The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  The crowd cheers even louder.

  I watch Logan moving London and Keeka through the crowd with a baby carried in his hand.

  Fucking trespassing, Links, I think as I get more pissed off by the second.

  Memphis Black laughs again and continues, “It appears to be a family affair, but we wanted to hop up here and tell you it’s time to start spreading love like a fucking STD.

  “It’s time to stop hate. It’s time to stop bullying. It’s time to stop looking the other way when a neighbor is in need. And it’s time to live every fucking moment the way you want to be remembered!”

  I see Maddox and Brody walk out on stage, guitars in hand, and I head toward them.

  “Maddox and Brody Hines, everyone!”

  “Good evening. I’m Maddox Hines.”

  The lights dim and several screens turn on as Maddox begins to speak again.

  “Today, we remember the lives lost, but we remember them with love and with fondness. We remember to make every moment count!”

  Music begins, but it’s not coming from the stage. It’s coming from the speakers.

  Watching the screen, the name Douglas Jones flashes across it, and then photos for him with loved ones, fishing, dancing, on holidays, celebrating, laughing, smiling, and hugging.

  “My son was thirty-two years old …”

  I quickly glance from the screen to the stage, where a woman stands under a spotlight and speaks of her son while holding an unlit candle.

  “I was blessed to see his smile nearly every day. I was blessed that he called me Mom.”

  She walks across the stage, and Coach Brown then Brody hug her, and then Lucas lights her candle.

  Each name accompanies pictures, followed by a loved one, a brief story, and a lighting of a candle. Each one brings me closer to having to go up there, having to say goodbye to JJ in this fucking place.

  My fucking heart hurts, and I look at her to find her looking at me in confusion.

  I look away. This isn’t about her. It’s not about Logan or all the fuckers who seem to hate me. It’s about JJ.

  When I see Jones on the screen, I walk up and stand in front of the mic. “I’m Trucker Cohen. Jones was just some kid I met during the second semester of my senior year. The guy had raw talent, no direction, no family—raised in the system—no reason to smile. But, as you can see in these pictures, that’s all he did when he was on the field. Called him my little brother. And he was like a brother for the year he and I became friends. He talked a lot about what he wanted, and I heard everything he said. The day he got in here was my proudest moment, and yeah, his, too.

  “Every moment counts.” I nod in Logan’s direction then walk across the stage, where Brody lights my candle.

  Done and over

  Trucker

  I left after I walked off stage yesterday, because I was getting shit mixed up. It wasn’t about proving myself to Logan that I was still a good fucking guy. It was about Jones, and I felt like the longer I stayed, the more it would be about my own personal hell and not about his life.

  Only took a couple hours for her to message me.

  Keeka

  What you did was amazing. What you said was beautiful, Trucker Cohen.

  Trucker

  Fuck you.

  I spend the next three days between the bed and the tub. I switch between watching clips of every fucking game JJ played in and looking at all the Facebook posts that the Links/Hines/Ross family posts of a big family gathering.

  I mourn the loss of an amazing young man and that of a friendship I will never again have, because I don’t trust him, and he doesn’t trust me.

  When I get a call from an unknown number, I answer it because I don’t care if it’s a fucking telemarketer right now. I fucking need to hear someone.

  “Trucker, it’s Mitch.”

  Well, fuck, that’s a voice I didn’t want to hear.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I don’t want shit, but Coach Brown …” He pauses. “He likes your dumb ass, and he’s in rough shape. You should get to University Hospital.”

  He hangs up before I can find out what the hell has happened.

  I walk into the waiting room at University Hospital and see Coach. I also see Logan, but I’m going to pretend the fucker doesn’t exist.

  I sit down next to him. “What’s up, Coach?”

  “They’re gonna unplug Downs’ machines today.” He looks up at me. “How did you know?”

  I improvise a bit. “Mitch called and said he thought you needed your team, so I’m here.”

