Page 7 of Catch
“Hey. Did you get a new phone?”
“I’m calling you through the app.”
“Oh, that’s right. Witness protection.” I laughed. She liked to use an app for her online business. She was a licensed psychologist and offered both phone and video sessions to customers all over the country.
We hadn’t spent a lot of time together since I took this job. My life hadn’t slowed down since the minute the Cheetahs approached me. I had only days to find our townhouse, and while it wasn’t ideal, it would work until I could find something permanent if my position here was a good fit.
“I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say you’re going to be great.”
“Thanks. I’m still a little nervous. They’ve prepped me for everything so I can’t imagine I’ll screw it up.”
“That’s the right attitude. Don’t let the journalists control the interview. They all suck anyway,” she said.
Lexi couldn’t stand how hateful the media could be toward women. They wanted us to succeed, yet they were the first to attack if we failed. I knew two women who walked away from the NFL because of the pressure that the media put on them, not because the job was too challenging.
“I’ve been rehearsing all morning,” I said.
“I’m sure you’ll do great. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You tell the truth? You give your opinion about a sexual predator? Who’s going to be upset about that?”
I sighed and rubbed my hand over my face. “I know I’m freaking out about nothing. I know Terry won’t throw me to the sharks. They are extremely sensitive to this sticky situation.”
“You’re right. They’ve got your back. It’ll be over in no time. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“It’ll be another late night.” I heard her sigh. She hated my late hours. We almost broke up last year, but once the season was over, I was home by six and we were able to salvage our relationship. Even though she knew the new job would be the same kind of hours, she promised she would try to adjust. “But I’ll try to be home sooner.” I was greeted with silence. “Do you have a busy afternoon?”
“Just the normal calls. Speaking of which, I should go. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I felt off after I disconnected the call. She wasn’t happy but I didn’t have time to give her right now. Maybe that would never happen. I missed my dog more than I missed her. That probably wasn’t the best sign of longevity for our relationship. “Hey, what’s the policy on pets?” I asked the group.
“What do you mean?” Jamal asked.
“I guess I’m asking if I can bring my dog to work.”
He pointed at me with the rolled-up mysterious paper still in his hand. “Technically, you’re the boss. You make the rules.”
He was right. And Crowbar would love to curl up in my office or sit by my side during practice. He was the most well-behaved dog on the planet. “Gotcha.”
“Too bad your dog isn’t a cat. Then we’d have a real mascot.” Jamal pointed to the new mascot, Champ the Cheetah, across the field who was taking selfies with the fans who showed up for training camp. People paid good money to be here and watch the new team in action. Some were curious about the Cheetahs, and some were here because of the veterans like Grayson and tackle Jeremy Pickles. It felt like a circus.
“I’m headed in for the press conference.” I checked my watch for the thousandth time. “Wrap up practice. It’s getting hot and we need to review the film.”
He nodded and blew his whistle. I jogged back to the offices and took a moment to look presentable. I shut the door to my office and slipped into a fresh polo and pressed khakis. My tan hid the dark circles from lack of sleep. I added a bit of makeup and brushed my hair. Bill knocked a second before I opened the door.
“You ready?”
“Yes, sir.” I matched his stride and we walked into the press room with confidence. It was right there with me until I saw a hundred people with lanyards and cameras around their necks, then it disappeared. The room went from loud chatter to instant quiet when I stood behind Bill.
“Please meet Sutton McCoy, the Cheetahs’ offensive coordinator. Let’s take it easy this first go-round.” Bill stepped back and allowed me to adjust the microphone. I was a few inches taller.
I cleared my throat. “Hello.” Hands shot up like a roomful of sixth graders waving to get my attention. Some even called out my name. I didn’t know a single person in the room. Did I call them out by what they were wearing? Plaid shirt guy with thick glasses? Woman wearing the hideously bright green dress? Dude who still looked like he was in high school with his baby face and swooping bangs?
“Les,” Bill’s voice boomed out, alleviating the stress of who to call on first.
A man with a receding hairline wearing a navy polo stood. “Coach McCoy, Lester Moore from ESPN. How has the reception been as the newest coach for the Cheetahs?”
Easy question. I put on a sweet smile and answered him honestly. “The reception has been warm and inviting. I get along well with the other coaches and the players take my advice. It’s been a very positive experience. It was a fight to get here, but well worth it.”
“A fight to get here? What do you mean?”
