First Lie Wins(61)

His lips peel up over his teeth like he wants to growl at me. “You are under the impression I have more power than I do.”

“Nope. I believe in you, Phil,” I say brightly. “I believe you can get it done.”

“Why?” he asks. “Why Cameron?”

“Just like you, we want what’s best for the school. We’re all on the same team, Phil.”

He doesn’t like my answer and he doesn’t ask anything else. I gather my things, taking my time getting everything back in my bag. “I’ll expect an official announcement no later than Monday morning.”

And then I’m gone.



* * *





Three days later, I’m back in my apartment, one eye on ESPN and one eye on the continuing footage coming in from the prospects’ homes. There haven’t been any more notes in the mailbox and no more nightly pickups from George. I’m in the waiting game to see if my gamble paid off. It’s not unheard-of for boosters to want a coach gone and to raise the money to buy them out. But that’s usually at the end of a losing season when the coach is doing a poor job.

The breaking news on ESPN takes my attention away from the grainy footage of one of the players’ houses as I focus on the words flashing across the bottom of the screen.


Coach Mitch Cameron Is Out in Florida



And then the details. The university had terminated their contract with him, and money raised by the boosters will cover his buyout. The reason given was that Coach Cameron and the athletic director had a different vision for the future of the program.

That’s it.

Not even a minute later, there is a knock on the door and I almost jump out of my skin. Smoothing my hair back, I take a few deep breaths before I open it. And there’s the familiar face in the brown UPS uniform, a package in his outstretched hand.

“Hey, George!” I take the package and say, “Looks like I passed.”

“Looks like you did.” He smiles and leans against the doorjamb. “How does it feel?”

“Feels pretty good,” I answer.

He lingers a few more seconds, then pushes away. “See you soon.”

And then he’s gone.

I tear open the package the minute the door closes. Inside is a single typed page, a receipt, and a flip phone.

The paper reads:


The balance of your fee has been deposited. Details included. Keep the phone charged and you will be contacted for your next job.



That’s it. I check the deposit receipt and read the note again. I eye the figure on the receipt once more. That’s a lot of money. And it’s mine.

It takes only a few minutes to pack up what I need from the apartment, but I’m not going back to North Carolina. I need to find a spot where I can’t be found, a safe place to land between jobs. I’ve paid attention over the years and know how important it is to save for that inevitable rainy day. Maybe I can tuck away in another small college town like this. One where I can get lost in the sea of students.

I picture it. Visualize myself in a sleepy little town like this. A cute little house on a quiet street. Somewhere safe.

Now I just need to see it done.

There’s one thing I need to do before I go. My “new to me” Honda rolls to a stop in front of the small house, and I lock the door before I make the short walk across the tiny yard.

Tyron answers the door a few minutes after I knock.

“Hey, can you step out here for a second?”

He’s clearly confused but does what I ask. I walk back to my car and lean against the trunk while he stands on the curb next to me. This is more privacy than we would get inside his house.

“You don’t know me, but I wanted to give you some advice. You have a very bright future ahead of you and you’re smart, but you need to be smarter. Assume someone is listening. At all times. Assume someone will rat you out. I know you like to talk to your younger brother about all the offers . . . and extra incentives . . . but you need to stop. Keep your own counsel.”

His eyes are big. Like freaking-out big.

“And get what you can. Take it all. Make no promises and sign with the team you want regardless of what any other team offers you. But be smart about that too.”

I talk for a few more minutes and he seems to absorb everything I tell him. He asks questions and I answer what I can. I give him tips on where to put the money so it grows. How to keep a low profile. How to never trust technology. Just as I’m about to leave, he asks, “Who are you?”

I give him a smile and say, “Someone who has had to grow up fast, just like you.” I’m just about to turn and leave but ask one last thing. “Have you thought about where you want to play?”

He shrugs. “Not sure yet. Probably going wherever Coach Cameron ends up.”

I nod. “Yeah, I hear he’s looking for a new school now.”

“Yeah, he said that was coming but not to worry.”

Something about the way he says it makes me straighten. “When did he tell you that?” I’ve watched every interaction between Tyron and Mitch in that house and I never heard him say that.

“I ran into him about a week ago. He was kind of cryptic and shit but I got what he was saying. He wanted me to know he wanted me even if he wasn’t in Florida.”