Page 24 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)

TWENTY-FOUR

ROB

I walked into a crowded locker room, water dripping off my hair and body worn out from a full day on the field.

“Hey, Grant!” Trent Vogt called, his eyebrows furrowed and focus on his phone. “Did your identity get stolen or something? I got a text from you.”

“I got one, too,” Diego said, holding up his phone triumphantly.

“Ah shit, Rob got taken by a scammer. They’ve got access to his phone.” Cole Lakeland wandered into the locker room from the inner recesses of the stadium, not a drop of sweat on him. To be a fucking punter… “The scammer asked me out to dinner. A little forward, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you guys,” I grumbled, pulling on a t-shirt. “I sent that text. Captain’s dinner. I’ve got an idea.”

“He’s got an idea.” Lakeland’s eyes widened, a smirk forming on his lips. “And he’s taking us out to a fancy steakhouse. The Gables? What did we do to deserve that?”

“Does this invite mean we’re friends?” Trent wrapped an arm around my neck, pumping his fist too close to my face.

“We’re not friends.” I pushed him away, the smell of obnoxiously aggressive body spray flooding my nose. “And I’m not spending money on you assholes.”

“Your text clearly says, ‘dinner’s covered,’” Lakeland said, holding up his screen for the locker room to see. “Don’t get me wrong, buddy. I want to hang out with you, but it’s last minute and a free meal certainly sweetens the deal.”

“You cheap bastards.” I shook my head. “Don’t worry. It’s covered.”

“Boy’s night!” Fieste burst into the locker room with all the enthusiasm of a six-month-old golden retriever. “This is going to be epic, guys!”

Diego raised an eyebrow. “Fieste’s coming with us?”

Noa trailed Fieste into the locker room. He eyed me warily, focus swinging between Fieste and me.

“Rookie, did you help the field crew clean up the sidelines?” I asked.

Fieste straightened, eyes widening with panic. “Um, I did not. Give me a minute.”

He bounded out of the locker room.

“Fieste is covering dinner,” I told the group before turning back to my locker.

“We don’t do that, Rob.” Steel coated Noa’s normally calm voice.

“We don’t do what?” I feigned ignorance.

“Coach Simmons won’t like it,” Noa added.

While other NFL teams allowed frat-like hazing of new rookies in the form of extra drills or carrying veterans’ bags or paying for their outrageous dinners, Coach Simmons didn’t allow even a whiff of any type of hazing.

For him, the team was a job, and jobs didn’t torment the newest coworkers.

And normally, I agreed with that stance.

But for Fieste, I’d make an exception.

I shrugged.

“He wanted to pay for dinner. He begged me.” Noa raised an eyebrow, but I held strong. “He’s getting access to the captains. That’s huge for a first-year player. Any of the other rookies would have jumped at the chance.”

“And he’s paying for everything? Booze, food? No restrictions?” Trent asked, sharing a smile with Lakeland.

“We’re not bankrupting the guy,” Diego said sternly. Noa crossed his arms and nodded, backing him up.

“Ah, come on. He’s on the active roster. We can make a dent.” Lakeland rubbed a towel through his damp hair. “He won’t feel like he earned it unless we make it hurt. Just a little.”

While Trent and Lakeland were only too happy to get a free meal, Noa guessed the real reason. “Is this really about that pre-season tackle?”

My best friend could see through my bullshit a mile away.

I shrugged. “Coach said we gotta work through the personnel issues ourselves. Making Fieste spend a shit ton on a fancy dinner would certainly help me get over that cheap hit.”

Diego opened his mouth to argue and closed it again. He ran his palm over his face and sighed. “Fine. Fieste pays and we make it hurt a little .”

“My knee hurt more than a little after that bullshit,” I piped up, unable to keep a smile off my face.

Diego shook his head and returned my grin. “Let’s keep it under five grand, okay? We’ve got practice in the morning, so one drink. Make it count: no bottles, nothing over fifty years old.”

The rest of the group nodded in time for Fieste to return.

I groaned as I handed my keys to the valet in front of Gable’s, Norwalk’s newest overly-pretentious eatery for assholes and burgeoning assholes. The tables packed with men in business suits ordering whiskey flights turned my stomach.

