“Unbelievable,” Luke said.
“Welcome to Sportsland,” Harris said.
“In my line of work, we call that a bribe,” Luke said.
“Mine too,” Nathan said. “But it’s only a bribe if the request is met.”
“So you won’t play his son?” Luke asked.
“Like I said, if the situation warrants it. And only then.”
Harris opened his mouth to comment, but his phone rang. He got up and turned his back on the table to answer. After speaking quietly for a minute, he turned back to them. “They’re done. Missy says Lanie and Tolly are wearing leotards and tutus.”
“Yeah?” Nathan said. How do you get a woman out of leotard? “Will you ask Missy to tell Townshend to pick me up here?”
By the time Harris and Luke left the diner with their kids, the crowd had thinned out quite a bit.
Lou Anne sauntered over to his table. “Are you staying the night with me?”
“Townshend’s picking me up.”
Lou Anne smiled. “How’s that going?”
Good question. Who the hell knew? There were still parts he chose not to think about.
“Fine. We’re having fun.”
“Good. I like to see you happy.” Lou Anne started to walk away.
“Lou Anne?” Nathan called her back.
“What, honey?”
He hesitated. And she gave him a little encouraging nod.
“Why didn’t you and my dad get back together? After Arianna left, I mean.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s complicated.”
“I’m smart. Give me a try.”
She dropped into the chair beside him. “He never asked, though I think he wanted to. I think he was too ashamed. I think he thought I would never forgive him. And I never told him any different.”
“What he did was pretty bad — cheating on you with Arianna and not telling you until he found out she was pregnant.”
“Oh, Lord, Nathan.” Lou Anne closed her eyes and shook her head before looking at him again. “We were kids. He’d just won a state championship. I wasn’t at the game because I was sick. She was from the other school. I’m sure he thought he’d never see her again. But you need to remember your daddy was a good man and a good father.”
“I know that.” And he did. It just all got tangled up sometimes. “I’m sure he regretted it.”
Lou Anne gave him a long look. “He regretted cheating on me, not getting to go to college, not getting to play college ball. But you remember this, Nathan. There was one thing Richard Scott never ever regretted for one instant, not even when he was nineteen, trying to raise a baby Not even when his mother died when you were four and he had no help. That was having you.”
“So you did forgive him?”
She paused and looked toward the ceiling. “Yes. I did. And I’m glad we made a friendship of sorts. I wish I had done it when it might have counted for more.”
He wanted to ask her how to find forgiveness, but the bell on the diner door rang and Lou Anne looked toward the entrance.
“There’s your girl,” she said.
Townshend walked toward him with her pink clad legs showing beneath the hem of her raincoat. The tutu caused the coat to stick out a little and he could see some of that net stuff spilling out. Her hair was slicked back and her face was a study in cool composure — until he rose and met her eyes. A radiant smile bloomed on her face. Then she dropped her eyes and blushed, like she was embarrassed to be caught wearing her feelings for the world to see.
Everything flew out of his head — except how classy she looked and how sweet it was going to be to peel that leotard off her.
Chapter Thirteen
The score was 38-10 with most of a quarter to go. The win was safe, but not the perfection. A failed point after and failure to convert on third down twice. Sloppy, and they couldn’t afford sloppy next week for the Homecoming game against Samson High. Couldn’t afford it now, even with the assured win. That was the trouble. If you start thinking you can afford sloppy, it becomes a way of life.
At least there hadn’t been any bad snaps tonight. Yet. Ah, another good one. Not perfect, but the ball was in Kirby’s hands, with him step, step, stepping back, ball over shoulder, ready to release — Damn it all to hell! What was that O line thinking? About what they were going eat and who they were going to try to screw later? A hole the size of Montana opened up. There would be no ball release because Kirby was at the bottom of a pile — sacked for an eight yard loss. Nathan threw his clipboard against the fence. Might as well not even have a plan.
Slowly, the pile broke apart and Kirby popped up, unhurt. Nathan had mastered his fear of the bottom of the pile long ago, but it was still a relief to see his boys on their feet. But wait. Kirby was looking at his left hand and flexing his wrist, though he didn’t signal for timeout.
Nathan called timeout. He wanted a look at Kirby’s hand and it was time for a substitution anyway. He probably should have put Keith Grayson in at the beginning of the quarter, but he was still steamed at Daryl Grayson’s attempted coercion and could not appear to succumb to outside pressure. Still, it was time. Past time.
He motioned for Grayson as Kirby ran off the field.
“Let me see that hand.”
