Stupid Boy: Senior Year - Spring 03

Chapter 3 -- Walk Like The Man

Thursday January 26

The gang was all together at lunch, every one of them wearing sunglasses. I looked around, perplexed. Then Phil's girlfriend, Jill, fanned her face dramatically and exclaimed with a fake Southern drawl, "Ah do declare, we are in the presence of a movie star!"

Everybody started laughing and talking at once, but I had my own agenda.

"Can it, everyone. The odds are high that I won't get an award. Instead, for the privilege of not getting an award, I'll probably get to take redeye flights, dress up in an uncomfortable monkey suit, and eat rubber chicken. Could we pleeeeze talk about anything else?"

Gina just shrugged and started giving Phil grief about being whipped. Phil's girlfriend, Jill, looked like she was in college because she'd developed early. And Lord, how she'd developed. I could totally see why Phil would be whipped. If I were dating her, I might be, too. I decided to save my little brother since I'd caused this.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and brought up Lila's number, unable to avoid the fond memories I had of the older sister I'd hooked up with in Cincinnati.

"Are there rules for when you should text a girl?"

I vaguely remembered we'd discussed this at some point. I might have laid down the rules at the time.

"Three days unless it's for a hookup, then any time after ten," Wolf supplied.

Phil gave me a little smirk because he realized what I'd just done for him by grabbing the gang's attention. Everyone at the table turned and looked at me. Cassidy giggled.

"Careful, Bad Girl," I said, using Cassidy's social-media handle. "Remember that what happens when you're working security is like what happens in Vegas. You're not allowed to talk about it."

She crossed her arms and pouted. I pointed at Don.

"Distract your girlfriend before she does something rash, and I have to go see the trainers. Better yet, piss her off. I don't think she's reached her quota for hurting boys this week."

Don leaned over and kissed her cheek. He was such an amateur. He needed to up his game if he was going to distract her. I turned back to Wolf.

"What if she's both?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If it's been more than three days, and I want to hook up with her?" I asked.

"I think he's back. Our David is working on being a slut again," Gina chirped.

I saw Dare furiously smashing his thumbs on his phone's screen. I'd warned him earlier this week that I would block him again if he kept sending me messages. Then the phones of every girl at the table chirped, almost at once.

"Why, you little shit," Pam said and showed me her phone.

'u so want 2b in d's thot club u thk he tks bout u.'

Attached was a photo of a t-shirt I would have to buy. It was orange with blue lettering, matching our school colors, so it had the whole school spirit thing going for it. The text said 'Food For Thot,' with an arrow pointing down towards your package.

"What does 'thot' mean?" Gina asked.

I busted out laughing.

"Let's just say it's a woman who has many casual sexual encounters or relationships," Wolf said, being surprisingly sensitive.

Little Dare was too clever for his own good. All the girls turned and glared at him like he might officially be a 'stupid boy.'

---

Mom had sent me a message from the hospital. She'd taken Mayor Duke with her so he could do his service dog job with the cancer patients. She let me know that everything was under control regarding my attendance at the Academy Awards. People were handling the arrangements for me, so I wouldn't have to worry about it until it was actually time to fly out there.

Mom then shared that Billy Felton, Lisa's little brother, was back in the hospital. Mom said his cancer was back.

I hadn't had time to make visits to the hospital in a while, so I used this as an excuse to visit. I tried to devote my efforts toward the younger kids. Billy had been one of the first I'd visited. He'd been a little badass, throwing a tantrum because he thought his parents were treating him like a baby. It had taken some effort, but I helped him see it from his parents' point of view. They were worried sick about him and trying to protect him.

Billy was the reason Lisa Felton and I had become friends. I'd taken her across the street to the diner to get her mind off her little brother. That started its own drama when everyone assumed she and I were seeing each other on the side. My friends were mad at me because Lisa had a bad reputation, and they believed it was true. There were rumors that she had done some things that good girls didn't do.

Turned out, Bill Rogers and his group of Neanderthals had started those rumors. This was the same Bill Rogers who'd messed up Tracy Dole. He and I'd had some memorable run-ins because he couldn't get it through his thick head that Tracy wasn't his personal punching bag to abuse and misuse.

To this day, Tracy still had bouts of depression, and it all pointed back to the summer he'd bullied and brutalized her. If there was one guy in this world I actually wanted to kill, it was him.

Long story short, Lisa and I had flirted with getting together for a while. There are a handful of girls who just do it for you, and Lisa was one of those for me. She wasn't the best-looking girl at school, but she might have been the sexiest. That was until Brook Davis showed up. I'll say that Lisa made me want to be a naughty boy.

The scary part was that when it did finally happen, the actual sex was better than the fantasy I'd built up in my mind. Lisa Felton and I clicked between the sheets so well that it frankly scared me a little. If I'd been more mature when it happened, we might have ended up being a couple. Everyone, and I mean everyone, actively told me that Lisa and I were a mistake, and I folded under the pressure like a house of cards in a stiff wind.

Looking back, that might be one of my greatest regrets.

Billy's cancer had gotten me out of my head long enough to look at Lisa as more than the girl who got my motor running. Volunteering to spend time with cancer patients has a way of changing the focus of your thoughts from yourself to others. It allowed Lisa and me to take a step back and decide to be friends.

So, when I got my mom's message that Billy was back in the hospital, a lot of old feelings rushed back. I liked the kid and wanted to see him. I bailed on my flight instrument training class with Cassidy and convinced Paul to go with me.

Of course, we had to take the Demon, and I had to drive. I worried that Cassidy would kill me later when she found out that I'd taken it. I'd told her that there was probably salt on the road, and I didn't want to worry about it rusting my baby's undercarriage.

When I got to his room, I found Billy watching TV.

"David! I wondered if you'd come to see me. Your mother stopped by with Mayor Duke this morning, and I asked about you. She wanted me to remind you that you haven't been to church," Billy said.

Billy went to my church and was involved in the youth group there.

"I was away shooting a Japanese drama series. I planned to be back this Sunday."

"Maybe I'll get to see you there."

"Does that mean you're getting out?" I asked.

"Let's hope. I came in for a follow-up, and they found the cancer was back. They caught it early, so they started me back up on the treatment that worked last time. They want me to stay for a couple of days to make sure there aren't any complications. If my test results are good in the morning, I'm outta here," Billy said.

