Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(61)

“Why don’t you get out of the f*cking aisle,” Fozzy mutters.

“I’m standing in the middle of the pad, Foz.” Hammer points to his feet, which are, to his credit, planted in the center of one of the large mats lining the floor in front of the wall of mirrors.

“You are now,” Fozzy replies sullenly as he walks away.

The sound of Jeezy’s “Seen It All” rocks in the background, punctuated by the grunts of about forty guys. We’ve got a week until Signing Day and then our asses have to be back in practice.

I spot Ace and Jack over in the corner, throwing a weighted medicine ball at each other. Bishop and a couple of his boys are doing box jumps. I turn back to Hammer, who’s still glaring at Fozzy’s back.

“Taylor Swift it, man,” I order.

“What the hell does that mean?”

I shake both my hands. “Shake it off.”

“You’re spending too much time with the girl squad.” Hammer leans over to start another rep of squats.

I lie back on the bench and continue my fly exercises. “Gee, sit around in the stench of passed gas and sour beer or watch television with three babes who smell like a candy store and look better than a Vicky’s Secret runway show. Can’t imagine why I’m hanging out with Luce and her roommates. Admit it, bro. You’re sour because they haven’t invited you back.”

“I think you’re being selfish, keeping them to yourself,” he whines. “I’ve got another list I want to run by them. This time I’m working on the top ten foods that look like dildos.”

“No. Not happening.”

“Okay. How about a list about the euphemisms for a girl’s cooch? I’m guessing sausage casing would be out. I can already see the brunette screwing up her little nose at me. Say, she dating anyone?”

“Charity? Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You oughta hook me up.”

“Who’s hooking who up?” Darryl asks.

“Matty’s girlfriend has two hot roommates. I think one of them should be doing me.” Hammer takes a break and swallows a half gallon of water.

“Matty, bruh, I didn’t know you were dating anyone,” Darryl says. He leans against the bar above the bench while I glare at Hammer. He’s going to jinx the whole deal.

“It’s early stages yet.”

“Is Masters contagious or something?” Darryl asks warily. “I never thought I’d see the day that you’d be dating someone. I guess that means more at the Gas Station for me.”

Stung, I bark back, “I’m not a poon hound. I haven’t dated anyone lately because I hadn’t met anyone worth dating.”

“Then introduce us.”

“No way.” I wipe my forehead with a towel. I’m trying to convince Lucy that I’m a decent guy worth risking her time and energy on. I bring these yahoos to the party and even though they mean it out of love, I’m already cringing at the types of embarrassing and unsavory stories they’ll trot out in an effort to impress her with their not-so-great wit.

“What the f*ck, Foz? I have water up my f*cking nose,” Hammer yelps. When I look up, the rest of Hammer’s water jug has been emptied over his face and chest. “Watch where you’re f*cking going!”

I deduce by the water and the position of Foz at Hammer’s elbow that Fozzy must have bumped Hammer while he was drinking and the water splashed everywhere.

I wait for Fozzy to apologize but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the nearly empty jug, walks calmly over to me and dumps the rest of the contents over my head. I rip the plastic jug out of his hand and wipe myself off, counting silently to ten, before snapping. “What is your problem today? Your jock a little tight after one too many of momma’s cookies at Christmas?”

“You f*cking defensive players. You think you’re so hot. That you won the Championship last year.” Fozzy leans closer, so close I can smell the meat he had for lunch and it’s not good. I shift away. He follows like a dank stalker. “That game that we lost last year. That was you guys f*cking up. The offense scored thirty-five points. All you guys had to do was make one stop but instead, you allowed the team to score. A team that we embarrassed the year before. If anyone needs replacing on this team, it ain’t Ace.”

I look past him to Ace, who’s standing over in his corner looking smug as f*ck. Doesn’t he get that this is bad for the team? No matter what happens, we can’t be fighting like this.

“Fozzy, we’re one team. We’re not offense or defense. We’re one team, and we win and lose based on the team effort.” I reach for patience, wondering how in the hell we’ve come to this point. Not once during last year, even during games the offense managed only a couple scores, did our D grumble about the offense. We all worked hard and that’s what mattered. What happened to measuring that? I wave toward Jack. “Hell, Jack’s almost part of the defense what with his sister and Masters getting married. One team, Foz.” I stand up and punch him in the shoulder. Not as hard as I want, but hard enough for him to know I didn’t appreciate my surprise bath. “Save the water for your gut next time.”

“If we’re really one team, why aren’t you standing up for our boy Ace?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. Ace is now leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring back at me.