Page 42 of First Down Promise

Five minutes later, I have my first coffee of the day in hand as I take a seat in the lounge until they’re ready for me. Whenever the team has an away game, we also fly out of the private airport because it’s just simpler, so this is far from new.

I pull out my phone again and text Jordan, the starting quarterback of New York City’s team. It’s an hour ahead, so he might be up already. Their bye week was last week, as the various teams in the league are staggered, so he should be back to business.

Me: About to get out of Nash. Dinner tonight?

Jordan: Only if you’re buying!

I roll my eyes, but he’s a newer QB and doesn’t have the same contract as me.

Me: Whatever, man. Let’s go to that place in SoHo we went to last season.

Jordan: My girl’s sister is visiting. Want me to bring her?

I scratch the stubble poking through on my jawline and glance straight ahead at the complimentary coffee bar as I weigh the pros and cons. I always pack protection, and things have been dry recently.

Eh, why not?

Me: Only if she knows what this is. Don’t need any complications this week.

“Mr. Wilson, we’re ready for you,” one of the staff members says.

“Oh, awesome.”

I pick up my coffee, and they escort me onto the tarmac where the small jet is waiting. I take the steps up into it and settle into a cushioned leather seat. My back soothes, and I square my shoulders against it. Before I switch to airplane mode, I text Josh.

Me: Almost wheels up time. Make sure Abby doesn’t throw a party and trash my place.

I laugh at my text, knowing damn well that Abby would never have the audacity. Neither would Josh, for that matter. There aren’t many people I trust more than him.

Josh: I’m more likely to trash your house while you’re gone.

Me: Don’t you dare, Kenzie.

He’s joking and has no reason to stop at my house during bye week. I don’t know what he’ll get up to, but he must be looking forward to his big party he hosts every year on the Friday night of bye week. It’s a tradition at this point and helps a local brewery with sales and exposure. I missed last year’s too, but I’ll get him a souvenir from New York as consolation.

Josh: Back and ribs killing you too?

Me: Fucking always, brotha.

I hit the back button and open my text conversation with Dane.

Me: Want me to send the plane back for you?

Dane: Can’t. Have plans.

Code for Josh’s party.

Dane: LA’s better anyway.

There’s the Dane I know—sarcastic and dry as fuck. Much like my sex life recently.

They close the jet’s door, and I sigh, switching airplane mode on. I know better than to bother Cooper Carter this early. That bear is for sure still snoring, and he’s headed for Alabama this week anyway and probably will miss Josh’s party, too. I suppose only Dane is going. Well, Dane and Abby. She’s finally going to her first Josh Bash, so at least someone from the Wilson family will represent.

Once we’re at cruising altitude, I pull my laptop out of my backpack and open the lid. After connecting to the jet’s Wi-Fi, I open the email from the VP of Marketing of the sports drink I’m doing an ad campaign for. It’s another big reason to go to New York to shoot all these promotional things, and this morning’s meeting is to go over phase two of the ad campaign for our prospective playoff run. I click the link and join where my manager, the VP of Marketing, and the campaign director are already chatting about quarter one of next year.

“Morning, Pete,” they all greet me.

“Morning, guys,” I reply.