I was relieved when I heard the news. We chatted for a while, and I invited him to a baseball game in the spring, after he got out.

---

I was starved, so I headed to the diner for some of their fried chicken and pie. From the restaurant's entrance, through the window, I saw Joey Marshall sliding into a booth and getting a menu. I stood there like a stalker, watching her.

"We going in?" Paul asked.

"Go and grab a seat at the counter. Order what you want," I told him.

Paul followed my gaze and shook his head. He went in, and Kim Sun, a former cheerleader at Lincoln High, waited on him.

Joey was my strength and conditioning coach and technically off-limits. In my head, I played the 'what if' game. What if I just walked away and did the right thing? What if I went in and sat down just to talk to her?

The problem was, I couldn't stop thinking about her. When I first met Joey, I didn't know she worked for the high school. I admit I'd had impure thoughts. But I'd tried to push those aside because I wanted her help in getting me in shape to play ball this spring. I didn't want my desire to get in the way of my success.

Playing the 'what if' game helped me feel like I could walk away if I needed to. I could just be friendly and stop by and say 'Hi.' What would be the harm in that?

I watched her intently read the menu. She looked on edge. I wondered if she was always like that. When we worked out, she was utterly focused. I wondered if she ever had any fun.

I couldn't just stand there and stare at her. Nor did I need to add anything that wasn't professional to our relationship. I shifted and started to dig for the keys in my pocket, turning away. Then she did it. Joey reached up and ran her fingers through her hair.

That simple act reminded me that she was sexy as hell. Crud! I chuckled because she was my older version of Lisa Felton. I had a moment of clarity and realized I would burn in Hell for this.

I pushed through the door of the diner and found it filled with hospital staff. It was a weekday evening, so there were mainly nurses and doctors. Some glanced my way and smiled, but I ignored their looks and focused on my goal. I stopped behind her booth, but she was so engrossed in her menu that she didn't notice me. But I knew it was just an act. I'd seen her glance up when I came in.

I slid into the seat across from her. She looked up, and I saw a flash of irritation touch her blue eyes.

"You need to leave. This doesn't look right."

"It's just dinner, Joey. No big deal," I said.

"David!"

Why did her saying my name make me think of her calling it out in passion? This was wrong. She was right, I shouldn't be here with her.

"I should go," I said, admitting defeat.

I started to slide out of the booth.

"David, wait."

Joey reached over and touched my hand, and I froze. Mr. Happy picked that moment to come awake. If I got up right now, everyone would see what she did to me. Why did I have this desire for Joey? I had a feeling that she would be trouble, the kind I wasn't ready to tackle. I made a move to swallow my pride and run.

"Stop. Just stay," Joey finally said.

I grinned and slid back into the booth. Kim appeared with her order pad.

"David Dawson, long time no see. Who's your cute friend? Is she Brook Davis's replacement?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes at her, which gave her a satisfied grin. She was busting my chops.

"This is Joey Marshall. Joey, this is a friend of mine, Kim Sun," I said by way of introduction.

"Joey, this one is trouble," Kim said.

"Who, me?" I asked innocently.

Joey shot Kim an exasperated look that said she agreed but considered me harmless. I hated to tell her, but I was anything but harmless. Kim took our order. Actually, she took Joey's order and just assumed I was having the fried chicken. For a brief moment, I wondered if anything else on the menu was better. No way could that be true, so I let it go.

It had been ages since I'd been on a first date. I was counting this as a date because there was food and conversation that didn't center on Joey torturing me. She had a degree in kinesiology, the study of human movement, from State. Her minor was dietetics, with an emphasis on sports and wellness nutrition. She'd interned with Coach Fletcher, and her job at Lincoln High was her first.

Joey had been in a long-term relationship with a tennis player at State. He'd gone pro after college and decided he didn't want to keep it going long-distance. From the way she described it, I would bet she thought it was leading to more. I could see she wasn't over him.

After hearing her story, I knew that she was in the same spot in her life as Scarlet and Ashley. Joey wasn't looking for a no-strings romp. She wanted the happily ever after. In a lot of ways, that made her even more attractive to me.

The problem was that I was just a couple of months away from leaving to film my movies. While I wasn't opposed to having a little fun, or even a lot of fun, with Joey, I wasn't going to push it. That didn't mean I wasn't interested in being her friend. I found I liked her.

"You should come over for dinner some night. I bet you could use a home-cooked meal."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not? Coach Hope has been to my house several times for dinner. How would this be any different?" I asked and then waggled my eyebrows. "Unless you have inappropriate plans for me."

"That's not it," she said quickly.

"If you ever do, just let me know," I teased.

"I think we need to keep this professional," she said firmly.

"No, I disagree," I said, and could see her eyes flash again. "I think we can be more than professional. I think we can be friends."

Joey blinked a couple of times as her brain caught up, and then she smiled.

"I'd like that," she finally admitted.

"Great. We'll talk next week and find a night you can come over," I said, and grabbed the check.

"I've got my dinner," she protested at me buying hers.

"Leave the tip," I suggested. "I enjoyed this."

"It was unexpected. I think I'll like you being my friend."

"I'll explain what that entails later," I said, giving her a wicked grin.

"That's what I'm afraid of. Thanks for dinner," Joey said.

While I went to the cash register, she left. Paul was suddenly at my side and handed me his check. I was willing to pay since he gave me my space to talk to Joey. That, and I'd sort of already said I would.

---

When I got home, we loaded the car and drove to Indianapolis. The plan was to meet with my team first thing in the morning and then tackle the NCAA.

---

Friday January 27

"Mr. Morris, Ms. Addison, glad you could make it," Dad said.

We'd booked a conference room at the hotel to use before we met with the NCAA later this morning. Mr. Morris, at first, wasn't able to get us a meeting. I'd mentioned my talk with Coach Haber from Michigan, which led to Mr. Morris calling him and getting in contact with Jim Phelps, their athletic director. It just so happened that he was also a member of the NCAA Governance Committee. Through him, we finally got our meeting with Mark Ellison, the NCAA president.

"I see Ms. Dixon sent you with Mr. Morris. Did she worry about the FBI getting involved today?" I asked Maddie Addison.

