Page 67 of Home Town Advantage
He visibly swallows as he scurries away like the rat he is. I have no faith that he will change.
Champ walks over to me and we do a little handshake followed by a bro hug. In a low voice, he quietly says, “I appreciate the support, but it only draws more unwanted attention. I’ve dealt with guys like him my whole life. It’s not worth it.”
I squeeze his hand tight and pull our bodies close so we’re nearly nose to nose as I look him in the eye. “You’re my teammate, which makes you my brother. I would never allow my brother to be disrespected in any way, would you?”
Heshakes his head.
“Right. So you just sit there and look pretty. I’ll set that prick straight. I know you put your head down, work hard, and do your job. You’re not a showboat. You don’t like to be the center of attention. I dig that about you. It doesn’t make his treatment of you acceptable. He will treat you with respect, or I will make sure he’s kicked off this team.”
Champ pinches his lips together, appearing like he might get emotional. “Thanks, man. I appreciate you having my back.”
I nod as we break apart and get back to our respective workouts.
Coach Jeffries walks into the gym wearing athletic clothing. His joining team workouts has become the norm, especially in the years since his divorce. I don’t think it’s as much about improving his body as it is about having an outlet for his sadness and frustrations. I suppose it’s better than sitting at a bar.
He gives me a friendly punch to the arm. “This will finally be our year, son.”
I nod. “The new guys will help.”
“Yep. I pushed hard for them. You can’t be expected to throw five touchdowns a game. At some point, the defense needs to make a stand. And Fudd can’t play eleven positions.”
Coach, who misses nothing, looks Reece’s way. “You set him straight?”
“Yes, sir. It’s under control.”
“Good. Fucking prima donna. He should focus on catching the ball instead of the personal lives of his teammates.”
“Agreed.”
“You make sure Champ knows everyone has his back.”
“I have. He knows.”
We break apart, and he heads over to the stretching area.
I look back toward Champ. “Have you seen Bailey lately?” I went to visit her a small handful of times during our season, but I haven’t been over since I returned from Montana.
He smiles. “Yes, I go over several days a week. Her recovery is remarkable. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Google says her recovery should have taken way longer than it has. I’m so proud of her.”
Coach scoffs. “Pft. Google. You know what my childhood Google was? A library. If we wanted answers, we had to go to the library and spend hours looking them up. And the lucky few had full sets of Encyclopedia Britannica in their houses. A through Z, each letter a different full book volume. You had to flip through the pages to try to find what you were looking for.”
Daylen nods. “I remember having an older woman babysit me once who talked about those ancient scrolls called Encyclopedias.”
Coach narrows his eyes. “Babysitters? You know who my babysitter was in the eighties? The Gen X babysitter of choice? It was my mother shouting on the way out of the house, ‘Don’t open the motherfucking door for anyone.’”
We all laugh. I love Coach’s Gen X-isms.
My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket and look at the screen. It’s a text from Layla to the group that there will be a housewarming party at Sulley’s new house next week.
I’ve texted her a few times since our two perfect days together. She returned with short, one-word responses, not wanting to engage. It hurts, but what can I do? This is a situation of my own creation. I can’t deny that I miss her and what we shared in that cabin.
I pull up our text string and begin to type.
Me: Looking forward to your party. Thanks for including me.
Sulley: It was Layla. She did the guest list.
Ouch.
