It’s not long until the Lamar boys are calming down and Jack’s voice comes over the speaker again. The JumboTrons light up as the starting offense’s pictures flash on screen as they are announced one by one.

Unexpected knots fill my stomach as I wait with bated breath for Quinton to come out.

I haven’t been to a game since he first made his stand and this part of the game is never televised. Sure, I’ve found clips on YouTube, but this is the first time I’ll witness it in person since the confusion has cleared and fans have started picking their sides.

When his name finally shows up on the screen, it’s like my body can’t help but react. I stand automatically, taking in the crowd around me. Listening as the boos blend together with the cheers. Knowing what I know now about Quinton’s intentions and the mission at the heart of this, I feel an elevated sense of pride watching him now. And while I know that it’s controversial for some, I hope that once people learn what he’s actually fighting for, the boos will disappear. And maybe then people will worry less about where he’s protesting and more about the reason he’s doing it in the first place.

That wishful thinking is lost when I’m snapped back to reality by Donny’s unmistakable voice shouting from the front of the box as Quinton slowly and precisely covers the League’s logo with black tape. “Hell yeah, Q! Don’t ever fuckin’ stop what you’re doing!” Then, I guess somebody from somewhere says something to him, because his attention moves from the field and he yells, “Yeah? How about fuck you too, motherfucker? How about you say something when you’ve done something with your pitiful fuckin’ life, fuckin’ scumbag!”

And just like that, I slide back into PR mode.

“Whoa there.” I grab Donny by the sleeve and pull him up the steps. “I think Quinton has the bad press thing down without any help from you.”

While babysitting Donny isn’t exactly my dream job, at least the booze is free and he’s sure to keep me entertained. Today definitely could’ve been worse.

Thirteen

The day of the launch is pure pandemonium.

Between the vendors coming in and out all day, helping with setup, and Brynn forcing me to give my opinion on the signature cocktails she came up with, I’ve hardly even had time to go to the bathroom. My feet already hurt, I’m jittery from a caffeine overload, and my back is tighter than it’s ever been. And I’m loving every freaking second of it all.

Hannah and her crew are still putting up the balloons and someone else is stringing white lights across the ceiling. They aren’t even close to being finished.