  “Everyone’s going in to tell him to come back or rest in peace.” He lays his hand on my knee. “We’ve lost enough, and I sure as hell don’t wanna say goodbye, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  I pat his hand. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  After Logan goes in, a nurse comes out and asks that we hurry the process up.

  “Go ahead, son.” Coach nods.

  I stand at the door while Logan talks to him .

  “Hey, Downs. It’s Logan. Look, man, I’ve done five years here, three with you, and until you wake the fuck up, I’m stuck here. Your folks haven’t left. Your team takes shifts. Hell, there was a rumor that Coach Brown was going to retire if you didn’t wake up, and we all know he’s done his time.”

  He sighs and leans back. “I’m grasping at what to say, man. You can bet your ass, if I knew what play to call to get you up and on the line, I would.”

  Doesn’t matter how pissed I am at him right now, he’s struggling, so I step in.

  “That’s offense’s job.”

  He looks up as I walk in.

  “They want us to come in two at a time; speed up the process.”

  He nods.

  “Trucker’s here, Downs. You must be something special to bring his ugly ass back here from living it up down in Jersey.”

  “Listen to him, Downs. Links has something special for sure. Always thought he was better than both of us on the field.” I scowl at him. “Look, Downs, the sooner you wake up, the sooner I’ll get to go back to where I belong. You do it soon, I’ll make damn sure to put in a good word for you down there. Would be really cool to play with a friend again. You do it tonight, I’ll buy you a new fucking car.”

  Logan rolls his eyes at me, and I give him a fuck you look.

  “More of the guys are waiting to come in, man. We need you to fight. We need you to wake up; give us some hope. You were always that guy. See you soon, Downs.” Logan grips his shoulder before walking out.

  “How’s he look?” Coach Brown asks when we walk into the waiting room.

  “Better. Looks better, Coach,” Logan tells him as I sit next to him.

  He nods.

  “You been in yet?” he asks Coach.

  He shakes his head. “Can’t do it.”

  “Tough shit, old man. He looks up to you. We all do.”

  I give him a warning glare, and he flips me the bird but backs off Coach.

  When everyone has been in and returned, Logan looks back at Coach and whispers, “I’m not leaving until you get your ass in there and tell him to fight.”

  I finally sit on the opposite side of Coach. “He’s right.”

  “Usually am,” he jabs.

  “You two need to knock the shit off,” Coach Brown tells us. “That could be one of you lying in there right now. Think about how that would make your ugly asses feel.” He stands up and takes a few steps before looking back. “I fucking mean it.”

  When he walks out the door, Logan looks at me. “This doesn’t right your fucking wrongs, you hear me?”

  I lean in and inform him, “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

  “The hell you don’t.” He pulls his hat down and leans back.

  “You sticking around?” Mitch asks. He’s sitting on the other side of Logan.

  “I’m here till the old man gets back,” Logan tells him.

  Mitch leans over and glare
s at me. “I know what the fuck you’re doing. I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’m talking to the fucking superstar over there.”

  “You got a fucking problem with me, bitch two?” I whisper-hiss at him.

  “I got more than one,” Mitch snaps. “You make a good show here. Act like you give a damn about any of us, then go in there and tell a dying man to fight when you just really wanna know if his swimmers got there first.”

  “You better put your boy in check,” I tell Logan.

  “I’m not anyone’s boy,” Mitch snaps. “And I’m not anyone’s daddy either.”

  “You better shut your fucking mouth,” I whisper.

  Mitch laughs. “Or what?”

  “End it … now.” Logan looks at Mitch. “For Downs.”

  His phone vibrates in his hand, and he answers with, “Hey.”

  He smiles, so I know it’s Paris.

  “Thank you for calling. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he sighs and whispers as he stands and walks away.

  When he walks back in, he sits down and sees Mitch and I still glaring at each other. “You two cut the shit.” He looks at me. “Trucker, we have a flight in the morning.”

