Meanwhile at the weight room (trigger warning for racially charged language.)

The sounds of clanging metal and huffs and grunts echoed off the walls of the school weight room.

T.J., the team's starting tight end, had just left the coaches' office. His face was expressionless, and he walked down the stairs from the gymnasium's upper floor.

Stepping off the stairs, he made a beeline for the weight room, whose door was currently propped open. Approaching the door, he kicked the doorstop free. Entering the room, he looked at his teammates as the door swung shut behind him.

Ca-chunk rang out when the metal door closed.

Tank, the team's center, who'd been doing squats. Looked over in annoyance, saying. "Yo Dawg, open the door; you know how hot... it..."

His words trail off as he looks at his teammate's expressionless face. The machine Tank was using clanged as he stepped away from it.

Taking two steps towards T.J., he nodded, saying, "What up?"

T J sighed, his expression cracking. The worry was evident in his tone as he said. "Tank... I-I think Coach is losing it."

Tank looked thoughtful for a minute. No one had to say anything. Because Coach Reese had been pretty erratic since their losing streak started.

"What Happened?" He quietly asked.

T J ran his hand down his face as he gathered his thoughts. He then shook his head and laid it out. "Coach called me into his office and asked if any of Marlows' sluts had started putting out." He gravely looked around at his team mates. "When I told him no, he ordered me to go find us some cunts to fuck. He said he wanted 5 sluts for the team and didn't care how I got them."

Several of the boys paused what they were doing, and Deon, who had been getting ready to do some bench presses, sat up and quipped. "Maybe if Little D over there does some groveling, the drought might end."

Several players all snickered, and Trey, who had been doing some arm curls, threw the weights he had been using to the ground.

CLANG!

"NIGGA, I TOLD YOU THAT SHIT AIN'T FUNNY!" The young man raged.

Trey looked like he was about to charge, so Deon bolted to his feet and clapped back. "I'd be careful who you call a nigga, Little D. I'm not the one who got dumped. Then his ex-shows up wearing some sugar daddies collar."

"Daddy's personal cum dump." Cruelly added Vinny Travers, the team's weak-side linebacker.

Everyone had heard whispers about Lili Lee's tattoo.

Trey snarled and simultaneously flipped the bird at Deon and Vinny. "You think that just because there are two of you I can't push your shit in. Bring it. BRING IT!"

Jacob Peele, who'd been off to the side sipping on a bottle of water. Stood up and positioned himself between his team mates.

"Enough," the quarterback bellowed.

Jacob met the eyes of every teammate in the room. Some looked away, and others defiantly looked back.

"This isn't about what Trey did. It never was." Jacob then thumped his chest, saying. "It's about me. You. Hell, it's about the whole fucking team."

Turning, he put his arm on Trey's shoulder. "It's about us." He quietly closed.

Trey, still angry, shrugged off Jacobs's hand.

"How is this about us?" Toby, Clara's now ex-boyfriend, broke in.

Jacob looked over at the safety. "Jennifer didn't have her team stop dating us."

"How do you know?" Toby clapped back.

Jacob snorted. "Because I talked to her, you stupid fuck."

"What did she tell you?" Asked Reggie Connors.

Jacob shrugged, relating the conversation to his teammates. "She told me that since before school started. All of us have been acting like self-entitled assholes who cared only about getting their dicks wet."

Once again Jacob scanned the room, and now, no one would meet his gaze.

After a long awkward silence, T.J. broke the tension. "What do we do then?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Andy Reese stared at the monitor that was attached to the hidden camera he'd installed in the weight room. Reaching out, he turned it off. He'd seen enough.

Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a well-used stress ball. Andy started squeezing it as he thought about his options.

He'd built his team on a winning combination of testosterone and agression. Players who hit hard and took what they wanted had gotten him state in only the second year.

Last year he'd taken things to the next level, all thanks to Dallas and her friends. Andy felt himself get hard as he remembered the night he took the slut's virginity.

Of course Carlos, who'd he sold Tabitha to. Had wondered why he didn't breed her like he did her friend.

Nah, his grandaddy, a formal Imperial Wizard, would roll over in his grave if he knocked up a wetback. He used to say, "You use minorities; you don't breed them." Shaking his head, Andy rued that he couldn't deal with that dumb fuck Clarkson like he wanted to.

Not after having to deal with Donna. No two teachers, doing the same job, at the same school. Suddenly dying in a car wreck would raise questions.

Andy sat down the stress ball and opened the zipper on his gym bag. Rooting around, he fished out the cheap burner he'd picked up at Walmart the next town over.

Turning it on, he dialed the number from memory.

"Hola," said the voice on the other end.

"Carlos, mi amigo, two of my players are becoming a problem, and I might need your help?"