Going for Two

by Laura Chapman

  “Between the names and personality types, I figured the NFL would have more than enough to give my team a full roster.”

  “Not all football players are dicks.” J.J.’s tone takes on a sharp edge.

  “I agree. Just the ones I’m drafting.”

  Brook’s eyes crease around the edges, and his shoulders shake. My stomach instantly settles. Good. I’m glad he found his sense of humor.

  “Whatever.” J.J. sighs. “I’m not going to stop you. It’s in my best interest for you to draft a crappy team. But as league commissioner, I needed to make sure you were cleared of any wrongdoing. For all I know, you’re helping your husband secure a playoff spot.”

  “I assure you, my intentions are entirely pure.”

  For some reason, this sets Brook off, and I disconnect the call before J.J. can take offense to Brook’s laughter.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, babe,” he says, once he finally regains some control. “When you decide to throw the game in the pre-season, you don’t mess around.”

  My jaw drops, but I pause to draft my next player—Arney Walker, a known jerk who is constantly in trouble for attitude problems—before addressing his comment.

  “Why would you think I’m throwing the game?”

  He gives me his “let’s be serious” look, before pointing out the lack of consistency with most of the players I’ve already drafted. I again tap my fingers on the desk impatiently while he rattles off every reason my team won’t succeed until I’ve had enough.

  “I have complete faith in my team. In fact, I’m guessing my pack of boners will outperform your so-called talent.”

  “Want to place a side bet?”

  “What are the terms?” I have to know what’s at stake because I don’t actually think my team will come close to beating his. This is probably the finest roster I’ve seen him draft, and he’s right about my team. They suck.

  “That’s up for negotiation.”

  Brook rips a Post-it off of a pad and hands it to me along with a pen. He grabs a second one and scribbles on it, motioning for me to do the same. I write “get a dog” above “wins head-to-head.” We fold our pieces of paper. I hand mine over and reach for Brook’s, but he pulls it out of reach.

  “Do you actually want to know what’s at stake or just discuss the terms?”

  Pursing my lips, I consider the possibilities. Knowing Brook, he probably wrote something like “try my world-famous steak,” which he still hasn’t convinced me to do in the two years we’ve known each other. He respects my pescetarianism, but he still talks about the steak ad nauseam. Plus, I’d rather he not see my terms. He’s told me we can’t get a dog. Several times. He claims our apartment is too small and that our cat, Blitz, would probably traumatize any poor pup.

  With steaks and dogs on the line, maybe it’s better if we don’t know what’s at risk until the last possible moment.

  “Let’s go for the surprise. You hold on to your terms, I’ll hold on to mine, and we’ll reveal the prize later.”

  He nods and tucks his piece of paper into his wallet. “Want to go for most wins or something else?”

  “How about whoever wins when we play against each other in week six?”

  “I like it. So we have a wager?”

  I thrust my hand across the desk. “We have a deal.”

  To his credit, Brook doesn’t gloat over his inevitable victory. He doesn’t even smirk. Instead, we shake hands and withdraw into our respective rosters as our league goes round after round in the draft.

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  Acknowledgments

  THE QUEEN OF THE LEAGUE series would not be possible without the help and support of many people.

  Thank you to Brea Brown, Sarah Chapman, Whitney Lake, and Kaley Stewart for being early readers on this project and providing me great feedback. Thank you to Scott Cavadini, Brent Litz, Kelly Oko, Katie Steiner, and Chris Stier for providing much-needed insight for this story. Thank you also to Nathan Lake, Trevor Stewart, and the rest of my fantasy football league-mates past and present for inviting me into your world and inspiring me to write this story. And thank you to my brothers, Michael and Shawn Chapman, for answering countless football questions for me through the years. Thank you to Cat Lavoie, Samantha March, and Chrissy Wolfe for the professional expertise.

  As always, thank you to my family and friends—particularly my parents—for your constant support in everything I do. And thank you, readers, for being part of this journey.

  Go Big Red and Go Pack Go!

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