Page 2 of Everything's Better With You
“Uh, yeah. Just finished choreography for the next season ofDance Machineand I’m headed from here to New York for a limited run ofWest Side Story.”
“When you’re a jet...doo doo doo doo doo,” Les sang, snapping his fingers. He laughed and pounded on Joe’s shoulder again, hard enough to make him stagger. “Oh, sorry, man. That’s great. I loved watching you on that live broadcast. You’ve still got those moves.”
Les’s smile held more wattage than all the lights in Levi Stadium, and Joe felt a blast of heat being the recipient of one of those smiles.
He had a flash of the first time he’d been the recipient of a Leslie Payton smile and how that night changed his life.
He watched my show. Joe fought to hide a triumphant smile.
“How ‘bout you? How’s your mom?”
Joe skimmed the alumni newsletter from time to time, only stopping if there was mention of Greenvale’s Golden Boy alum. He knew, for example, that Les had built a sprawling estate on his grandparents’ farmland outside of Ayre Valley for his family to live in while he was still playing for the 49ers, and that his mother Agnes lived there.
“She’s good, thank you for asking. I’m actually here for the same reason you are,” Les said as he gestured to the administration building. “Brother Barry calls and I come running.”
“Right. That’s great he was promoted to president this year. How exciting for him.”
Les laughed. “It suits him. He’s been an old man my whole life. Figures he’d end up all respectable and shit.”
Les’s eyes crinkled as he talked about his brother. They were close, the whole Payton clan. Joe wouldn’t know about that. It was just Joe. No siblings and he’d lost his mom a long time ago.
“I’m not sure why he asked me to be here early. I don’t think the big game is until later, right? It’s been a while, but I figured they still played at night.”
The Yellowjacket’s Spring Fling tradition was for the cheerleaders to play flag football against half of the football team. The rest of the players learned a cheer routine to be performed at halftime. It was all in fun and the ticket sales went to the athletic department scholarships.
“Yeah, well…” Les trailed off. He rubbed his hands together. “Why don’t we go inside, huh?”
He’d started moving toward the building before he finished talking.
Joe realized that there was something more to this invitation than he’d been led to believe. He wasn’t sure whether he was more intrigued or concerned, honestly, but he wasn’t going to miss out on finally being in the same place at the same time with Leslie Payton.
“Right,” Joe said, following Les up the walkway. He clicked the remote lock on his rental car once more, not that anyone in Ayre Valley would break in or steal it. It was just a habit after living in LA for so long.
A big crowd of kids dressed in green and gold matching T-shirts and shorts came bursting out of the student center. The women all had their hair pulled up in space buns with green and gold ribbons to match and they carried poms.
“Omg is that…JOE JUDD!”
Under normal circumstances, Joe didn’t care for fan mobs, but this was different.
These kids were literally here because of him.
“That’s right!” Les used his best TV commentator voice. “Please welcome the Godfather of Jackets Cheer, Mr. Joe Judd.” He clapped and whistled while the kids gathered around giggling in that starstruckway Joe had experienced many times since making his TV debut onDance Machine.
“Hey,” Joe said, and he cleared his throat.Allergies this time of year were brutal. Of course that was why he felt the sudden urge to rub his eyes. “Looking forward to seeing you play tonight.”
“You’ll watch our demo too, won’t you?” one of the young men asked. “We’re doing our competition routine for the school this afternoon. Then there’s the barbecue and—”
“Sure. Can’t wait to see what you guys came up with this year.”
The kids squealed and one by one they all reached in to shake his hand. After twenty handshakes, Joe was a little out of breath.
“You’re their goddamned hero, you know that?” Les shook his head and chuckled. “They didn’t even recognize me.”
“Well, you have to admit the long hair and the Motörhead shirt don’t scream NFL star. I bet you wouldn’t be recognized in most bars around here.”
“Yeah, I would.” He laughed that big belly laugh of his. “Cheerleaders just don’t watch football typically unless they’re cheering for it.”
“Not true,” Joe said, and then he backpedaled. “I’m sure I watched one of your games at some point.”
