Safety Net (41 page)

“Same league as Portland,” Dale
said. “Hm.”

“Yeah. Hm.” Erick stretched his
arms across the bed like he was making snow angels. “It’s been a very weird
year. I knew I’d be the new guy, have to prove myself, and I figured there’d be
some negativity because of the number one pick and the Heisman finalist hoopla,
y’know. I had half the sports blogs saying I’d be a bust. But I didn’t
expect... It’s not that they ignore me, exactly. When they ask me to do
something, they watch my every move, count every breath.”

“But they only asked twice. But,
bro. That New Orleans game. No one could’ve won that.”

Erick’s lips twisted. “Not with how
our defense played, no.” He cringed. “I didn’t just say that.”

“I didn’t hear a word,” Dale
murmured. “Shit. Poor Erick.”

“Poor me,” sighed Erick with exaggerated
self-mockery.

Dale arched an eyebrow. “No wonder
you’re desperate for sex. You definitely gotta get laid more.”

“I’m doing the best I can. Speaking
of which, you gonna stay over tonight?” He grinned and Dale threw a bolster at
him.

“Yeah, I’ll stay. Long as you keep
your hands and other things to yourself.”

Erick rolled onto his side and said
with a coy smile, “Do you have Craig’s phone number?”

Dale squinted at him. “You used to
be such a nice boy.”

“It’s all Lowell’s fault,” Erick
said solemnly.

“Of course it is.”

When they were comfortable in bed
together, Dale said, “I think it’ll get better. You just got there. You’re
still getting to know everyone. It’ll be fine. As long as they don’t fucking
trade you. And even if they do? Maybe that’ll be better than waiting around for
the Benjamin drama to end.”

“Yeah.” Erick added in a murmur, “And
I’ll try to get laid more.”

Dale elbowed his stomach but said
seriously, “That’s all well and good, but you have to be discreet.”
Or
straight
, he thought, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe marrying Candace was
the best option after all. He said quietly, “Shit. That must be why Lowell--”

“Yeah.” Erick rolled onto his side,
facing Dale. “Lowell’s gotta be lonely out there, too. I just hope... I hope it’s
the right one. I hope he truly loves her.”

Dale didn’t say anything. Erick
traced circles on the mattress and smiled softly. “We tried sexting a few times.”
He giggled. “We were so bad at it. There was like, no sex in the sexting, ‘cause
it looked ridiculous when we tried typing stuff out.”

“Erick,” Dale groaned. “Inappropriate
conversation, dude.”

“Who else can I tell?” Erick asked
reasonably.

Dale watched Erick’s fingertips
circling on the mattress. “Erick...”

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Lowell, well. It is
what it is between you two lunatics. I get that. But, um... It just occurred to
me.” Dale hesitated.

Erick glanced at him. “What?”

“If you’re, uh, missing being with
another guy,” Dale said slowly, “I might, um. I mean, you could trust me. I don’t
mean me,” he added hurriedly. “Let’s not revisit that idea, okay? I meant, um,
probably there’s guys I know...and I’d know if they could be discreet.”

“Oh.” Erick paused. “You know that
sounds kind of bad, right? A bit on the procurement side?”

Dale winced. “Yes. I put it badly.
I was thinking about what you said about Craig.”

“I was joking.”

“That’s a relief,” Dale murmured. “Craig
would be hitting too close to home. Again.”

“Oh. But I get your meaning. I...have
to think about it.” He paused and said very quietly, “I do miss it. Sometimes I
want it so bad. But it’s Lowell, it’s not just the sex.” He sighed. “But
seriously? I’ve thought about doing it with someone else ‘cause maybe that
would help. Maybe I wouldn’t miss him so much.”

Dale thought about Craig and Andy. “In
my experience? It helps a little. Not a lot.”

“That’s what I figured,” Erick
said. “I’ll think about it,” he said again, shifting closer to slide his arm
around Dale. “Though it’d be easier if it were you. I trust you and you know
about all my problems already. And you’re not bad-looking.”

“‘Not bad-looking.’ Wow. What a
sweet talker.” Dale smiled, relaxing. “Forget it.”

“If it makes any difference,” Erick
purred, “I’m apparently very good at it.”

Dale patted his arm. “Good for you.
The answer is still no.”

He closed his eyes, enjoying the
comfort of Erick loosely holding him. As he was drifting into sleep, Erick
said, “Dale?”

