3. Charlie

The silence in my mansion is deafening. Defeating. Depressing.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the Thunderhawks dropped me, and the fallout has been brutal. Xavier, my now-former manager, was quick to follow suit, severing our relationship without a backward glance.

My teammates have all but vanished, leaving me with nothing but the echoes of my once-promising career. All except for Tim Palmer, that is. The wide receiver on the Thunderhawks has stuck by me through it all, a single beacon of loyalty amidst the storm.

But I refuse to give up. Hunched over the desk in my home office, I pore over a list of sports agents and managers, determination pushing me forward. I’ve been cold-calling them one by one, hoping against hope that someone will see past the controversy and take a chance on me. Each rejection stings, but I can’t afford to dwell on it. There’s too much at stake.

I dial the number of the next agent on my list, trying not to think too much about how it’s the last one. When they answer, I launch into my practiced spiel, trying to sound confident despite the quivering in my voice.

“Hi, this is Charlie Elwood, former quarterback for the Thunderhawks and currently seeking representation. I came across your agency and?—”

“Elwood?” The agent interrupts me, his tone dripping with disdain. “Yeah, I know who you are. You’re a joke, kid. No one wants to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

I swallow hard, struggling to choke back the bile that rises in my throat. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard such words, but each new insult feels like a fresh wound, carving away at the threads of hope I’m clinging to.

“Look,” I say. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m still a damn good player. If you just give me a chance?—”

“Save it,” the agent cuts me off again, his voice cold and final. “We’re not interested.”

The line goes dead, leaving me once more to face the silence that has become my constant companion.

I stare at the phone in my hand, feeling like the weight of the entire world has been placed on my shoulders. My heart is heavy as hopelessness seeps into every corner of my being. Is it time to throw in the towel?

Hell, what else would I even do? I hadn’t planned on retiring for years. Football is my passion, my reason for living, and at twenty-six years old, I can’t imagine tapping out this early.

Unfortunately, that was the last agency on the list. I’m now officially out of options.

The doorbell rings, shattering my thoughts. My first instinct is to ignore it and hide in bed, but something inside me tells me to answer. As if on autopilot, I make my way through the empty halls of my mansion. The doorbell rings again, insistent, and I finally reach the door, taking a deep breath before opening it.

“Yeah?” I ask in annoyance before I even see who it is.

“Hey.” Concern laces Tim’s face. “How are you holding up, man?”

“Tim,” I reply, managing a weak smile. “Come on in.”

He steps inside, his large frame filling the doorway. I close the door behind him, grateful for his presence. Of all my former teammates, he’s the only one who still seems to care.

“Rough day?” he asks, nodding towards the phone in my hand.

“Another rejection,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep going.”

“Come on, man. You can’t give up yet.” His eyes search mine for any remaining spark of determination.

I let out a humorless laugh. He’s so positive, and I appreciate that — but he just doesn’t get it. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. No one wants to touch me with a ten-foot pole. Those are literally the words this last agent used.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right opportunity.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and holds it out to me. “I heard through the grapevine that there might be something for you.”

I take the card hesitantly, my fingers tracing the embossed letters: Abernathy Athletes. It’s a sports agency I’ve never heard of, but the address is local — right here in Chicago. Could this be my last shot at redemption?

“Tim, I don’t know… What if they turn me down, too? That’s it. There’s no one else left, and…”

And that would be the end of the line.

Even if that end is coming, I don’t know that I’m ready to face it yet. I would much rather spend a little longer with my head buried in the sand.

“Charlie, listen to me.” He grips my shoulder. “You’re one of the most talented quarterbacks I’ve ever had the privilege to play with. Yeah, you’ve made some mistakes, but who hasn’t? You deserve another chance, and I think Abernathy might be the ones to give it to you. My publicist’s cousin is high up there, and she told me she thinks you have a real shot with them.”

“All right.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “I’ll give them a call.”

“Good.” He claps me on the back. “Just remember, no matter what happens, you’ve got people who believe in you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thanks, Tim,” I murmur. “I won’t.”

For the first time in a while, I feel a flicker of hope rising within me. It’s a small flame, fragile and easily snuffed out — but it’s there. And that’s enough to keep me going for now.

“Okay.” I draw a deep breath. “Let’s see what Abernathy Athletes has to offer.”

I dial the number on the card, feeling more than a little sick. This is it — my last chance to prove myself, to show the world that I’m not washed up just yet.

And if this doesn’t work… well, I don’t know what I’ll do. But at least I’ll know I tried everything, right?

“Hello? Abernathy Athletes,” a voice answers on the other end of the line.

“Hi,” I begin, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. “My name is Charlie Elwood, and I’m looking for representation…”