by Scott Pratt
Jarvis stopped and glared at the linebacker, a senior who was a notorious troublemaker feared by most on the team. At sixteen, Jarvis had grown used to thugs and bullies. He was unafraid.
“We’re the same once we’re off the field,” Jarvis said to the linebacker. “We all have to find a way to get by, every day.” He then dropped his backpack at his feet. “If you want to keep getting by, put the knife up and walk away while you can. Otherwise, I’ll leave you here in pieces.”
The other teammates backed away from the confrontation, and the linebacker quickly followed. The story made the rounds at school the next day, another chapter in the growing legend of Jarvis Thompson. He was never directly challenged again.
He would go on to lead his team to two state championships before heading off to Tennessee. He had survived – and made his hometown proud in the process.
Tianna, tragically, didn’t wait to join Jarvis on his climb to the pros.
She married a soldier at eighteen and moved to Texas to start a new life. “We have to get out.” The violence followed her. Her husband, an older man who had served two tours in Iraq, told police he came home one night and she was gone. He had a history of mental illness and abuse, and they suspected he had murdered her, but there was never a trace. Just another girl from the ghetto gone missing.
Months later they found the man slumped over the wheel of his pickup truck, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. No notes, no confessions.
Tianna’s disappearance still weighed heavily on Jarvis. He hadn’t been able to save her, to fulfill his promise, and he knew that failure would haunt him for the rest of his life.
But it also had become a motivating force as his college days wound down. Jarvis was playing for her now. The glory was still there for the taking, and he knew she was watching. He had to deliver.
Suddenly, Jarvis was startled out of semi-consciousness. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, you all right?” His roommate, Brett, was shaking him awake. “I could hear you moaning from the kitchen. Man, your shirt is soaking wet. More of those bad dreams?”
Jarvis took a deep breath and tried to regain his bearing as he sat up in bed. Finally, an uneasy smile. The past was back in its place.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I need to call home. Give me a couple minutes and we’ll go.”
chapter five
The call to his mother went immediately to voicemail. Jarvis flipped on the television and began to pull tight the laces of his sneakers. The banter on ESPN had turned to college football. The studio host directed his attention to Knoxville and a reporter on site. “Is there any chance that the Alabama train gets derailed at Neyland Stadium this weekend?” he asked. “Could this be a trap game for the nation’s top-ranked team?”
“We’ve been saying that about this series for more than a decade,” the reporter said. “It used to be a battle – I mean, Peyton Manning never lost to Alabama – but that was a long time ago. Now it’s nothing more than a trap game. The recent history is all in the Tide’s favor, and I don’t see Tennessee hanging around in this one for long either, unless they can get the ball to Jarvis Thompson early and often.”
“He’s having another great year. I’d hate to see where the Vols would be without him.”
“They’d better enjoy him while they can. I’m pretty sure we’ll see him playing on Sundays next fall.”
Jarvis glanced at the screen and smiled to himself. Even with an also-ran team, he was part of the national conversation.
The receiver stood and picked up a football from the foot of his bed. He quietly counted his blessings, again. Win or lose, he was moving forward. There was no reason to look back. He now had real teammates, real friends, a real future.
It could all have gone south at any moment, of course, if not for Billy. Fate and the football gods had somehow brought them together. “Dumb luck,” the agent liked to call it.
Jarvis’s brother, Dante, and Billy’s brother, John, were baseball teammates for a year at Florida State. Jarvis would find rides over from Autumn on the weekends to hang out and watch the Seminoles play. Billy, who would drive down from Knoxville every chance he got, met him one day at the ballpark and was intrigued.
At such a tender age, Jarvis had manners and an engaging air about him, and he always carried a football to the baseball games. In fact, he carried one everywhere he went.
“Coach says to keep one close,” he’d say. “Learn to love that leather. Treat it like your best friend and it’ll always be good to you.”
Before long, Billy learned that the boy and his family were struggling just to stay afloat, how Jarvis’s father had drifted away leaving his dysfunctional mother to manage three children, how the baby of the family was left to practically raise himself.
Later, when he was working in Atlanta, Billy called Jarvis regularly to check up on him. He liked the boy, and it seemed like a natural thing to do, the right thing to do.
By the time Jarvis reached high school, he was a man in many ways, and already a well-known football prospect in Florida – bigger, stronger and faster than other receivers at the elite summer camps. He had other attributes, too: a magnetic personality and a powerful will to win. The mighty in-state programs at Florida State, Florida and Miami all had their sights set on him.
But Tennessee had the inside track to signing him, even though its coaches couldn’t have known at the time.
“We’re going to team up one day,” Billy told Jarvis when he made the decision to become a sports agent. “You’re going to be the best receiver in football, and I’m going to be driving your bandwagon all the way to the Super Bowl.”
Once Billy returned to Knoxville, he continued to focus on cultivating one of the NFL’s top talents. Jarvis may have come into his orbit in a roundabout way, but as time went on, there became little doubt that they needed each other.
