Chapter Eight: A Day in the Life

I can't believe it's been so long since I published a chapter for any of my stories! That crazy thing called life kept me away, but now I'm back and will have chapters out as soon as I can get pictures for each of them. Sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy!

****Trev****

I cursed under my breath as I walked to Jimmy’s office. Nothing good came from being summoned there. It either meant that you’d done something stupid, the organization wasn’t happy with your performance, or that they wanted you to do something for the team. I couldn’t remember doing anything stupid; although Ryan and I switched the offensive line’s helmets when they weren’t looking during practice the week before. The players thought it was funny while the coaches found it disruptive, but I saw no evidence of Ryan which eliminated it as the reason for me being summoned.

I didn’t think it was about my performance either. We were heading into week seven and won five of the six games we played; our only loss being to the Pleasantville Panthers, the team that we almost had the comeback win against during the preseason. That meant that the organization wanted me to do something, and as I turned down the hallway that led to Jimmy’s office I tried to prepare myself for whatever stupid ass thing they wanted me to do.

As I arrived at his door I smiled at several office workers that passed by and then took a moment to collect my thoughts before raising my hand to knock. “Enter!” Jimmy’s voice echoed into the hallway and I took one last deep breath before stepping into his office.

“Trev! Thanks for coming!” He greeted me before I could take two steps in the door.

“When the boss man asks you to stop by his office, it’s probably a good idea to do as he asks.” I said with a smirk and tried not to cringe at his forced laugh.

“True, very true.” He smiled and waved his hand at one of the chairs facing his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

I looked at it and shook my head. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to cut to the chase. The O-line’s meeting in one of the viewing rooms in 20 minutes and I don’t want to be late.”

The huge grin that he plastered on his face made me worry about what was to come. “That’s the kind of dedication we love! And it’s one of the reasons I asked you to stop by.” He walked out from behind his desk and I impatiently waited as he paused for a moment; no doubt trying to figure out how to ask me whatever it was that he wanted.

“Because of all that hard work and dedication from you. . .” He stopped and motioned towards the door. “. . .and the team of course, there’s a lot of buzz starting to circulate about our chances of being in the playoffs this year and we’re getting more and more requests for interviews.” I nodded but wasn’t particularly thrilled with what I was hearing. I never did interviews outside of pre and post-game ones and I wasn’t going to start doing them either. My face must have given away my thoughts because Jimmy sighed and stopped the charade.

“Here’s the thing, we’ve been contacted by a news organization that wants to do a story on the Buck’s; kind of a behind the scenes thing, and we’ve pretty much said that we’d be open to do it.” I sneered at the thought of some journalist following everyone around, trying to dig up dirt on all of us.

“Which publication is it? The last thing we need is some tabloid running around here, making shit up.” I complained and he held up his hands.

“Give me more credit than that. I hope you don’t seriously think that I would let someone from one of those publications in here. It’s Bridgeport Times.” He admitted and I slightly perked up from hearing the name. “You don’t seem as opposed to that. . .”

I wasn’t since Pam worked for them but I didn’t want to seem too much in favor of it. I shrugged and looked out the window, trying to seem disinterested. “It’s better than some.”

He nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. “There’s something else. They’ve also asked for the opportunity to follow you around for a day, to see how you prep for a game, even perhaps follow you around outside the stadium.” He cringed again, knowing that I wouldn’t take his last admission well.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m doing that! Everyone knows I don’t do that kind of thing and I’m not about to start! They can come to the stadium, hang with the team, and then leave!” I walked towards the door, totally convinced that the conversation was over.

“What if you could pick the writer? Someone you trust. . .like Pamela Haines.” The mention of Pam’s name made me swing around and stride towards him.