Can I just say... GO PATS!

Chapter 7

"Edward, we need a winner!" Alistair shouts, looking pissed. As desperately as I want to shout back, I bite my tongue.

"The last game was sick. They're like sharks, they smell blood, they're going to bite," Coach Thompson agrees.

"It's true," Alice chimes in, and I wonder for a moment what the hell she's even here for.

"The last game was not lost because of me," I argue.

"Whose fault was it then?" Alistair questions.

"It was our lack of defense. They're all too soft, letting plays score that shouldn't have made it off the line. I've said it before and I'll say it again, our defense needs a good ass whooping if it's going to take us anywhere this year."

"Uley is already out and Demetri is still out with his ACL," Coach Daniels offers defensively. "We've made a mid-season trade for his replacement."

"Right! But is Marshal going to make the difference we need?" Alistair wonders, looking worried.

"I'd like to think he is." Coach Thompson sounds confident. "The game footage looks promising."

"I expect it to," Alistair informs him, turning to me. "What specifically do you have issues with on the defense, Edward?"

"Black isn't stepping up his game. I don't think he's worth the jersey he wears," I tell him honestly, but it garners me a look from Alice that clearly tells me I've gone too far. Oh well.

He nods, looking at Coach Daniels for some answers.

"We've got Black working with a new trainer. We've known about his weakness for a while, but it's not so bad that we can't make him a better player. We just need time."

"Time is money!" Alistair shouts, turning red. Taking a breath, he turns and tries to calm down. "Is he making progress?"

"Yes, but progress takes time and conditioning," Thompson answers.

"Why wasn't this issue dealt with in pre-season? It seems as though that should have been nipped in the bud then?" Alistair questions.

"We've been dealing with it since then. We've tried new techniques. The progress was still coming along pretty slow, so we switched up the trainer, not an easy decision to make," Thompson clarifies.

I'm just happy they claim to know he was pushing like a pussy, because Lord knows I've been saying something about it for long enough.

Frustrated, Alistair eyes me. "What else is glaringly wrong that we can fix?"

"We need Crowley to tighten up his footwork. McCarty needs to be more present. It always as if he's a little late to each play. And Lahote needs to work on his handling. He's fumbled twice; that, to me, doesn't make us look well-oiled." The words roll off my tongue and it's everything I've been shouting about since pre-season. It feels rewarding to have it finally reach someone's ears that cares about the fate of the team.

If Alistair doesn't do something with this information, then no one's going to.

"These are all things we've been working on," Thompson comments defensively. "Things I've spearheaded. I have notes going back to before pre-season about it. Lahote is out there catching his ass off. His stats prove that. Two fumbles does not make him a mess. McCarty is being worked with; he knows his position isn't secure, so I think you'll see sincere improvement from him."

"And what about Crowley?"

"We're on top of that, too," Coach Daniels remarks.

"If I don't see improvements in all of these areas by next game, I'm coming after your asses," he seethes at the coaches. "I can't understand why there aren't significant improvements by now. We need to step it up or there won't be any kind of post season for us." The coaches nod before Alistair storms out of Coach Thompson's office.

I'm left leaning against the window, wondering what's going to happen next. Surely, these coaches are going to see some need to push back at me.

"Cullen, we need to talk!" Alice announces in a bitchy tone, looking miffed.

"If you'll excuse me?" I offer to the still stunned coaches.

They vaguely nod as I scoot by them and out the door, following the tiny woman who's so put out I can almost see steam coming from her ears.

"What's up?" I wonder, as she stops in the dead of the hallway.

"I want to know why there're only two usable pictures from the hospital."

"What'd ya mean?"

"I mean, that when I called the media, they informed me no one was asked to go room to room with you and take pictures."

"Oh yeah, I told the hospital to forego that option."

"Oh, you did? How nice of you. Did you also tell them to forego your career?"

"Again Alice, I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"I mean, that you were asked to bring up your rep, right?"

I nod.

"And to do that you needed to make a few selective appearances to show you've had your head removed from your ass and that you are a human again, no?"

"I suppose."

"Well, if there's no photographic evidence of you exhibiting human-like qualities, no one is going to believe you've changed one damn bit."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I don't want to go off on her, here in the hallway. "I thought it was a good idea not to expose the already sick kids to anymore germs than myself."

"Good for you. We'll just run with that. Except we have no photos you were even there."

"If you stop for a moment. I was going to tell you that there are photos."

"Huh?"

"Bella, you know the, uh, woman from Carlisle's office."

"The physio assistant?"

"Yeah. Well, she went back to her old job, there at the hospital. She's like the lead nurse or something. And she happened to be my escort. She was able to capture a few tender moments with me and the kids.