As with many things in Jarvis’s life, the decisive move to Knoxville was born out of tragedy.
He had been seeing Denise Rollins, a feisty girl from school who wasn’t afraid of all the things she had heard about the Thompson family. They had become especially close, helping to fill the emotional void for Jarvis when his sister moved away. Denise was an honors student from a good family, a positive influence. They planned to attend college together, to see where things might lead.
One night she was leaving Jarvis’s house when three shots rang out. Jarvis raced outside and found her in the yard, gasping and bleeding heavily. She died in his arms. The boys who killed her were drug-dealing gang bangers. They mistook her for another girl, but she was still dead.
If not for Billy, who drove all night from Tennessee to reach him, Jarvis might have thrown away his future that night. He wanted revenge, and he might very well have either been killed or sent to prison. But Billy kept him on the phone, kept him calm until he could get there.
Looking back, that was a crossroads in both of their lives. The tragedy cemented an unbreakable bond. Billy was the one who had always believed in the kid, kept him focused, and ultimately led him out of the projects.
Jarvis tried to placate his mother on occasion, but deep down, he knew his future rested with Billy. Because Billy cared, he genuinely cared about Jarvis as a person, and Jarvis knew it.
chapter six
Billy had friends in the union offices, and it didn’t take the agent long to come up with a cell number for Sonny Bradley. This would be their first real conversation.
They had met two or three years ago, just briefly at a popular watering hole in Indianapolis. It was the end of another long day at the player combine, the infamous meat market that essentially serves as the NFL’s annual trade show. Players, coaches, scouts, executives, agents and reporters are thrown together in face-to-face situations, and the results help determine a player’s draft status.
It didn’t ta
ke much to change things for a player. Questions about character, a slow time in the forty, a low Wonderlic Test score – almost anything could cost a player, and his agent, significant amounts of money. The perceptions of total strangers mattered.
There was no better chance than combine week for charmers like Billy to spin and promote their clients to anyone willing to listen. Especially after a few drinks. A big group had gathered at the bar that night. An acquaintance of Billy’s introduced Bradley as an attorney from Slidell, Louisiana, who was a newcomer to the business. Maybe he called him a “consultant.” They shook hands.
That was about all Billy could remember as the phone rang in New Orleans.
“Hello, Sonny,” he said. “Billy Beckett here.”
There was a long pause, then a Cajun chuckle.
“You mean, the Billy Beckett?” Bradley said. “Well, long time no see, man. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been hearing your name a lot lately and just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”
“Really? I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” Billy said. “Jarvis Thompson tells me you – or your representatives – paid his mother a visit down in Florida last week, and she’s suddenly all hot and bothered again about what he’s going to do, even though it’s been obvious for a while. That’s not playing nice.”
“C’mon, Billy, you know it’s just part of the game. We’re not playing outside the lines here. Besides, I like Clarise. Don’t you?”
Bradley sounded like a real agent. A little humor, a little bob and weave to disguise ulterior motives. He had learned his lessons well.
“She’s a drunken witch, and everybody knows it,” Billy said. “Jarvis knows it, too. He won’t be changing his mind just because his mother is looking for a payoff.”
Bradley laughed. “I thought the boy still loved his mother.”
“He does, as much as a son can love a mother who has always put herself before him, but he’s seen more than enough to know what she’s about. And I think he has a pretty good idea of what you’re about. This kid isn’t going to sign with you, so you might as well move on. I’m sure you’ve got plenty more shady deals in the works.”
“You’re starting to hurt my feelings, Billy. Sounds like you’re Jarvis’s daddy now, too, even though you’re a little young for that. I don’t suppose you’re bending any rules up there in Tennessee. Sounds to me like you’re awfully close to the situation. Maybe too close. Some people might be interested in that.”
Trying to turn the tables. Another tactic.
“Maybe you didn’t know I was his guardian for a while,” Billy said, “and I care a hell of a lot more about Jarvis than his daddy ever did. I’m not going to put him in a bad position. That’s where we’re different. From what I hear, you guys down there are willing to do about anything to lock up these young players who don’t know any better, and they’re going to regret it down the road.”
“I don’t know where you get that,” Bradley said. “We’re just doing our due diligence and trying to make a living. Just like you.”
Billy had heard enough, but he couldn’t let the conversation die just yet. He wanted to know more about Bradley’s alleged boss.
“Tell me about Frank Romano,” he said. “Sounds like a dangerous guy. Word is that he’s pulling your strings.”
“Don’t even know him, only what I’ve read. You probably know more about Frank Romano than I do.”
“How’s that?”
“You really should mind your own business, Billy. Getting into mine isn’t a good idea.”
“Maybe I need to come down to New Orleans so we can look each other in the eye. I haven’t been to the Big Easy in a while. Might be fun.”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Bradley said. “I’d love to see you, of course, but there’s no need to stir up a bunch of trouble for nothing. It wouldn’t take much for a Tennessee boy like you to get into some pretty deep shit here.”
