Page 13 of First Down Promise

“Not really.”

I grab a chip and dip it in the guacamole. “Dope,” I say, lifting the chip to my mouth.

Dane peels the cover off a table, revealing its octagonal shape with a green felt top. “This is what I wanted to show off.”

I run my fingertips along the fuzzy top and the lacquered wooden trim. “Very nice, Freddy,” I say to Dane.

“Anyone want to play poker?” Dane asks.

“Real or fake money?” Coop chimes in.

“Fake this time.”

“Count me in. I don’t have the skills to put actual cash on the line,” Coop says with a boisterous laugh. He also doesn’t have the kind of contract the rest of us have, but if he can hang in there, he’ll see some bigger numbers coming his way before long.

“I can help you invest,” Dane replies.

“Oh God. Please stop him before he starts about investing,” Pete calls out. Dane might laugh, but I just want to tell Pete to pipe down. Dane helped both of us expand our portfolios because, let’s be honest, we can’t play forever. Does he think I don’t wake up in the middle of the night with crippling back pain or cramps in my legs so bad I sweat? Pete’s not special.

We make plates and sit around the table while Dane breaks out a small card shuffler. The room fills with the aromas from our plates, and we all dig in a little too excitedly after the hellish practice Coach Murphy put us through.

“Texas Hold ‘em?” I ask when Dane goes to deal.

“Can’t imagine a born and bred Texan would play it any other way,” Dane says.

“You’ve got that right.”

Dane would never admit it, but he enjoyed going out to Austin with me a couple of years ago. We made an appearance at my alma mater—Texas A&M—and I even took him to my hometown. I made us drive, and Dane swore the whole time at how fucking big of a state Texas is. College Station to oil country is more than a drive, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a more fun day with him. That might also have been the last time I was in Texas, outside of away games.

Cards start flying across the felt to each of us, courtesy of Dane. “Would you move back after you retired?” Dane asks.

All I can do is shrug. “Don’t know where I’d go.”

Home was never home. Not the way Nashville feels now, but I may still need GPS to get around sometimes…

My older sisters must have felt the same way because they scattered right after high school and never looked back. As much as they distance themselves from me and what I turned the Mackenzie name into, I doubt they’d want me living anywhere near them now.

Pete pats me on the back. “I know it’s complicated, bro. I feel the same way with Wisconsin,” he adds. This is the version of Pete I would never cross, but sometimes, he’s hard to like.

I give him a faint smile and open my mouth to speak, but Coop starts first. “I want to get a place in Alabama, but it doesn’t really make sense being this close. I could build a place on Mama’s land. She has twenty acres.”

“There you go,” Dane replies.

“Why don’t you have a place in SoCal?” I ask him.

“The market. I’m not overpaying for California real estate, and my mom has a guest house if I visit.”

“You’re so fucking fancy,” Pete teases.

“Don’t shit on it when I remember you stumbling around her house drunk off your ass after the LA game last season,” Dane deadpans.

Pete’s jaw clenches. Coop and I exchange a wide-eyed look, and I lower my gaze to the cards in my hand before Pete can notice. I thought we had a pact not to talk about that bullshit game after they won by a sketchy call made in overtime that our head coach couldn’t challenge. It ended our playoff run and postseason.

“Can we just play?” Pete asks, glancing off to the side.

“That’s what I thought,” Dane murmurs.

After a few hands, Coop has a measly stack of poker chips in front of him while Pete and Dane are close to tied for the most. I learned years ago that games played against Dane don’t end well for his opponent, so I’m just here for fun, not competition, unlike Pete.