  “Fucking charity date,” I grumble.

  “Team, wake the hell up!” I wake to Coach Brown yelling. “Let’s go, go, go!”

  “Have you lost your damn mind?” Logan asks him.

  When I open my eyes, I see the old man smiling, tears rolling down his face.

  “No, son, I just witnessed a miracle. Thought I’d share it with you.”

  “Is he awake?”

  “Praise be to God, men. Downs is awake, and he’s full of piss and vinegar.” He laughs. “Now line it up and get ready to go see for yourselves.”

  Logan grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Fuck.”

  Mitch grabs his. “It’s seven thirty.”

  “Aw, fuck.” He glares at me.

  I pull mine out of my pocket. “Mine’s dead, too. Missed our flight.”

  Logan looks at Mitch. “You wanna text Jamie and have her tell London to call me on yours?”

  “When you’re done, I need it,” I tell Mitch.

  “Fuck. You,” Mitch snaps at me.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I snap back.

  “You.” He gets up and walks away.

  “Leave him alone, Trucker; I’m warning you.”

  “Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” I ask while standing up.

  “Can’t fucking believe we couldn’t get a flight and I have to be cooped-up in a fucking vehicle with you for five miserable hours,” I grumble as I adjust the seat in Logan’s SUV.

  “Feeling’s mutual, asshole.”

  I sit up and look at him. “You do know you could have gone pro, too, so tell me why the fucking attitude? No, fuck that. Why the fuck did you decide to shit all over me and crawl up Keeka’s ass?”

  “You fucking left, man. You left and didn’t look back, so save your bullshit.”

  “I left to do what we were supposed to do all along. I had nothing to do with what went down with Ava. I was there for you, and you pushed me away. You don’t see me crying because I fucking needed you when my life went out of control.”

  “I didn’t push shit. I did what I had to for my family.”

  “And when the fuck did I stop being part of that?”

  He looks over at me, shocked. Honestly, I’m a little shocked I said it, too.

  “I tried to support you,” I continue. “I did support you the best I could while trying to keep my fucking grades up, graduate, and then leave all that was normal to me with none of the support I was used to.”

  “You needed something, you should have said so.”

  “When, Logan? When T died? When Luke got blown up? When you stopped fucking answering messages? I fucking tried. I tried so damn hard that I almost didn’t graduate.”

  “Had plenty of time to get Keeka knocked up, even after you knew you were fucking her before she was eighteen.”

  I fucking laugh. “You’d have been fucking London if you weren’t so worried about what everyone around you would say, so save the sermon for Sundays, Links.”

  “You should have wrapped your shit, then you wouldn’t be in this fucking situation.”

  Judgmental fucker, I think.

  “You know damn well I walked away from her. She kept showing up. I did what I had to do to make a point. She kept showing up. You fucking kept telling her to come to the house! And believe it or not, brother, I was worried sick about all of you, including Ava. I was fucking lonely. Weak, too,” I huff. “Should have gotten a puppy. At least they can’t text nonstop.”

  He holds in a laugh.

  “I fucked up by doing her ‘one last time.’ She was on the fucking pill, and only with me,” I say in a sarcastic tone, trying to make it a jibe. The truth is, though, I needed her so fucking badly, and she needed me, too. Not his business, so I make it a fucking joke. “Should have known better when she accused me of giving her a fucking disease.”

  “You what?” He laughs

  “I nothing. Mitch and Downs had her in their beds after I was done.” And I believed them all that they hadn’t fucked.

  “Mitch didn’t fuck her. Mitch woke up with her in his bed and had no idea how she got there. He did a paternity test. And just so you know, he’s had one fuck of a year because of you.”

  “Why is it my fault she climbed in his bed? And do you believe he really didn’t fuck her?” I fucking want to believe it … I think.

  “I have no idea why she climbed in his bed.” He pauses. “Did you have someone in yours?”

  “Every fucking night,” I answer. “Except for one.”

