"Hey, this is Lance. Sorry I can't pick up the phone right now. Whether I'm deliberately ignoring it or just not home, it's not your fault, so don't feel bad. Just leave a message. And don't worry, I won't go full John Wick on you… Wait, who doesn't know who John Wick is?"
"…"
Beep.
No one answered, and the answering machine took over.
The outgoing message was… well, very much in Lance's style: abrupt, unexpected, and leaving the caller probably scratching their head, unsure whether to leave a message or not.
"Uh…"
There was a pause. Clearly, the person on the other end was a bit flustered, and when they spoke again, there was a hint of amusement in their voice.
"Hey, Lance. This is JJ. JJ Watt…"
Lance, who had been on his way back to his room, suddenly stopped in his tracks and leaned back slightly.
Watt?
As in J.J. Watt of the Houston Texans?
But why would Watt be calling him? Was this a prank call?
"Sorry, it might be a bit rude to call you directly, but I thought talking to you in person would be more sincere."
"So, I got your number from your agent."
"The thing is…"
"Uh… Sorry, I didn't realize I was talking to an answering machine. I need to gather my thoughts. I'm still not good at talking to machines…"
His words were simple, but there was a trace of nervousness and awkwardness that somehow made him seem more genuine—oddly charming for someone known as one of the fiercest defensive ends in the NFL.
Lance couldn't help but smile. He turned back around, went back to the living room, and picked up the call.
"Hey, JJ. I thought talking to machines was your specialty."
Watt: "…"
Clearly, Watt wasn't ready for that.
He had been carefully choosing his words, and when he realized he was talking to an answering machine, he stumbled a bit, debating whether it was even sincere enough to leave a message. But now, suddenly, the phone was picked up—
That was one hell of a rollercoaster.
"What?" Watt asked, clearly thrown off.
Lance continued, "The legendary workout machine himself—twice a day in the gym, crushing weights. I figured you and machines were best friends."
Watt: "…"
Lance laughed, "If the joke flopped, I'm afraid the atmosphere might actually freeze solid."
"Haha." Watt couldn't help himself. "Hahahaha." He burst out laughing, his deep voice rumbling through the speaker. "I thought you didn't get nervous."
"That would make me a machine," Lance retorted smoothly, not missing a beat. "Wait, or do you actually prefer talking to machines?"
Watt's laughter grew even louder, shaking with genuine amusement. Even through the phone, it was palpable.
Taking two deep breaths, Watt finally got himself under control. "Now I understand why TJ says you're a fun guy. He brings you up all the time, even off the field."
"Oh? So is that… a good thing?" Lance raised his voice just slightly at the end.
Watt caught on, chuckling. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But one thing's for sure: my brothers and I are definitely looking forward to sacking you next season."
The Watt family had three brothers, all of whom played in the NFL.
JJ was the eldest. TJ was the youngest. And sandwiched between them was Derek Watt.
Because JJ was such a household name, Derek often flew under the radar. It also didn't help that he played a different position—fullback, and for the Los Angeles Chargers, the Chiefs' division rival.
"Does that include the one in the middle?" Lance asked, honestly forgetting Derek's name but clearly remembering his presence.
Watt instantly understood and played along with a chuckle. "Twice a season, and you don't even remember Derek's name? Looks like he needs to step up his game."
Lance shrugged, "Well, good luck."
Watt burst out laughing. "Oh, I definitely need to tell him you said that."
Lance raised an eyebrow, steering the conversation back. "So, you called me just to give Derek some motivation?"
Watt laughed again. "I wish it were that simple."
"I actually got your number from TJ. But your cell's been busy the whole time. I tried calling three times. Any more, and I'd be a stalker, so I got it from your agent instead."
That explained it.
Lance chuckled, "I've been getting so many spam calls and random ads recently that I just turned on call blocking. If you're not in my contacts, it doesn't go through. Peace and quiet."
Watt paused. "Wait a minute… Buddy, did you just low-key flex your Super Bowl win on me?"
Lance: "Mm-hmm."
The blunt response was so crisp and straightforward that Watt was caught off guard again. He erupted into laughter, loud and free. This was why he liked Lance—so unapologetically direct.
"Congrats, man. Seriously, congrats on the Super Bowl. That was insane."
Lance smiled, throwing out a little jab. "So, are you considering joining us?"
Watt was stunned. "You know I've got two more years on my contract, right?"
Typical Watt: a straight shooter, even when it was just a joke.
Back in 2014, Watt had signed a massive six-year, $100 million contract, with $30.9 million guaranteed. His average annual salary was $16 million, making him the highest-paid non-quarterback in the league at that time—a groundbreaking deal.
Lance grinned. "Of course. But as you said, two more years. Time to start thinking about the future, whether it's a renewal or a transfer. You're just one ring away from greatness."
"JJ, even if you're not thinking about it, are you sure Houston isn't?"
When healthy, Watt was a dominant force in the NFL. But with two back-to-back seasons ending in injury, the Texans might be reconsidering.
Watt hesitated but didn't seem offended. In fact, he chuckled. "Lance, I'm good here in Houston. They've given me everything. Without Houston, I wouldn't be who I am. And believe me, we're going to be real contenders next year."
To be fair, with Deshaun Watson leading the offense and Watt on defense, the Texans were indeed a formidable team on paper.
Lance could hear the loyalty in Watt's voice, so he didn't press the joke any further. "Of course. I don't doubt that."
Wait, that's it?
Lance gave up way too easily, and Watt was left puzzled. What was all that buildup for?
Then, it hit Watt. "Oh man, I completely forgot why I called."
Lance, still feigning innocence, asked, "Oh, right. So did you need something?"
Watt couldn't help but laugh. "You smooth bastard… I almost fell for it." He laughed again before clearing his throat. "Training, Lance. I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in training together this offseason."
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Powerstones?
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