9. Brett

9

brETT

T he doorbell rang and jolted me from my inner turmoil.

Claire had arrived, hopefully with painkillers and sympathy.

I pushed myself up from the kitchen table and slowly dredged my way over to the front door, grimacing with each movement. Every muscle in my body ached from the previous day’s storm.

As soon as I opened the door, Claire quickly confirmed that I looked like hell.

“Jeez,” she scoffed, “you look like you just went ten rounds with a washing machine.”

I winced, rubbed my temples, and gestured for her to enter.

Not only was I nursing the most painful soreness I’d ever experienced, but I was also fighting off a hangover. Before the chaos had unfolded, I had consumed… a few… alcoholic beverages.

And by a few I meant several.

“I’m pretty sure that boat was cursed,” I said through clenched teeth. “First, I’m stuck with Luke, then I have a brush with death after almost being thrown overboard. At this rate, I’m going to need to hire a chiropractor and a therapist.”

“Hmm…” Claire said, as if she were trying to hold back and bite her tongue. “I don’t think you can afford those two things on your salary.”

My eyes filled with rage. “Claire, why the hell have you been roasting me the past two days? You’re supposed to be my bestie.”

At that, Claire pulled a bottle of pills out of her gigantic bag. “I brought these for your pain.”

“Okay, we’re friends again.”

Next, she pulled a giant flask out of her mega-purse. “Hair of the dog?”

The sight of liquor nearly sent me spinning.

“Put it away!” I shouted, startling myself.

Stacy joined in the conversation. “Squawk! Put it away!”

I rolled my eyes. “That bird never shuts up. I’m thinking of donating her to science so they can study her.”

“How is that fair?” Claire asked. “You don’t shut up either and I keep you around.”

Too weak to engage with her teasing, I reached out for the pills, brushing the flask away. “She could use a vacation.”

“She’s not your bird.”

“Accidents happen, Claire.”

Claire squinted at me. “I know what your problem is.”

“That I was almost killed on a madman’s boat?”

She shook her head. “Your problem is that you now owe Luke your life in two ways: one, for using his name as a career-building tactic for yourself, and two, for literally saving your life.”

“Claire, stop it.”

“So how does it feel knowing your arch nemesis pulled a Superman and saved your life? I thought you were supposed to be the hero of your own story.”

I popped open the bottle and tossed two pills in my mouth, chugging them with a swig of overpriced water I had stolen from my boss’s fridge.

“I didn’t ask to be a damsel in distress on Leonard’s boat,” I answered. “Luke pulls everyone into his drama.”

“Aww, come on Brett. Big strong NFL player saves you in a storm. Are we at the start of a rom com? Did you two gaze into each other’s eyes as the wind howled between you?”

As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what had happened.

If I hadn’t known any better, and if I weren’t sworn to complete and utter hatred for Luke Dalton, I would have said we shared a moment the previous day.

When we both fell to the floor surrounded by chaos, something connected between the two of us.

I knew it had.

Coupled with my feelings of guilt about costing Luke a sponsorship, the dynamic had shifted. I could no longer hate him.

And, for some wild reason, I no longer wanted to hate him.

“Fine,” I finally relented, “he helped. Don’t let it go to his head though. He has a big enough ego.”

Claire chuckled after taking a swig from her flask. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just a guy who likes saving his favorite podcaster. Try not to swoon too hard.”

Her phone rang, shaking me from my thoughts.

She spoke on the phone for a moment, then frowned at me as she ended the call. “I’m sorry sweetie, my client wants to see a giant house that has a giant price tag—which means a colossal commission for me. Gotta run!”

The life of a realtor was never dull.

She packed her bag and rushed toward the front door, leaving me in shambles.

As she stepped outside, she turned and glanced at me over her shoulder. “Don’t miss me too much while you’re busy rebranding yourself as Luke’s biggest fan. Call me when the wedding invites go out!”

An hour later, my muscles ached slightly less than they had before. Which wasn’t much, but at least the pills had made the pain tolerable.

What I needed to do was focus. I had a podcast to record, and over the past few months my audience had grown to thousands of people. Maybe one day I’d reach millions. They’d tune in to hear what I had to say, desperately clinging on to my analyses and interpretations of the sport.

But for now, I was a small fish in a big pond.

I hobbled over to the desk and glared down at my setup. For some reason, the microphone didn’t beckon to me as it once had. It was as if I had nothing to say. Or maybe nothing vicious to say.

After—quite literally—having my life saved, it had thrown things into new perspectives for me. My world had been turned upside down. Like winning the lottery or receiving terrifying health news. Both were extremes that could alter someone’s universe.