"I'm sure if you contact her she'll be more than happy to share the photos with you."

Sighing, she looks mildly relieved. "Thank God. We have something to go with. I certainly couldn't just publish pictures of you entering and leaving the hospital. Though, the pile of gifts were a nice touch."

"Thanks."

*OM*

It's been a long morning and I'm not in the mood for practice, but there's no escaping it. We have a huge game on Thursday, since it's Thanksgiving—a lot of fans look forward to it, and I'm not about to disappoint them.

Stepping into the locker room there's a dull roar of voices—players chatting and discussing the game. Everything's great until I see Marshall standing at his newly labeled locker. Anger starts rocketing through me. Enough to get me in the right mindset for practice. I want to take this prick down and show the coaches what a huge mistake they made by hiring this shit.

The whistle blows, I get ready to defend myself, but McCarty is right there. He's actually on time. I snap back and Hale catches the pass with ease. He runs it to the end zone while I still marvel at the fact McCarty was paying attention. Too bad this is only practice and doesn't really matter.

I'm so stunned McCarty was on time for a play, I didn't even notice what Marshall looked like out there.

Coach Thompson pulls us together to have us run an out play. He tells me he wants to see if Seth is ready to keep the fleas off Hale.

We take the line and wait for the whistle; when it comes McCarty keeps me open to pass to Hale and he runs it ten yards until he's safe on the side lines. Clearwater kept him pretty well covered. It was good, and I'm not used to saying that.

We run a few more passing plays until Coach Thompson is satisfied there's progress really starting to show through. I'm starting to actually have confidence in the team, and I haven't been able to say that in a long time.

But now, the real test is going to be with the defense.

Coach calls me to the sidelines for a better watching position and he pulls Newton from the bench. It's not often the second string quarterback sees much field time, even if it is only during practice.

He tells each team what play to run and we sit back, ready to watch. Ready to pick out the faults.

I take a moment to observe the stance of Marshall. He squats down, but his back is too vertical. It's not the hit position at all.

Coach blows the whistle and he goes down like a ton of bricks. Useless, just like I thought.

I don't bother to say anything; though Coach Thompson's face tells me he can see it too. He tells them to set up again and calls out Marshall's trainer. He puts him in a better position and again the whistle blows. He stays standing a little longer this time, but not much. I'm wondering what the hell is going on, since the coaches all swore up and down the game footage looked good for this guy.

I frown and we reset. I'm beginning to wonder if he has an injury or a pre-existing condition that wasn't mentioned when the contracts were signed. It just seems as if he's much weaker than I ever assumed.

Coach blows the whistle again and he's immediately sacked; making me wonder what the hell is going on with this guy. I can't hold my comments back. I turn to Coach Thompson and let him have an ear full.

"He's useless. This is never going to be the push the defense needs."

"Do you think I'm blind, Cullen?"

"No, I just hope you can see what I'm seeing."

"Trust me, I see it. I'll pull for individual and have Dr. Benefico take a look at him."

"You're thinking the same as I am, aren't you?"

He shrugs his shoulder. "He's got to have an injury for him to fold like that, and I don't think he wanted us to find."

"Can we cut him?"

"Sure. We can always do that, but if we play like that the team will take a hit."

"No one's going to blame you for cutting damaged goods."

Coach Thompson gives me a look before sighing. "I don't think it's in the cards right now, but we'll see what doc has to say, all right?"

"Sounds good," I agree, finally feeling like the Coach has had some sense knocked into him.

*OM*

My phone rings, making me jump. I'm so lost thinking about practice and the changes to the team I wasn't really paying attention. Quickly I hit the button on the steering wheel and wait for call to answer.

"Edward dear?" Maria's motherly voice chimes through.

"Yes?"

"Oh good! I need you to stop at the store for me. There're a few things I need for Thanksgiving dinner."

I groan quietly. The last thing I want to do is go to the supermarket. I have plays I need to watch. I have strategies I need to think about. "What do you need?"

"Butternut squash, cranberries, and milk."

"Okay," I say with a sigh.

Pulling into the store I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it's not mobbed. I should be able to get in and out fairly quick. Grabbing a basket and making sure my hood is firmly in place, I dart inside, trying to hurry.

Being approached by a fan is one thing. Getting hounded is another, and I've been there. It gets weird and I end up feeling trapped, wanting nothing more than to run.

I make fast work of the produce and then walk as fast as I can, without drawing attention to myself, to the other end of the store. Crash. I look up and see I've driven my basket right into some woman. She's doubled over the handlebar. I let go and help her straighten up.

Looking her over, I realize I know her.

"Bella?"

"We really need to stop running into each other like this."

I let out a little laugh and offer her a smile. "Sorry about that. I was just trying to get out of here without being seen."

