Max
“What’s your plans, Pretty Boy?” Adam leans down, lacing up his designer shoes.
I despise that nickname. It stuck after I refused to be called Golden Boy by my new teammates at Michigan. It was no secret who my dad is, Jessie James. This university still treats him like a god.
“Finishing an accounting project and hanging with Ally. You?” I zip up my duffel and relax back on the lockers.
I don’t miss the disappointment in Adam’s glance. He’s not an Ally fan, and neither is my mom for that fact. I’ve been with her since my sophomore year in high school. Young love that’s going to make it.
“Come out with me and some of the boys, man. It’ll be lax since we play tomorrow. Nothing wild. Just hanging out and playing some Xbox.” Adam rises to a standing position.
I’ll never get over his sheer mass and size. The crazy ass is over six feet tall and two hundred ninety pounds. He’s the brick wall that protects my ass on the field and has become my best friend here. Adam knows all about my past and how Jessie and Jules took me in as their own.
“And booze, women, and who knows what else,” I add.
He slaps a hand on his chest. “Me? No fucking way, man.”
“Get out of here.” I stand up and shove his chest. “You’re a shit liar.”
“Got me there.” He holds open the door for us. “But one day when you get your dick untangled from Ally, then I’ll show you real life.”
I shake my head. Adam reaches over ruffling up my hair, the only fucker who can get away with it, before he heads off to his blacked-out Escalade. Adam comes from money. It’s evident in his designer clothes that you’d never find me in. The thing about Adam is you’d never know this fact on the field. He works harder than any other player. He’s a one-of-a-kind man.
I weave in and out of rows of cars making my way to my old black work truck, a 1979 Chevy. Worked my ass off for it and damn proud of it. I’ve been saving extra cash that I don’t spend on Ally to fix it up with a new paint job.
My phone rings in my pocket. The pop song blaring lets me know it’s Ally. I stop and drop my bag, answering the call.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hey.” Her bright and affectionate voice causes a wave of love to roll over me.
Ally is her own person, not caring what others think of her. She lives with no regrets, and that’s the first thing that drew me to her.
“I’m just heading out of practice. Was going to grab us some pizza and salad for dinner then I’ll be at your dorm.”
“Um, damn, baby. I’m sorry. I was called into work. I couldn’t say no. Remember Sally, who is a single mother? Her little one has the flu.”
I run my hand through my messy, dark hair, stopping my hand on the back of my neck and wringing out the frustration.
“Ally, this is like the third time this week.”
“I know, Max. I swear I’ll come to your dorm tonight after my shift and then I’m all yours.”
It’s not the best time, but it’s out before I can stop it. “Why do you continue to work at that gym? You don’t even have to work.”
“Seriously, Max.” Agitation swells in her voice. “You of all people should understand.”
Beats of silence float between us. Adam’s recent show of his disapproval of Ally taunts me. We aren’t a perfect couple by any means, but I love her.
“Sorry, babe. I’m exhausted and just missing you.”
“Ditto.” There’s rustling on her end of the line, and a slight giggle escapes her before she focuses back on me. “I promise, baby. I’ll be there tonight.”
There’s something in her voice that sends chills up my spine. I’m too damn exhausted to acknowledge it.
“Love you, Ally.”
“Love you, too, number eleven, always and forever.”
Then the call ends. College has been hell on us. It’s nothing like high school, where we spent all our time together. Ally was always on my arm or by my side. She gave me strength, and I fed off her love. But in the real world, it seems everything is shifting swiftly.
I bend over and grab my bag, tucking my phone back into my worn jeans. The feel of them on my skin soothes me. Jessie and Jules, my mom and dad, tried time and time again to get me new ones. I refused them, loving the feel of worn clothing on my skin. It felt like home and comfort all in one.
I pause mid-step, re-thinking Adam’s invitation. There are several doubts lingering in my mind, but being the leader of my football team isn’t one. Those brothers are mine. Respect flows through us. When we are on the field, it’s about nothing but getting the job done.
I begin texting Adam, letting him know I’ll hang at his place tonight. His parents set him up with a pad that is more like a damn mansion most businessmen crave.
“Ssssshhhh, Jack, he’s going to hear you. Dad, he ruins everything. Can’t you do something?”
I glance up and look around. Jesus, walk throughs must have been a real bitch tonight. I’m beginning to hear things.
“Skew you, Sissy. I see my bubba.”
