midway down her back. Her slim legs looked amazing in her black leggings that she wore under her oversized school jacket.
“Are you a free agent?” she asked. “First year in the pros?”
“Something like that,” I said. If she didn’t recognize my name, that was probably for the best.
“What position do you play?”
“Quarterback.”
“Oh, just like my dad.”
“Are you doing anything tonight?” I asked as my subconscious took over.
“No, I don’t have anything planned.”
“What do you think about meeting me at a party? Want to meet me at the Starlight Bar around ten?”
“Yeah, that sounds cool,” she said, flashing a blindingly white smile. “I’ll see you there.”
“See you,” I said as I turned to walk back to my car.
So I hadn’t met Russell Boyd. But, I was confident that I had met the next best thing.
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