"Never would've guessed." She chuckles.

"So…how are you?"

"Before being clotheslined, you mean?"

I smile, nodding.

"Well, to be honest, I'm stressed today. I've been trying to find someone big to read to the kids Friday afternoon, but because of the holiday, no one wants to offer."

"Someone big?" I question.

"Yeah, well," she breathes out, sounding on edge. "Because the kids are sick and can't go home for the holiday, the hospital likes to have someone of some importance come in and read to them or even just play with them. It's supposed be little like Make-A-Wish, but with a revolving door of local personalities."

"I gotcha. That's awesome for the kids."

"Oh yes, but I get a great deal of pressure from the Board when I come up short."

"That's terrible," I say, before realizing I could probably fit the bill, and actually wouldn't mind doing it. "I'm free after two Friday."

"Really?" She looks surprised.

"Yeah, the game is on Thursday this week."

"Oh, I know. Kate hasn't stopped talking about it."

"Your niece is the sweetest. I hope to impress her this game to make up for losing."

"Well, you can try, but I'm sure she'll be screaming at the screen for some reason or another. But Friday? Are you really free?"

"Yeah. I'll be there; if you know, you think I'm big enough for the kids, and to make your Board happy?"

"Eh, you'll do."

I chuckle, shaking my head, and thankfully, she starts laughing too.

"So, I'll see you then, and thanks so much." She motions to her basket. "I guess I should get going."

"Sounds good. See you Friday."

"Awesome. Have a Happy Thanksgiving and I guess a good game."

"Thanks, you too!"

She grins and walks off. I take a long look at her delightful ass before finishing up my shopping trip and making a bee-line for the registers.

After finally getting home, I place the groceries on the counter and proceed to tell Maria about my plans for Friday afternoon.

"Really? You volunteered on your own free will?"

"Yes, I did. Jeez, don't sound so shocked." But she gives me a look, so I explain. "I thought about it and these kids are stuck there, and it wasn't so bad when I was there the last time." I shrug. "So, what's the problem with taking a few hours out of my day to make them smile again?"

"That's such a wonderful thought. Bless you, my boy!" she squeals, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"Aw," I groan, not loving the attention.

She waves me off and cheerfully plates dinner, telling me to eat. That I'm going to need my strength for the game on Thursday.

I thank her for her delicious food before retiring to the game room. I need to start reviewing game video and get to strategizing. There's also something else that's been on my mind that needs to be taken care of. And while it's not my favorite subject in the world, I'll deal with it.

Flicking on the game footage I want, I pick up my phone, hoping the volume will drown out anything I'm about to say.

"Calvin, this is Edward," I speak clearly into the phone, after checking to make sure my door is firmly shut in my game room. No need for any prying ears to overhear me.

"Hi, uh, Mr. Cullen," a shaky sounding lawyer responds. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

I take a deep breath and try to keep myself as calm as I can. "I'd like for you to deliver a message to Anthony for me."

"Uh, sir, I don't think I can do that. Given the situation."

"I don't give a damn about the situation. I'm asking you to do something. You know you'll be well compensated." I do give a damn about the hellish situation, but since I already can't speak with him directly I suppose my words don't really matter.

"What kind of message are we talking about? If this is at all antagonizing or threatening you know I'll have to politely decline your request."

"It's not. I just want him to call his mother. She deserves it. Also, tell him that he shouldn't be so damn selfish." There are of course other colorful things I'd like to say to that ungrateful prick, but Calvin doesn't deserve to hear those.

"I can relay the message, but I can't guarantee he'll do as requested."

"Well, I can. Add to the message, remember who sends the money."

Calvin breathes out a heavy sigh before finally acknowledging he's added it. "I'll deliver it tomorrow."

"Not good enough. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I want the message there today. I want him to call her tomorrow."

He lets out an unsteady breath, and I can tell he's still trying to consider how to get out of it, and this doesn't please me.

"Calvin, again... You know you'll be compensated for your trouble," I reassure him.

"I've never been worried about that, but—"

"Good, then you'll have the message to him today."

"Yes, sir," Calvin reluctantly answers with another sigh.

"Thanks. It will mean a lot to Maria."

"I know, Mr. Cullen."

And with that our business is done. A simple message of that magnitude is going to cost me dearly, but it's worth it to see the look on Maria's face when the little fucker finally calls her instead of her having to chase after him.

I pour myself a tumbler full of vodka and sit down, ready to go over the game reel for the evening. Hopefully, the highlights will take over and I can stop replaying the situation in my head.

There you have it. Enjoy!

Let me know what you think, but I can't promise I'll be reading the comments right away. I'll be watching my Pats play! Have a wonderful Sunday everyone!