Again, I look around, and that’s when I see a blur of dark hair, chubby cheeks, and grimy fingers raised up in the air.
“Bubba!”
I step out into the main path of the parking lot, making sure no cars aim his direction, and crouch down, tossing my arms wide.
“Jack.” It’s the first sign of happiness in my voice.
He picks up speed, bolting straight toward me. My little brother is nearly six years old and is a tank.
“He ruined it, Dad. I told you he would. He ruins everything.” A voice echoes in the background.
I catch Jack in my chest and look up to see my mom, dad, and two little sisters. I’ve trained myself to never cry, but in moments like these, I let it go. These are my people, the ones who saved me.
It never fails to happen. Every single time I’m lost and wondering what the hell I’m doing, my family is there to pick me right up off my ass. They say blood is thicker than water, but I’m here to tell you that’s all shit as I gaze up at my family.
Jessie, my high school coach and idol, made me into the man I am, but it was the woman by his side who made me believe.
Some things never change, and that includes mean and cruel assholes. Freshman year of high school holds a stigma, but for me, it’s far worse than that. I’ve had garbage stuffed in my locker, shit smeared on my PE locker, and tripped five times—all today, the first day of school, and it’s only third hour.
I’ve remained solid and never react, no matter how brutal the punishment. It’s the one thing my mom has taught me over the years. I take it all, square on my shoulders. I’ve been pegged the town trash, and it seems peers and their parents have a great time ridiculing and judging me.
I think about the brand new cleats safely in my backpack. I haven’t let my pack out of my touch all day. Those cleats are my everything. Saved every penny and dime I could to buy them thanks to the grunt work at Gravy Dave’s. I ain’t about to complain since it’s the only place in town that would hire me. Hell, I’m not even good enough to shovel horseshit for local ranchers.
The football tryouts are today, and I’m damn ready to endure all the taunting abuse from the boys in my school. It won’t stop me. Football became my life years ago. It was a time where I could be me and work out my aggression in a healthy manner. One gesture of kindness solidified the fact that I’ll never give up. Papa Jones opened that door for me. He was one hell of a man, always watching out for me until the day he died.
He and his wife, Jane, would invite me over for dinner. He’d give me odd jobs, but I always refused his money. He’ll never know what he gave me was far more valuable than cold hard cash.
I manage to make it through the rest of the day with little incident. Well, in other eyes it’s more than little.
“Thank you,” I whisper to myself when I enter the locker room.
I keep my gaze glued to the floor, studying the swirling patterns in the tile. I don’t have a gym locker since Mom couldn’t afford to pay the twenty-dollar fee at registration. In fact, it was me signing up for high school being grateful it’s a public education system and the costs were all donations. Donations my ass. I was looked down on when I didn’t have the money for an activity card or fee for classes.
I managed to save up the hundred-dollar fee for sports even if it was slid across the counter in rolls of coins. Didn’t matter to me. I made it happen.
“Trash can, you really don’t know when to give up.”
A chorus of laughter ensues. I don’t look up, digging out my workout clothes from my bag. The used pair of black gym shorts causes a smile to spread across my face. Brinkley, my middle school teacher, always took care of me by sneaking used clothes in my bag and making sure I had stuff I needed. She and Papa Jones always took care of me. Two people out of this one-horse small town.
“Shit,” I hiss, reaching back, rubbing the ache from the back of my head.
I hear the roar of laughter. Some jackass took it upon himself to throttle a ball at the back of my head.
I grab the clothes then saunter to a bathroom stall, ignoring all of it, never reacting to their dick moves. I realize my mistake when I make it back out to the main area of the locker room. My bag has vanished as well as most of the players. I have no other choice than to set my worn jeans and thin as hell t-shirt on the bench. I won’t let this get me down when I’ve come this far.
I never played ball in middle school. I didn’t have a job then, so there was no way in hell I’d ever be able to pay the fees and get the minimal equipment. It didn’t stop Coach Brinkley from helping me in every way possible, even though she was a basketball coach.
“Here he comes.” I hear a whisper.
This time, it’s a mistake ignoring the taunt. I’m jumped from the back, and before I know it, I’m slammed down in a mud hole near the bleachers. A few kicks land on my sides, then my bag with all my textbooks plops down next to my face. The laughter is deafening, and it’s the first time the desire to fight back ignites inside me.
