Chapter Four

Tony rushed into the empty locker room struggling to catch his breath. He was planning to set a new world record for changing into his uniform—he’d done it before in under five minutes—but that time, he hadn’t just run across campus and through the sports complex to get here. He yanked open his locker and began to lay out his uniform in the proper order when a voice called out to him.

“Don’t bother.”

His head jerked in the direction of the voice. It belonged to Ben Ryan, one of the team’s offensive coordinators. He was stocky and balding and pushing forty, and Tony guessed he was here to do Coach Fairchild’s dirty work.

“Five minutes.” Tony held up his hand with his fingers spread out. “Not even.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head.

“You’re benched, Ramos.”

Tony did a double take. “What do you mean benched?”

The coach smirked. “Don’t be cute, Ramos. You know what benched means. You’ve been there before, only this time you’re not suspended. You’re just relegated to backup.”

“Backup?” Tony dropped his T-shirt on the floor and slammed his locker closed. “You can’t do that to me!” he shouted.

“Sure I can.” Ryan folded his arms across his chest. “Coach warned if you were late just one more time, you’d get bumped to second string. You heard him say it yourself.”

Standing there shirtless, Tony looked from left to right to left, trying to formulate a response. “Yeah, but I have a good reason for being late today.”

“Yeah right,” Ryan scoffed. “You always do, don’t you?”

“No, I swear, Coach Ryan,” he argued, taking a step toward the coach. “I was helping someone. You gotta believe me.”

“Lemme guess. Some girl.”

“Okay yeah, but it wasn’t like that,” Tony insisted. “This waitress. She dropped a tray and I helped her clean it up.”

Waving at the air, the coach was dismissive. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you say happened. Result’s the same.”

“Wait, hang on. I had witnesses,” Tony remembered. “Larry, Murph, Jared—”

“Save it, Ramos. Larry already told us, but unfortunately for you, there was a ‘no excuse’ clause. It was your responsibility to get to practice on time. Period. The end!”

Tony held his arms out. “I … I … I’ll explain it to the coach myself, so he hears my side of the story.”

“Aah, don’t waste your breath, Ramos. What I’m telling you right now is a message direct from Coach.”

“But he’s always been fair with me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan replied with a sarcastic lilt. He leaned against a locker, appearing overly relaxed in contrast to Tony’s growing anxiety. “Too fair, if you ask me. He gave you more chances than I would’ve,” he added, pointing his thumb at his own chest. “I knew it was just a matter of time before you’d screw yourself.”

Tony felt his anger rising. Ryan was obviously taking far too much pleasure in delivering this message to Tony. Seemed like he’d rehearsed this speech, just waiting for the opportunity to recite it. Tony worked to keep from losing his cool. He was in enough trouble, and pummeling Ryan wouldn’t help his case. Still, he wasn’t going down without a fight. “If you bump me off, it’s the Barracudas who’ll get screwed. Warner’s not nearly as good as me,” Tony said of his backup quarterback.

“He’s got the whole summer to practice.”

Tony felt his knees buckle as the seriousness of his predicament sank in. He dropped onto the metal bench.

“So here’s the deal. One.” Ryan held up a finger. “You’ll still be practicing with the team in case something happens to Warner, but you’ll be working with the rookies and red shirts. Two, your privileges are cut off until further notice. Three, no practice for you today. Go home and contemplate your future, cuz it ain’t pretty.” Ryan let out a wry laugh before he turned and walked out of the locker room. Tony heard the echoed words “Screw up” bounce off the tiled walls as the coach exited.

Tony put on his T-shirt and headed out of the sports complex. His head was down and he was walking fast. He could barely see straight. All he saw was red. He was so furious he wanted to punch someone. Or something. It was one thing to be punished when he blatantly did something wrong, but another thing entirely when he didn’t. Even when he was trying to be a good guy, it got thrown back in his face. As usual, if it weren’t for bad luck, he’d have no luck at all.

He should be used to trouble by now. Tony had been a latchkey kid. His grandmother practically worked around the clock to provide for him. She held a day job as a bookkeeper, and at night, she worked for a maintenance contractor, cleaning offices and emptying the trash after hours. Tony used much of his authority-free time to get in trouble. He got fired from his first job at thirteen—a paper route—because he couldn’t drag himself out of bed so early after partying and getting high the night before.