  “ ’Cause you were falling for her,” he comments.

  Falling? I fucking fell. I fell so fucking hard it still hurts.

  “Like I said, I should have gotten a puppy.”

  “Two sides to each story.”

  “And then some,” I add, looking out the window.

  “You have family, Logan. You’re gonna always be okay. Someone’s always gonna have your back. I didn’t have shit, but now, now I don’t need it. Believe it or not, I did what I thought was best for you all. Just like I’ll fucking do what’s best for that kid, if it’s mine.”

  “Keeka has no intention of going after you, so if you have no intention of being a dad, leave it alone.”

  “So you can play daddy to what might be mine?”

  “I’d play daddy to ten of her,” he answers. “You had us the entire time. All you had to do was say something, Trucker.”

  “And like I said, I can take care of myself.” Fucker is pissing me off. “And now that the whole Ross, Hines, and Links’ crew think I’m the daddy, I’m gonna make sure that, if I am, I take care of it.”

  “Her,” he corrects. “Leddie Lou is a girl, not an it. And no one will say a word. She’s their family. You know better than to think they’ll allow any drama that is unavoidable. And my dad sure as hell isn’t gonna let anyone fuck with you, so you do what you gotta do. But understand, Keeka is my sister-in-law. That makes that little angel baby my niece. I’ll go to war for her.”

  “News flash, Links, you and London aren’t married. She’s not your anything. Don’t piss on my territory, or you’ll be trespassing.”

  “London and I are engaged.”

  I hold back a smile and look out the window. “Fucking knew you were in love with that girl.”

  “Shut up and get some sleep. You’re gonna need to drive in a couple of hours. I’m fucking exhausted.”

  “Can’t we just shelve this date?” I ask as I lie the seat back. “Call this Madison up and say, hey, Downs woke up from a coma and we need to reschedule.”

  He shakes his head. “They’re already in New York City.” Then he laughs.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Emma bid on the date under an assumed name. London’s our date.”

  “This day just keeps getting worse,” I groan. “So, w
hy the fuck do I have to go?”

  “You’re the one who made this thing a big damn deal with Isabella Steel,” he reminds me.

  “Did you check her out? That woman is worth making a big damn deal over.”

  “I’d be checking in on my responsibilities before I go sniffing around, looking for a piece of ass,” he advises.

  Don’t want to tell him I have been trying. Clearly, she hasn’t said shit about the text messages.

  “Thanks for the advice. Now I’ll give you some. Stop pissing on my territory; you’re trespassing.”

  He laughs at me. “You wanna be daddy, or you wanna fuck the Steel chick?”

  “Got no problem doing both, if it’s mine.”

  “Say it one more time, and I will fucking throw you out of this vehicle.”

  “I get you sticking up for”—I pause, and I look over, taunting him on purpose—“the kid, but how about you think about what the fuck I told you. Bitch told me I gave her a damn disease. I didn’t. Never fucking had one. That’s not enough to stop treating me like some piece of shit? How about you think about how you’d feel if you busted that cherry and London started bed-hopping in your territory?”

  “If I were fucking everything offered, I’d deserve it.”

  “Judgmental fuck.”

  He doesn’t say shit.

  Before I close my eyes, I offer to drive.

  “No.”

  When I wake up, we are already two steps from there.

  “I told you I’d drive.” I yawn and sit up. “Jesus, Logan, you could have woken me up.”

  “I’m fine,” he says, taking another drink of iced coffee.

  I look at it, then in the back where four empties are sitting in a cardboard cup holder on the floor.

  “Fucking ridiculous.” I yawn again.

  “There’s a bag on the floor. Food in it. Got you a cup of coffee, too.” He points to the cup holder.

  “You really should have woken me up.” I grab the Dunkin’ Donuts bag.

  “Clearly, you needed the sleep more than I did.”

  I laugh at him. “You’ve always been the one who required more sleep.”