These assholes who have slammed me since Mom and I moved here will not ruin this moment in my life. Something inside of me cracks wide open, and I’m done being everybody’s punching bag. I hitch up onto my knees, my palms sliding around in the wet slop.
“Stay down, you piece of trash.” Another kick comes, and I’m done.
I fly up, my hands clenched in fists and ready to strike anyone who comes near. Before I have the chance to throw a first punch at any asshole near enough, I’m jerked back by my collar.
Jessie, the head coach, shakes me until he has my attention. He’s a god around here and has always treated me with the utmost respect. He encouraged me every year to try out for the middle school team. I’d come up with excuse after excuse. It’s well known around these parts that he was and is still in love with Papa Jones’ daughter. Heck, Jessie even tried to slip me enough money to cover my seventh-grade fees for football, but I wanted to earn the right to play.
“Answer carefully, boys,” he grits out, “because I’m only asking once. What in the hell is going on?”
My knees go weak from the deathly venom spinning off every word. Everyone goes silent. Not one coward steps up. I go to open my mouth to tell him everything is okay but then snap it shut. Because it’s not. This is my time. The years I’ve looked forward to. I’m years away from escaping my mom and living out my passion.
“Why are you so fucking quiet now?” he yells, the veins popping in his neck.
Jessie is known for his passion on and off the field. He makes no excuses for his language and temper when it comes to football.
“Someone better start talking before I really get pissed off.”
Cole, the ring leader of all the jocks, steps up and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s a junior and the star of the team. “Coach, we were teaching this punk here a lesson. Frankly, we don’t want trash like him on our field.”
“Is that right?” Jessie lets go of me and strides right through the mud until he’s up in Cole’s face.
“Yes, that’s right,” Cole replies.
“What if I don’t want a spoiled-ass rich kid on my team? You ever think about that? Your last name only gets you so far in life, Cole.” Jessie shoves his chest, standing up to him. “You want to lead this team, but you throw down a teammate in the mud, taunting him. You think that’s a good example of leading your team to another championship? I don’t fucking think so.”
Jessie steps back crossing his arms to match Cole’s stance. “Anyone else have anything to say.”
“No, sir.” A murmur washes over the air.
Cole slays his buddies with a death stare. I have no doubt they’ll pay later for their answer.
“You may live in a small town, but not one of my players will think like a small-minded idiot.” He walks back over to my side and slings an arm over my shoulders. “I’ve been watching Max since he attended his first football camp. And you’d do best to pick up on some of his work ethic, because he has the natural talent to place all your asses on the bench.”
Cole shakes his head and turns his back.
Jessie roars one more time. “Laps the entire time. You stop and I add another hour. You slow your asses down just a tick and I’ll add two hours. When you puke, I hope you think twice before pulling a stunt like this again. Fucking run!”
The players drop their helmets and pads and race to the track circling the football field. A foreign feeling creeps through me. I have no clue how to react to this sensation. Someone stuck up for me.
I wipe the mud from my face and turn to the track to join the team.
“Son,” Jessie places a palm on my shoulder, “don’t you ever let anyone treat you like that again. You fight back with all you have until you shut them up.”
“Yes, sir.” I extend my hand. “Thank you.”
He nods. I continue to the track.
“What are you doing?”
I turn back and look Jessie in the eyes. “Joining my team.”
“Did you hear me?” Little Jack slaps my cheeks. I’m taken back to that moment in the gas station when Papa Jack saved me even though he had no idea.
I shake my head, still shocked as hell. Mom and Dad told me Whit had a regional dance recital this weekend and that they’d be listening to the game on the radio.
I could see it now. Dad making sure Whit had all her glitter and shit while Mom chased Jack around while nursing Emma. It would be a shit show, but the best time ever. Dad would have an ear piece with the game in his ear randomly shouting out about the shit plays and calls.
“No, Junior, I didn’t. What’s that?” I stand up and bring Jack to my chest.
“We’s surprised you and now gonna eat pizza. Lots and lots of it and Momma said we get ice cream, too, cause you playing on the big thingy.”
Jules steps up with baby Emma clutched to her chest and runs a hand down Jack’s back. “The big screen, little guy.”
“Screw football,” Whit mumbles, kicking the toe of her Con on the pavement.
“Language,” Mom scolds her.
“It’s football season.” She shrugs her shoulders. The venom of her pre-teen attitude is in full force.
