Page 8 of Jockstraps & Newspapers
Chapter seven
A morning to remember
Elliot
I t took all his physical strength to climb the steps to his townhouse.
He was dragging his hooves and tail across the threshold.
Slumping onto his couch, he flopped and flailed till he was on the floor, stretched out.
He put a pillow under his big head and let out a groan to rattle the chandeliers.
He didn’t have any, but if he did, they would shake.
He was in trouble. Cassiopeia was looking into him officially, and he would have to tread carefully.
She broke down how she wanted to do his deep dive piece.
It rattled him to his core so hard that he stumbled and nearly bulldozed the asphalt next to the field.
She wanted to start at his humble beginnings, or something like that, and show the progression to super star, to coach.
How he got started and how he got the job.
It wasn’t his career he was worried about… it was the beginnings.
Elliot’s childhood wasn’t a pretty subject.
From the outside, it was a rags to riches.
Dad was a mechanic, worked in shop after shop; mom did her best to work out of the home while raising three rambunctious boys.
Things weren’t easy. He’d barely made it through school.
And Dad’s car business drastically changed when Rex, Elliot’s youngest brother, got sick.
Dad took over a shop and took over a family business they’d never been in.
Money wasn’t tight anymore, but none of it was taxed.
If Cassiopeia researched him…would she find out?
Bad choices, right reasons? Should he just rip the bandage off now?
‘Hey, when you dig into my childhood, you’re gonna find some suspicious information.
It’s fine, my dad isn’t a bad guy, he’s just…
you know, running a completely underground chop shop that isn’t above board. ’
Dread hit him hard in the stomach. Maybe she won’t look that hard…
maybe all her childhood research will be asking him questions?
He couldn’t help but deflate against the hardwood floor.
His heart was in his hooves. Elliot had done all in his power to stay out of that world.
He would never blame his father or judge him for doing what he had to do.
It saved Rex’s life. And the regular shop was doing nice.
All his family worked there, and it looked above board now.
While his father had expanded his business and taken over a few others, Elliot never wanted a part of it…
he’d seen what it did to his father. The nights he came home bruised and bloody, but holding some other guy’s teeth.
Elliot didn’t want to live a violent life. He didn’t enjoy rage or hurting anyone.
So, when his dad asked him at sixteen to join the business, Elliot decided to deliver pizzas instead.
He went the exact opposite way. Which is how he came across SportsBall.
There was a beer league in the community arena late one night.
They’d ordered pizza after a scrimmage. As he delivered, they asked if he wanted to join.
The very next week, he was elbow to elbow with an Orc named Sam trying to get a wiggly dwarf named Rick Pearson into a goal.
He’d never found a more fun sport full of people who just wanted a good time.
From goofing off and playing as a joke to trying out for the official team the next summer, he’d left his father’s life completely behind.
He was still proud of his father for doing what he had to do.
He loved his family. But he did not approve of their business practices.
And if Cassiopeia dug too hard…she was too smart not to find out. Cassie was such a firewhip, she would find the truth. He just knew it.
Elliot bemoaned his crash and burn when the grand populace found out about his family. Would this ruin their business? Could he work with her to stop her from doing that? Did he even have a chance?
His stomach grumbling got him out of his head.
There wasn’t a thing he could do about it now.
Instead, he clambered to his hooves and dragged his body into the kitchen.
The smart thing would be to make something good for his body, nothing that would slug him down before bed.
Yet, he pulled out a hunk of steak and the fattest potato he could find in his kitchen.
Rolling his potato in tinfoil with a little bit of moisture, he tossed it into the oven.
He got his cast iron ripping hot and slapped his steak in.
The kitchen filled with glorious butter and garlic with herbs.
Half an hour later, he had a fully loaded potato and buttery steak medium-rare.
Elliot normally would use a fork and knife for the steak, but as he leaned over his kitchen counter…
he couldn’t find the strength to use cutlery.
Steak in one hand, spoon he used for sour cream in the potato, he shoveled food into his open maw.
