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The journalist cleared his throat in the third row. "Coach, the next question I have is for Travis King."

I hovered over the microphone while cameras flashed below. Only an hour and twenty-four minutes left at the stadium. Post-game press was the worst part but once that was done, I had a flight back to New York, to my gorgeous wife, my son, who didn’t know how to speak beyond shouting and singing, and my twin daughters who traded shifts where one would nap while the other immediately started howling so I never needed to worry about getting a good night’s sleep.

Nowhere else I'd rather be.

"The question is about Jade the Architect."

Half of the players down the table snickered.

I grunted, showing I heard him.

"Your wife’s album cover for her recent release, Show Devotion, has been labeled lewd and inappropriate, considering she’s a mother of three. The cover itself has been banned in seventeen countries."

I narrowed my eyes. My coach leaned to the side, obviously trying to gauge if I wanted this wrapped up. But I didn’t want that. I wanted the journalist to feel the entire room’s gaze. I wanted him to hear all of those chairs scraping against the floor as everyone craned their necks to look.

I arched an eyebrow. "Did you say mother of three because you’re worried I forgot how many kids I have?"

Laughter followed from the rest of the press. He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh. No. I was looking for an answer."

"You didn’t ask a question,"

"Uh—I guess, more of a—a comment?"

"What does this have to do with football?" my coach demanded.

"No, I’ll give a comment." I folded my arms over my chest. "My wife’s album cover rests on the wall behind my desk at home. It’s hand-painted—I paid a lot of money for that—and in a gold frame. The only thing that could physically move that painting would be my house burning to the ground or my wife asking me to. That’s my comment. Next question."