I set Jack at Mom’s feet and head to Whit. At one point in time, she was the center of attention and in her own right still is. This girl will never be in the shadows. She’s struggling with the tug of war of puberty where she’s no longer a baby girl but not yet an adult.
“Hey, Squirt.” I ruffle her slicked-back ponytail. I dodge her arm before she has the chance to connect to my sides. “Oh, don’t you smile.”
“Knock it off, Max!” She swings harder and faster.
I’ve got size and power on her. She has no hope. The harder she fights against me, the more her smile appears on her face. I take advantage of her stance, grabbing her and slinging her over my shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“Who’s the champion? That’s right, I am,” I taunt, dancing around in the parking lot.
“Put me down, Max. I swear I’m going to destroy you.”
“Oh yeah.” I lean forward, giving her hope of being set down, then jerk back up. “Gonna get me in one of those dance ninja moves?”
“You’re a jerk,” she manages to get out between giggles.
I jerk and weave around the parking lot before putting her back down. Before she’s able to dart away from me, I whisper in her ear.
“Love you, little girl, sass and all.”
“Love you too, Max.”
She then promptly steps back, still feigning anger towards Jack. The battle is real between these two. They’ll be wrestling and beating the crap out of each other before long.
“Max.” Jules is next with one arm held open.
“Mom.” I grab her and pull her towards me, being careful of my youngest sister, Emma.
I never thought I’d be able to use the term “Mom” again until Jules and her undying love.
“You look too skinny. Have you been eating? I swear, Max, if you don’t drink protein shakes and warm up meals in your dorm, I’m gonna swat your ass.”
I close my eyes and let true love sweep in. It’s the only thing that has ever warmed me from head to toe. These are my people, and I’ll never let go.
“Jesus, Jules, he’s a grown man.” Dad pushes her away and gives me his sort of one-armed hug.
“Yeah, Wesus, he’s a full man,” Jack chirps.
Mom shakes her head, and we all erupt in laughter. Even Whit finds herself laughing.
“How did this happen? Whit has competition.” Jack tugs at my jeans, so I pick him back up. The boy is nowhere near being a toddler, but it doesn’t stop him. Any athlete wouldn’t need a workout with this chub around.
“Surprise.” Whit waves her hands in the air, pointing to the truck.
That’s when I see all the decorations covering my old work truck. My high school number, twenty-four, is plastered all over it with a gaudy mix of my high school and college colors. This has Mom written all over it.
Dad wraps an arm around my shoulder, ushering our family toward my truck. “Knew you were getting homesick and thought we’d bring a little bit of home to you.”
I shake my head, not knowing what else to do. It’s my second year of college. I should be thriving and not wanting more or missing my family. I came a long damn way and want more than what I have. It’s a selfish jerk move. I love football, live for the game and the high I get from it, but I want to make a difference. These thoughts rattle around in my head on repeat, making me second guess everything.
“Son, just breathe. It’s gonna be okay.” Dad squeezes me tighter to his side.
He’s the only person who knows all my demons and thoughts. You’d think telling the God of football I want more would be grounds for disowning me. Not with Jessie. He loves with all his heart and makes no regrets about it.
“Where’s Ally?” Whit spins and twirls in front of us.
“She has to work an extra shift tonight,” I answer her.
“What!” Mom halts her step, her voice echoing around the parking lot. “Are you fricking kidding me?”
And here we go. Mom has never cared for Ally. I always found it odd since Jules is one of the most accepting and caring people I’ve ever known.
“Really, Mom?” Whit plops her hands on her hips. “You can say fricking, but when I do, you act like I’ve just dropped the F-bomb in church.”
She ignores Whit and opens her mouth to give me the same damn speech I’ve heard over and over. Dad steps in, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing the hell out of her with their new baby safely in their arms.
“Dis-gust-ing,” Whit sings out.
Jack follows her lead because that’s what he does.
“Come on, you little shits.” I usher them into my truck.
Once they’re buckled in, I roll down the window, twisting the old school handle, and lean out.
“Pizza on Fifth Avenue.” Dad nods.
“Got it,” I reply.
They turn, and Dad takes advantage of Mom, squeezing her ass and never letting go.
“They are so damn gross,” Whit announces, knowing I let the little cuss words slip by.
I shake my head, feeling at home even though I’m hundreds of miles away. “It’s love, Whit, and you’re surrounded by it. Cherish that shit.”
“Gherish that shit,” Jack chirps beside me with a mile-wide smile on his face, his tiny white teeth shining brightly.