Blue 42 by C.A. Rene

Chapter three

Dixon

“Rookie!” Buffalo’s coach Trevor Meyers screams at me. “What the fuck was that?”

I slow my run to a jog and skid to a stop, looking back at him over my shoulder. His face is red and ruddy and his bald head looks like it’s burning in the mild Buffalo sun.

“That looked like a newborn horse, just out its mama’s womb.” Tight End Sebastian Avando sneers. “All wobble legged and clumsy.”

He hates me and he’s somehow convinced some of the other players to join in on the taunting as well. I don’t know why.

“I thought we bought ourselves a Wide Receiver and one that can outrun my others. So why the fuck haven’t you done that yet?” Coach screams as I slam my fists to my waist and tip my head back on a groan.

He’s right, I’ve been slow, and I can’t seem to shake whatever hold my mind has over my body. I’ve been at the Bills camp for two weeks now and we start our season in three. I need to get my fucking head in the game.

I slowly start to walk back to the sidelines just as Sebastian and the defensive end Ostin Jameson stride past me. Sebastian is near to my height and broad shouldered. His swagger is always exaggerated and the way he walks is confident, telling people he’s not one to be fucked with. His eyes are amber pools and hold enough hatred to crush a weaker person. I’m not that weaker person.

Sebastian slaps his hand against my helmet and Ostin begins to laugh. Ostin Jameson is larger than life and he’s Sebastian’s sidekick. He’s loud and aggressive both on and off the field. I grind my teeth just to hold myself together and convince myself that fighting him will do nothing, but it’s extremely hard. He deserves a good knock to the fucking jaw.

I grab a bottle of Gatorade and stand on the sidelines, watching as Avando and Jameson line up across from each other. Sebastian Avando isn’t required to run faster than the wide receiver because his job is to do whatever is needed to get that ball into the end zone. Tackle, run, catch, it doesn’t matter, and he needs to be able to do it all on the fly. Avando has been crushing my times though and he’s been flaunting it.

I don’t know what I did but it took two days for him to decide he hated me and that he wanted to make my life fucking hell. He has this hold over the others and I can’t decide if they admire him or fear him. He has the tough exterior of someone that grew up with the belief that you kill or be killed.

His body is nearly covered in tattoos; and I grew up in one of those kill or be killed neighborhoods so I know what gang signs look like, Avando has them inked all over him. In the locker room we see everything and he has no shame to walk the room ass out naked.

Coach blows the whistle and Avando side skips Jameson, his legs swift. He gets out of Jameson’s way easily and runs down the field, his knees pumping fast.

“Look kid,” Coach comes up beside me and I grit my teeth. I hate that he calls me ‘kid’.

“I know,” I nod and scrub my hand down my face. “I’ll stay and do laps again tonight. I’ll get that time up.”

“I think what you really need is rest.” His hand slaps my back, “we already know the times you can do, maybe you just need a reset.”

I haven’t rested in weeks because I’m trying to prove that I’m worth what they spent on me. He has a fucking point, I’m drained.

“Okay.” I agree.

“Get on out of here and get you some sleep. We’ll start again tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.” I turn to head towards the locker room.

The team shouts behind me and I can imagine it’s because Avando once again crushed his time. I don’t have the heart to look back and my body feels like lead as I drag it into the locker room. Coach is right, I need the rest and I need to ice my knee. These past two weeks have been brutal on my old injury.

I strip down and toss the equipment and clothing into the laundry bin. I wrap the towel around my waist and head for the showers. I thought Clemson had amazing showers but they don’t hold a flame to what the Bills have. Four shower heads per stall and all uniquely made for different massage pulses. My legs are all that’s really bothering me and these won’t work for shit on them, I need a hot bath.

“Who wants to bet the fucker is back here crying somewhere?” Sebastian’s voice filters in over the spray of the water. “I marked him a pussy the first day he showed up. All big eyed and scared looking.”

I know he’s talking about me and if my career wasn’t on the line, I would rip him apart, limb by limb. I hear a few other snickers and I would bet anything it’s Jameson and Ortiz, his two pet dogs.

Ortiz Fernando is a tight end for the Bills and he’s also a large, opposing figure on the field. His dark tanned skin is riddled with tattoos - like his friends - and he curses in Spanish every other word. His slight accent tells me he’s Mexican and his dark features confirm it. With black curly hair and near black eyes, he’s literally the epitome of tall and dark.

