Linda hummed, clenching and unclenching her fists in anticipation of the next week's challenges. "Then let's send Brutus Townsend to school."
4
BRUTUS
Standing in his bedroom, Brutus double checked the bag that he'd packed for the week ahead. It wasn't much, just a single gym bag of exercise clothes, toiletries, some casual hangout clothes for the evenings that he didn't really expect to have a chance to use, socks, and underpants.
The Army said they'd provide him with the rest.
Picking up the bag, Brutus glanced around his bedroom one last time. His home was his sanctuary, a place to escape the relentless spotlight. He'd traded the convenience of city life for the peace of these five acres, finding solace in the quiet that allowed him to recover from the physical and mental demands of his career. The forty-minute drive from the Bluecats practice facility was a small price to pay for the rejuvenation this place offered.
Keith was waiting for him along with Vanna, his housekeeper.
"You got everything?" Keith asked him. "You're not going to need much."
"The Army doesn't have a problem with me wearing an ankle brace?" Brutus confirmed, and Keith nodded. "Then I'm good."
"Don't worry about the house, Mr. Townsend," Vanna said, her comfortable clothes reflecting Brutus's preference for practicality over formality. "I'll be by every day to keep things in order."
"Thank you Vanna, I'm not worried at all," Brutus said. "It's just like training camp, right?"
"You just wake up earlier," Vanna, whose brother was in the Air Force, said.
She'd been surprised when Brutus had apologized to her a week ago, and their relationship had become warmly professional because of it.
"Don't worry Mr. Townsend, you'll be fine."
After giving Vanna a little wave of goodbye, Brutus left the house, taking his bag out to his truck. It was one of three vehicles he owned, and the one he'd decided was best for the two and a half hour drive to Fort Pickett.
"Remember," Keith said as Brutus unlocked the door and tossed his bag into the back, "the league put some rules on this."
"I know," Brutus said, not liking the league sticking their nose into the arrangement at the last minute but knowing he didn't have another option. The team had already signed off on the deal.
"You know, but let's be clear." Keith pulled an envelope out of his suit pocket and handed it to him. "It's seven straight days, Brutus. You have to complete the week with the unit, and at the end they're going to give you a grade. You have to pass in order to get credit towards your league suspension."
"What did you learn about these guys anyway?" Brutus asked. "They're in the middle of nowhere, right? Had to double-check it wasn't a prank."
Keith shrugged. "They're the real deal, but low-profile. They'll push you, but they know you're not a soldier. Put in the work, and you'll be fine."
"That's the whole plan," Brutus assured Keith. "Get it done."
"Good. From what I heard, you won't be in basic training mode, but you won't be living the high life either. When you get to the base, the unit commander's going to walk you through it all."
"Forget it," Brutus said. "You just keep ESPN and TMZSports or whoever from badmouthing me any more."
"You're slow news now, baby," Keith assured him. "Football's over until the draft, everyone's talking basketball now. Relax and enjoy being out of the spotlight for a few months. Give me a call if you need anything."
They shook hands, and Brutus climbed into his truck, pulling away into the morning chill. He'd planned his trip to take his time, pausing halfway to the base to get a pair of drive-thru double cheeseburgers. He knew that it wasn't the healthiest meal in the world, and the Army had assured him that he'd be able to eat enough to maintain his strength and health.
Brutus knew he had to look out for himself. Maintaining his body mass was a constant challenge, and past experiences had taught him not to rely on promises of adequate nutrition. That's why he'd packed his own protein powder, just in case.
When he was about a half hour out according to the GPS on his phone, he sent Keith a message, who said he'd contact the Army and make sure they were ready. From there it was an easy drive, the GPS steering him right where he needed to go. Pulling up to the main gate with its two-lane overhanging structure that read Joint Training Center, Virginia National Guard on it, Brutus was directed into a visitor's parking area just beyond an old-fashioned World War II tank.
An MP came over, along with two men in military fatigues. Both men were in shape, one with a slight tinge of gray to his temples and the other carrying himself like a former athlete.
"Mr. Townsend?" the taller officer said, offering a hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Paul Remsburg, commander of the Third Battalion, Third Infantry Regiment. Welcome to Fort Pickett."
"Thank you for hosting me, Colonel," Brutus said. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."
