1. Charlie

The shrill ringing of my phone jolts me awake, and I instantly regret opening my eyes. The morning light pierces through the curtains like daggers, stabbing into my throbbing skull. Groaning, I fumble around on the nightstand for the source of the sound, finally managing to press the phone against my ear.

“Charlie?” Xavier’s voice booms through the phone. “We need to talk.”

“Jesus, Xav,” I mumble, squinting at the clock on the wall. “It’s Sunday morning. What could you possibly want?”

“Turn on the TV. Now.”

Muttering curses under my breath, I stumble out of bed, clutching my pounding head. My bedroom seems to spin around me as I shuffle toward the door, the smell of stale beer and sweat clinging to my skin like a second layer of clothing.

“Fine, but this better be important,” I grumble, making my way down the grand staircase.

The luxurious house that once felt like a dream now feels suffocating as I navigate the maze of rooms, each step amplifying the pain in my head.

“Trust me, it is,” Xavier replies, his tone ice-cold.

My stomach churns, and suddenly I feel much more awake. My manager is usually a pretty easy-going guy, so if he’s this serious then something is up.

Reaching the kitchen, I turn on the television that’s mounted on the wall. My heart drops into my stomach as I see my picture on the screen. A smiling pic of me in my Thunderhawks jersey.

The screen flashes to a blurry cellphone video taken in a bar, showing me and the dude from last night throwing fists.

“It’s not the first time Charlie Elwood has been in a public fight,” the news anchor is saying. “And many suspect it won’t be the last.”

My stomach drops. Shit.

“Jesus Christ, Charlie,” Xavier hisses into the phone. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Look, I can explain—” I start, but Xavier cuts me off.

“Save it. You’ve really screwed up this time.”

“Listen, Xav.” I turn on the coffee pot and wince at the sound of the machine grinding the beans. “The guy at the bar was talking shit about the Thunderhawks. He deserved it.”

“Is that your excuse?” he snaps. “You have a career most people can only dream of, Charlie, and you’re treating it like trash.”

“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” I argue, trying to downplay the severity of the situation.

“Really? You think getting into a drunken brawl is ‘not that big of a deal’? Think about your teammates, Charlie. Your actions reflect on them too.”

“Xavier, it wasn’t my fault! The guy got in my face, talking all that crap about the Thunderhawks. I just… I just handled it.” The fire of anger and frustration builds inside me.

“Handled it? By throwing punches?” Xavier sighs, exasperated. “Charlie, I’ve been trying to help you get your life together, but as your manager, there’s only so much I can do. This is on you.”

He’s right, and I hate him for it. I stare at my reflection in the chrome surface of the coffee pot, my eyes bloodshot and hollow, and the weight of my mistakes bearing down on me. I have to fix this. Somehow. But where do I even begin?

“I’ll issue a public apology.” My heart races in my chest as I pour myself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma doing little to ease my nerves.

Again, Xavier sighs. “That won’t be enough this time.”

“Sure it will.”

“Charlie, I’ve got some bad news,” Xavier says solemnly. “The Thunderhawks have had enough. They don’t want such a risk on their team. Your contract is being cut short. You’re off the team, effective immediately.”

“Wait, what?!” I sputter, nearly dropping my coffee cup. The room spins around me, and I grip the counter for support. Being cut from the team is my worst nightmare, and now it’s come true. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m sorry. I tried to convince them otherwise, but they won’t budge.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but that doesn’t make this any easier to swallow.

“Please, Xav, talk some sense into the general manager and owner! I’ll do anything — go to rehab, anger management classes, whatever it takes! Just… just don’t let them cut me!” Desperation laces my voice; I’d give anything to turn back time and undo last night’s mistake.

“I wish I could help you, but what’s done is done. The team has made their decision, and there’s not much more I can do at this point.” His words aren’t unkind, but they hit me like a ton of bricks. “I’m really sorry. I honestly thought you were turning things around, but this stunt has done you in.”

I slam my fist on the counter, feeling a surge of anger and despair. “This can’t be happening,” I mutter between gritted teeth.

My mind races, searching for a way to fix this mess I’ve made. Usually, I just smile and say I’m sorry, and eventually all is forgiven. People move on to the next scandal.

So why is the Thunderhawks’ owner so pissed this time? It’s not like I’ve done anything new, and I’m not the only NFL athlete who’s ever gotten in a fight!

It’s just not right, and it just isn’t fair.

“Charlie, take some time to process this. Maybe it’s an opportunity for you to reassess your priorities and figure out what you truly want. You’re talented, and there’s more to life than football.”

I know he’s trying to console me, but his words are empty. Football is my life, and without it, I’m lost. Since the first day I stepped onto the field in high school, I haven’t wanted to do anything else.

“Thanks for trying, Xav,” I say flatly, unable to muster any real gratitude. It’s not his fault, but the overwhelming sense of betrayal from my team, who is like family, crashes down on me like a tidal wave. “I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

“Take care, Charlie,” he says quietly before hanging up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I stand in the kitchen, gripping the warm ceramic of my coffee cup, staring into the darkness of its contents. I would give anything to have this all be some terrible nightmare that I could wake up from. But it’s not.

The reality of my situation settles heavily on my chest: I am no longer on an NFL team, and unless I find a way to turn my life around, my future in professional football is bleak.

I don’t know where to go from here, but I know one thing for certain: I have no one to blame but myself for this disaster. And if there’s any hope of salvaging my career, Xavier is right: it’s going to take more than just apologies and promises. It’s time to face the consequences of my actions and start rebuilding my life from the ground up.

But where the hell do I even start?