Page 22 of Everything's Better With You
You could be in Leslie’s bed.
No problem. A week. He could do it.
Eight
Leslie
It was well after dark before he could finally get away and instead of heading back to Higdon to check on Joe, he’d had to have Randy drive him home so he could dose himself with migraine medication. He’d gone to bed with 64 oz of water and some crackers, furious that he was once again laid up because his body was beat to hell.
Joe hadn’t answered his past few texts, and even though he knew the likelihood was low, he couldn’t help being afraid that Joe would have hired a car to take him back to the airport and back to LA. Leslie almost wouldn’t blame him.
What a clusterfuck! The athletic center had sustained significant damage and the football field was toast. The gym with its indoor track only needed repairs to the roof, but the fitness center and offices were destroyed. There was insurance, of course, but their first game was next week. Now they’d have to find a new space.
The strategic plan for this year had been that Joe and Leslie would rally their troops, bring in spectators and interest so they could build their programs with ample resources. Now, Leslie was going to have to tell Joe that the lucrative budget they’d been promised was mostly going to go to cover whatever insurance wouldn’t. They’d be starting from scratch. Hell, the football field turf needed to be replaced, the bleachers had been wrecked, the scoreboard shot. Les had a meeting with the admin at Ayre Valley High School in the morning to see if they could use their field for some games and the rest they’d have to travel to or reschedule.
No one had been hurt. He had to keep reminding himself: It could have been worse.
Barry had told him more than once how sorry he was, how much he appreciated him being there, and how hard he would work to get repairs done as quickly as possible. But Barry wasn’t a miracle worker, and even with Leslie’s connections, they’d be lucky to have a field before the season was over. And Barry refused to take Leslie’s money to get the ball rolling.
“You have already done so much for the school. You donated the funds for the athletic center! The field is named after you! You need to hang onto your money.”
Barry worried that Leslie was going to need all of his resources as he got older, and while Les appreciated his concern, his accountant assured him that he and his family would be taken care of…for generations.
Before the medicine pulled him under, he tried texting Joe once more. Then the phone rang, the ring tone sending sparks of pain through his head.
“I can’t text, I’m up to my elbows in Lysol.”
“Jesus, Joe.”
“And Mary,” Joe said and laughed at himself. Music blared in the background.
“Right. I wanted to make sure you ate.”
“Mmm-hmm, sure did. Matty brought me vegetarian lasagna from the Buzz. We ate and then he watched me clean while he talked about the pranks his dorm mates pulled on each other. It was a riot.”
Leslie ran a hand down his face, but the contact stung and it hurt to even smile.
“Look at Twinkle Toes making friends. Bless your heart.”
Joe cursed under his breath and Les couldn’t hold in a laugh, which he regretted a moment later.
“Hey, you okay? You sound tired.”
“I am. It’s been a long couple of days. I’m just…dammit I wish…” He sucked in a breath at the stabbing sensation at the top of his head.
“Les? Are you okay?”
“Just a migraine. Took meds. Going to sleep but wanted to apologize.”
Joe shut off the music.
“You have nothing to apologize for. This sounds like a bad one. I wish I could do something for you.”
“It’ll pass. Just wanted to say I’m glad you’re here.”
Joe’s soft laugh reached through Les’s fog and did a lot to ease his pain.
“I’m glad too. I'm mad that I don’t have a car or I’d come take care of you.”
