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“How’s Beau?”
“You know your brother.”
“Need me to call him?”
“You keep your head in the game. He’ll be fine. He’s just figuring himself out is all.”
We talk for a few more minutes. My phone pings with a text while my mom’s filling me in about my siblings. I’m the oldest. With her being a single mom, I feel like I’m half brother, half dad to them.
Trey: I’m coming over. You cooking?
I huff out a laugh.
“What’s funny?” Mom asks.
“Treyvon just asked if I’m cooking.”
“I’ll let you go, sweet boy. Tell Treyvon I said hi.”
“Okay, Mama. I’ll talk to you next week.”
“Take care of yourself, Marcus. You spent too many years takin’ care of me and everyone else.”
“I’ll never stop taking care of you.”
“You already got me this house,” she says. Then she pauses and her voice goes soft. “I want you to know you make me proud. Love you to the moon and back.”
Making her proud is just about the only thing that matters deeply to me. That and making sure my siblings are doing okay. I got more shade from her than the media when she heard I didn’t shake hands after that playoff game. Marcus Anthony Delaney, I raised you better than that. She calmed down when I explained what actually happened, but then she threatened to hold her own press conference. I appreciated the sentiment, but the media never listens to a mother defending her son. And I fight my own battles these days … mostly … with a little help from Kate.
“Love you too,” I say. “I’ll call again soon.”
She blows me air kisses and we hang up.
I call Treyvon.
When he picks up, I say, “Yes. I’m cookin’ and I just so happen to have an extra steak here too.”
“Oh, man. Well, hang in there. I’ll come take that off your hands.”
“You do that. I’ll see you in a few.”
I’m about to hang up when he says, “And if you think you’re getting out of telling me about you and Cass Carter, think again.”
Right alongside my pervasive thoughts about the trajectory of our season, I’ve been thinking about the implications of taking Cass to the gala on and off all day—that is, if she agrees to go. I know Kate, though. She’s a miracle worker when it comes to arranging optics.
I may as well accept my fate.
Cass Carter is going to be my date for the night, and this time we won’t be alone at a table for two.
Chapter 11
Cass
Everybody plays for the guy next to him.
It's not about one individual guy.
It's about the football team.
