Hope for Him (Hope Series Book #2) (26 page)

I straightened my garnet tie and smiled. Carrington had sent it to me as a gift and told me to save it to wear at the draft over a year ago. Everyone thought I would come out early but not Carrington. I reflected on the year we had, and I wished I had come out early. Maybe if I had, things would have turned out different.

"With the first pick in the 2014 draft, the Chicago Bears select Damon Dickson, running back from Clemson," Commissioner Goodell said.

The crowd erupted at the expected pick. Damon had been a solid four-year back at Alabama, durable and fast, National Champion MVP, and Heisman Trophy winner. He came over and shook my hand before heading on stage. The guy was a class act.

"The Miami Dolphins are on the clock."

My cell phone sat in the middle of the table. The coveted cell phone where the team would call and tell you they were going pick you before the commissioner announced it. It made for a dramatic few minutes. I watched the phone. It didn't ring.

My mom and dad sat on the other side of the table and watched the phone, too. It was a weird feeling, even though I had no reason to think it wouldn't happen. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous.

"You good?" Michael asked. Michael Murphy was my agent and the head of Murphy Agency. I was courted by every major agency and choose Michael for a strange reason. I walked into a conference room reserved at my hotel room a few months ago when I was in New York for the Heisman. He crossed the room, shook my hand, and asked me about my mom and dad.

He told me about meeting my father when he was ten years old. My dad spent a few minutes talking to him and he never forgot it.

He dreamed of being an NFL quarterback, but his athletic ability and his size didn't allow him to fulfill his dream. He loved the game and needed to be around it, all from meeting my father.

He said something else that surprised the hell out of me.

"I'm sorry to hear about your friend, Josh. It must have been hard to do what you did and deal with that."

My eyes watered and I leaned over and put my arms on my knees, trying to maintain control. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"You know, Jackson, I want to work with you. I think I can learn a lot about leadership from a guy like you."

No other agency approached the subject.

He might have been full of shit, but I was sold. We became friends, and he guided my professional life as if it were his own. 

"With the second pick in the 2014 draft, the Miami Dolphins select David Cochran, defensive lineman from University of Miami," Commissioner Goodell said.

That was a good pick for them. They were ranked last in the defense last year. If you couldn’t stop the ball, there was no point in drafting someone who could throw the ball. Defense won championships.

"Dallas is on the clock."

I sat back and took the phone in my hand. Dallas didn't need a quarterback. I relaxed for a minute. I clicked through my phone and found a video that I received yesterday. It was from Jack.

"Hi, Jackson." His little hand waved at the camera, and I heard Kayla’s voice off camera telling him what to say next.

"Good luck," Jack said and giggled and tried to grab the phone.

"Good luck with the draft," Kayla said.

"Draft," he said figuring I'd get the point.

Kayla sent me photos and videos every few weeks, and when I was on campus for pro day, Jack came and we got to spend time together.

I asked about Carrington every time and got the same answer in return. She wasn't ready to speak to me. Hearing it broke my heart each and every time; I didn't expect any different, but it still hurt.

Two more draft picks were made and then San Diego was on the clock.

I sat the phone in the middle of the table and as soon as I set it down, it rang.

I grinned and my knee bounced up and down. The number flashed a two-four-five area code. I knew that area code. It was San Diego, California.

"Hello," I said. Michael had his arm around my shoulder. I swore he was more excited than me.

"Jackson Mitchell, this is Coach. How the hell are you?"

"Hi, Coach. I'm better now."

"So, you ready to check out the West Coast for a while."

"Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. Sounds like a good move."

"Great, well straighten your tie. You're up. See you tonight."

The phone went dead and the commissioner came to the podium

"With the fifth pick in the 2014 NFL draft. The San Diego Chargers pick Jackson Mitchell, quarterback from Florida State University."

