“Thank you.” His voice is barely audible over the cheers still going strong. “But I want to tell you who the first check will be going to. Earlier today, I sent a check to Pro Players for Equal Treatment, an organization run by a former player’s wife that is committed to working with the League to find a solution that allows these retired players and their loved ones to live with dignity. I’m honored to bring attention not only to them, but to the important cause they’re fighting for. Thank you everyone for coming out tonight. This is the beginning of something wonderful and I truly appreciate all of your support.”

And just like that, the room explodes with excitement and applause once again. The reporters who were here for a fun evening all have their cell phones plastered to their faces, no doubt calling their stations to send a camera crew over, as the rest of the crowd rushes across the room trying to get to Quinton. Thankfully, I already had an interview with ESPN set up after this event. Good thing I’m good at my job. But hopefully some of these reporters are now changing their questions from “Why?” to “How can we help?” I do know that, without a doubt, they’re all seeing him through a completely new lens. One that no longer sees him as a spoiled, entitled brat, but as a selfless, caring individual who is going to change the world.

And how the hell am I supposed to keep my guard up around that?

Sixteen

To say the event was a success is a massive understatement.

Quinton was trending before the crowds cleared. The news of his outrageous pledge damn near broke the Internet . . . or at least his website, which crashed approximately fifteen minutes after his announcement.

The other thing trending? Pro Players for Equal Treatment, the first organization receiving a donation from Quinton.

When I told him about all of the traffic to his site, he was annoyingly blasé about it. But when I pulled him to the side thirty minutes later to tell him that? He excused himself and locked himself in Jen’s office. When he came out a few minutes later, his smile was the biggest I’ve ever seen. Before that moment, I actually thought maybe the muscles around his mouth weren’t quite working (which did not lead my mind down a rabbit hole about Quinton’s mouth that I’d rather not recount. No. Absolutely not.) and all pictures of him smiling with this many teeth showing were actually photoshopped. But when he stepped back into the hallway with red-tinted eyes, his full lips were pulled wide and framing his perfect smile.

And it was the best moment I’ve had doing my job . . . ever.

“Never doubted you for a fuckin’ second.” Donny slaps my shoulder and holds a shot in front of me. “Brynn said it’s her specialty.”