"She wanted me in the room to prevent any trouble with them," Ms. Addison explained.

"We don't have much time. Do you mind if we get down to business?" Mr. Morris asked.

I smiled because you never saw a lawyer in a hurry. They billed by the hour.

"Please," I said to turn the floor over to him.

"I just want to go over everything so we're on the same page."

"I agree. Please keep in mind that this is my life we're talking about. If I say something in there, don't take it the wrong way or try to talk over me," I said.

We'd had an issue with Mr. Morris wanting to jump in when I didn't need his help. I think he thought of me as a kid with zero experience. If it were about anyone else, I would agree with him.

"I'm sure we're all on the same page," Dad said to head off a confrontation before we even got started.

Mr. Morris gave me a slight nod and continued.

"What Stewart Chadwick is doing is extortion, using the legal definition. It is a crime in which one person forces another person to do something against their will. Extortion involves the victim's consent to the crime, but that consent is obtained illegally.

"We have to be careful not to do the same when we bring this up to the NCAA leadership. If we demand that they agree to your eligibility and/or request for waivers, our actions could be viewed similarly. The line between negotiation from a position of strength and extortion might be a fine one," Mr. Morris said.

"Can we even ask for what we want, then?" Dad asked.

I wanted three things out of this meeting: to have my eligibility restored, to obtain a waiver that would allow me to act in and promote my movies, and to protect my image. Oh, yeah, and a fourth: I also wanted to protect my friends.

"We can, but we can't tie them together. We encourage the NCAA to do the right thing without conditions," Mr. Morris explained.

"There is also the issue of consent when you recorded the conversations. California is one of the states where you must obtain permission from all participants. If you ever were to decide to sue the NCAA, you'll have problems using some of the recordings," Ms. Addison added.

"I would just release them to the press and let the court of public opinion deal with it," I shot back.

"And you might never play ball in college," Mr. Morris reminded me.

"To be honest, that might help me. I would either go into acting full-time or play baseball professionally."

"Let's get back on track," Dad said.

"The last untethered balloon we have floating out there is the FBI. I know we don't plan to inform the NCAA that they're looking into this, but we need to be cautious. Let's be frank, the FBI only cares about its own interests.

"Individuals within the organization may feel some compassion, but they won't buck their superiors if those superiors want certain things done, or want them done a certain way. They're worse than Stewart in that they don't care about you if you should get in the way of their investigation.

"If their actions end up causing collateral damage to your career, they might regret it for a millisecond, but no longer than that. The only limitation I can see is if the FBI believes its treatment of David would carry a significant risk of negative publicity for the FBI. In that case, it might curb or alter its tactics," Ms. Addison explained.

There was a knock at the door. Ms. Addison was closest, so she answered.

"Were your ears burning? We were talking about the evils of the FBI," she said to the man at the door. "This is Special Agent Bryn out of the Chicago FBI office. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"A little birdie told me that you planned to storm the walls of the NCAA today. I was sent to ask that you cancel the meeting. Mind if I sit down and we discuss my concerns?" he asked while taking a seat without permission.

"Please, join us," Dad said with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry, that was a little presumptuous. I know that you plan to discuss the connection with Southwest Central State and Springbok with the NCAA's higher-ups. With an investigation ongoing, the FBI doesn't want anything elevated to that level," Special Agent Bryn shared.

"That means you found the connection?" I asked.

"I can't discuss an ongoing investigation."

I think everyone rolled their eyes at that one.

"I guess I'm not clear as to why you don't want us to meet with the NCAA. To our knowledge, we've never made the connection as to where the money that David and his teammates received came from. We're meeting with the NCAA because one of their investigators threatened David. He said that if David didn't help with their investigation to entrap Southwest Central State, they would pull his eligibility," Mr. Morris said.

"I hadn't heard anything about that," Special Agent Bryn admitted.

"Play him the recordings," Ms. Addison directed me.

After they'd been played, Special Agent Bryn contemplated his position.

"I'm still inclined to order you not to have the meeting."

"You were right. They don't care about what happens to me," I said without thinking.

"I take it from your comments that you still plan to meet with them, no matter what I say?" Special Agent Bryn asked.

"You're damned right," I said, not backing down.

"I would suggest that you advise your client what it means if we decide to level obstruction of justice charges against him," he directed Ms. Addison.

The agent and I stared each other down across the table. Special Agent Bryn blinked first.

"We can't have you sharing the videos with the NCAA and possibly the public. If that happens, I guarantee you will do jail time."

"Instead of us tossing threats back and forth, why don't you go with us to the NCAA meeting? We play the tape of Stewart's threat, and you look menacing. If they reinstate our eligibility, I won't have any reason to go public with what I have," I said to show I wasn't backing down.

"Is he serious? He'd risk jail time?" Special Agent Bryn asked Ms. Addison.

Dad jumped right in.

"First, I doubt you could get it to stick. My son has been forthcoming with the FBI throughout all this, and we have not mentioned the FBI to the NCAA at all, so the NCAA has no knowledge of the FBI's involvement to this point.

"Nor, to our knowledge, does the NCAA have plans to disclose its investigation to Southwest Central State or the shoe company, so I have no idea how the NCAA's having knowledge of their minion's attempted extortion would obstruct or jeopardize the FBI.

"If anything, the FBI's presence would make the NCAA more cautious regarding how it goes about its investigation. Unless, of course, the FBI is also investigating the NCAA ..." Dad said.

As he said that, Dad got a surprised look on his face. Now I knew where I got my acting gene from.

Special Agent Bryn's look of disgust and the negative shake of his head were enough for me. I realized the FBI investigators didn't wish to take on the NCAA if they didn't have to. But they also didn't want internal misconduct within the NCAA to screw their investigation up for them, either. The existence of the tapes made a big difference, I realized.

"All David is asking for is your help to make this right. If you do the right thing, and if the NCAA is convinced to do that as well, then you have nothing to worry about. But let's say David gets pushed into a corner, and someone tries to force him to wreck his career and go somewhere that makes zero sense to anybody. In that case, what does he have to lose?" Dad asked.

"I agree, there's no need for this pissing match," Ms. Addison added. "You're here anyway, why not make sure we don't say anything we shouldn't when we meet with them, and why not make sure they don't do anything rash?"