Munching and crunching, he moaned with delight as he filled his stomach.
He’d be sluggish in the morning but it’d be worth it.
And it was worth it, as he cleaned up his kitchen and dragged himself to the shower.
Scrubbing all the sweat off his body, brushing his teeth, and flopping into bed, he fell asleep fast and hard.
Elliot woke to the sweet, dulcet sounds of his phone screaming from the living room.
He had to stomp his way to the living room and get it.
When turning it off, he had a text staring him in the face.
From: Cassie Journalism Darling
I meant to apologize yesterday but it got away from me.
It’s probably the sun frying my head. But, I came off strong on the first day and I was very unprofessional and judgmental of your profession.
I understand that this means a lot to you, and I want this to do well.
Well, I need this to do well, so I’m going to give you the same professional courtesy that I give every article or piece I work on.
I hope this comes off as sincere as I’m meaning it, and I would have done this in person, but it slipped away from me and I didn’t want to forget it.
There was a burning urge to immediately call her.
Then he saw the time. She'd sent it sometime last night at midnight.
He'd passed out before ten. It was 5 am.
His mother used to throw things at his head if he called too late, but Coach taught him never to call too early.
Instead, hoping the text didn't wake her if she was still asleep, he responded.
To: Cassie Journalism Darling
Good mornin! No stress. Head games are killer, but super appreciate the courtesy.
See you on the field today? We never did answer the questions about the game like you wanted.
We're doing indoor strength training after 7 so if you roll up and we're not there, go up the hill to the gym connected to the arena.
You'll know it's us cause Toad plays his work out jams loud enough to knock a horse over.
He took his phone back to his room and worked to get ready.
Thankfully, they did half of the week indoors.
Poor thing wasn't fully ready for all the sun.
She needed a visor or one of those radical floppy hats.
That's when he stopped brushing his teeth and stared at his phone.
Sneakers. He'd been challenged to find her sneakers.
And Elliot Bonesaw was nothing if not a man of his word.
So, while he worked to get himself ready for the day, he flipped through a few of his favorite sports gear places.
Up and down, he couldn't find anything that screamed Cassiopeia Darling. But he wasn't giving up.
Even as he dressed and prepared for the day, he kept the idea in his head.
He'd find her snazzy sneakers and then, they'd work to wearing comfortable clothing.
Not that she didn't look smoking in anything she wore.
He could still remember her on the field yesterday, silk camisole pressed to her torso as she helped him stretch.
Did he need her help? No. Did he relish the look on her face as they went back and forth?
Yes. The smile on her face, the way she rolled her eyes, the cute stomp of her foot when she tossed her notepad, all of it.
He didn't imagine she would ever let him truly change her to comfortable clothing, but a minotaur could dream.
Of seeing her in jogging sweats and a sports bra, waving at him from the sidelines, visor and sunscreen and a brilliant smile. Oh yeah, he liked that idea.
Maybe he shouldn't. But he did.
Pre-workout in a shaker bottle, jogging down the steps to the sidewalk, he met up with Toad. "You ready for a new day?"
"You ready to spot me? I'm feeling strong today!" Toad wiggled back and forth, dancing from foot to foot.
"Forever and always," Elliot cheered, taking a sip. The pair jogged down the sidewalk, knees high and bags swinging on their backs.
"Hey, so, uh, I meant to ask, how’s the interview thing going? I see you talking to Cass." Toad tossed back a chug of his thicker gunk of pre-workout.
"Good! She's got a lot to make on top of my piece, but she's super capable, no worries." There were a few worries, but Toad didn't need to know them. Not even Toad knew about his family. No one did. And no one would, if he could manage it.
"Right on, right on," Toad nodded his head in acknowledgement. "So, Coach?"
"Right," Elliot laughed nervously. They hadn't really talked much on the subject. Next season was so far away, Elliot hadn't even considered what that would mean for his team. His heart hammered in his chest and it wasn't the run. He took a heavy gulp of his pre-workout. "Coach."