The three of them are tight as hell and they tend to intimidate the others, all accept our quarterback Zeal Flaherty who doesn’t take much shit from anyone.

I shut off the shower and decide to bathe when I get home, it’s just not worth it to start some shit here with Avando today.

“Here pussy, pussy.” He taunts and I growl as I pull on my track pants.

They round the corner just as I tie the waist band and cross my arms over my bare chest. I’m not a small guy and I know I look just as rough with my tattoos as well. I may have stayed off the streets and away from drugs; but I still look the part of where I was raised.

“If you gotta call for pussy to find it,” I let a taunting grin of my own stretch along my mouth, “then you got a fucking problem.”

“What did you say?” Sebastian’s light brown eyes flash with sudden rage.

He’s as tall as I am, hitting about six foot, three inches, and he’s leaner than me but no less built. His deep tawny skin telling of his African American and Puerto Rican background. Yeah, I Googled the asshole the first day I met him.

I don’t bother to engage further and keep the grin on my face, infuriating him more. He strides forward and his hand grabs my throat as he slams me against the tiled wall of a shower stall. I keep myself still but I let my eyes dance with amusement at his actions, playing a dangerous game with his ego.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with, rookie bitch?” His lips are pulled taut against his teeth. His spit flies against my cheeks but I don’t let the grin drop. “Do you want to die?”

“Avando.” I hear Jameson call out in warning. “Let’s go man.”

Little bitch is all talk and I would assume Ortiz is as well, both riding on the ass of Avando, who obviously isn’t all talk. But I’m not afraid of him.

“Looks like y’all are having a good time in here.” I hear Zeal Flaherty say as he enters the showers. “Avando, I think you need to take a walk.”

Sebastian releases his hold on my throat and slowly backs up, his body vibrating with anger. With Zeal being our quarterback, a lot of responsibility falls on his shoulders, and one of those is keeping us in line and working as a team. Right now, this is as far from teamwork as it gets and I feel bad for Zeal, but I won’t back down for Sebastian. He will just have to learn to work with me because I’m not going anywhere.

“This isn't over.” He grits out under his breath and I give him a brusque nod. I know it’s not.

He turns on his heel and walks back to the locker area, leaving me alone with our quarterback. Zeal is what I would consider a good southern boy. He has Light brown hair that falls in waves over his head and always has that messy out of bed look. His blue eyes are light and naive, always wanting to see the good in a person. He’s tall, reaching six feet, and he’s lean but muscular. He shows respect to his teammates and he’s a natural leader.

“Avando is an amazing player, his legs eat up the distance on the field, and he finds the perfect spots to get into that will guarantee touchdowns.” He rubs his hand along the nape of his neck, “when he feels threatened or confronted, he lashes out with anger.”

“I haven't done anything to attract his anger.” I tell him honestly.

“Nothing you did to him personally, no. But when we found out your stats and what you were about to bring to the team, he felt threatened.”

“There’s not much I can do about that.” I shrug.

“No, there isn’t but I really don’t need y’all fighting all the time.” He lets out an exasperated breath.

“I don’t know exactly when you walked in,” I walk by him, “but I wasn’t fighting him at all.”

I hear his groan as I walk out of the shower area and back into the locker room. Sebastian is standing at his locker and glaring at me as I open my own.

There’s no way I’m taking the fall for this man’s insecurities and I won’t be blamed for his temper tantrums; Zeal needs to confront him and leave me out of it. He has to get over whatever animosity he’s clinging to with me because I’m not going anywhere. I worked too hard and too long to be pushed out by a hot-headed insecure man.

After grabbing everything I need from my locker, I shut it and pull on my jacket.

“You’re a pussy, North.” Avando calls out and I bite my tongue. “You’re about to be crushed on the fucking field.”

I don’t bother to give him the attention he is so obviously craving and bend to pick up my bag. The locker room has fallen quiet and I know everyone is waiting with bated breath for my reaction.

“See you guys tomorrow.” I call out over my shoulder and head out the door.

As soon as it shuts behind me, the noise picks back up and I hear a few riotous laughs. That’s fine, this is one situation I know I’ll get the final laugh.

I head to my rented car and throw my bag in the back. I know I can win them all over, even Sebastian Avando.