Page 9 of The Backup Plan
“They’re white Nike Dunks. Everybody has these.”
“That’s why you’re getting the navy and gold ones.” She turned to leave, then whipped back around as he reached for his plate. “You’re not going to talk like that on TV, are you?”
“Talk like what? I’m from Tennessee. This is how I talk.”
She flicked her hand at him as if shooing a pesky insect. “From Jordan Ackerman to this.”
She stalked away grumbling about viewer comprehension and regional audiences, and Cam pushed his glasses up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He thought he offered a decent compromise with the hat. He saw professional quarterbacks at post-game press conferences looking like they hadn’t even showered sometimes, but his clothes were too big, his hair was wrong, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to lose a twenty-year old accent.
At least he wasn’t getting his head dunked for a shampoo.
When he rubbed his bleary eyes and lowered his glasses, he was greeted with the most beautiful sight he’d seen all day.
His friend Shay spotted him at the same moment and squealed as she ran to him. “Cameron! Oh, we’re going to have so much fun.” She brushed off her navy shirt and white shorts after a quick hug and his mouth hung open.
“You’re with my P.R. team?”
“Until I make some teeny tiny mistake and Shelby boots me,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m not the only one feeling a little out of my depth, am I right?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A training camp tan doesn’t show blushing so well,” she said, tapping his cheek. “But you are blushing now.”
Cam sighed and dug into the wings. Shay was the long-time girlfriend of his right tackle Kenyon Stewart, and he’d never been gladder to see a friendly face in his life.
“Is Shelby the boss?” he asked with a mouthful of chicken.
“The student boss. It’s her first time as a crew chief, and she is super intense. She’s in the Master’s program and reports up to our department chair.”
“She sent someone called Pippa to buy me new clothes. I was told to wear team clothes, but apparently not these particular team clothes. Can I request a style consultant so I don’t screw up anymore, and can that person be you?”
“Give it a shot. Most people on the team are nice, but we’re all a little scared of Shelby.”
“I’m not scared of her, but she’s pretty fucking rude.” He bit into a wing, and licked the sauce caught in the corner of his lips. “I just want to play football. I want to go to practice so I don’t embarrass the team by not being good enough for all this crap they’re hyping me up to do.”
“Is it so different from coaches in your face yelling?” she asked. “Just think of Shelby like she’s the quarterbacks’ coach, but with volumizing shampoo.”
“I’ll try. Do you know if I’m expected to say anything today, or just stand there? It would be a lot more efficient if I knew what to practice while I’m waiting for my new clothes. They probably plan to wait till I’m half dressed and then grumble at me about being late. Who cares if I look pretty if I play like shit?”
“You’ll play fine. I’ll brag on my man for a minute and point out that you have a fine offensive line, and you will have lots of time to throw. Now, sit over here. While we wait, we’re going to play a fun game called ‘Taking Questions.’”
“Oh no.”
“Cameron Porter. Congratulations on your promotion.” Shay leaned forward and held out an imaginary microphone. “What are you looking forward to most this season?”
He cleared his throat and tried to temper his accent. “Working with our exceptional coaching staff to lead my guys to a lot of wins and a lot of great football.”
“What are your personal goals as quarterback?”
“I’m in a position to grow a lot as a leader in the locker room, but on the field specifically, I’m going to dig into improving game tempo and pocket presence.”
“When was the last time you heard from Jordan Ackerman?”
He loudly slurped the sauce off a wing and smacked his lips before reaching back for a bottle of water. He cracked it open and took a long drink while Shay waited, brows lifted.
“Sorry, miss, what was the question?”
Marshall