Chapter Three

Dre drove into hismother's driveway and parked. The day before he was drafted, he'd told her he wanted to buy her a house. To which she quickly responded she'd rather him continue with college and get his master's degree than go pro. It wasn't a shock. Although she was his biggest fan in life, she'd never wanted him to play football, not even in junior high. For the next couple of years, he pleaded with her, saying, "Let me do this. You deserve a better place." Each time he offered she refused. Then, when he'd been approached to help raise the funds to build Chasing Time Retirement Village, he'd negotiated with the developer for Mom to run the place and have a house onsite. When he'd proposed the idea to her, she'd jumped at the chance.

The two-story red brick home, a giant improvement over the house she'd rented all his life, sat at the end of a cul-de-sac street lined with homes. The yards were well-kept with trees, decorative shrubberies, and flowers planted by the residents. Because he paid for a house built especially for her, she had a master bedroom downstairs with a kitchen and a living area with three bedrooms upstairs. It'd come in handy since Tracy and Jamaal lived with her most of the time, and she insisted Dre stay there whenever he came to town.

Orange mums he and Jamaal planted filled the flowerbeds across the front of the house. The detached garage's white door was closed. He grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat and walked to the back door. He tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, he entered.

Jamaal sat at the patio-like wrought-iron kitchen table eating from a bowl while bobbing his head in time with the music Dre heard from the white earphones in his ears. The boy didn't flinch when Dre shut the door.

His mother had picked white appliances and floor tile, black cabinets, black and white quartz countertops, and yellow wall paint.

He set the groceries on the counter and stepped to the side of the table, into the kid's sight.

Jamaal startled at first. Then he smiled as he ripped the earphones out and jumped up to hug Dre. "Hey." It brought back memories of the young boy who always seemed excited to see him. He appreciated the kid still enjoyed having him around.

After Jamaal sat back down, Dre said, "Failing? Really?"

"Who told you?" Jamaal ate a spoonful of colorful cereal.

Dre tugged his phone out of his pocket, pulled up his mother's text, and showed it to Jamaal. "Got this text this morning. I went by your school earlier."

"You didn't need to. I have everything under control."

"Does being in control involve repeating classes you took last year?"

The boy let out a long breath and set his spoon down into the bowl.

"Does your father have anything to do with this?"

Since Tracy got pregnant with Jamaal, Knox Pinster had darted in and out of their lives between doing his father's dirty deeds and jail time for them. Dre made peace with Knox before the man was let out of prison three years ago.

"Before I registered at Goodson, Dad suggested I take the courses I took last year, so I can concentrate on football and making new friends. I have credits to waste, so I thought why not?"

"So you're taking all the same classes as last year?"

"Yeah, no big deal."

Dre squashed down his anger. He'd love to blame Knox, except Jamaal had gone along with the idea, wanting an easy year. He couldn't blame him, though. When he was in school a fluff year would've sounded awesome.

Jamaal moved the bowl away from him. "It won't hurt anyone."

"Except you."

Hand rubbing the back of his neck, Jamaal looked up.

"Don't you remember discussing this with your counselors at Trinity Prep? If you intend to go to a top-rated university, being in advanced classes and earning college credits while in high school will go a long way," Dre said. "It'll also help with admission to the university of your choice."

The boy shrugged. "I guess. I want to play ball too."

"Your education is the most important thing right now."

"But Coach Moon says I'm the best safety he's seen in years. I've had four interceptions already."

Dre knew the stats from the games he'd attended and the videos he'd watched of Jamaal's other games. He couldn't deny the boy's talent and felt a bit of pride knowing all their practicing over the years helped make him into a good player. Compliments weren't what the teenager needed right now. "What happens when you're out because you're flunking Geometry?"

"Ms. Weldon must've made a mistake. I made A's on my tests, hundreds actually."

"You didn't turn in your homework."

"I don't need to do the homework. I know it all."