If I wasn’t draining Fieste’s bank account, I wouldn’t have suggested the place. But with forty-dollar happy hour appetizers and a five-hundred-dollar “tasting menu”, it won the competition of the best place to get a subpar meal for too much money.

“Do you have a reservation?” The hostess wore a tight black dress, and she pointedly kept her eyes on the tablet balanced on the podium in front of her.

“Yeah, Grant.”

She dragged a finger across the screen before her eyes fluttered up. “Oh, the Breakers’ table?”

My jaw tensed. Unlike Trent and Diego, I’d never hired an assistant.

If I had, I could have had that person make the reservations without adding my job to the mix.

Instead, I’d asked our kicker, Luke White, who despite owning half the bougie bars and restaurants in downtown Norwalk, still couldn’t swing a reservation at Gable’s without name dropping.

“Yeah,” I groaned. “But make sure we pay full price. No free drinks or comps, okay?”

Her perfectly manicured eyebrows lifted in surprise before a cat-like grin formed on her face. “Okay.”

She picked up a menu and gestured for me to follow. “So, does that make you a player?”

“Nope. Ball boy,” I answered tersely, just as a guy in a fitted suit flagged me down.

“Rob Grant, can I get your autograph?”

“No,” I growled.

“Ball boy, huh?” she deadpanned. “This way.”

I kept my eyes on the back of her head, not so much as glancing at the other patrons. I wanted dinner, not to sign a bunch of napkins and hats that would just end up for sale online a week later.

She led me to a table at the back of the restaurant, empty except for one.

“Rob!” Fieste stood up.

I grit my teeth as the hostess placed the menu at the seat next to his. I sat on the other side of the table. “Fieste.”

He sat back down, clearing his throat. “Thanks for giving me this opportunity to talk to you and the other captains. I’m really excited to be on the team and playing with you.”

I picked up the menu, pointedly looking it over. “I wouldn’t get too excited about playing together. Barring some catastrophic event, you’ll be riding the bench this season. Unless you plan on injuring some more defensive players. Maybe then you’ll get a shot at the field.”

Fieste blanched, searching beyond the table for someone to save him from our conversation. Unfortunately for him, Noa and Diego were nowhere to be found, and Trent and Lakeland had gotten distracted at the bar.

“I wouldn’t do anything like that?—”

“Again, anyway. Right?” I interjected with a glare.

“Right. Obviously.” Fieste pulled at his shirt as his cheeks turned red. “I am sorry about that.”

“You’ve said.” Having solidly ended any chance of conversation, I wanted dinner. Now that Noa and Diego had rightly pointed out that I couldn’t bleed the asshole out of his entire sign-on bonus, my interest in fucking around with Fieste vanished.

“So.” He pitched forward, setting his elbows on the table. “What can I do to make up for it?”

“Isn’t that why you’re taking us out to dinner?”

He snorted. “Yeah, Noa already warned me that you wanted to bankrupt me at dinner. And that they’d talked you down. So, I have a feeling that means I’m still not forgiven.”

“Probably not,” I admitted.

“What does it take?”

I groaned, reclining back and raking my hand over my face. “Fuck if I know. Quit the team?”

“Not happening,” he said faster and with more authority than I expected. Enough to earn a little respect. A very little.

“Fair.” I shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Fieste sighed, the frown on his face surprisingly pathetic. “Well, if you come up with something reasonable, I’m game.”

A pang of guilt hollowed my stomach.

“Rob!” Noa interrupted, with Diego in tow. “Ethan, good to see you. Glad you could join us. Rob, do you mind getting Trent and Lakeland away from the bar? They’ve got practice in the morning, and they just threw back another round of shots.”

I glanced back at the wide receiver and running back. Trent had sat down while Lakeland said something that made the entire group of financiers laugh uproariously.

“Fine,” I groaned, standing up and stalking over to the rest of our dinner party.

“Rob Grant!” A businessman wearing a red and gold tie stumbled over to me, reeking of whiskey. “Can I get an autograph? How about I buy you a drink?”

“No,” I answered gruffly. “I need these two. Now.”

Lakeland’s head swung in my direction, but Trent continued his conversation until I grabbed the back of his shirt, muscling my way past red and gold tie before he asked another stupid question.

