Page 6 of Everything's Better With You
“You’d have housing, a great salary, and the eternal gratitude of the Greenvale community.”
“Housing?”
“Yeah, you remember the cottages on the road coming onto campus?”
Joe snorted. “I remember getting drunk with the former dean after graduation in one of those cottages.” He laughed at Les’s expression. “What? You’re not surprised by that, are you?”
Les shook his head. “At least he waited until you graduated. That old queen had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Thank goodness there were noscandals.”
“That you knew of,” Joe muttered and Les chuckled.
“You’re trouble.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!”
Les smiled. “You can’t convince me you’re not perfect for the job, so don’t even try. Besides, I need a partner in crime, right?”
Joe cocked his head. The idea of him and Les being partners in crime had been fodder for his fantasies over the years. He’d occasionally stop moving long enough to contemplate what life would be like if he and Les were in the same place at the same time and trying to make a go of a life together. Had Les really thought as much about him?
They walked around the campus and Joe was shocked at how small everything seemed. He’d been a reluctant student there as a freshman, angry that his mother had blackmailed him into going to the Midwest for school. Okay, she’d given him the choice of staying home or going to Greenvale. It was her alma mater and the only place she felt safe sending him. He’d outgrown his hometown and wanted a fresh start, but his mom wanted him to be safe and was sure if he went to a big city, he’d be murdered in the first month.
“And the plan is to expand the training center, add a staff of full-time trainers and interns from the sports medicine program.”
Joe snapped into the present as Les pointed to a board with the drawings for the new center.
“They’re really serious about this.”
Thoughts climbed all over each other in Joe’s mind. He had rehearsals for the next two weeks for a show that was going to run from June through early August. Then there was the new season ofDance Machine…
“Come on. I can see that crease on your forehead trying to dig in. It’s not Broadway or Madison Square Gardens but you’d have a big impact.”
The sound system on the field crackled and they heard applause and shouts.
“It’s time for the expo. Let’s go.”
Joe and Les trotted over to the field and Joe ignored the pain in his knees.
“If this didn’t hurt so damned much, I’d race you.”
Joe laughed. “And you’d win because my running days are over.” That was a lie, but he knew Les wouldn’t call him on it. He’d run out on the quarterback fifteen years ago, setting a precedent. Maybe it was time to stop running, but then Joe wasn’t sure he was ready to accept the implications of what it would mean to slow down.
Maybe he could consider a year? That thought made him shudder. A year in Smalltown, America with its potentially small-minded ways? In the Midwest with its freezing cold winters and sweaty summers?
They came through the gates and climbed the steps to the bleachers as the music blared through the speakers. Les waved to several groups of folks before gesturing for Joe to take a seat on the bleachers, but he shook his head and took a seat on the left behind a large group of folks. Les sat down next to him, obviously confused.
“It will throw them off if I’m seated right in front,” he said by way of explanation.
“Ah,” Les responded. “I could see that. You are quite imposing.” He made a point to look down his nose at Joe and then cracked up. Their size difference was quite comical. “No, I get it. You’re a big deal around here.”
Joe was about to argue but the team trotted out onto the field and got into formation. He clenched his fists to keep from biting his nails, a terrible habit he had whenever watching something he created. And he had created this program, if not this particular team. When he’d shown up on campus in the fall of 2004 a cocky badass in his own mind, he’d thought some time off dancing would do him good. Then he went to a football game and saw the tiny cheer squad. They were good dancers, great crowd leaders, but their choreography was dated. He’d thought, “I could do something with this.” And why not? His classes had been a breeze to that point, he didn’t know anyone, and he’d been itching to get into some trouble, all signs he needed to find something productive to do with his time. All it took was crashing their practice, showing them some of his ideas, and they’d been elated. So many of the area schools had coed teams, but Greenvale didn’t put much stock in their cheerleaders. No one had made noise about it, not until Joe Judd showed up.
The team kicked off their routine with coordinated jumps, levelchanges, and drops and then they moved into their first stunt. So far so good. But the minute they started climbing, Joe’s hand flew to his mouth.
Their technique was terrible.
They didn’t have enough spotters.
“Shit,” Joe exclaimed when one of the flyers fell. “He didn’t have a good grip. They need another set of hands.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and exhaled through pursed lips.
