Read City of Champions for Free Online Page B

clothes were even better. It meant he didn't get to bum around in sweats like some of the other players, but it was worth it — one more step in his plan to take care of his abuela, mother, and sister as long as he could.
    Everyone loved his dad, Jim McCoy, or at least the image of him they'd been able to see. They didn't know that the man had blown it all and left his family with nothing. Wyatt would make no such mistake.
    Even so, Wyatt was unable to shake the feeling that his whole career was turning into an unforgiving mass of promised triumph. Now in his ninth professional season and on his second team, it was all starting to feel to him like he'd built his career around a whole lot of "almost was" and "never will be."
    The thought caused rage to bubble in Wyatt's stomach and he slammed shut his locker door in frustration. The fleeting emotional release it brought him was quickly replaced with another angry rush of pain shooting deeply across his right shoulder. It had already been killing him before the game, but being mauled on the field for a handful of hours didn't do it any favors — in fact, it had left his whole body hurting, and reignited his overwhelming sense of worry about his future.
    " Fuck ," he said angrily under his breath, waiting a moment for the rush of agony to subside before snatching up his bag with his still functioning left arm. Silently, Wyatt began to walk out.
    "Hey, Wy — wait, where are you going?" J.J., his go-to wide receiver asked him, jogging up to his side.
    "Home. Good night, man."
    "Come on, dude, you're kidding, right?" J.J. asked, suddenly losing his cool exterior.
    "No. What's the big deal? Game ends. People leave. It happens. Take it easy, dude," Wyatt answered, with a confused laugh, as he continued toward the door.
    J.J. jogged after him and blocked his exit from the locker room.
    "Don't you remember?"
    "What, that you're a spaz?" Wyatt asked, with a laugh, continuing to the door, barely missing a step.
    "No, dumb-ass. We have to meet that VIP author dude and his guests."
    "Shit. I forgot," Wyatt answered, stopping to look at his friend. "Wanna cover for me, J.J.? I'm not in the mood for that bullshit right now."
    "What else is new? You're never in the mood for this shit, asshole," J.J. said seriously, walking closer to Wyatt so they couldn't be overheard. "You know you're on thin ice with the team right now. This extra 'bullshit' is part of the package and you know it."
    "Thanks for reminding me. So you're an expert now?" Wyatt grumbled out.
    He'd known J.J. for a couple years and he was his biggest ally on the team, so it didn't do him any good to yell at him. It did make Wyatt feel a little better at that exact moment, though.
    Wyatt was fully aware he needed to play nice. Between his shoulder still acting up and three losses in a row, he needed to do all he could to show he deserved to be a starting quarterback — whether it be in Pittsburgh or somewhere else — at least for another few seasons. The only way to do that was to get this season, and his role on the team, back under control.
    "Don't take it out on me, Wy. I was on that field when we shit the bed, too, you know," J.J. answered, with a sarcastic tone that might have irritated Wyatt from anyone else.
    "You're right, man, but I don't like to be around people after a loss. And definitely not any 'VIPs' — it's probably a bunch of rich, douche bag armchair quarterbacks showing off their connections to their boring wives."
    "Well, you do have the right attitude to be an ambassador for the team today," J.J. said, with a laugh. "You'll have to leave all the charming up to me then. And if any of those boring wives are hot, it won't be so bad. I'll let them touch my muscles. They love that shit."
    "You're pretty optimistic, J.J. Look, I've done enough of this crap since college to be able to guarantee you they are definitely not going to be hot. So fine by me, you and your muscles can have them all. I just want to get