The crowd was deafening, and I couldn't hear a thing. I hugged Michael and my dad pulled me in his arms and gave me a bear hug. My mom kissed my cheek and both my brothers high fived me and then kissed my cheeks. They loved to embarrass me.

I headed on stage, grabbing my San Diego hat as I walked out. I put a nice little shape in the bill before placing it over my head. I approached Commissioner Goddell, and he had a San Diego Chargers jersey with a number nine on it and my name across the back.

We both grabbed an end and took photos. As the flash bulb went off, I bit my lip. This moment was how I had imagined it. It was perfect. Well, almost perfect. I wished Carrington were here to enjoy the experience with me.

#

C
arrington Olivia Butler

I skipped my late class on Thursday—I wanted to get home and watch the NFL draft coverage. Modern technology allowed me to keep track of Jackson. The NFL Combine followed him and a few players around for training and the event. NFL pro day at FSU streamed online live. Every night, the NFL network mentioned his name at least once a day and featured a segment on him and his fellow first-round prospects at least once a week. I could do a Google search and never finish going through the recent interviews and press conferences. He created a website, and it tracked his movement like he had a chip under his skin: Orlando, New Orleans, San Diego, Miami, and Tallahassee. He must be exhausted.

Kayla warned me my cyberstalking was weird, but I convinced myself it was harmless.

I made snacks, and we gathered around the television waiting to see where Jackson would be drafted. When I saw him on the red carpet, walking into Radio City Music Hall, my heart dropped. His hair was cut short and his blue eyes sparkled under the lights. He wore a gray suit and a stark white shirt with a silk tie in the deepest garnet. My heart was in my throat when I noticed his tie. I gave it to him for Christmas two years ago and told him to save it for the draft.

"Here we have first round prospect from Florida State, Jackson Mitchell. Jackson is slated to be the first quarterback off the board."

"Hi, Steve." Jackson shook the former running back turned announcer's hand and grinned from ear to ear. It made me smile. I was happy he was enjoying himself.

"Jackson, how you feeling tonight?"

"Oh man, Steve. Honestly, I'm taking it all in. I've dreamed about this day all my life, but it's way better than I imagined.”

"So, where do you think you’re going to go tonight?" Steve asked.

Jackson paused and stared into the camera, his brow scrunched as if he was thinking about the answer.

"You know, Steve, I have no preference; I'm just waiting for the Commissioner to tell me where I'm going. I'm ready to play football."

Jackson's answer seemed so sincere and heartfelt.

"Have a great night and next time we talk, you'll be part of the fraternity, man."

"Thanks, Steve." They shook hands and Jackson walked off camera.

Over the course of the show, the camera captured him in the green room sitting at a round table with his family. His mom and dad beamed; they were so proud. His older brothers sat around him along with another gentleman who I knew from my stalking was his agent. I'd seen him in a photo during one of my Internet stalking sessions. He whispered in Jackson's ear and Jackson smiled.

It hurt to have missed all these moments. I would have loved to see him at his workout in person. I admitted I was jealous I didn't get to walk the red carpet on his arm. This was a major moment for him, and I wasn't a part of it. It was hard to believe, the man who had my heart, was having the most important day of his life, and I was back in Tallahassee trying to make sure Jack didn't get Cheetos residue all over the couch.

I knew this was my fault, but I reminded myself Jackson was the one who walked out. I almost convinced myself when I yelled it in my head loud enough.

Once Jackson left, I powered through exams and headed back home to Dallas for winter break. The holiday was a whirlwind, and my parents used every moment of the time to spoil Jack and me. They missed seeing their grandson every day.

When I made it back to campus, it hit me. Every tree, every building, every open area reminded me. I had no chance of running into Jackson; he no longer went to school here. God, I missed him.

I saw Tiffany, all the time. She had a new boyfriend by February. He played tennis and she introduced him one day when I was sitting alone in the Student Union having a late lunch between classes.

She asked me about Jackson, and I told her he was fine. He was, as far as I knew. I preferred to leave her in ignorant bliss. It unnerved me to discover we had more in common than I cared to admit. Jackson left me, too.