“We were heading that way.” Trent struggled against my grip. I let him go at the table.

“You were going to leave me with Fieste until dessert. You guys are the worst.”

“It’s nice to know you care, Rob.” Lakeland laughed as he took my seat.

“I care about eating dinner and getting home.” I swiped my water from in front of him and took the last remaining seat next to Fieste.

“So, Ethan,” Diego said, opening his menu. “You get to fund the first captain’s dinner in the history of the Breakers. This is history in the making.”

“I’m just happy you’re letting me sit at the same table as you.” Fieste grinned.

“Wait, can we make him sit at the bar?” I asked, drawing a frown from Noa.

“So, what’s the plan, old man?”

I glowered at Lakeland. “Call me that again and I’m laying you out next practice. I don’t even care if Simmons benches me for it.”

“Yeah, you gotta treat your elders with respect,” Trent laughed. “Mr. Grant, what’s your plan to turn this team around?”

Fucking kids.

“Teamwork shit. I don’t know. Dinner. Painting. Axe throwing.” I set down the menu, searching for our server. “That’s the part you’re supposed to come up with. I arranged dinner to make it happen.”

“You think we should trust everyone with an axe right now?” Diego raised an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly what I told Astrid,” I grumbled as I waved down the first person I spotted in a black button-down shirt and a silver carafe of water. “We need booze. Now.”

The kid scurried away.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Trent said.

“I sure as shit don’t plan on spending the next hour with you without a stiff drink.” I’d already picked a whiskey flight that didn’t list a price. Something comfortably in the hundreds of dollars range based on the rest of the menu.

“No, not drinks. Team building. Spending some time where we’re not in direct competition with each other.” Diego raised an eyebrow and shrugged at Noa, who nodded.

“Like the pre-season barbecue?” Trent asked.

Diego shook his head. “Coach Mack’s party is next weekend. We’ve got to come up with something different. Something that actually brings us together as a team. Not just in the same location.”

“How about a ropes course?” Fieste interjected.

I shot him a warning look.

Noa smiled. “A ropes course? Do you think management would allow it?”

Fieste shrugged and pulled out his phone. “I did one with my team back in Alabama. The coaching staff didn’t have a problem with it. Most of the course was just simple team-building activities. Only the last bit was up in the air, and we were tied off.”

“They let me rappel in Puerto Rico with Frankie two seasons ago,” Trent said as the server came back with our drinks.

“And what if we break up the sections and everyone contributes something?” Lakeland said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Offense could make t-shirts!” Noa offered. “I worked with a screen printer on a brand deal last year, and he’d let us design something and use his shop.”

“Luke owns a brewery. Special teams can brew a beer,” Lakeland offered.

“You think Luke is going to appreciate you offering his brewery?” I asked.

Lakeland shrugged. “He’ll do it if I ask nicely.”

“I have a brewery,” I countered.

“Great. We’ll brew at Rob’s brewery. Special teams have beer.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I meant defense brews beer. Special teams can find something else to do.”

“Too late, I called it. You’ve gotta come up with something else,” Lakeland said.

“Fine,” I relented. “Want defense to order catering?”

Sounded good to me. And it saved me from having to do anything other than make a phone call and an appearance.

“I think we could all kick in for that.” Noa said, the corner of his lip turning up in a way that made me wary. “And defense could make the team beer steins.”

“Beer steins?” Trent laughed. “How the hell is he gonna do that?”

I shot Noa a warning look that did nothing besides put a grin on his face as he continued talking. “Rob doesn’t just have a brewery. He has a pottery studio, too. His mom used to be a potter. You can hand build steins, right, buddy?”

“No.” The team knew enough about my home life. I didn’t need to add the pottery studio to the mix.

“Defense needs to contribute something, and you don’t need to leave the house. Win-win.” Diego nodded as if he’d decided for me. “Now all we need is a venue.”

“Wait, that’s not—” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Fine. Fucking pottery. I invite my teammates into my space one time and move on with my life.

“I found a ropes course just outside the city. I’ll call them and schedule it,” Fieste offered.

“Well, boys.” Diego held up his glass. “Seems like we have a team-building activity to arrange.”