He didn't look happy, but eventually, he nodded and left to make a phone call.

---

"Maddie, would you happen to be the 'little birdie'?" I asked once the door had closed.

"I'm so sorry. As it happens, I had a meeting at the FBI offices regarding another case and ran into Special Agent Bryn, whom I mentioned had a meeting today. I had no idea he would show up. It was a total rookie mistake on my part," she said, falling on her sword.

"I don't know what to say. You may have potentially put our client in a position where he could face obstruction charges. If this goes south on us ..." Mr. Morris said.

"As the client," I said to remind Mr. Morris that I was in the room, "I think it might have been a lucky break."

"How can you say that? Personally, I think we may want to cancel the meeting," Mr. Morris said, showing his worry.

I had a moment of clarity. If the FBI agent scared my sports attorney that badly, what would he do to the NCAA officials?

"He came in here to shut us down, but why? Think about the evidence. As far as we know, the FBI can't show a direct link between the shoe company, the university, and/or me. It's all just smoke and mirrors until they can prove it."

"You heard him. He said that he couldn't comment on an ongoing investigation. For all we know, they've uncovered the link," Mr. Morris said.

Ms. Addison disagreed.

"They haven't followed up with any inquiries to us at all. Usually, if they're after someone, they conduct the initial interview and then follow up with several additional meetings. At the very least, you would expect them to have pulled Wolf Tams and Tim Foresee in to make statements, especially if they're that close to making their case."

Some pieces of the puzzle came together for me.

"From what you've said, and from the way he's acting, I don't think we're the primary focus of whatever investigation the FBI is involved in. His primary focus is on keeping this from going public and maintaining secrecy.

"Still, the FBI doesn't seem to be focused on going hard after Southwest Central State. There has to be something else going on that the FBI doesn't want anyone to twig to. But at the same time, the FBI's worried about either me or the NCAA going public with what we know.

"If that's the case, he'll want to do everything he can to keep a lid on this. All we have to do is convince him that the best way to keep it quiet is to attend the meeting with us. He can let the NCAA know that messing with my eligibility would be really bad for them, in the FBI's view," I said, looking Mr. Morris in the eye.

I glanced over at my dad, and he nodded his encouragement.

"How much do you trust Special Agent Bryn?" Dad asked Maddie.

"I trust him to do his job. I don't trust him to be an advocate for David."

"We need to convince him that our approach is the easiest way for him to do his job and accomplish his goals," Dad said.

"I still think this is a mistake," Mr. Morris said.

"Isn't Indiana one of the states that requires only single-party consent for recordings?" I asked.

"You aren't thinking of recording this meeting, are you?" Mr. Morris asked.

"I don't think David should answer that," Dad said.

There was a knock on the door, and Special Agent Bryn came back into the room. He sat down and looked around at each of us.

"I've just been on the phone with my superiors and have walked them through the situation. Given that you're insistent on going through with this meeting, we're going to go along with your suggestion. It seems to be the most straightforward way to keep everything out of the public eye."

Then he looked straight at me.

"I hope for your sake, young man, that the FBI does not have cause to regret this."

I tried hard not to breathe a big sigh of relief. I also fought hard not to smile over at Mr. Morris. Things were looking up!

From this little meeting, something became crystal clear to me: if you ever got into a serious fight, you didn't bring only your sports attorney. I would have to remember that he was only there to navigate the NCAA and other sports-related matters, not to fight battles with the FBI.

My other thought was that what I'd always suspected was true. The FBI was way scarier than the NCAA. I just hoped that the NCAA believed that, too.

---

Dad had privately volunteered to wear the bodycam for the meeting, and we hadn't told our lawyers about it. He reasoned that the focus would be on me. I wanted the recording because I wasn't in a very trusting mood. I was wary of both the NCAA and the FBI, and I didn't want to be put in a situation where something wound up being forgotten or twisted.

When we were finally invited into the meeting to see the NCAA, you could tell that the tenor in the room was completely different from when I'd first visited them almost a year ago. I spotted the reason why when I saw that Stewart Chadwick was there, smiling grimly at me. I was willing to bet my Dodge Demon that he'd been in their ears, relating his side of the story.

In addition to Stewart, there were four others I'd met previously. Those four were Mark Ellison, NCAA President; Jim Phelps, Member of the Governance Committee and AD, University of Michigan; Jackie Davis, Chairman of the Initial Eligibility Waiver Committee; and Steve Anchorage, Chairman of the Amateurism Fact-Finding Committee. There was another man that I later learned was Mr. Chadwick's boss, whom I'd not met before.

Mr. Ellison introduced everyone on his side.

"Normally, we let our investigative group handle something like this. It is out of courtesy to Mr. Morris that we are meeting with you. If he didn't have such an outstanding reputation, and if he had not told us of the seriousness of the situation, we wouldn't be here today," he said.

"Thank you for seeing me. Before we get started, I want to introduce you to everyone on my side of the table. At the end is Rob Dawson, my father. Next to him is Mr. Morris, who helped arrange this meeting. Then there is Ms. Addison, my criminal attorney," I said and glanced over at Stewart.

I was happy to see the little smirk on his face falter, just a touch. I paused for dramatic effect.

"Finally, I would like you to meet Special Agent Bryn of the FBI."

From the looks across the table, I could see I'd just set a fox loose in the henhouse. The only one who didn't seem intimidated, although he'd been surprised, was Mr. Ellison. Then again, as NCAA president, he was well-connected and had taken the government on many times--and won.

"I am curious as to why the FBI would be involved," Mr. Ellison said.

"How about I show you some video and play you a few audio tapes? Then you might see why he's here," Mr. Morris said, taking the lead.

Once he was in presentation mode, I was happy with his performance. He knew how to communicate with the NCAA team and walked them through our recorded evidence, providing background information to put the evidence in proper context.

Things heated up when we reached the tape of my conversation with Stewart Chadwick in California. Stewart looked like he was about to explode, and he wanted to say something, but the FBI presence had him off-balance and out of his comfort zone.

I think he realized anything he said right then might get him in more trouble with both his superiors and the FBI. He also didn't know whether the FBI had been involved in its being recorded. Once we reached the point where he said he refused to be taped, and I made my show of turning off all the recording devices, he finally couldn't help himself.