“Mm?”

“Remember to send your therapist’s
bills to me.”

-----

Erick spent a week with Candace,
and between Dale and Candace he felt balanced again. He felt strong and
confident, no matter what the team decided. He stopped off at his parents’
place in Virginia for a few days on the way back to New Haven. Trisha and the
twins were there, so Erick spent most of the time hiding in the TV room with his
father, watching old games on the NFL Classic channel. Erick went for a walk
and called Lowell, didn’t get as much information about Marie as he wanted, and
ended up inviting them out to Connecticut.

When he got back to New Haven, he
had a message to stop by Media Relations and Outreach. When he checked in, the
guy in charge of community events asked if he could spare a couple of weeks for
a quarterback camp for local K-12 kids.

“It’s for charity,” the guy said. “And
great PR for the organization.”

“Doesn’t Shane Benjamin usually do
the camp?”

“He has done it in the past, yes,” the
guy said with a fixed smile that had Media Relations written all over it.

“Did he decide not to do it this
year?” Erick asked.

“He declined this year.”

“Why?”

The guy’s smile was gone, replaced
by a cold stare. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask his personal manager. If you
don’t want to do it, don’t want to give a few days to charity...”

Erick didn’t have any patience for
guilt-trips from a Media Relations flunky. He said coolly, “Of course I’ll do
it. I just don’t want to step on Shane Benjamin’s foot to accept it.”

“Oh, good,” the guy said brightly,
completely ignoring Erick’s qualms about Benjamin. “Here’s the contract you
need to sign. You can bring it back to me tomorrow morning, though today would
be better... And this--” He handed Erick a fat, colorful plastic binder. “--is
the info about the camp, the lesson plans, that sort of thing. That one’s yours
to keep.”

Erick took the contract and the
binder. “I’ll have my lawyer look at it and bring it back tomorrow,” he said,
turning to go.

“Morning, if you can,” the guy
said. “Before noon would be perfect. Oh! Wait. I almost forgot. I was supposed
to give you this.”

He handed Erick a handwritten note
from someone named Stacie in Fan Support and Promotional Services. It said:
Kid
named Ryan Hutchinson called office twice for you. Claims to know you. Was at
Crocker same years. Do you know him? I have his number.
Erick stared at the
note in shock.

When he got home he procrastinated by
heating up some leftovers Mama had inundated him with and catching up on the
accumulated mail. Finally, wary, he called Ryan.

“Erick! You got my message. This is
so cool. How are you?”

“I’m good. I was surprised you
called.” Erick was sitting at the kitchen island, rolling a pen around on the
granite countertop. “What’s up?”

Ryan’s laugh was slightly nervous. “You
know I’m going for the NFL draft this year, right?”

“I figured you were.”

“It’s a little funny, but... Well,
look. I never got a chance to tell you I’m sorry for all that crap back at
Crocker. You know, Bowman was right. Anyway. Wasn’t your fault. And once I got
outta there and settled down, I saw how you treated me better than I deserved.
I’ll never forget that, Erick. Never. So I don’t know. Guess I feel I owe you.”

Erick flattened his palm on the
granite, stunned and lightheaded from relief. “Uh, wow. Ryan. That’s, uh. Well,
thanks, I guess. And it sounds like you’re doing good and I’m glad. I followed
a little bit of your career at Kansas State. It was a good fit for you. I’m
glad it turned out well.”

“It did, it did,” said Ryan. “It
was exactly the place I needed to be. It’s been great here. Great team, great
opportunities. But yeah, anyway, the reason I called. I’ve had a couple of
people talking to me about the draft, and it looks like I’m first round. I
mean, it looks pretty sure.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Yeah, well, one of the
places likely to want me, according to these people, is Cleveland. Which would
be cool because they’re rebuilding their offense, rebuilding the team, sounds
like a great opportunity. But here’s why I called. One of the people heard
something, probably just a rumor... He heard that Cleveland was looking at you.
Like for a trade or something. And, whoa, Erick. You can probably imagine my
reaction. Like, not that Crocker crap all over again.” Ryan laughed a little.

Erick cringed and folded his fist
over the countertop. “Yeah. Oh, dude, I can imagine.”

“I know you can’t tell me anything,
like top secret. But the bottom line is, if Cleveland’s going after you, I don’t
wanna sign to them. No matter if it’s just for show and they intend to trade me
or some weird crap like that. I feel I owe you that -- to avoid another Ryan
versus Erick smackdown.”