And mine… mine had been permanently transformed by Luke.

An old version of Brett Mercer had died on Leonard’s boat yesterday. The cranky, curmudgeonly, trash-talking Brett of yesterday was no more. He fell overboard, crashed into the waves, and disappeared into the depths of the ocean.

Today, staring back at me in the reflection of my laptop screen, I was a new man.

With a new purpose.

I was going to transform my viewpoint and thus transform my persona.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

The reverse of the old adage could be true. Maybe it was time to fix it.

Suddenly, a new fear washed over me. What if I couldn’t hack it? What if my listeners had only tuned in to hear my latest scathing comment or the newest cutting quip?

What if my audience went to zero with my newfound positivity?

I stopped myself from spiraling and reminded myself that I had to take a chance. This was my legacy; this was my decision to make.

Pausing for a moment, I forced myself to zoom out and consider the bigger picture implications. Pinnacle might not appreciate me doing an about face without advance warning. My contract was up for renewal in just a few weeks, and I was aiming for a promotion. Plus, my agent had just recently complimented me on growing my fanbase.

For a moment, I considered calling my boss to ask for guidance, but I didn’t want to interrupt his all-important vacation. If I appeared to be a meek follower, he’d never trust me to run a big production. I needed to take the initiative on the direction of my show. Be my own man, set my own tone.

I forced my butt into the chair.

Still, the laptop and microphone taunted me.

You can’t do it. Stick with what you know. Brutal criticism—it’s what the people want!

But it wasn’t what I wanted. Not anymore.

Slowly, I lifted my hand and pressed the power button on my laptop.

The familiar ding reminded me that this was real. This was really about to happen.

I’d record it in an hour and within a few hours that same day, I’d have feedback from my higher-ups.

Things moved quickly at Pinnacle in the high-paced world of sports news.

Reaching over, I turned on my microphone, steeling myself and attempting to calm my nerves.

I opened a document containing the notes I had written the previous day. Notes that were intended to be used in today’s podcast.

As I skimmed them, I shook my head in disappointment.

Another scathing takedown of some of the NFL’s biggest stars, including Luke. In fact, as usual, my notes had him as the biggest focal point of today’s show.

And maybe I was going to keep it that way.

With a new twist.

Suddenly, the air in the room felt lighter, and the heavy weight that had been burdening my chest lifted.

Claire’s words echoed in my mind. She had been right, of course. Always, relentlessly right.

Without her, I wasn’t sure if I would ever have been able to see through my own biases. My words carried consequences beyond my scope of understanding. So, I needed to make my words my own. Not words that only shocked and surprised listeners, thereby growing my audience.

That wasn’t how I wanted to make my way to the top.

With my microphone on, and my heart open, I started my show.

“Welcome back to Pinnacle Playbook , your go-to for all things sports, stats, and controversy. I’m your host Brett Mercer, here to break it down with brutal honesty. But today’s going to be a little different. Let’s talk about someone who has made headlines for years—and not just on the field but in the hearts of fans everywhere. Today we’re talking about Luke Dalton.”

To my surprise and delight, it felt wonderful to speak positively of the man who had saved my life.

“I know I’ve had a lot to say about Luke in the past, but today I want to talk about one of the biggest reasons his name comes up on this show. I talk about him for the same reason you all listen. Because you cannot give a thorough analysis of the state of the NFL without including his name.”

“Luke Dalton didn’t just play football,” I continued, hoping my words would keep the interest of my listeners when they heard it later in the day, “he changed the game. He was a cornerstone of the league for over a decade, the kind of star you build franchises around. Retired or not, it doesn’t matter. That kind of legacy doesn’t fade.”

Something shifted inside me. I couldn’t wait for Luke to hear my podcast.

Even though I wasn’t sure if he actively listened or if he had only browsed the highlight reel of my previous nasty comments.

I cringed as I thought about him perusing compilation clips of me lambasting him with insults.

Today, we were turning a page. I was going to put my best foot forward and give it my best effort. Hopefully, my listeners would appreciate it.

“The interesting thing about Luke Dalton?” I added. “He’s the kind of guy brands want to align with. He is incapable of being ordinary and escaping the spotlight. Because when you achieve greatness in the NFL, it paints a target on your back. Because, despite all the criticism from the press, he’s never responded unprofessionally or let it get in the way of his goals. And most importantly, because he’s proven repeatedly that he’s more than an athlete—he’s a champion that has captivated fans and turned their attention to anything he’s touched for years, and that doesn’t vanish just because he’s not on the field anymore.”

Finally, the energy in the air around me had changed. This was my new legacy.