Linebacker's Second Chance (Bad Boy Ballers) by Imani King Page B

sake of cameras, for the sake of popularity, for the sake of who knows what.  
    I get up and pace again, and then I stop, looking directly at Wingate. “Couldn’t Renata be that woman for me? Couldn’t she pretend to be my girlfriend? We did it once before...” My voice trails off, and my throat tightens. There’s an uncomfortable twist deep in the pit of my stomach.
    Wingate’s blond eyebrows furrow. "I don’t know what kind of ideas you’re getting, here. I brought Renata here because she’s the best at this game, because she knows you so well. I didn’t bring her here to get her hurt or to give you some foolish notion that you get a do-over. You fucked up, boyo. A long time ago, I might add. And this woman’s here to straighten you out.   I know you’re not used to having a woman around who’s looking out for you. She can see you’re going off the deep end better than anyone. And she’s here to fix it.”  
    Wingate’s voice reflects his anger—anger about the ways I’m messing up my career, and anger he hasn’t expressed in a long time. The anger that came when I hurt his friend.
    “It just doesn’t feel right.” I sigh deeply, thinking again of that hole in the wall. In the past few days, all of it has started to sink in. I could lose my income, I could lose the job that I love, and I could lose the ability to help my brother take care of the farm back home. The very thought of my brother makes something tighten in my body, an old guilt that I haven’t faced in a long time. That day. Renata. The tremendous weight of leaving her.  
    Wingate gives me a stern look. “You don’t have the luxury of thinking something doesn’t feel right, man. You know what a regular man working at a bank would get from pulling all this shit?”
    “What’s that?” I ask.  
    “Fired, probably last year. And without severance. One thing we know about the NFL, they’re not going to give you a fat severance package. They’ll leave you high and dry, and before long, you’ll be homeless or working as a damn football coach at the local high school. That’s if you’re lucky. When it comes to you, Mack, I think the homeless thing might be a little more likely.”  
    I can’t do this when the woman I loved is right out there in the guest house.  
    I should say it, but I don’t. Wingate doesn’t know about my brother, about my mother and father. About the farm. There’s so much shame tied up with all of that that I can’t bear even thinking about it, let alone saying it aloud. The deal still stands, my brother reminded me when Renata got up here. As long as her old man is living.  
    “I don’t want that. I don’t.” It’s all I can say. I’ve already agreed to this party with Kinley, already met her over the computer and talked to her and signed the forms. She’s showing up within the next ten minutes, and she’s depending on me, too.
    I have the itch to pick up a bottle of fine whiskey and start drinking it, but I feel sick when I remember the look on Renata’s face after that party. I feel sicker when I think of the stories that popped up about me in the papers, the things that woman said. A week later, and Renata and Wingate assure me that this news will replace what’s being said about me. They assure me this engagement will get me started in the season, that it’ll eventually get me through the whole thing. It seems an awful length to go to avoid getting fired, but I reckon people have done a lot of stupid shit for that very reason over the course of human history.
    The best I can do is go out there with my head held up high. Renata makes it her business to know what’s best for professional athletes, and I have to put my trust in her. “Fine,” I say, looking over to Wingate. “You all win. I don’t want to lose this.”  
    Wingate nods, and it’s only after he leaves the room that I’m not sure what I’m talking about. Lose what? Is it football I’m thinking about, or is it the