"Stop! You can't show that without my permission," Stewart barked.

"This isn't a legal hearing. It is simply information that has been gathered. I think you need to see this," Mr. Morris said.

"I have privacy rights," Stewart complained.

"And I have rights too," I said and turned to Mr. Morris and glanced down at Special Agent Bryn to remind everyone who was in the room. "I think you said something about Mr. Chadwick's actions meeting the legal definition of extortion."

"I recommend that you watch this video and listen to the audio tape of a subsequent phone call. You'll want all the information," Ms. Addison interjected.

"I was just trying to convince David that it was in his best interest to assist in the investigation," Stewart said, but he sounded like he was trapped and knew it.

"Play it," Mr. Ellison said.

The way he said it made Stewart cringe.

---

Once we had shown the NCAA everything we had, they wanted to take a break and left us in the conference room. We all sat there quietly as Special Agent Bryn did stuff on his phone. Ms. Addison had advised us on the ride over not to say anything in front of him.

I leaned over to Mr. Morris.

"Good job on your presentation. I think they learned everything they needed to," I said quietly.

"Thanks."

Ten minutes later, the NCAA team was back without my nemesis, Mr. Chadwick. Mr. Morris reached over and squeezed my knee. I was almost positive he wasn't hitting on me. I think he felt this might work out.

When everyone was seated, Special Agent Bryn finally spoke.

"Before we go any further, I want to make something perfectly clear. While I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation, I trust that the people in this room, as well as the NCAA as an organization, will maintain the confidentiality of any investigation. And that you will do so until the FBI decides to act.

"Furthermore, I also trust that the NCAA realizes that if it, or any of its personnel or agents, attempts to continue to use eligibility issues as a means to extort extraordinary actions out of Mr. Dawson, that would be a grave mistake."

Yep, the FBI was scary.

"If we can come to a satisfactory conclusion, is there anything else you need?" Mr. Ellison asked.

"I'm sure that Ms. Addison can fill me in. I'll let you get to it," Special Agent Bryn said, then gathered his stuff and left.

The tension level dropped several degrees.

"What exactly did you want to achieve today?" Mr. Ellison asked.

"I'd like to see all my clients get their eligibility back. They've cooperated with both the FBI and NCAA and will continue to do so. I think we can agree that while Mr. Chadwick's motives were laudable, his methods may have gone a little far," Mr. Morris said.

"Is that it?" Mr. Ellison asked.

"We do have a couple of other issues we'd like to be heard on. They deal with David's movies and personal image. We want to get a couple of waivers to make sure he doesn't cross any boundaries that might cause problems in the future," Mr. Morris added.

"So, you're just trying to be proactive?" Mr. Phelps, the Michigan AD, asked.

"Why don't you explain what you're looking for?" Mr. Ellison directed Mr. Morris.

Mr. Morris spent a few minutes giving the details of what I was worried about.

"The wording on the personal image waiver might get tricky, but I think we can agree in principle and hammer out the details," Mr. Ellison said.

"As long as we can get Tim, Wolf, and David's eligibility reinstated, we have time to work on the rest," Mr. Morris agreed, and then he gave them some background.

"When we met last year, it was because David is a bit of a unicorn, and the NCAA was struggling with his uniqueness. Besides playing sports, he has both modeling and movie careers, each of which started entirely independently of his football and baseball activities.

"David also owns several successful businesses. We worked together to recognize this, and you declared that he met his amateurism requirements, making him eligible to be recruited to play college ball.

"What we need to come to grips with is that when he enrolls in college, the rules change for him. He will then be subject to all the rules and regulations of the NCAA. Activities that were perfectly fine while he is in high school are forbidden as soon as he steps on campus."

"Are you talking about his modeling, acting, and the promotion of the movies?" Steve Anchorage asked.

"Exactly, but there's more," Mr. Morris said.

"What exactly do you mean by 'more'?" Jackie Davis asked.

"It still has to do with David's image. We can't allow a university to have sole control over it while he's in college. In particular, there could be no justification for that university to have any access to or control over his acting and modeling images.

"We realize that David will have to relinquish some of his rights so that he can be shown regarding football and baseball activities. We even agree that it would be silly to think that a university wouldn't want him to be the face of the program if he excels like we think he will. What we want is a common-sense approach that affords him certain safeguards," Mr. Morris explained.

"I can see your point, but as an athletic director, I can tell you the image release is something we have to have in place," Mr. Phelps explained.

"We aren't looking to infringe on your ability to run your programs. We are willing to provide you with an image release for David's college football and baseball images. However, we are not willing to grant releases or licenses for his other photos. That would include, in particular, his movie and modeling images.

"As I've said, we are willing to separate out his college football and baseball images and to grant the university a release for those. However, we will still have to have methods in place that will allow David to protect those images, too, and to protect his overall image. He would want some control over how his image is used off the field," Mr. Morris explained.

"I'd need to see the wording on that, but it sounds reasonable," Mr. Phelps said.

"I think it's become apparent that it's in all of our interests to accomplish those goals. However, there are a couple of things we would like. The first is both the video and audio recordings that were played today," Mr. Ellison said.

"And any others that pertain to all this," Mr. Phelps added.

"We would be glad to provide you with copies of everything," Mr. Morris said.

"No, I don't think you understand. We want the originals, and for you to delete any copies you might have," Mr. Phelps clarified.

"As an officer of the court, I have a fiduciary duty to my client to maintain the chain of custody over the originals. You heard Special Agent Bryn, there is an ongoing FBI investigation. Until I am notified that the investigation is no longer ongoing, I can't turn them over, and I most certainly cannot destroy them. We are more than willing to give you copies, though," Ms. Addison said.

"Then, we will need you to sign a nondisclosure agreement," Mr. Ellison said.

"That sounds reasonable," Mr. Morris said.

"Hang on," Dad said to slow Mr. Morris's roll. "Have you been watching what the NFL just did to Tom Brady? They forced him and the NFL Players Association to keep everything to do with the Deflategate investigation confidential. However, the NFL exploited that confidentiality to completely control what information was available to the press, and a significant amount of 'leaked' information was released, which made Brady appear unfavorable. It wasn't until there was a court order to make all that information public that a lot of the truth came out in that case.

