Chapter 14

“I know you’re gonna be one of the greats,” he said as he pulled away, laughing and patting Quinn’s stuffy, ski-capped head.

And then he was gone. It wasn’t the fantasy-inducing prelude to a boner that Mal’s seductive gesture had been—it was too big-brotherly for that—but it was warmer, more direct, more honest.

The thought that he had the love, respect, admiration, affection—whatever—of the two finest quarterbacks in the league, not to mention the two objects of his desire, was enough to sustain Quinn through the latest round of Smalley abuse.

“You know, the only thing worse than a niggah, is a half-niggah,” Smalley said afterward. “You cost the team this game. I just hope your lousy play doesn’t cost us a playoffs spot as well, you hear me?”