"For such a smart kid—" Dre didn't finish that sentence. "Did you talk to Ms. Weldon?"

"No. Coach Moon saw my progress report before I did and said he'd take care of it."

"She's not going to pass you."

"Coach said—"

"Doesn't matter what Coach said. You won't be playing this Friday. She's not changing your grade."

Jamaal sat up straight, his face furious. "She has to. Coach Moon promised to talk to her."

Poor Ms. Weldon, no wonder she'd been so abrupt with Dre at first. She was up against the establishment of Texas high school football.

"Do you hear yourself? You're hiding behind your coach. Wouldn't it be easier to do the work?"

"She can't fail me."

"She has every right to fail you. Homework is worth half your grade."

"Damn it."

"If you'd read the syllabus or attended class sometime I'm sure you would've known that. And why aren't you getting to her class on time and skipping it some days?"

"Coach wants me to go over the playbook after practice." He massaged his temples, disappointment on his youthful face. "This can't be happening."

"It'll go a long way if you complete the assigned homework and turn it in tomorrow. It'll bring your zeros up to fifties and give you a passing grade for next week's game."

He squinted at Dre. "You expect me to finish four weeks of homework in one night?"

"Should be easy if you know it all."

Jamaal abruptly stood. He angrily snatched up his bowl, rinsed it out, and then jammed it into the dishwasher.

"Along with turning in the homework and apologizing to Ms. Weldon, you'll need to see the counselor about changing your schedule to the accelerated classes you should be taking."

"Hell no, Uncle Dre. I'll be too far behind."

"You'll catch up quickly. We both know you're smarter than you let anyone believe."

"I feel like an idiot right now."

Dre pulled the paper Ms. Weldon had given him from his front jeans pocket and set it on the table. "You should be in Algebra II. Ms. Weldon doesn't teach the class, but she said you could go to her for tutoring at these times."

The boy grabbed the paper and started out of the room, then whirled around. His eyes searched Dre's face. "You and I are good?"

Since Jamaal was a baby, Dre cared for and provided for him. He never wanted him to doubt he'd always be there for him. "Always."

The tension released from the boy's shoulders.

"Did you learn anything from this?" Dre asked.

"Not to listen to Knox or trust Coach Moon."

"Try again."

"To listen to you."

"Flattering me won't work." Dre crossed his arms.

Jamaal smirked. "We both know that's what you wanted me to say."

Dre chuckled.

"I'm responsible for my life and my actions. I can't expect anyone to make my life easier. Letting others handle my responsibilities only adds to my freakin problems." His nephew's voice got softer with each word until he almost shouted freakin, and ended the sentence sounding like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

"I shouldn't admit this, but if I'd had the chance to take the subjects I'd taken the year before my freshman year, I might've done it." He thought about his life back in high school. "Then again, Mama B's reaction if she found out would've stopped me."

They both laughed.

~

After Grandpa and Cesardiscussed repairs on the Nova, Quinn drove them home. Her grandmother was shuffling around the small renovated kitchen. They'd had the work done before Quinn arrived, updating the room to have a tiny island in the middle with white cabinets, black granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances.

"Thank goodness you're home." Grandma rushed to Grandpa and hugged him. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Only Betsy is hurt."

Grandma rubbed his back. "I'm sorry, darling." She returned to the stove and stirred what smelled like spaghetti sauce.

Quinn's phone buzzed, and she checked the message. Her brother, Ike, asked her to Zoom later so she could help him and Shane with their Calculus. Ten years her junior, her twin brothers were seniors in high school. It was their offseason. They both played basketball and baseball. She hadn't been to a live game in years, but thankfully, her father videoed all their games, and she watched every one.

Of course. Set up the Zoom for 8,she answered. Luckily, Minneapolis was in the same time zone as Katy.

Grandpa pulled a box of angel hair pasta and French bread from the grocery bag. "Got what you needed."