Erick ran his hand through his
hair, debating what to tell Ryan. He’d already told Dale about the possible
trade, and that was one person too many for something he was supposed to keep
secret. On the other hand, he’d hate it if Ryan refused a deal and made a scene
during the draft because of him. The trade wasn’t even certain. And Ryan would
probably be a good match for Cleveland, getting in on the start of a new,
strong offense.

“I really appreciate this. I mean
that.” Erick hesitated. “All I can tell you is that right now, as of today, I
see no reason why you shouldn’t sign with Cleveland.” He prayed he wouldn’t
regret this by the end of the month.

“Really?” Ryan sounded excited. “Oh,
that’s awesome. Thanks. So, hey, since we’re talking. What’s it like? Playing pro?”

Erick picked at the countertop,
considering. “Amazing,” he said. “And difficult. But it’s probably different
for each team, different vibe.”

“Yeah, yeah, cool. You ever hear
from Terrence Duran? He’s doing good for himself in Baltimore. You know what he
said to me once?” Ryan chuckled a little. “Back in training camp, one day
Bowman had Duran doing extra drills with me while you were practicing with the
coaches, and Duran was trying to show me something. Losing his patience because
I wasn’t paying attention and kept asking him stupid questions. Finally he says
to me, ‘Just watch how Erick does it and copy him.’ Oh, man. I hated you after
that. Hated you. Duran was right, though. He was right.”

Erick was flooded with memories of
Crocker, of that first uneasy year with all the uncertainty and all the
resentment of Ryan. Erick was thankful he’d survived it. He’d survived because
of Dale and Lowell.

“It’s been great talking to you,” he
said. “And thanks, y’know. I felt bad about all that stuff, too. Didn’t know
how to tell you. Good luck with Cleveland or wherever it is. They’ll be lucky
to have you.”

Two weeks later, Ryan Hutchinson
was Cleveland’s first-round pick in the NFL draft.

-----

The kids’ quarterback camp turned
out to be a blast. Erick, after reading through the gigantic binder, had been
dreading it, but the camp was pure football, run by coaches passionate to reach
as many talented kids as they could. About half the kids were what the binder
called “at-risk youth” from broken or troubled homes. They were all sizes and
races; the only thing they had in common was a love and talent for football.

Erick wasn’t the only pro
quarterback helping at the camp. Jerry Buffington, a veteran QB from New York,
was there. Buffington was quiet and serious. He vaguely reminded Erick of Coach
Bowman except he kept his intensity dialed down. Buffington was friends with
Shane Benjamin and was clearly disappointed Benjamin had bowed out this year
but he didn’t hold it against Erick. They rotated working with the different
age groups, Buffington taking the smaller kids the first week while Erick
practiced with the older ones.

The camp flew by, followed by the
Hawks’ mandatory spring training, which sent Erick to the end of May, a week
before Lowell and Marie were going to visit. He called Dale to catch up, and
Dale was bubbling over with the good news that he’d landed a job.

“Not the bank job,” he said
regretfully. “But I got the research gig for the District. Long-term financial
planning. Right up my alley.”

Erick, who’d never given much
thought to Dale’s academics before, boggled slightly that long-term financial
planning was up Dale’s alley.

“Bro. That’s awesome. Does this
mean you can move out of that crappy granny suite?”

Dale tched. “It’s not a granny
suite, you overpaid NFL snob. But yeah, I’m looking at places closer to the
District. I won’t be rolling in it but it’s not bad pay for a local government
job.”

“So, hey. Reason I called,” Erick
said. “I’m gonna meet the wife next week.”

“Holy shit,” Dale said with a laugh.
“Homie. I want pictures and transcripts. Maybe you could video the whole thing.”

“You could come up here, too, you
know. The more the merrier. It’s gonna be a full house.” Erick smiled,
wandering from the kitchen to the sun room and back.

“What do you mean? I thought you
lived in a palace from the way you described it.”

Erick stopped and looked around the
large TV room and kitchen.
Open concept
, the real estate agent had
gushed at him.
Great for entertaining
. “It’s a plenty big house. But it’s
gonna be full of guests. I, uh, I thought it might be weird with just the three
of us. So I invited Candace and my folks to come, too. One of Daddy’s friends
has a yacht, and he’s gonna let us take it out--”