The first four draft picks were off the clock. Jackson sat in a room off the stage, looking at his phone. The network must have known something he didn't because as soon as he set his phone down, it rang. The cameraman caught it all. He said a few words, but when the huge grin spread across his face, I knew this was it. It was happening for him. He wiped his eyes as Commissioner Goodell announced his name.

"With the fifth pick in the 2014 NFL draft, the San Diego Chargers pick Jackson Mitchell, quarterback from Florida State University."

Kayla and Jack clapped and pointed at the screen laughing.

I sat and watched. I didn't want to miss a thing. 

He hugged everyone around the table and headed to the stage. The grin on his face made me smile. He hugged the commissioner and held up his new jersey for photos.

I grabbed my phone and sent him a text.

Carrington:  I'm so proud of you for making your dreams come true. Congratulations NFL Football Player!!! Enjoy it! You deserve it.

As he walked off the stage, he fished his phone out of his coat pocket. It must have been going crazy, but I noticed a slight shift in his emotions, undetectable by anyone else.  He grabbed his tie and adjusted it. He typed into his phone and put it back in his pocket as his agent whisked him off to his new life.

––––––––

The End

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Sydney’s News

by

Sydney Aaliyah Michelle

A
nswer:  Praday Suits and Jimmy Choo high heeled shoes.

Question:  What’s the biggest different between practicing law in Tallahassee, Florida and practicing law in Phoenix, Arizona?

Besides that, everything was pretty much the same. I had no life. I worked, made sure Jack had an attentive mother when I was in his presence and tried hard not to screw up.

Adam, my boss traveled three out of five days and when he was in town, he enjoyed the benefits of being a partner in one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. Perks included six-hour golf lunches with other partners and a team of four associates lawyers including me, doing all the work. As the oldest of the other associates, by a year, I had seniority, but I found myself sitting a conference room off the main lobby of the firm waiting for him.

Sorry, for the vague pronoun, I am not ready to say his name.

Two hours ago, I had received a frantic phone call from my boss. I could barely hear him do to the wind in the fairway. I hoped his ball got eaten by a snake.

Adam was out of breath as he spoke.

“He should arrive around six, you can stay right?” Adam’s way of telling me, yes I could stay. “He needs to sign the contract before reporting to training camp tomorrow morning?”

“If he just needs to sign it, a paralegal could handle that. Hell, Maria could handle it.

“Who’s Maria?”

“The assistant you told me to hire last week. Although, she thinks she doesn’t have a boss considering you haven’t been in the office for more then two hours a day since.”

“Are you keeping her busy?”

“Of course, which is why I don’t understand why I have wait for some over paid athlete’s autograph.”

“Come on Carrrrrrr.” When he drew out the r’s in my name, he was on the verge of some major begging and I knew I would say yes anyway. Begging wasn’t dignified in most settings.

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

“Great. I just sent you the contract. Review it with him and if he has any questions, you can handle it. Pretty standard. Hey, you might actually know the guy. He went to Florida State, a few years ahead of you.”

My computer beeped with the incoming email and I clicked on the attachment. I read the name at the top of the contract and blinked. I closed the computer, hung up the phone on Adam and sat with my hands in my laps. Goose bumps popped up on my arms. I rubbed them and reached out to open the computer, but my fingers went numb and I sat my hands in my lap again.

I must have had him on my mind. With the start of training camp tomorrow, I had been finalizing player contracts all week. I had football on the brain. It was only natural my mind drifted to the football player I was once in love with.

I lifted the top of the computer and typed in my password. The screen illumined and there at the top of the open document, his name appeared.

Jackson Latre Mitchell

I
have to thank God for giving me the gift of story telling. It’s such an amazing gift. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

A huge thank you to my
FAMILY
who continue to support me and kind of understand that this writing thing is what I have to/need to/love to do.