Chapter 102: Devil Training

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“I watched the broadcast,” Katherine said, nearly vibrating through the phone. “Even the football players here started asking about you. They wanted to know how you train. I told them you basically live in the gym, and they believed me.”

When Nolan traveled for games, Katherine usually avoided long calls at night. She did not want to distract him before kickoff. This time, she had waited until he was home.

“It was ridiculous, Nolan. Completely ridiculous. I do not even know how to explain it.”

Nolan leaned against the car and let her excitement wash over him.

“I do not fully understand it either,” he said. “But if we are being honest, you were around for a lot of the changes.”

Katherine went quiet.

“You mean me?”

“I mean maybe the things are connected.”

“That is impossible.”

“So is most of what my body has done.”

Katherine’s mind immediately ran somewhere stranger.

“Maybe you are from Krypton. Or Cybertron. Or Planet Vegeta. Or maybe Roswell has been hiding something this whole time.”

“Katherine.”

“What?”

“Roswell is not the answer.”

“You do not know that.”

He laughed. For now, the conversation could stay a joke. The question itself was too strange and too intimate to settle over a phone line. When Katherine came home again, they would talk more seriously.

…

Mia was still awake when Nolan returned home.

“Look at you,” she said, hands clasped together. “A real star now. The supermarket owner wants you to appear at an anniversary event. He says he will triple my pay next month if you come. What do you think?”

“No appearances like that.”

“You are sure?”

“If you need money, tell me.”

He explained Murphy’s betting arrangement, the small odds plays, the way the early money had helped him survive, and the way the window was closing now that everyone was watching.

After the Wasatch Ridge game, BHHS’s odds had jumped from the bottom of the Pacific-region list to almost the top tier. The profit was shrinking. The risk was growing.

Mia understood immediately.

“Then stop.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“And Thomas stops too.”

“I will warn him.”

Whether Thomas listened was another question.

Charlize came downstairs after hearing Nolan’s voice. In front of Mia, she and Nolan behaved.

Mostly.

Mia looked between them, then sighed.

“You know, these days with Charlize reminded me of when Katherine first needed looking after. She is young, alone, and her family history is awful. Maybe we should make the arrangement more official.”

“No,” Nolan said at once. “Absolutely not. We keep things as they are.”

He had enough tangled relationships without turning Charlize into another formal piece of the household.

Mia studied his face, then shrugged.

“Your problem.”

Before going to bed, she added, “Lisa called. She wants you this weekend.”

Nolan had been on the phone with Amy and Naomi that morning. Lisa must have missed him and gone through Mia.

Impatient.

Fine. Tomorrow night, he would make sure she stopped complaining.

…

Charlize followed him upstairs.

“You must be exhausted after the flight.”

“Seeing you fixed it.”

“That line is terrible.”

“Still worked.”

She leaned into him.

“The check came through for that cameo I shot earlier this year in Children of the Corn III,” she said between kisses. “Three days of work. Five hundred dollars. Susan already sent your commission.”

It was not much, but for Charlize it mattered. Zero had become one.

“Dinner tomorrow,” Nolan said. “Your choice.”

She bit his lower lip. “I already know what I want.”

The night turned private, adult, and increasingly familiar. Charlize had ballet in her body and stubbornness in her bones, and Nolan learned quickly that flexibility could be its own kind of danger.

By the end, they were both laughing too hard for dignity.

“I am full,” Charlize mumbled near dawn, kicking one foot weakly against the sheets.

…

The next night, Lisa pouted across a candlelit dinner.

“The great football star has reporters, cheerleaders, classmates, and a young actress under his management now. Forgetting me would be perfectly normal.”

“Compared with you,” Nolan said, “I am the amateur athlete.”

“Better.”

Susan was not there, which gave Lisa exactly the private evening she wanted.

After dinner, they moved to the bathroom. The tub was already filled, petals scattered across the surface and candles set along the edge. Lisa had staged the room like a scene, and Nolan understood the care behind it.

They lay together in the water, talking quietly.

“Whatever you want to do,” Lisa said, her arms around him, “I will support you.”

Up close, Nolan noticed something odd.

“You look younger.”

Lisa smiled. “New cosmetics.”

“Maybe.”

But Nolan thought of Katherine, of the changes in the women closest to him, and of the impossible acceleration inside his own body.

This was stranger than football.

For now, he told no one.

After an hour in the bath, Lisa took him to the walk-in closet and opened a cabinet she had cleared for costumes. Every style had been arranged with dangerous care.

Before Nolan could choose, the doorbell rang downstairs.

Lisa frowned at the security monitor.

A pink Bentley sat outside, horn tapping impatiently.

“Why is she here?”

She opened the gate, then the front door.

Annie walked in carrying an orange Hermès Kelly bag and two bottles of expensive liquor.

Lisa saw through her immediately.

“No,” she said. “I already rejected your suggestion.”

Annie poured drinks anyway.

The conversation made the situation clear fast. Annie wanted into Lisa’s arrangement.

Lisa refused.

Nolan refused too.

Annie was not Susan. Older wealthy women often came with control issues, and Lisa was the exception, not the rule.

They held the line until Annie left irritated and empty-handed.

Then Lisa drank most of the liquor Annie had brought and ended up half-drunk on the sofa, flushed, smiling, and much more affectionate.

“You did well,” she said. “Ten thousand dollars.”

“Feels low.”

Lisa hiccupped. “Ten thousand per round.”

That sounded better.

…

On Monday afternoon, Thomas stood in the meeting room with a face full of war.

“In two weeks, we face Bishop Gorman High School from Las Vegas. They are a Nevada power, and their physicality is not far behind what we saw from Wasatch Ridge.”

The room sobered.

“This is still going to be a hard fight. At least we are at home. And now we know our biggest weakness: the offensive line. Our line is mud.”

Several linemen winced.

“So for the next two weeks, we train like devils. Strength, mass, discipline, nutrition, sleep. The fastest way to raise our floor.” Thomas turned toward Nolan. “And Nolan will explain the program.”

Nolan looked up. “I will?”

“Yes, Nolan Callahan. Do not pretend your private training fooled anyone.”

The players started clapping.

They believed Nolan had some secret method. His body had not appeared from nowhere, at least not in their minds.

Nolan walked to the front because there was no graceful way not to.

“You really want my training method?”

“Yes!”

“Fine.” He looked over the room. “Then prepare yourselves. This is real devil training. If you regret it, leave now.”

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