"Grandma, we need to decide the meals you'll be cooking each week, that way I can shop for everything you need so you don't have to send Grandpa to the store every day."

"Yes, dear." The same response she'd given Quinn each time she suggested it, yet they'd never written a menu meal and the items needed. She wasn't sure how Grandma came up with her grocery list.

"I don't mind going to the store," her grandfather said.

Quinn frowned. Unbelievable, he'd just gotten in a wreck where he'd hit three cars. Was she the only one concerned about him driving?

"Did you mind going to pick up Grandpa?" Grandma asked. "When he told me about the wreck, I became too upset to drive."

It hadn't occurred to her that her grandmother would've helped him. Since she'd arrived in town, Quinn hadn't seen the woman drive. "I didn't mind."

"I interrupted her meeting with Andre Biel."

"Who?"

"The football player." Her grandfather had talked about him the entire way home. "We watch him every Sunday during football season."

"The local boy?" Grandma asked.

"Yes. Dre is from Katy. He's a kind fellow. Isn't he, Quinn?"

"Seems to be." It did seem rather strange how fate threw them together at Chuck's after they met at the school, and she couldn't explain the comforting feeling she'd experienced around Dre.

Not that it mattered. She doubted she'd ever see him again.

~

After grilling steakshe'd picked up at Chuck's and eating with Jamaal and his mother, Dre had one more stop before heading back to Dallas. He parked in front of a small yellow clapboard house with black shutters and scrolled through his messages. Seeing his agent had called, he swiped his number.

"Hey, Dre." For the most part, Jude Strum was easygoing, yet he talked fast. "How's my star client?"

"Your star client is Sylvester Holms. I'm a has been."

"Has been my ass. You have years left in you."

They both knew he was lying. At the age of thirty-two, and this being his tenth year in the pros, Dre was playing on borrowed time. The average NFL career for running backs lasted around three years.

"Saw you called. Did you need something?" Dre asked.

"Even though you have a year left on your contract, I'd like your permission to negotiate a new deal with the Scorpions to extend your one-year agreement to three."

Similar deals were made all the time, but not with running backs his age.

"Since the Scorpions drafted you, you've been a franchise player. Fans come to the stadium to see you. Preseason practices are well attended because you meet and greet each person and sign autographs. Owners and general managers appreciate players who go the extra mile." Jude hesitated. "I'm just not sure what your plans are."

The damn doctor's words ran through his head again. What do you plan to do when your playing days are over? The doctor hit on Dre's biggest problem. He had no idea what he'd do. "Is this your subtle way of asking if I plan to retire?"

"Not so subtle, I guess."

"No plans. I'm not sure about three years though." Dre just wanted to get the receiving touchdown record then he'd figure out the rest.

"Two?" Jude pressed.

"I'd feel better starting there."

"You're the boss."

After hanging up, he checked his other messages and decided they could wait. He got out of his car, hustled to the house, and rang the doorbell.

Knox Pinster opened the door. "Shouldn't you be in Dallas?"

"I'm on my way back. I won't stay long."

Knox backed away from the door, and Dre entered the house. A blue couch, white chair, coffee table, and a TV were the only furnishings. The beige carpet floors looked new and the place smelled like paint.

A blue Tool Town cap perched on the couch arm. He got Knox a job at the national hardware store the last time Knox got released from prison. One of the members on the company's board was a huge Scorpions supporter, and Dre asked him to help Knox. Not wanting to come back to town until he got his life on track, Knox lived and worked in Amarillo since his release. He'd only returned to Katy six months ago.

Knox motioned to the couch. "Have a seat."

"I wanted to make sure things are still going well." He sat on the edge of the sofa cushion.

"More than well. My job's great, and I'm spending as much time with Jamaal and Tracy as possible." The man had been extremely cheerful since he'd returned.

"Has Mac been in touch?"