"I don't think the NCAA would stoop to that, but I do think this confidentiality agreement needs to be a two-way street. If we start seeing 'leaks,' and David is made to look like the bad guy, you can't tie his hands and not let him defend himself."

"He makes a good point," Mr. Morris said.

Oh, dear Lord, this guy was worthless when he got outside his specialty.

"I think the FBI agent was clear. If this gets disclosed to the press, we are all facing serious consequences," Mr. Phelps said.

"I agree, but that applies to David, too. This has to go both ways," Dad shot back.

The unspoken threat was that if they messed with me, I would release the tapes and let the chips fall where they may. In the end, the NCAA begrudgingly came around to our way of thinking. They didn't have a choice. An FBI agent had come out and said that Stewart had extorted me.

I realized something else. Another positive side effect of the FBI agent sitting in the room was that it distracted the NCAA from delving deeper into the legality of the recordings I'd made. I'd been a little worried because the first recording involving Mr. Chadwick arguably wasn't legal.

Since I never intended to use those recordings in a court of law, but to use them in the court of public opinion, I wasn't as worried. I might face some legal saber-rattling, but once the genie was out of the bottle, the focus would change to the scandal, rather than how the recordings were obtained.

There was further discussion and extensive drafting. But by the time I walked out the door of the conference room, I'd received written confirmation that we were all eligible. We'd also agreed in principle on the two waivers I needed. I had a letter to that effect that I could send to Michigan and the Big Ten. I would need to get written agreements from both the school and the conference concerning the protection of my image.

---

When we finally arrived at the lobby, Special Agent Bryn was waiting.

"Did it all get worked out?" he asked Ms. Addison.

"David and his friends are eligible to play college ball, and we reached an agreement in principle for the waivers he needs to continue the pursuit of his acting career. Here's the part that will make you happy: everyone signed nondisclosures."

"That does make me happy," he admitted.

"Something you should know," I said. "We had a slight hiccup because the NCAA didn't want the nondisclosure agreement to be two-way."

"Meaning?"

"They wanted David to sign a confidentiality agreement without signing one themselves. We worked out something a little less one-sided, though. They can't leak anything that will make him the scapegoat for any of this. He can make the information public to defend himself if they try to do so. We're confident they won't have any premature leaks to the public until they're sure your investigation is done," Ms. Addison explained.

I smiled at him.

"Just so we understand each other, I also know the FBI would never do something like that, because if they did, I would be forced to take the necessary steps to protect myself then, too."

Dad hooked Mr. Morris's arm and pulled him away before he started to cry. The agent and I took each other's measure, and then he finally smiled and stuck his hand out for me to shake.

"You think you're a total badass. I hate to break it to you, kid, but you're not."

I just shrugged, shook his proffered hand, and turned to rejoin the rest of my crew. Ms. Addison hurried to catch up. Once we got outside, she was all smiles.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked.

"Ms. Dixon warned me that you weren't what I expected. She was right."

I was starting to like her. She was okay for a lawyer. Mr. Morris, on the other hand, looked like he needed a drink. I guess it was five o'clock somewhere.

---

Saturday January 28

Chubby Feldman's people had contacted me, saying that they were sending out a technical advisor to help me get ready for my upcoming James Bond movie. There were specific skills that I would have to learn for my part. When he shared an outline of what I'd be doing in the film, I was excited. So, when I went down for breakfast, I had an extra bounce in my step.

I found Cassidy was getting cooking lessons from my dad. It looked like he was teaching her to make stuffed French toast. I also saw that we had a guest: Coach Hope.

"Coach," I said in greeting. "Decided to live on the edge today?"

I glanced over at Cassidy cooking, and he smiled.

"Rob assured me that I wouldn't get food poisoning."

"Daddy!" Cassidy complained.

"We're going to go see Brad at college after we eat," he said, explaining why they were here.

Cassidy rolled her eyes to show her excitement about going to see her brother at college. Duke led Mom and Peggy into the kitchen with the boys. Mom handed me Little David.

"Dude, you're getting big," I observed.

"Don't get him too wound up. He'll get enough stimulation today. All the little ones are going to the farm," Mom explained.

"Why are all of them going there? I hope you don't plan to dump all of them on Yelena and Grandma Dawson," I said, a little worried.

"Ms. Lawrie and one of the ladies from daycare will be there," Peggy said to explain that our new nanny was working today.

"What are you ladies doing with your free time?" I asked.

"Going to Chicago and hitting the Magnificent Mile with Bev Mass. I made sure that Megan put more money on all our debit cards," Mom teased.

"Last I saw, Coby already had a new purse and matching shoes," I complained.

"Little David is jealous. I thought he might need the same," Peggy added.

"What are you doing today?" Mom asked to change the subject before I called Megan and had her shut off everyone's 'emergency' debit cards.

I struck my James Bond pose, complete with a finger gun.

"Bond, Ian Bond," I said dramatically. "The studio is sending someone to teach me spycraft."

Cassidy looked at her dad, stricken. I didn't blame her. Learning spy stuff sounded way better than seeing her idiot brother.

"Please. Please, I want to help David," Cassidy pleaded with her dad.

"Never beg," Mom coached. "You always want to pretend at least to have the upper hand when you're negotiating."

"Your brother misses you," Coach Hope said.

I barked out a laugh that earned me a look from Coach. No one believed that Brad missed anyone who wasn't Brad.

"You're burning them," Dad warned as smoke poured out of the skillet.

---

Paul wasn't happy when I told him he had to take my mom and baby mamas to Chicago to go shopping today. I would have to think of something special for him as payment for being their pack mule.

Cassidy had threatened to feed her dad the burned French toast, so he let her go with me today. She drove me to Hill Advertising, where the production company had reserved one of the studios. Cassidy got us there in record time, driving the Demon. It would only be a matter of time before she got a ticket, but I wasn't about to curb her fun.

When we went inside, Mr. Hill's assistant was waiting for us.

"Mr. Dawson, welcome, and congratulations on your nomination. You're in Studio C today. If you'd follow me ..."

As we started towards the studio, she looked over her shoulder.

"Mr. Hill warned me not to fall for any more of your tricks."

