“Gabrielle? Hello? Are you there?” He sounded like he had lifted the phone from his ear to look at it. Like he would be able to see if I was there or not.
“Hey, Dad. I’m here. I’m just surprised to hear from. That’s all.”
He didn’t skip so much as a beat. “I got your message that you wanted to talk. I’ll be available on Wednesday morning at 8. I’ll see you then?” It was more of a demand than a request.
“Gee, thanks, Dad.” He missed the sarcasm in my tone. “Whatever, I’ll be there. See you Wednesday.”
Despite being my father’s only biological child, I had to schedule appointments with him just like anyone else. All while his 53 or so players had unfettered access to him.
I guess that was just the way it was when your father owned the Miami fucking Dolphins.
Chapter Three
James
My hangover had become a distant memory as I hit the punching bag in the team’s gym. A fine layer of sweat covered my body.
The door banged open, and Coach Jim came striding through it, ending whatever call he was on when he spotted me.
“In case no one told you, James, the season’s over. You can take a couple of days off.” He grinned, but his face was red like he’d been fighting with someone on the phone.
My breath came in quick gasps. I hunched over and clutched my knees, waiting to catch my breath. I guess I’d been hitting it harder than I’d realized. “Yeah, I know. Getting a jump on next season, I guess.”
Jim’s raked his eyes over me, his concern clear. “You okay, son? I would’ve thought you’d be taking a few days to spend some time with Harper?”
“I’m fine, Jim. And I will, this afternoon. I don’t want to disrupt her routine just because mine changed.” I’d had enough people warning me about routine and all that shit that I didn’t need to test it for myself.
“I can respect that. Even so, you should take some time for yourself. Relax.” Jim surveyed me, again, probably trying to assess if I’d caused any damage to my body.
“That’s what I’m doing. Relaxing. Getting a jump on next season at the same time.” There was an edgy undertone to my voice that I couldn’t quite hide.
“Therein lies the problem, my boy. You need to unwind. Maybe take Harper somewhere nice and just relax with her for a week or so. I’m sure she would enjoy it.”
Was that the problem? Because the problem, at least the way I saw it, was that I was the only one in there focusing on next season. The guys who should have been here busting their asses were off somewhere licking their wounds. He may have had a point about Harper, though.
“Yeah, maybe I will. That’s not a bad idea, actually. I just can’t get that last game out of my head.” My fists clenched in frustration. That game ran on a loop in my head. It had been, ever since the final whistle blew and I had to accept that I wouldn’t have a shot at a ring, again.
“It was pretty bad.” He shook his head.
It was way fucking worse than “pretty bad.” And he knew it. “Pretty bad? We were shit, Jimbo. There are high school teams out there who could beat us.”
The coach mulled over my words. I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “That may be a slight overexaggeration, but I get the point you’re trying to make. What does that mean for you, though?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure about my future here anymore. I want to stay, but if I do, they’re going to have to make it worth my while.” I hopped on the balls of feet, anticipation coursing through my veins. They were already paying me well. I was pushing my luck.
Jim didn’t even flinch. “You mean you want more money?”
“For starters. I have to provide for Harper now, too.” It felt good to get the admission off my chest.
“I get it, James. Trust me. Just know that I would hate to see you go. You’re a great player, son, but you’re a better leader. The team needs you. Hell, I need you. Why don’t you talk all this over with Richard?” His voice rang with sincerity. Maybe I wasn’t pushing my luck, after all. Besides, he was right about one thing: they did need me.
Everyone knew the Dolphins had to get into the business of keeping their players. We needed to build a team around our strengths rather than one that had to rebuild every season. To do that, Ralls had to identify players we couldn’t lose and hang on to them with both hands. I was one of those players.
If I’d been having any doubts about it, my mind was made up after talking to the coach. He was great like that. “I will, Jim. Thanks. I’ll let you know what he says.”
“You do that, son. I’d hate to lose you. Take it easy with that thing.” He gestured to the punching bag and disappeared into his office, leaving me to my workout.
****