Chapter 104: What Do You Mean, Con?

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Fall cooled Southern California by degrees.

BHHS students traded summer shirts for baseball jerseys, hoodies, and bomber jackets. Outside the school gate, a van marked with the Fox Sports and Prime Ticket production logos opened its rear doors, and Penny Webb stepped out with a camera operator, a producer, and a small crew.

Security checked their IDs and filming permits before letting them onto campus.

Penny looked down the hallway and felt a strange little echo of her own school years. A boy hurried past with a baseball in hand. A girl checked her lipstick in a locker mirror. Around a corner, a couple stood too close until the bell rang and scattered everyone into classrooms.

The hallway emptied almost instantly.

Penny called Nolan.

“Gym?” she asked.

His answer was short.

She turned to the crew. “We are going to the athletic gym.”

Her voice sounded rough.

Mike, walking behind her, noticed the bruising around her knees. It had been visible on the flight back from Salt Lake City. Days later, it had not faded much.

He had even bought topical ointment and pain relievers for her, which she had refused.

“Penny,” he said quietly, “what happened to your knees?”

“Private matter.”

“If that high school kid has something on you, you can ask for help.”

Penny almost laughed.

‘Does he have leverage on me, or do I have leverage on him?’

The thought stayed private.

…

The athletic gym hit them with sound first: weights clanking, machines dropping, shoes squeaking against rubber flooring.

Then came the smell of sweat.

Dozens of young athletes trained shirtless or in soaked undershirts under the lights, skin shining from effort. Penny found Nolan almost immediately. He stood with his back to her, a heavy dumbbell in one hand. Each lift shifted the muscles across his back until the shape looked almost animal.

The camera operator began recording without being told.

The documentary’s working title was Thirty Days with the Normans. The pitch was simple: show the team as it really trained, suffered, ate, fought boredom, and chased the national-bowl conversation.

Nolan turned when he heard the crew.

Penny walked over.

He became the on-camera guide while she asked questions and moved the story along. Flea and Matic talked about adding weight without losing route speed. Linemen explained sled work. Cooper looked as if the camera had personally challenged his strength.

Halfway through filming, Thomas dragged in a scale.

“Measurements,” he announced.

The players lined up.

When Nolan’s turn came, the numbers gave him the first clean snapshot of his body in weeks.

Six feet five.

Two hundred pounds.

Estimated body fat: 15.9 percent.

Flexed arm: just under eighteen inches.

Thomas studied the sheet.

“Among normal people, you are strong. On a football field, you are still lean.”

Nolan looked at him.

“You want a bulldozer at quarterback,” Thomas said. “You are not there yet.”

Cooper weighed five pounds more, though Nolan’s arm measurement still beat his. Cooper stepped off the scale and pointed at him.

“You are the strongest now. When camp ends, maybe that changes.”

“Then we test it properly.”

Penny, pretending to examine a machine nearby, heard every word.

…

That afternoon, at the Everlasting Love Hotel, Penny drank water in large, desperate gulps.

“You should be training.”

Nolan pulled her back.

“I have work.”

“This is work.”

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what kind of work he meant.

The rules remained the rules. Adult, private, and no pretending she had been trapped into anything she had not chosen. Still, by evening, Penny lay facedown and tried twice to get up before giving up with a groan.

Nolan left the hotel and drove to Lisa’s office.

…

“Why are you here?”

Lisa looked up from her desk, and Nolan found Leonardo DiCaprio and his mother, Irmelin, sitting across from her.

“I can wait,” Nolan said, taking the sofa. “Finish.”

Leo turned to study him. They shared blond coloring in a broad sense, but Nolan had outgrown ordinary comparison. Beside Leo’s clear, almost angelic face, Nolan looked like a football player drawn at the wrong scale.

Irmelin was discussing her son’s next film.

“A high school basketball player,” she said. “I still do not know if The Basketball Diaries is the right choice. Leonardo never had a normal high school life.”

“Speaking of high school athletes,” Lisa said, glancing at Nolan, “there is one in the room.”

Irmelin’s eyes narrowed. “Is he an actor?”

“No,” Lisa said smoothly. “He is the son of a close friend. He visits sometimes, talks about school, football, teenage life. That sort of thing.”

Only then did Irmelin relax.

Lisa continued. “Leonardo could spend time around Nolan’s team. It might help with the physical side of the role.”

Leo looked interested at once.

Nolan held up a hand. “I am a football player in a closed camp. If you come, you train. We do not need a tourist.”

“That sounds perfect,” Leo said. “That is the point, right? Experience it.”

“Then we have a deal.”

They set a meeting time before Leo and Irmelin left.

Nolan had come to see Lisa and Susan. Somehow he had accepted a job as a high-school-athlete consultant for a future movie star.

Lisa watched the door close.

“You two might actually become friends.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Learn acting from him. Your screen type is broader than his. One day, kick him aside and take the resources.”

“That is your advice?”

“I am an agent.”

“A ruthless one.”

“A good one.”

She looked back at the contracts on her desk.

“Now, why did you come?”

“No reason. Just checking on you.”

Lisa lifted her eyes. “Checking on me, or missing me?”

She put her legs on the desk and told Nolan to call Susan in.

Nolan locked the office door instead.

“Just us.”

Lisa smiled.

That answer pleased her more than a meeting ever could.

…

On the way home, Nolan stopped outside Charlize’s acting school.

His arrival startled her into a delighted smile. She introduced him to a new friend.

“This is Jennifer. Jennifer, this is Nolan Callahan.”

Another Jennifer. Hollywood seemed to produce one every generation.

This one shook Nolan’s hand.

“I have seen your games,” Jennifer Aniston said. “You are very good. And Charlize says you are her manager?”

“That’s right. And I know you. Rachel Green from Friends.”

The show had only just premiered, but it already had the scent of something sticky.

“Do you have representation?” Nolan asked.

Jennifer laughed. “I am fine for now.”

On the drive back, Charlize would not stop asking questions.

“You like her?”

“It is less about whether I like her and more about whether she would ever need me.”

Jennifer Aniston would make enormous money from one sitcom. Nolan knew that much. He also knew he could do nothing for her.

Charlize sighed.

“She was a cashier before that show. Lucky. I wonder when I get lucky.”

The sentence was meant for him.

“Soon,” Nolan said. “For now, improve. Wait. If you are good enough, the right chance comes.”

Charlize absorbed the answer like scripture.

The truth was less beautiful. Nolan could not help her acting career much yet. His practical concerns were far simpler: what she would cook for dinner, and what private lesson she might offer after.

Still, if both sides wanted to believe, how was that a con?

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I hope this chapter drew you further into the story. Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.