Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Yeah. We might even have to get a ginormous crate for him. Or convert the guest room into his room or something.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ike says, thinking it over. “We could even get some of that fake grass and put it in the corner so he can relieve himself if we’re gone too long.”
With that, we just stare at each other and then race through the house.
“I’ll check the living room,” I call out.
“I’ve got the game room,” Ike replies.
We search and search, but don’t find anywhere that Buster might have had an accident. But when I walk into the kitchen, I smell it.
“I think I found something,” I call out, just as I hear Ike’s phone buzz with an incoming text. “In the mudroom. How did we just walk right past this?”
Right there, in the middle of the room, is a pile of crap so big, it looks like it could have come from a horse.
Then again, Buster is ginormous.
I’ve just started to clean it up when Ike appears in the doorway, his face suddenly ashen.
“What’s wrong? What is it?”
He shakes his head, then rubs his hand over his face in agitation.
I forget all about the dog poop and rush to him. “What’s going on? Is your mom okay? Is she hurt?”
“It’s not my mom,” he finally says. “This is from my coach.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“They’re accusing me of cheating.”
Chapter 16
Ike
“This is a bunch of fucking bullshit.” I’m pacing Coach’s office. I drove directly over here and met with Coach, the rest of the coaching staff, my attorney, and Will Montgomery, who came at Coach’s request.
“You didn’t have to leave Liv’s wedding for this,” I say to my mentor, but he just shakes his head.
“I’d just gotten home when I got the text. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“What in the hell is even going on?” I demand. “We didn’t win the championship game. Not to mention, I’ve never cheated at anything a day in my life.”
“Someone said something to the press,” Coach says. He looks tired and stressed. “They’re calling it a reliable source, although they won’t name names, so it’s probably just bullshit.”
“It’s credible enough that we’re all sitting here, in this room, waiting for Florence and her people to get here so we can have a big meeting about it at freaking two in the morning,” Sal, my offensive line coach, says. “So it’s not a prank.”
“There will probably be an investigation,” my attorney, Alex, says. “Ike could be suspended during the time the investigation is underway.”
“How long does that take?” I demand.
“Could be a few weeks, could be a year.”
“A year? A fucking year? No way. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t deflate balls or whatever it is that they’re saying.”
“There are a few allegations,” Alex continues. “One is that you’ve come into possession of the San Francisco playbook and have been in cahoots with Coach.”
I snort at that one. “I don’t give a fuck about their playbook.”
“Another,” Alex says, ignoring my outburst, “is that you use Stickum or Gorilla Glue on your towel to have better control of the ball.”
I shake my head, staring at the other man. “Have you seen the size of my hands? I don’t need glue. I have long fingers. Jesus.”
“And finally, that you’re on a controlled and performance-enhancing drug.”
“Steroids?” I stare at him like he’s lost his ever-loving mind. “I work my fucking ass off, Alex. I train twice a day. My girlfriend makes me the grossest green smoothies for breakfast that I hate, but she says are good for me, so I pretend that I like them, and I drink them anyway. If you want her recipe, I’m sure she’ll be happy to give it to you.”
“They very well may want that, yes.”
“Jesus, Alex,” Will says with a sigh. “This isn’t the first time someone has been accused of something like this. Hell, people do shit like this. Remember when Buffalo used to open their stadium doors to create the wind tunnel onto their field to throw off the visiting team? That shit was cold and found to be illegal by the league.”
“Listen, the worst that’s going to happen is you’ll get fined and maybe miss a game or two.” Sal shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “The league may try to scare us all, but at the end of the day, it’s just a slap on the wrist.”
“I’m not missing a game for this,” I interject. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Test me for Christ’s sake. You’ll see that I don’t have any drugs in my body.”
“Boys.”
We all turn to find Florence standing in the doorway, a smug smile on her old face.
Her gaze flicks over Will in disdain and then lands on me.
“You know, I just knew that you’d turn out to be a disappointment. Meet us in the conference room in fifteen minutes so we can decide how in the hell we’re going to spin this to our benefit.”