Someone wasn't quite as innocent as when we last met. She'd been new, and I'd taken advantage of her wanting to fulfill my every request. I'd asked her to get a sippy cup for Kendal because she'd spilled coffee in my new Jeep.

I let my amusement touch my eyes as I remembered the look on Kendal's face when she'd been given said cup. If I remembered correctly, Mr. Hill had a hand in pulling off the prank.

"I'll be good," I promised. Who knows, I thought, she might even believe me.

We walked into the studio, and two things caught my eye. The first was an Asian woman in her twenties. She was rocking a hip urban vibe with oversized, fresh frames, a graphic t-shirt featuring butterflies, and hip-hugger jeans that showcased her tiny waist. My first impression was a college student you'd see at a New York university. Behind her was a table with cutout door displays with several different locks.

"David, good to meet you," she said and shook my hand. "I'm J. D. Ma. The studio sent me to teach you skills you'll be using in the movie. Who's your friend?"

"Cassidy Hope. When she heard you were going to teach me to be a spy, she had to come."

J. D. gave us some background on her experience. She was a third-generation Chinese American, and both her mother and father had worked for 'the agency.' I assumed she meant the CIA, but she wouldn't confirm that. She'd grown up with them, teaching her the family trade.

When J. D. was in high school, she'd been caught stealing a car. Her parents didn't want her to follow in their footsteps, so they'd introduced her to a friend who worked as a technical advisor for movie studios. He taught actors how to look realistic while doing various activities you wouldn't usually learn.

"Today, I'm going to teach you how to pick a lock. In the movie, your character breaks in a couple of times. I've found that if you understand how to really do it, when it comes time to film the scene, it looks right. And believe me when I say that if it doesn't, fans will let you know," she explained.

We spent the morning learning about various types of locks and methods to bypass each one. It was eye-opening when J. D. showed us how easy it was. The first technique she taught us was to use a lock bump key. You inserted the key into the lock, began to turn it, and struck the back of the key with a blunt object until the lock opened. That made me realize why Fritz had installed keyless locks on the house and my apartment.

For the next lesson, we used a lock set in a plexiglass door so we could see how the mechanism worked. She introduced us to a lock-pick set and showed us how to manipulate the lock to open it. With being able to see the lock as you worked on it, it was child's play to figure out what had to be done. When she had me try a lock on a wooden door, the result wasn't nearly the same. I would have to practice.

Towards the end of the day, she stopped her lesson.

"Part of being a spy is becoming someone else. There are times you want to blend in or even disappear, and other times you'll need to draw people's attention. Mr. Feldman asked me to help you get into character. Ian Bond is supposed to be a posh lad with the attitude of a lady's man," J. D. said.

"I can't see it," Cassidy said with a straight face.

My look must have been damned funny, by the girls' reaction.

"You'll have to learn to walk like the man. The guy who is cool, confident, with an edge. The kind of guy who's also playful. Mr. Feldman said he wants it exaggerated and sent me clips from two movies for you to watch."

The first was from a classic oldie, Saturday Night Fever. It was set back during the two minutes disco was big. There was an opening sequence where Tony, the lead character, struts his stuff. I laughed at what a douche he came across as. If a guy approached women with his aggressive style today, he would get kicked in the nuts. So, of course, I loved it. It takes a certain brazen confidence to pull that off.

The second clip was more current. It was from a movie I hadn't seen before called Baby Driver. The lead character was a kid, a little older than I was, named Baby. He was sent to get coffee. Baby had an old-school music player with earbuds. J. D. explained it was like your phone, but only played music. She called it a 'Walkman.' Getting back to the clip, he put his earbuds in and basically danced his way to the coffee shop.

"Mr. Feldman suggested that we do the walk to Dark Horse. It's sullen with a little funk to it. He picked it because it's a really good track that has an even pace. I can see you slow your roll and add some flair to it. Remember, you're the man, so walk like the man," she suggested.

I first recreated the scene from Saturday Night Fever and used Cassidy and J. D. as the girls who were walking towards Tony, whom he would accost and try to pick up. Cassidy was worthless because she got the giggles. When I switched to Baby, I had more fun because I threw on a pair of sunglasses and could just be goofy and dance my way through life.

Once we were done for the day, J. D. let me take all the locks home to practice on. I couldn't wait until next time because she promised to teach me how to steal a car. I was sure that wouldn't get me into any trouble.

---

Sunday January 29

Being in church was nice. When I was in LA, I had the J-drama to film, so I never made it. On our way in, I heard a kid, probably twelve or thirteen, complaining about having to come to church. It made me think. Why do people go somewhere they don't like? Do they feel like it's some obligation, and they must? I thought of examples: the dentist, DMV, airport security, and for the young girl, church.

How did coming to church turn into a chore?

I looked around and saw others who seemed to be anywhere else but here. It was scary that I, as Mr. I'm-always-the-last-one-to-know, was picking up on their discomfort. I wasn't sure if it was because of my acting experience or if I had started to get out of my head and was paying attention.

I then looked around at the people who seemed happy to be here. The difference was stark in how they interacted with each other. They were acting like they were hanging out with family. While you couldn't pick your relatives--who doesn't have a family member they dislike--they were at least cordial. Whereas the ones that didn't seem happy gave off the vibe to stay away, and it seemed to be working.

I then thought about other situations, specifically football. When I'd been on recruiting trips, I'd gotten different vibes at each campus. Wisconsin's fans had treated their rivals horribly. I wouldn't be comfortable bringing my kids to a game there because of all the F-bombs that had been dropped.

Oklahoma was the mirror opposite. I'd seen them invite Ohio State fans to their tailgate parties. At Alabama, it was very professional. It was what I would expect once I made it to the NFL. USC was more laid back. Their fanbase didn't show up until the first quarter was almost over. People seemed more worried about themselves there.

The place that stood out was Clemson. They had rabid fans, but what struck me was the culture within the football program. It felt like family. If you were part of the program, you were warmly welcomed and embraced. That was why they had been successful in building their program. They didn't just recruit the best athletes; they recruited players who wanted to be part of the family. They recruited players who weren't just in it for themselves.

