Breaking Elle (50 page)

“What’s up, Doc?” I chuckle, leaning against the exam table. He looks the same. His silver hair is short, and he’s grown a beard. I know his first wife didn’t like facial hair, so he must have a new lady friend, or maybe he’s single. He’s wearing a white button down dress shirt with a blue and white striped tie and blue jeans under his white lab coat with some shiny new cowboy boots.

“Someone’s in a positive mood today.” He walks over and shakes my hand. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen ya boy. How are things up North?”

“So far so good.”

“Good to know because I hear the people in Boston are some unfriendly folks.” He slaps me on the shoulder and laughs, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

“Depends on who you meet, Doc. I know a good group of people.” I smile, thinking of Elle and getting back to her.

“That’s good. Friends are hard to come by these days.” He pauses and smiles. “Why don’t you sit up on the table, and I’ll check out your knee while we wait for the x-rays to come back.” He pulls up the leg of my jeans and gently squeezes my knee then taps it lightly with his closed fist. “How’s it feeling now? Any pain?” He looks up from his glasses, waiting for my answer.

“Good. No pain for two weeks. I think I may be over the hump. I hope so, anyway.”

“You’ve been keeping up with your therapy, running and weights?” He peeks at me from under his glasses.

“You bet, Doc.” I answer, watching him flip his chart and jot down some notes. I still get nervous every time he does that because the last memory of it was when a stretcher carried me off the field. That one time in my life, I wish that I wasn’t so stubborn and had listened to the coach.

“Where’s Coach these days?” I ask, as his assistant walks in with the room and hands him the envelope that contains my x-rays. My heart pushes up my throat and my hands grow sweaty.

“He’s around today. You should go visit him. I’m sure he’d love to see ya. Be a nice surprise for him.” He grins.

“I think I might do that,” I reply, watching as he unseals the envelope, carefully pulling out each slide, and placing them on the screen. He flicks the switch and ghostly images of my precious knee appear. He points at the slides and takes notes on the clipboard, turning to me with an encouraging smile.

“It looks completely healed. There’s a little inflammation but nothing to worry about,” he says, returning to scrutinize the films one last time. “Just wrap it once in awhile. I don’t see why you can’t do what you used to do.” He smiles, knowing how much I love football.

“Thanks, Doc.” I hop up from the table and shake his hand. The smile that spreads across my face hurts because I’m so damn happy.

“I know that look, Landon. What’s your plan?” He raises his eyebrows resting his hand on my shoulder.

Only certain people still call me Landon, and Doc’s one of them. He says I don’t look like a Reed, so I accommodate his minor request; it’s a small price to pay to keep Doc happy. I trust him one hundred percent. He’s been with me since day one of my career, and he knows my legs are my way out of my rough existence. He also knows it’s my passion, what I’m supposed to be doing.

“You know I always have something up my sleeve. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I grin, anxious to visit with Coach.

As I peek into Coach’s office, he’s mulling over playbooks and video. His office has all the bells and whistles now, real wood furniture, leather couch, forty-inch computer monitor, and framed team photos from the last four championships. The athletic program gets a lot of money due to the success of the football program over the last few years. It’s nice to know that I had something to do with it. I almost get emotional but I don’t because I know Coach would never let me live it down if he saw that. His famous line was always ‘No girls in the locker room’. Well, that depends, I laugh at the memories flashing through my head at the thought of his saying.

I step into his office and loudly clear my throat, standing with my arms crossed behind my back. He spins in his chair to face me, dropping the playbook on the floor.

“Looky what we have here!” He says in disbelief, coming around his desk.

Coach gives me a big bear hug, slapping me several times on my back. He’s about six feet tall and has fifty pounds on me that seemed to have settled around his waist, and I swear to God he just cracked a rib.

“Good to see you, Coach.” I chuckle, pulling away from his tight grip.

“What brings you by?” He pipes grinning from ear to ear. His black hair has some silver in it now, and he’s got the same pale skin. He always used to say tanning was for women. “I thought you were up North now. Where’d you say? New York, Washington, one of those crazy cities?”

“No, Boston.”

“Boston. Why’d you pick that place? I heard there are some mean people out in those parts.”

“Nah, you got to see for yourself. Good folks.” I laugh like I haven’t heard that before.

“So, what you saying, boy? You’re not coming back to Texas?” He asks, motioning for me to sit down. I take a seat facing his desk, leaning back in the chair crossing my leg over my knee.

“I don’t know,” I reply. I know I have to come back for Momma and my sister, but I need Elle.
I can’t think about that right now.

“And what about football? How’s your knee?” He asks as he slips behind his desk, taking a seat in his plush leather chair.

“Just met with Doc, and he said I’m a go. I can try out again. I shouldn’t have any problems,” I say confidently, anxious to get on the field and play.

