Chapter 4 - Michael
The starting quarterback had torn his rotator cuff, and that meant he was out for the rest of the season. Well, for good, actually, because he was a senior. That brought me up to bat for the next three-and-a-half seasons. I was ecstatic and Dad was hosting tailgating parties under a huge tent with catering and a full bar. It was insane. Mom was in her glory; she literally couldn't brag enough.
Academically, the pressure was on. Even though most of the professors looked at my assignments with only half an eye, a courtesy given to star athletes, I was still struggling to keep up. Dad even hired a tutor, and I won't lie; the girl did half my homework so I could get some shut-eye. In fact, there were a couple of times she did the homework naked and beneath me. Dad always had a good eye for horseflesh.
I thought of Callie often, and the guilt hit me. I knew that even though I'd left without any real promises on my end, she'd hoped for one on her side. I told myself that I'd put her on hold. If I brought her to Louisville and included her in the partying, she wouldn't fit in, and we'd have a fight, and there'd be practically no way we could make up afterwards. It would mean the end of us, so I was protecting her. At least, that's how I justified it.
Dad had invited some of my buddies for that weekend's game. They couldn't come into the locker room, so they got into town the night before and we went out partying at a few bars. I stuck to cola, but the others downed fifths like they were drinking soda. My best friend, Clayton Pierce, was especially drunk, and he started trouble, just like he always did when he'd had too much to drink. My dad said Clayton's people had some Cherokee blood in them and they couldn't handle whiskey. People said it made them mean, and Clayton sure was. I don't think it had anything to do with his heritage, though; I think it was just his nature.
We had just arrived at the third bar, where we weren't supposed to stay more than fifteen minutes, when I heard his voice behind me.
"What the fuck you lookin' at, asshole?"
I swung around and saw him nose to nose with the bar bouncer. Oh, shit. I had to get back to campus; there was a curfew.
"Clayton, c'mon, let's get out of here, huh?" I put my hand on his shoulder.
"Back off, Shannon," he warned me, and I knew there was a fight in the offing. I couldn't afford to get involved - I had a team depending on me as quarterback come morning.
"Clayton, buddy, I can't do this. I'm outta here. If you don't come, you're on your own. Don't even call me for bail, you hear? You're on your own."
I headed toward the door and looked back just before it closed to see Clayton gut-punch the bouncer. Shaking my head, I got into my car and headed back to campus, and bed. It was still before curfew and I hadn't had any liquor, so as far as the coach was concerned, I was still golden.
We shut them out in the game, and I threw for over three hundred yards. Not a bad day, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I came out of the locker room and there was Clayton, sitting on the hood of my car.
"Hey, man, you look pretty rough," I said, noting his marble-bruised eye and stringy hair.
"I spent the night in the can, you asshole, Johnny Star Quarterback. If you'd had my back, that fucker would have backed off, man. You're, like, golden, don't you know that? No one will touch me if I'm with you."
His words began to sink in and I felt a dawning. Why hadn't I noticed? Now that I thought about it, I'd been getting preferential treatment everywhere I went. He was right. No one talked shit to me. Back in Woodford County I'd always been treated that way, mostly due to my dad being who he was. But that didn't carry the same clout here in the city.
Clayton was right, though, and that's when I got mad. "So, you've got the guts to ride my coattails and start shit and then come back and accuse me to my face of fucking you over?" I felt a rage coming over me, and I knew I'd better back off and get out of there. Clayton wasn't worth a fight, and everything pointed to him trying to start one.
He slid off my car, his fists up, but I was quicker - and not hung over. It didn't take anything to outmaneuver his clumsy swing and slide into my car. A key turn later I was out of the parking lot and headed back to my dorm for a change of clothes and then dinner with the folks.
I told Dad what happened when I got to the Galt House where they were staying.
"That boy has always been bad news, son. Better cut ties before he drags you into somethin' you can't get out of." Dad was always tactical; friendships and honor be damned. I didn't always agree with him, but in this case, I thought he was right.
I nodded and drank my cola. "I know, I know. It's just that Clayton and me - we go way back, you know? He makes me feel like I'm acting too good for him, for the old crowd."
"Well, son, no matter how you want to look at it, you are too good for them. What have they done with their lives? Tell me that. Huh? Nothin'. Not a single one of them you hung with are in college or doin' anything but livin' off their daddies. Why, look at that girl you were seein'. What was her name? Sallie?"
I was instantly alert. "Callie? You mean the little blonde whose dad is a trainer at the Smithfield farm?"
"Yeah, that's her."
"What about her? What did Callie do?"
"Nothin', and that's just my point. She's not got much of a future to look forward to."
I put down my cola and shook my head. "No, you've got her all wrong. She was going to community college in Lexington, Dad. She's not a nobody. She's going to make something of herself. I know her."
"Well, we'll see. Don't know and don't care, son. Like I told you. You are better than the ones you hung with. But your mom and I figured it was good for you to be around common folk - gave you a sense of balance, and when you open your law office, they'll be comin' to you to represent them."
I listened with only half an ear. I was thinking about Callie.
Later, after my folks left, I thought about calling her. She didn't have a cell phone, so I called her dad's number.
"Hello?" His voice sounded normal over the phone.
"Mr. Tucker, this is Michael. Michael Shannon?"
There was a hesitation and then he said, "Yes, I know who you are."
"Sir, is Callie there?"
"Nope."
"I see. Is she due back soon?"
"Don't know."
I could tell he wasn't going to be handing out information. "Well, next time you talk to her, would you tell her I asked after her, sir? Tell her she can call me if she'd like."
"Good-bye now, Michael. You keep on winnin' them games." The line clicked, telling me he'd hung up. Why had I said that line about her calling me? I knew I'd promised myself not to interfere in her life. I couldn't offer her anything, not at this point. My dad would disinherit me and my career plans would go in the mud. I needed to leave Callie be for the time being, at least until I had the power to protect her.