We'd seen that same difference when we played in our away game in St. Louis. Our opponent from Texas was comprised of individuals intent on showcasing their skills so they could play college ball. On paper, we shouldn't have won that game. I attributed it to us being a team; a family, if you will.

In a moment of clarity, I knew that was what we needed to make Lincoln High special after I left. They had to continue to be a family. It applied to other things, like church.

The reverend was about to start his sermon when I stood up, stepped out into the aisle, and walked towards the pulpit. My mom's expression told me that I probably shouldn't have gone with my first instinct, but I'd already drawn attention to myself.

"Mind if I say a few words before you get started?" I asked.

Reverend Jackson just shrugged, which caused the congregation to chuckle nervously.

"With a show of hands, how many of you would rather not be here today?" I asked.

Of course, no one raised their hands.

"Come on. Don't worry about peer pressure; this isn't high school. I bet there are a lot of you who would rather be sleeping in. Come on, raise your hands if you would rather be somewhere, strike that, anywhere else than here today?"

A few people raised their hands.

"I see some of you are brave. Don't leave them hanging. Who else wants to skip out today?" I asked.

I smiled when I saw the young girl raise hers, and I pointed at her.

"You, get up here," I said.

"You can't single people out like that," the reverend said, coming up to stand next to me.

"Of course I can," I said to him, and then stared down the girl until she got up and came up.

"You feel embarrassed?" I asked her.

She blushed and looked away from me.

"I bet your mom is like mine and loves to do that to you," I said.

The girl looked up at me and nodded.

"You know why it's okay for her to do that?" I asked.

She shook her head 'no.'

"Because she's family."

The girl just blinked at me. Crud, this played out differently in my head. I think we both needed a hug, so that's what I did. At first, she stiffened, and then she relaxed and hugged me fiercely.

"Thanks, I just needed a hug," I said to her, and then turned to the congregation. "Most of us underestimate the power of family. Family is not just about unconditional love. You have to love your family, right?"

"We'll talk about that once we get home," Mom said.

That broke the tension of my hijacking the sermon. I went on; I would face her afterward. At least she hadn't marched up and pulled me out of the church by my ear ... yet.

"I look at the church like I do family. It offers understanding and safety, and it's where I go when I'm feeling lost or out of sorts. By the show of hands, I think we're falling down on the job. We need to stop just being a moral compass on how to live your life and turn this place into a home where people want to come. To do that, we need to become a family. Not just connected by blood, but by something stronger. By the unshakable spirit and unending love of God," I said.

I now had everyone's attention.

"It's not enough to just pay lip service. I want you all to stand up," I said, and smiled when they did. "Now, I want you to find someone you don't know and hug them and tell them that you're glad to see them here today. Try to make a new friend."

At first, everyone hesitated. Then the reverend came up and stood next to me.

"You heard the man, get to know your brothers and sisters."

I could see it wasn't a complete success. There were still people giving the 'stay away from me' vibe, but many took the opportunity to mingle. I must have hugged most of the congregation. We never heard the sermon. Captain Chaos had struck again, this time for good, I hoped.

---

I took Paul and Cassidy to Dare's apartment so he could turn the drone over to my security team. He linked it to my phone so it could do that 'follow me' bit. He also installed apps on our phones and tablets so we could fly it while seeing what it saw with the camera. It was also linked to the internet, allowing Fritz and his team to monitor the video and audio from their main office.

"I have an idea for another drone," Dare said.

"Okay, I'm listening," I said.

I wasn't surprised he wanted another one. I knew he loved tinkering with them.

"You told me that you thought it would be nice to have the drone act like a guard dog and supplement the security at your property. I got to thinking about what you said, and I think I have a solution."

Now he had our attention.

"The reason you would want a guard dog is that security cameras have blind spots and don't sense danger. So, I thought about how drones could be used. My first thought was to have them roving the property like guard dogs. The only problem with that is their battery life. To maintain continuous coverage, you would need a large number of drones, as they would need to be rotated.

"Then I watched an ad on TV. You've seen those robot vacuums that automatically sweep your carpets?" Dare asked.

"I want one of those," Paul said.

I filed that away for his birthday.

"What caught my attention was that it would go back to its docking station to recharge when it was done. What if we did that with the drones? Instead of stationary cameras on poles, we made little birdhouses where they could charge?" he asked.

"I get it," Cassidy said. "The drones can capture video while they're plugged in, and when they sense movement, they could undock and go check out the problem."

I could see it too, but I wondered about something. I sometimes played 'hide the ball' with Duke when we were playing fetch to keep him on his toes. I would fake throwing it one way and then throw it another. He'd learned not just to go bounding after it until he was sure I'd thrown it. I could see tossing something to get the drone's attention, and then going in where it had been.

I explained my concerns to Dare, and I could see the gears turning.

"Let me think about that," he said, and then got a pleading look.

"You know the drill. Get some estimates and then turn them into Megan. I can see enough potential to spend money on figuring it out," I said to make his day. "But not an unreasonable amount," I said to keep him somewhat grounded in reality.

Cassidy and Paul played with the drone. I made them stop when Cassidy stress-tested its collision software by flying it at my head. I think both she and Paul were disappointed when it worked and came to a stop about a foot from my face.

---

As I was getting ready for bed, Duke perked up, and I heard the door to my apartment open. I could tell it was someone he knew because his tail started wagging. I was surprised it was Pam.

"Peggy said that all she has to do is ask you to help put the boys down," she said, obviously talking about our sleepovers.

I wondered when something like this would happen. Pam had figured out what Peggy and I were up to when I'd helped Scarlet. I didn't doubt that she'd gotten Peggy aside and made her talk. Frick. The universe was laughing at me right now. Rolling around on the floor laughing.

I knew that I would never turn her away, so I don't understand why I was hesitating. I guess I really did: I wasn't over Brook yet. For some reason, Pam was different from Peggy. I didn't look at Peggy as someone I might end up with. We were just friends, right? Pam was different, somehow. The question was, why?

"Are you going to make me beg?" Pam asked as she crossed her arms and pouted.

I felt like a dick.

"You never have to beg," I said, and went to her and pulled her into my arms. "I just want to make sure you do this with your eyes wide open. I love you to death, but I'm not looking for Brook's replacement right now."

She kissed me as her answer. Well, okay then. Let the sleepover begin.

---