𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘: 𝐓𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝

Chapter 1: Wentworth Miller

"A loser!!" Joel and I exclaimed at the same time.

That only made mom place her hands on her waist and defiantly repeat. "Yes. A loser. That article made it seem as if football is your Alpha and Omega. That kind of dedication ould've impressed scouts a couple of years ago, but this is the millennial and the league doesn't care about just that anymore these days. You need to come across as a revenue centre and to be that you need to become a total package. That means giving an uplift of some sort to your social life, show these sponsors that you're a marketing powerhouse. You can do that by posting a little more on TikTok, making more friends..."

"Ok ok, I got it." I said, having become used to her saying this. It wasn't the first time she was bringing up my by-product marketing stock Portfolio and it was then it occurred to me that it wouldn't be the last. So I decided to make a compromise. ".... I'll pick up more hours at the Zero youth league? The kids there are mad talented but they aren't in good schools. So to attract sponsors and agents they post a lot of their work on social media. I normally don't let them but for my optics, how about I let them post me with them. By effect my social life and social media presence will be catered to, through them. Will that do it for you?"

I'm pretty sure that was a solid plan, two birds one stone. I don't think mom appreciated it though because she chose to ignore it and instead say, "I didn't hear anything about making more friends in there?"

Joel snickered and retreated into the closet, I shook my good shoulder and stood straighter to stretch as I answered her. "I have enough friends."

"You have three friends Wentworth. One of them was recruited to the league miles from here, the other one is your brother. So actually it's two, you my darling you have two friends."

"Fair enough but that's a secondary issue, do we have a deal on Zero's youth league?"

"No." She hummed, tapping her chin. "I'll call your Coach, maybe he can come up with something less stuffy. Now tsk tsk tsk." She called the pup. "...go say hi to daddy over there."

Not a second later the puppy came to stand beside my right foot. Waggling its tail, tongue out as though it were me in the family it belonged to. "Oh hell no!" I rebuked, trying to shed it from the foot it was hugging.

"Cavaliers ranked 19th for intelligence in dog breeds. You'll thank me." Mom sang to explain how the pup easily obeyed as she walked to my tv stand to switch on the thing on the wall. She played with the remote until she changed from Fox Sports to some floozy gossip channel, where three reporters were discussing celebrity scandals and all that nonsense.

Joel came back from the closet he'd disappeared to, "it's true what mom was saying about the optics, the firm I work for has clients that...."

"Again." Mom bounced on the couch gasping at her form of news, effectively making Joel forget the rest of his sentence. She shook her head in disapproval at what she was seeing on the tv. "Look at this ill-bred child!" She waved her silicon manicured hand at the tv.

Plastered on the screen was a high definition picture of the Nation's current problem. A twenty-one-year-old college footballer with a gold rizzler blunt hanging off his wet lips. His white shirt deliberately unbuttoned to show off his neck Cuban jewels. Also leaving on display bedroom marks dotted all over his light blemish-free skin. Most likely left by the small guy with distressed jeans under his right arm or the other guy with a rainbow pouch under his left inked arm or someone completely different than the people in the shot with him.

This was nothing new, it hardly counted as news anymore because this particular college player headlined almost every gossip site on a weekly basis. For all of his nightmare hookups and that was off the college field. On the field, reports were that he was lazy and not a team player. There was nothing of substance or to be respected of him even though the Bleacher's report had been comparing our field skill for three years now.

"Seeing as you're the last of my children yet to marry, keep this in mind Wentworth." Mom pointed a finger at the screen. "Do not bring home a girl or a boy who's body is for everybody like this Acosta boy."

"You ain't gotta worry." Joel promised on my behalf, the looked at me knowingly around a smug smirk. "Still not in the mood to go out?"

"Promise me." Mom demanded.

"Promise what?"

"That you won't bring home a..."

"Ok," I rolled my eyes cutting the rest of her sentence and simultaneously turning to walk away from her neurosis.

"Wentworth, baby? Should you be going out with that arm?"

I kept walking anyway. Away from my own bedroom, to the bathroom. Finally changing into that random shirt Joel had picked out for me to go out in and maybe try to make some friends or something.

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