Prologue

“Jamie. Jamie, is it true? That needing this second surgery is career-ending for you?”

Jameson Wilde looked at the reporter who shouted that question as he was trying to slip out the back of the hospital on crutches.

It didn’t work. His damn agent said he’d make sure no one knew he had this second surgery, but people always found out.

“No comment,” Randy said, holding his hand up and helping Jamie make his way on his crutches to the car waiting.

They wanted to push him out in a wheelchair and no way that was happening.

His first surgery was major. Torn ACL and MCL. He’d miss the rest of this season when he was only three games in.

What rotten luck to have this happen in the last year of his contract.

But last week, he’d been pushing it too hard and fell and did more damage and had to go back in for minor repairs.

He didn’t think it was a big deal.

Or so he was telling himself.

He wanted to get back on the field this year and now that definitely wasn’t happening.

Randy held the passenger door open for him to his Range Rover and he got in. Then Randy went around to the driver’s door and pulled away, leaving the reporters shouting and taking pictures.

“I thought you were taking care of that,” he said.

“I tried,” Randy said. “There is more shit going on that I need to deal with than that.”

“I pay you for this shit!” he shouted. “I’ll never get signed now. That has to be more important than anything if you want to keep your job.”

“I’ll get you signed,” Randy said calmly. His agent had talked him down over the years. “You work on your recovery. Or you can just say you want a change of pace. Fox has been calling. They want you in the booth.”

It was not the first time he’d heard that. He’d planned on it. When he was ready to retire. In five years or so.

“Not yet,” he said after he took a deep breath to settle down.

“Listen, Jamie. I get it. This is all you ever wanted. You worked hard for it. You’ve proven yourself time and again and earned every single dollar of that eight-year contract. But we both knew the Jets weren’t going to sign you for another. They don’t have the money.”

Stupid salary cap. The team had been rebuilding around him for years. He’d gotten them just shy of the Super Bowl last year. Losing in the last few seconds by a missed field goal was going to haunt him.

But he knew he wasn’t a one-man team and for him to succeed he needed to be surrounded by great players too. That cost money.

Not everyone could get it, and at his age, he’d be lucky to get a two-year contract.

Now his young backup was doing what he’d been trained for. Getting ready to slide in and take that starting spot from Jamie.

“Other teams have to be interested,” he said.

“Sure,” Randy said. “If you want to get more than your knees busted up. I thought it wasn’t about money for you.”

“It’s not,” he argued. “I want to go to a winning team. I’d take less money to get that ring.”

“Not everyone gets a Super Bowl ring. You got a division championship so be happy. You’ve got more millions in the bank than you ever thought you’d see. You’ve come a long way from a little town in Arkansas.”

“Don’t remind me,” he said. He’d worked hard to get rid of his accent too. The same with his country roots and ways.

His parents would never forgive him, but he wanted to be who he was and he’d lived life to the fullest for the past eleven years.

“How much pain are you in?” Randy asked.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I can handle it.”

“Your head is clear?” Randy asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Why? You’re acting strange. You have been since you picked me up. I’m your biggest client and yet you’re talking about all this other crap you had going on today. I should be your priority.”

Randy laughed. It was forced.

“I’ve been dealing with your fallout all day again.”

Jamie hated that word. Fallout.

Yep, Randy had to do damage control along with his publicist for years. It wasn’t his fault that people always got pictures of him out partying.

He didn’t drink and drive.

He didn’t do drugs.

If he wanted to have his arms around a woman in public, that was his choice, but it wasn’t as if he was screwing them in front of witnesses.

“Now what?” he asked. “It’s not like I’ve been able to do much for the past month.”

His teammates were all practicing and traveling for games. He was on his own more than he liked and realized that his friends were mostly superficial at this point.

“It’s not a recent thing,” Randy said.

“Then what?” he asked.

“Let’s wait until we get you home,” Randy said.

He laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Randy said.

Randy made a big deal about everything. Shit always simmered down though.

Jamie leaned back in the seat and shut his eyes for the fifteen-minute drive back home.

When Randy got to his townhouse, his agent hit the screen and the garage door opened and they pulled in.

He got out and Randy came around to get his crutches for him to get in the house.

He just wanted to put his feet up and relax while he tried not to stress over the fact that his career might be over.

“So what is the big thing that you are telling me not to bet on?” he asked. The sooner they got this taken care of, the sooner he could nap.

“Do you know a Mercedes Lawson?” Randy asked.

“Nope,” he said. “Never heard of her.”

“She’s a stripper,” Randy said. “At that place you and the guys have been known to frequent in the off season.”

Jamie laughed. “Oh yeah. I remember her. She always had a big fake gold chain on that was a Mercedes emblem. Her tits were big enough to carry it off too. The real deal.”

He was wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

“Did you sleep with her?” Randy asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But we got wasted the last time I was there. I remember the guys helping me out to the car at the end of the night.” He laughed when he said it. As if it was all a joke.

It was a friend of a friend’s bachelor party. He never cared about the reason to go out and drink and throw money at some naked women, but he always remembered sleeping with one.

“Well, she says you’re the father of her unborn child.”

“Oh hell no,” he said. “I don’t sleep around nearly as much as people say and I always wrap it up good.”

He didn’t need his parents on his case any more than they’d been most of his life.

“She’s due in February and says it’s yours. She wants a DNA test now or she’s going to the press.”

“Fine,” Jamie said. “We’ll do it. That will shut her up. At least she’s coming to me first before she starts spreading lies.”

“What if it is yours?” Randy asked.

“Fat chance,” he said. “I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either.”