“New plan. We’re double-dating. I’ll arrange for the ride and make the dinner reservations.”
That seemed to relax the poor boy. Clearly, he was entirely out of his depth and wanted all the help I would give him.
◊◊◊
Ms. Saunders was in front of the class and showing the vlogs that Marshal and Curtis helped Tracy and me make.
“Were the desserts as good as they looked?” she asked.
I took that as a good sign that we’d done our job.
“They were even better than they looked. I expect David’s restaurants are going to get a lot of customers once these are seen,” Curtis said, giving his stamp of approval.
Ms. Saunders then took the time to point out how we could do it better next time. I liked some of her advice but knew from experience that a couple of the ideas she suggested were unnecessary, based on the commercials I’d been in. Then she gave us our next assignment.
“It’s political campaign season, and I’m sure you’ve started to get all the robocalls to remind you. I want you to do something related. It can either be using photography or video. You have until next Friday.”
Of course, we wanted hints about what to do. Ms. Saunders’ only suggestion was to ‘surprise’ her, whatever the heck that meant. The only other stipulation was that we had to do the whole project ourselves. That meant I couldn’t get Curtis or Marshal to help me. Why did she always look at me when she said something like that?
◊◊◊
Coach had given us the night off, but Mr. Hasting wanted to see me after my treatment. He had with him a short, balding man with a sober face.
“David, I want to introduce my boss, Doc Grog. He’s in charge of the medical staff for State’s football team and oversees the trainers.”
Mr. Hasting’s day job was working at State, where he both taught and worked with their athletes as a trainer.
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I said as I shook his hand.
“I understand that you’re in quite a bit of pain. Mr. Hasting asked that I examine you and see what the best course of action is to get you back onto the football field,” Doc Grog offered.
“That would be great. The doctor I saw in LA said it would be three to six weeks before I could play again. Anything you can do to accelerate that would be very much appreciated.”
Mr. Hasting explained that I was taking pain and anti-inflammation meds, using ice baths, wrapping my ribs and hip, and resting to recover from my injuries. Doc Grog checked my elbow and observed that the swelling had gone down. I no longer needed the sling and was able to use my crutches without too much trouble.
“It looks like you were banged up pretty good. You should continue to take it easy until Monday, and then I’ll be back to reassess you. If you continue to progress, we’ll start you out walking and doing rehab next week. I want you to be patient, because this type of injury needs time to heal, especially when it’s combined with your broken ribs. I’m afraid playing next week is out of the question. Let’s see if we can get you there the following week.”
“Can I start throwing?” I asked.
“No. Even though the swelling has gone down and your arm’s feeling better, I need your ribs to have a chance to mend. Please resist the urge to do anything too physical until I tell you,” Doc Grog said.
“Does that include sex?” I asked.
The two men looked at each other and had a good chuckle.
“Remember when you were his age?” Mr. Hasting asked.
“I was such a nerd that the girls had no interest in me. Thankfully, I met my wife in college,” Doc Grog shared.
“TMI!” I said, shaking my head.
“Sorry. You caught me off guard,” Doc Grog said. “You can have sex as long as you don’t move your hips or twist your torso. Basically, just lay there.”
“Sounds like my first wife,” Mr. Hasting said.
“Again, TMI—waaaaaay Too Much Information,” I complained.
“Son, when you reach our age, you’ll understand,” Doc Grog said, trying not to smile.
“I hope not.”
◊◊◊
While I’d been getting my treatment, I received several text messages from people in California to call them. I decided I’d better call Caryn first.
“I take it something’s up by the number of text messages I just got.”
“It’s about Zander Lewis. There was a press conference where four women came forward and said Zander either sexually assaulted or sexually harassed them. It played live on all the LA TV stations. What’s going to make news is the Q-and-A that followed. A reporter wanted to know what the big deal was because it was rumored that the four of them used their bodies to get ahead,” Caryn said.
“Is the guy an idiot? They’ll be asking for his job by the end of the day.”
“Let me send you a link to Phoebe Andrews’ response.”
My phone dinged, and I switched over to watch the video she’d linked.
I recognized two of the women but had no clue who the other two were. They were all in their early to mid twenties. They wore conservative clothes, and all appeared to be taken aback by the reporter’s question. One of the women responded. She must have been Phoebe since she was one of the women I didn’t recognize.