“Ah, a threat,” Billy said. “I love it. Let me give you a little advice: don’t push this. The season is getting late, and I’m going to make sure it ends like it’s supposed to. My guys are my guys, and rest assured, Jarvis Thompson is my guy.”
“Whatever you say, man. I gotta go. Call any time, and good luck with your guy.”
Billy put down the phone and took a couple of deep breaths as he worked the Corvette through traffic. His hands were trembling slightly and he could feel his pulse pounding at his temples.
Bastard, he thought to himself. This isn’t over. Not even close.
chapter seven
“Well, it’s nice to see you again.”
Rachel sounded agitated when Billy walked into his Knoxville office just before five o’clock. The pile of paperwork had grown in his absence, and the calls kept streaming in.
Billy never knew how his girlfriend would handle the rush of business on a given day, especially when he hadn’t been around to stroke her ego. His office manager was gone, too, so he knew it had been a long day for Rachel.
“You look awesome today, girl,” Billy said, leaning in for a kiss. The comment was lost on the statuesque brunette, who rarely had a bad day when it came to looks. She moved quickly past him.
It was no secret that Rachel King wasn’t cut out for secretarial work. She grew up in privilege in the low country of South Carolina and had been a star athlete in college. She’d been a star pretty much all her life, in fact. Naturally, she was expecting a more glamorous lifestyle when she agreed to leave a promising real-estate gig in Atlanta and move in with an upstart sports agent.
Billy probably expected the lifestyle to be a little more glamorous, too, but he’d quickly learned that the business had plenty of mundane moments.
“The packet you wanted is on your desk,” Rachel said. “Candace will be back in the office tomorrow, which is good for all of us. You know I’m better out in the field.”
“You’re definitely a player, but the job is what it is. Some days I need you to be a team player.”
“I’m going home and soak in the spa for a while. Will you be joining me?”
“I have a few more calls to make,” Billy said. “Give me two hours and I’ll give you the rest of the night.”
“That’s mighty big of you. How about bringing some food. I’d vote for Italian, and maybe a bottle of that Barolo we had a while back. That’d be a good start.”
“Would it guarantee a good finish?”
Rachel managed a smug smile and turned to leave.
“Yes?” Billy said.
“Maybe.”
The couple had been living together off and on for a while now, and it was quite the roller coaster ride. The highs were still exhilarating, but they didn’t come along as often anymore. The lows could be downright frigid.
Sometimes it was hard to remember that first meeting, the electricity they both felt. Cold November night in Atlanta. Hospitality suite at a Falcons game. Two strangers talking in a quiet corner, getting warmer by the minute.
Billy was a corporate lawyer on the rise, tall and ruggedly handsome with curly dark hair and a perpetually unshaven face. He looked like an athlete, and that was the way he carried himself.
Rachel had been an all-conference volleyball player at the University of Georgia, a poster girl for the sport who once had Olympic aspirations. Instead, she moved on with life and was making good use of her business degree and other assets with a trendy real-estate firm in Westside. The perks of her job were growing by the day when Billy came along and steered her in an exciting new direction.
He was seven years older and had a different aura about him. They laughed and the conversation was easy.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing watching a sorry team like this?” was how it all began. They didn’t watch much more of the game.
Before long, they we
re going out regularly, then sharing a downtown apartment. There was certainly chemistry, and the sex was powerful, different than anything Billy had ever experienced. He’d never been at the pleasure of such an uninhibited woman.
“Are you sure you’re just twenty-four?” he said the first time Rachel cast her spell. “Seems like you’ve learned an awful lot about men.”
“Men are simple creatures,” she replied.
That much hadn’t changed, except the simple creature of the house didn’t spend as much time doting on her these days. Growing the business had proved to be a daunting challenge, more work than play on every front. Billy was often gone or distracted, and Rachel was left to entertain herself. She’d sometimes go to great lengths to do so.
More and more, she was making the five-hour drive home to Charleston to visit with friends and family. The lure of the sun, sand and surf kept pulling her back.
This weekend would be different. With the top-ranked Crimson Tide in town, the schedule had been cleared and Rachel and Billy would jump on his houseboat and be part of the Vol Navy that ruled the water outside the stadium. Hopefully Jarvis Thompson would have a huge game, raise his draft stock another notch, and the home team would somehow end this awful losing streak.
“I’ll see you at home,” Rachel said on her way out the door.
Billy turned to admire that fabulous form and flashed a smile. “Can’t wait.”
chapter eight
The stage was set for another of those magical interludes as Billy walked in from the garage with his arms full of food and drink.
Candlelight filled the big house with a warm glow. Vanilla incense sweetened the air, and a reggae beat pulsed down from the rafters. Bob Marley always had a way of enhancing the mood.
Rachel was nowhere to be seen, so Billy quickly opened the bottle of Barolo, grabbed a couple of glasses from the bar and made his way upstairs. Dinner could wait.