Not surprisingly, he’d been a pretty poor student who earned a reputation as a troublemaker. He and his friends used to strong-arm other kids out of their lunch money and bus passes. His tall, lean, muscular frame gave him the ability to overpower most anyone his age, and his heavy eyelids gave him that threatening, gangster look. In short, he scared people.

Playing football in high school was the first thing that gave him a sense of purpose. He got really good at the game and found himself with scholarship offers from several universities, despite his mediocre grades. Not wanting to move too far from his grandmother, who’d sacrificed a lot for him, he chose a college in Orlando with a decent athletics program. He thought he had it made, but he was clearly wrong. He was this close to blowing his ride.

As he headed toward his car, the young waitress’s face flashed through his mind and he remembered he wasn’t the only one who had a lousy day. That girl at Old Smoky’s was going to get fired, thanks to him. Well, if he couldn’t get his own job back today, maybe he could at least get hers back.

»»•««

When Tony entered the restaurant, the girl at the hostess station asked if he wanted a table for one, but he waved her off. He circled the dining room looking for the pretty blonde waitress, but he didn’t see her. So he went up to the order window behind the counter. “Excuse me,” he said, but no one acknowledged him.

Another waitress walked around him and smiled, so Tony smiled back. His charm may not work on his coaching staff, but it usually worked on the ladies. He glanced at her nameplate. “Excuse me, Jen. Is the manager here?” Tony brought his flattened hand to chin level. “About six feet tall and heavy-set. I think his name is Bob.”

“I’ll find him for you,” Jen said. Turning toward the order window, she craned her neck to look inside, and called out, “Hey Bob, you here?” She glanced at one of the cooks behind the kitchen window. “Is Bob back there?”

Within a moment, Bob came through the swinging door leading from the kitchen into the restaurant’s dining room. “Someone call me?”

Tony nodded at the waitress, then turned toward Bob. He could tell the man recognized him. “Hi Bob, I’m Tony.” He extended his hand.

“I know who you are,” Bob gushed with adulation. “Tony Ramos, quarterback for the Barracudas, right?”

Tony nodded but stayed on topic. “I was looking for that girl. The waitress. I think her name is Allison, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she don’t work here anymore.”

Tony’s lips parted. That was exactly what he feared. “You fired her?”

“She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Bob said with a disinterested wave.

“Look, that dropped tray? Totally my fault.” He pressed his hand against his chest. “I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he lied.

“Nice try, kid, but it wasn’t her first drop and it wouldn’t of been her last.”

Sighing, Tony asked, “Isn’t there anything I could say that would change your mind?”

“Don’t think so. Unless—”

“Unless?” Tony waited for an answer.

Bob rested his elbow on the counter. “I’m usually working on Saturdays but man, would I love to take my boys to Opening Day. ’Cept ticket prices are a little steep these days.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” A pit settled in Tony’s stomach. He knew where this conversation was headed.

“You guys get ’em free, right?”

“Um. We get a few for family.” Except when our privileges are cut off.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you giving away your family’s tickets.” Bob’s tone oozed with insincerity. “It’s really ashamed ’bout Allison though. In this economy, waitressing jobs are hard to find anywhere near campus.”

“So, uh two tickets,” Tony muttered quietly.

“I got three boys, so I’m gonna need four. It’d be awesome if they were on the fifty-yard line.”

Tony’s stomach twisted. The price of the tickets would be coming out of his own pocket, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t live with the guilt over Allison losing both her job and a cheerleader spot because of his actions. This was the least he could do. He’d figure out how to pay for the tickets later. “Sure. Just tell me your last name and I’ll make sure the tickets are waiting for you.”

“Redding. Bob Redding.”

“And the waitress. Can you guarantee she gets her job back?”

Stroking his chin, Bob mused, “Hmm. You know, we’re short-staffed here anyway, so even a second-rate waitress is better than none. I’ll call and tell her I was just in a bad mood. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said with a laugh. “So, four tickets.” He held out his hand to shake Tony’s.

Tony reluctantly shook Bob’s hand. “Four tickets.”

“Pleasure meeting you, Tony!”