Page 89 of Home Town Advantage
Me: I don’t want her riding that death trap. They flip easily. I’ve seen it happen too many times to count. She’s way too young for something like this.
Maddie: I don’t care what you want. Stop barking orders at me. You don’t get to tell me what to do.
Infuriating bitch.
“Here’s your son, Mr. Jeffries,” says the hostess as she smiles and shows Coach to the table.
He narrows his eyes at her and grits out, “Do I really look old enough to be his damn father?”
The hostess withers under his glare and apologizes profusely before quickly running away.
I suppose we look like we could be related, both with dark hair and green eyes. His gray makes him look more mature, but he’s in fantastic shape. He doesn’t look old enough to be my father. Maybe an older brother.
I let out a laugh as he takes his seat. “Hey, Daddy.” I motion toward the wine list. “I left the wine list for you. I know what a snob you are.”
He reaches into his blazer pocket for his reading glasses and places them on his face before opening the wine list and carefully examining it. “Hmm,” is all he has to say. Sometimes he’s a man of few words.
Coach is obsessed with good wine. It’s common for him to take twenty minutes to pick a bottle, especially at a fancy restaurant. I’m used to it. While I wait, I want to take out my phone so I can fucking yell and scream at Maddie, but there’s nothing Coach hates more than someone who uses a cell phone at the dinner table. I’ll get a long speech from him about Gen X telephone usage and how dinnertime used to be dinnertime, not a time to be on your phone. It’s not worth the hassle just to tell Maddie off, especially since she won’t listen to what I have to say. She never does.
For kindergarten, I wanted Francesca to go to a private school. Few kids from the public school go on to college, and I want more for her. Maddie said Francesca preferred to be with her friends. She’s fucking five. Why does she have a vote?
Coach finally orders from the sommelier, who returns with the bottle quickly. Coach seems satisfied when it arrives, and, admittedly, it tastes really good. I don’t know much aboutwine, I’ve always been fine with the nine-dollar variety, but I can tell this is the good stuff.
Once I have his full attention, I ask, “How’s post-divorce life treating you, Coach?”
He shrugs. “Divorce sucks. I know ours wasn’t the worst, but it’s still hard and always painful. No one enters into a marriage planning to get divorced. She made mistakes. I made mistakes. We made mistakes. These past few years have given me a little perspective. I took her for granted. There are things I wish I had said and done differently. If you ever find the right one, Vance, don’t hold back. We’re cut from the same cloth, you and me. We internalize. We let things happen around us. Don’t be a bystander in your life. Take the bull by the horns.”
I nod. “I understand. It’s good advice. Are you dating yet? It’s been a long time now.” Coach garners so much attention for his good looks. I’m sure he has women lined up to date him. I smirk. “Are you on any dating apps?”
He raises his eyebrow. “Vance, I still use an address book because I don’t trust my phone not to lose telephone numbers in that magical cloud in the sky that holds them. Do you really think I would trust a nerd sitting behind a screen to find me the right woman?”
I let out a small laugh. Of course he thinks matches on dating apps are done by actual people.
He blows out a breath. “Would I sound too much like your generation if I told you it’s complicated?”
I chuckle. “You sure would.”
He smiles. “Well, it is. There’s a woman I’ve been quietly seeing. I like her. A lot. But Pierce isn’t out of the house yet, and Kennedy loves to bust my balls.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Kennedy busts everyone’s balls, especially Daylen’s. The two of them go at it all the time.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Hmm. Interesting. She’s a handful, that one.She practically lived in timeout as a kid. Let me tell you something,” he points at me, “timeout does shit. You all grew up with a stupid timeout as the worst punishment imaginable. You know what my generation got? We got a belt to the ass. Marks for weeks or months to remind us of what we did wrong. Hell, I think I still have a few marks on my ass from my father’s belt. I’d be jailed if I did that to my kids.”
I nod. “True. Don’t sweat it. Kennedy isn’t all bad. You see what a selfless teammate she is. She’s become super tight with Sulley, and Sulley is probably the most wonderful, morally sound person I know.”
He studies me carefully. “Anything I should know about you two?”
I crack a smile. “It’s complicated.”
He lets out a laugh. “Of course it is. Listen, I brought you here tonight because I respect you.”
“I respect you too, Coach.”
He nods. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from a quality kid like you. I’m telling you something that would cost me my job. Can I trust it to stay between us?”
“Of course.”
He exhales a long breath. “Management wants to win, and they want to win now, as in this year.”