"No." Knox exhaled loudly as he sat in the chair, his expression hardening a bit at the mention of his father. "We could've talked about this on the phone, Dre. There must be a reason you showed up today."

"I appreciate you're trying hard to live right, and I'm not here to call you off Tracy or Jamaal, but I do have a problem with the advice you gave Jamaal."

"What advice?"

"Recommending he repeat his classes from last year."

Knox sat forward. "I thought Jamaal transferring schools would be hard, especially since he'd always attended private school. The social aspects of public school are as important as his grades. When I mentioned this to him and made the suggestion about his schedule, he thought it was a cool idea."

"It's backfired. He's failing Geometry. He aced the tests without completing the homework, and it counts for half his grade. He'll be sidelined Friday night."

"Dre, I swear, I was only trying to help."

"I'm sure you were." He looked the man in the eyes. "I get you want to make up for the years you've been gone and ease Jamaal's way in life, but honestly, how does that help him?"

"I—" Knox pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do I fix this?"

"Jamaal's doing the homework he missed. I recommended he go to the counselor and change his schedule. He needs to be in the advanced courses. I'm sure you or Tracy have to authorize that." Dre stood.

"After everything I've done, I don't understand how you can forgive me and try to help me."

"Because Tracy believes in you. Plus, I grew up without a dad. If there's a chance for you and Jamaal to enjoy a healthy relationship, I want it for both of you."

"If it's any consolation, I had a dad, and I learned drug dealing from him."

A knock sounded. Knox hurried over and opened the door.

Tracy entered with a pizza box and kissed Knox on the lips. "I hope you're okay with pizza." She turned and started across the living room. When she saw Dre, she stopped short. "I saw your truck, but thought someone in the neighborhood must have the same model. I didn't realize you were in town."

"Mom asked me to check on why Jamaal is failing Geometry."

"Failing? How can he be failing a class he's already taken?"

Dre glared at her. "You knew about him repeating his classes from last year?"

"I thought it was a good idea." She went on, not noticing his anger. "He's so ahead in credits, what could it hurt?"

He wouldn't excuse his sister on this one. "Jamaal needs to be ahead so he can earn college credit hours while in high school. Don't you remember the counselor at Trinity explaining that?"

"Vaguely," she answered. "Even you must admit going from tiny Trinity Prep to a 6A high school is a huge change for Jamaal."

"He can handle it." His voice rose an octave. "He's freakishly smart."

"Don't get mad." His sister set the pizza on the coffee table. "We didn't come up with the idea, Coach Moon suggested it."

Frustrated, he glared at Knox. "You didn't mention the coach." He'd never met Coach Moon and didn't care to any time soon, or he'd confront the man for trying to make football more important than a student's studies. He walked over and hugged his sister. "Knox will explain the rest."

"Want some pizza?" she offered.

"Thanks. I've already eaten." He walked out of the house and hurried down the steps. Dusk, his favorite time of day, dimmed the sky to a deep shade of purple.

"Dre, wait a second," Knox called.

He opened his truck door and waited until his brother-in-law approached.

"I didn't tell you Coach Moon recommended it because he asked us not to. I realize we shouldn't have listened to him. And ... damn it ... I thought it would put me in Jamaal's good graces."

"Jamaal's always wanted you in his life. Help him by encouraging him to get an education. You understand football is too uncertain as a career." Dre slid into his truck, questioning if he should mention the Hummer driver to Knox, but without verification it was Mac, he decided against it.

The memory of being at the school brought up his meeting with Quinn and seeing her again at Chuck's. He wondered how things were going with her grandfather. He shook his head in an attempt to erase the connection he'd felt to her, his empathetic reaction to her.

The last time he thought he shared a connection with a woman, it'd been a ruse. She'd had an agenda and knew exactly how to play him. His instincts had failed him, and he nearly made the biggest mistake of his life.

"... the direction of our lives come down to the choices we choose." ~ Catherine Pulsifer