It was bad enough that Taylor was annoyed with me. I didn’t need some mafia asshole to show up without announcing himself first on top of that.

“How did you get in here?” I asked him.

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” he asked as he sat down on a stool. “We can reach you anywhere, anytime.”

“What do you want? I have enough problems right now.”

“I know you do. Your team is about to lose.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Patriots scored on their next drive. Really, they scored on their first play.”

“Fuck,” I said. “What happened?”

“Blown coverage in the secondary. Brady threw a bomb.”

“That goofy bastard. He has bad hair.”

Tony laughed. “Yes, he does. And a hot wife. But that doesn’t help your situation, now does it?”

“I’ll get your money.”

“You know, Owen, I like you. We’ve known each other for a long time now.”

“We have.”

“We’ve done a lot of good for you.”

“Not really. Not without getting an ounce of flesh.”

“We’re a business. We can’t just do things for free, can we?”

“Maybe not, but you come after me. I don’t want anything to do with you people.”

He smiled and shrugged. “That’s a good point.”

“And yet here you are, still pushing.”

“Let me explain something to you, Owen. We make our living by making people do things they don’t really want to do.”

“I know.”

“So why should it be different with you?”

“I paid you. We have no connection anymore.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Tell me what you want and then get out of here before the team comes back.”

He sighed and looked around. “Where did that girl go?”

“I don’t know. She left.”

“What was her name?”

“Don’t worry about her.”

“I’m not worried. She was pretty.”

“Don’t talk about her.” I wanted to get up and beat the fucking shit out of this bastard cunt. I would have, too, if it weren’t for my fucking knee.

Tony was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t a man to fuck around with.

Still, hearing him talk about Taylor set my fucking nerves on fire. Nobody talked about her, especially not some mafia cunt who was shaking me down. It was bad enough that he wanted to get my money from me, but he couldn’t fuck with her, too. I wasn’t going to allow it.

“No need to get upset,” Tony said, smiling at me. “I can see it on your face. You must like her.”

“She’s my trainer. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. I saw how you two looked at each other. I heard a little of your conversation. She’s much more than just a trainer.”

“You piece of shit.”

He held his hands up. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I’m not supposed to assume you’re threatening her?”

He dropped his hands. “Oh, then you do have the right idea.”

“Fucking bastard.” I shifted my weight, but my knee hurt too much. “Is that all you’re here for?”

“More or less. I just want you to see that I can reach you anywhere. I see things and I hear things. I know more than you realize.”

“Great. Now fuck off.”

He sighed. “One day you’ll appreciate me, Owen. One day you’ll need something. Maybe you’ll kill a hooker by mistake, or you’ll get caught with drugs, or drunk driving. One day you’ll need our help and we’ll be there for you.”

“I won’t need you.”

“You will. All you NFL kids are the same.”

“Good. I’m glad you think so. I’ll be very happy when I prove your ass wrong.”

Tony stood up. “We’ll see about that.” He looked at his watch. “The game should be over by now, and you probably owe me five thousand dollars.” He looked back at me. “How does one week sound?”

“I can’t get you that money in a week.”

“Why not? I know how much money you make. It’s a fucking ton.”

“I put all of my money into old debt. I don’t have any cash lying around.”

“You’ll make something work, I’m sure.”

“Tony, I need at least two weeks until my next check.”

“One week.” He walked over to the door. “Bye, Owen.”

Just then, I heard the low murmur of the guys coming back down the hall from the field. They sounded dejected and quiet, and I knew what that meant.

Tony was right. We had lost the game.

When I looked back toward him, he was gone. Guys slowly filtered into the training room, looking annoyed.

That motherfucking bastard Tony. He came here just to threaten me and give me an absurd deadline. I didn’t know what his game was, but I wasn’t going to give in to him. I was going to find a way out and be done with the fucking mafia.

To make shit worse, I had nearly wrecked my knee for nothing. We didn’t even win the game. Sure, it was an important play and a good touchdown, but it didn’t really matter in the long run. If I had sat out a few plays and rested up, we’d still be just as well off.

I hated to admit it, but Taylor was right. I should have thought more long-term. I needed to start thinking in terms of a career, not in terms of each individual game.

I shook my head, tensed my knee, and hoped that the MRI would come back negative.