“Good, because I got something for ya,’” he says, searching on his desk under a pile of papers. He throws a packet at me. “Check this out. The NFL put this new program together. Regional Combines that started in 2012 to give guys like you a chance to prove themselves. I think you would get signed either way, but this gives you an option to do it on your own. Tryouts run late January through early April with a small registration fee. So you got some time to train and get that knee in shape. I’m telling you there’s going to be a lot of competition out there, but I always had confidence in you. Shit, you gave me four championships with those legs. The only thing you have to worry about is that hard head.” He chuckles.

I flip through the information and look up at Coach; you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face even if you tried. “I’m going to do this, and I’m gonna do it on my own. No agents, just me, my two legs, and my skills. This has been my dream and my momma’s dream. I’m gonna make it happen. I’m gonna make her proud.” Coach knows how much this means to Momma, and he knows how much it means to me.

I feel lucky tonight and decide to head out with Tommy to celebrate. JuJu wants to stay home with Momma, which is good because it gives Tommy and me a chance to talk. I pick Tommy up at the house, telling Juju and Momma that we’re going to do something low-key. There’s nothing low-key when Tommy and I get together, ever. Trouble always finds us. I may have been the football hero in college, but people can be jealous of your success.

“So, have you heard anything lately from you know who?” Tommy asks, looking out onto the road, taking the ramp onto the highway.

“No, not a peep and that’s what scares me. He’s not someone who likes to keep quiet for this long,” I reply, tapping the side of the door.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” he says, taking his eyes off the road to look at me. “You knew what you were getting your ass into when you called him.”

“Yeah.” I stare out the windshield, watching the storm clouds pass over the Texas sky. “Don’t remind me.”

We end up returning to The Lone Star to pick up Juju’s driver’s license that someone found in the bathroom stall the night she got drunk. Instead of heading straight out, we decide to have a beer at the bar and figure out where we want to go.

“What’s up with your pops?” Tommy asks, grabbing his beer from the bar.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably has someone taking care of him,” I reply, staring at the bottles lined up at the back of the bar, wondering what his latest elixir of choice is. No matter what, he has no problem finding a woman to take care of him. It works for a little while. Then they discover his close relationship with alcohol, and he ends up kicked to the curb.

“You gonna call him?” Tommy asks as he takes a pull of his beer.

“Not sure. If he’s in trouble, he calls me. If I call him, he won’t get off my back to give him money.” I frown at the last memory of my dad staggering out of a bar after causing a fight. I happened to be there with some friends, and I tried to avoid him. But not Pops. When he sees me, he acts like a proud papa, but I know and he knows he has nothing to do with my football career in college or anything else. Just bad memories. I’m sure he just saw the dollar signs I would get with my NFL contract. When that slipped through my fingers, he faded into the woodwork like he did when Momma didn’t have any money for him.

“Old habits die hard with your pops.” He smirks, finishing off the rest of his beer.

“Yeah, I think I got some of that, too.” I smile weakly, staring out into the crowded bar. I chuckle thinking about the last time I was here. Campbell’s boyfriend out in the parking lot dressed to impress, trying to defend his girlfriend’s honor. I remember what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up. I shake my head. Nothing would have happened.
Nothing.
I’m different now. At least I think I am.

“Tell me about this girl of yours back in Boston? You haven’t said much about her since you been here.” Tommy leans his back up against the bar.

Shit, is Tommy psychic? I flick my eyes up at him ready to say something, but he starts waving down someone in the crowd.

“Hold that thought man, I’ll be right back. I see someone that owes me some cash.” He yells over the noise in the bar.

I nod my head as he ducks through the crowd to the other side of the room. Turning to the bar, I take a drink of my beer. I’m starting to wish I hadn’t come out here again. It’s too risky. I was lucky that only Campbell saw me the other night, and who knows about her boyfriend? I’d be kind of pissed if I caught my girl with another man. I clench my fist just thinking about Elle and if that happened with her. I rattle the ugly thought from my mind and focus on the baseball highlights streaming across the TV over the bar.

“So what ‘bout them Red Sox?” I turn my head slightly to the guy next to me as he orders a beer. I notice his tattooed arm and nonchalantly glance at his profile. He’s the guy from the other night. I return my attention back to the TV, but now I have my guard up. This is too coincidental. I take another drink of my beer and wait a minute before I answer.

“Don’t follow them much myself. Football is my sport of choice,” I reply. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I eye him cautiously. This dude is definitely fishing for something.

“Just making conversation,” he answers, taking a long swig of beer. He looks nervous and sweat beads form on his forehead as he scans the crowd. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not afraid either. I’ve never been afraid of anything or anyone. Texas may be big, but some of the people here are bigger. They have eyes and ears everywhere, and you just have to be careful. Someone is always casting a net to reel you in and catch you. This dude is obviously working for someone. At least they could have sent out someone more experienced to do the job. This guy has rookie written all over his shiny forehead.

I continue to face the bar, watching him through the mirror for a few minutes to see what he’s going to do. Since he’s not getting any response from me, he slowly straightens up and shoulders his way through the crowd to the other side of the room. I’m not stupid. This guy isn’t alone, and I’m pissed that Tommy ended up being with me for this because there is a fucking good chance of something happening tonight. I don’t know when and where, but it’s going to happen.