Page 8 of The Perfect Pass
“I’m a player on the team, too.” The boy beamed. “Fifth-string offensive line.”
Jackson arched a brow.Offensive line?An offensive lineman’s main job was to protect the quarterback and, as such, they were usually the largest players on the field. Something wasn’t quite adding up. “Fifth-string, huh?”
The kid’s face screwed. “I don’t get to play much.”
“How often is not much?” Jackson planted his hands loosely on his hips.
“Never.” The teen shrugged, and the tall band hat on his head slid down a few inches until it covered his eyes. He shoved it back in place, nonplussed. “I’m hoping that might change this year—now that you’re here, sir.”
Yet again, Jackson wondered what he’d gotten himself into when he agreed to this gig.
He looked at the student long and hard. Surely he wasn’t expected to crush the kid’s dream on his very first day as head coach. There’d be plenty of time for that later, once he’d actually seen the boy suit up.
“What’s your name, kid?” he finally asked.
“Tommy.” The teen beamed. “Tommy Riess.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Jackson stepped down from the trailer and hauled Bishop along with him. Then he thrust the dog’s leash toward Tommy. “Here.”
“I don’t understand, sir.” The boy’s megawatt smile dimmed.
Jackson caught a glimpse of his distorted reflection in the brassy surface of Tommy’s trombone. He felt like he was looking in a fun-house mirror, which only added to the bizarre nature of his surroundings. Was he truly stuck here for an entire season?
“You said you’re the equipment manager.” Jackson nodded at the hot mess of a mascot. “The leash and everything attached to it is athletic equipment.”
Tommy glanced down at the bulldog and swallowed. “Okay?”
It sounded more like a question than an affirmative reply, plus Jackson couldn’t help noticing that he’d finally dropped thesir.
He patted the boy on the back, palm spanning almost the entire width of his shoulders. “You can give him back to me before you leave for the day. But keeping an eye on Bishop while I do this press conference thing would be a big help.”
Tommy nearly crumpled with relief. “Yes, sir. No problem, sir. For a second there, I thought you meant you wanted me to take him home with me tonight, and I’m not sure my mom would be cool with that.”
Taking the dog home had been precisely what Jackson originally had in mind, but perhaps that was pushing it. Somehow he thought his agent would think so too.
“No upset moms,” Jackson said. “No one wants that.”
Although, something told him staying out of trouble with the women in this town was going to be easier said than done. He’d dodged enough lingerie during the parade to open his own Victoria’s Secret store.
“Yes, sir.” Tommy hugged his trombone with one hand and gave Bishop’s leash a gentle tug with the other. “Principal Dean said the press conference is being held in the school cafetorium.”
“Awesome,” Jackson said flatly. The last press conference he’d attended had been held at Chicago’s legendary Soldier Field, and now he was going to answer questions in a room that no doubt reeked of fish sticks and teen angst.
“Awesome,” Tommy echoed without a trace of sarcasm and didn’t move a muscle. He just kept on grinning at Jackson like he’d hung the moon.
“You can lead the way now, Tommy,” he prompted.
“Oh, right.” Tommy nodded and his hat slid down again. He shoved it back in place and turned toward the high school. “Sorry. It’s over here.”
Bishop glanced back at Jackson as if to check and make sure he was coming. Jackson sighed and fell in step behind them.
Passersby nodded at him and offered him high fives as they made their way down the sidewalk. Most of the foot traffic seemed to be heading the opposite direction, toward the coffee shop or the pizza parlor or one of the other downtown hot spots. Jackson wondered who, exactly, was going to be in attendance at this press event. Bishop Falls was teeny tiny. Even if the entire staff of the local paper’s sports section turned up, he couldn’t imagine there would be more than a handful of people.
He hoped he was right. This had already been a heck of a day, and he still hadn’t set eyes on the rental house his agent had arranged for him. Something told him it wasn’t going to be anything like the penthouse he occupied in downtown Chicago, with its private elevator and panoramicviews of the city skyline and Lake Michigan. He could deal with that later, though. Right now his most pressing problem was figuring out how to answer questions about a football program he knew nothing about.
That, and the itchy bits of hay that were currently poking him in places he couldn’t mention in polite company.
“It’s just inside to the left,” Tommy said as he escorted Jackson through the big double doors at the front of the school.