“It’s my wrist. And it’s just a little bruised.”
“Yeah?” Nathan moved Kirby’s hand and felt the bones. “Well, I’m sending Grayson in. You go see the trainer and get some ice. Then, I want you to get yourself a headset.” Nathan spoke into his mouthpiece to the offensive coordinator in the booth. “Jim. Seven’s out. What you say we let him consult on a little play calling? See what he can do with it?”
“Really?” Kirby’s eyes grew wide, excited. This was a level of trust Nathan didn’t toss around lightly and Kirby knew it.
“Get that wrist looked at.” Nathan turned to Grayson. “Okay. Seven’s going to signal you. Do what he says.”
It was all Nathan could do to keep his mouth shut as he listened to Jim and Kirby confer and call the plays. Grayson was doing fine. Hand off and up the middle for a first down. Good. Screen pass for another eight yards. A running sweep for seven more yards got them another first down into the red zone.
Okay. They had this. In another few plays, the defense would go in — one way or the other. Time to make substitutions there too and give these second stringers some game experience. Nathan shoved the headset around his neck and motioned for the defense. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kirby signal end around.
But what? No. It couldn’t be. They weren’t lined up right. Ball snapped and Grayson dropped back for a long pass.
Not the play called. The ball arced perfectly and the wide receiver, Jerry Maddox, ran into the end zone, leapt, and snatched the ball out of the air.
Touchdown. The crowd went wild and the roar of anger in Nathan’s head matched them decibel for decibel. The offense ran to the sideline as the kicking team ran on. Kirby turned to watch, his mouth agape as Grayson approached Nathan. Clearly, Daryl had pumped his son up by telling him there was an LSU scout in the stands and instructed him to make the most of his opportunities.
Grayson, undoubtedly expecting accolades, flashed Nathan a cocky proud smile.
“Shed your pads and get your helmet off. You’re done.”
Grayson’s expression turned to shock and then dismay. “But, Coach, did you see what I did?”
“I saw what this team did in spite of your ego.”
Nathan knew what Grayson wanted to say and saw him fight it. Grayson wanted to tell him he couldn’t do that.
Kirby stepped toward him. He held out the headset he’d been wearing to Nathan and reached for his helmet. Seven didn’t have to be told Grayson was through. He had known it the second Grayson had ignored t
he called play. Kirby figured he’d have to go back in, bruised wrist or no.
But they weren’t going to do that. Nathan looked around. “Troy!” he roared at the first string junior varsity QB, who had never seen one second of varsity play. “Get in there. Watch Kirby. He’ll tell you what to do. You know the signals.”
“Wha … ?” The kid looked shell shocked.
“You’ll be fine, son. You do it every Tuesday night.”
“Coach!” Grayson said. “He’s in the tenth grade! JV!”
“I’m aware.”
“What if he gets hurt?”
“Not your concern. But I will tell you this. I’ll forfeit this game before I’ll send a man in who doesn’t follow my instructions. Now, don’t talk to me anymore until I talk to you. Get your ass on that bench. I’m not saying it again.”
• • •
The game ended 45-17, but Nathan did not feel like a winner. The locker room was silent now. The team had waited quietly for him to come out of his office and speak to them the way he always did, but the assistant coaches had finally told them to go and then left themselves.
For the first time, he had not made an after game speech. He knew what to say if his team played well and won, or if they played well and lost anyway. He knew what say if they played lousy, win or lose. He could address it if there was dirty calling, bad weather, or if they won or lost by one point in the last play of the game. He’d seen it all — except for a player who defied him. And it would be easy if Grayson was a bad kid. He’d kick him off the team and be glad to see him go.
But he wasn’t. He was just a boy hungry for his father’s approval, something Nathan had never had to worry about. Sure, Richard Scott had been proud of his son’s athletic ability, but he would have been proud if Nathan had excelled only at tic tac toe. He’d always made sure Nathan knew it too.
And that team had deserved to hear from him tonight — the good and the bad — but he’d sent them away empty. He could tell them in the morning, but it wouldn’t make it up to them. There was no such thing as making up anything ever. When the moment passed, it was over. Done.
The field house door opened and dread spread over him. He didn’t want to see anyone right now. It would probably be Jim Leland or one of the other assistant coaches.
But the footsteps were light and a sleek blond head appeared through the door.
“Hey, Coach.” And she gave him that smile that he hoped she never gave anyone else. It promised too many things.
He swiveled his chair around to face her. “You haven’t been standing out there all this time, have you?”
“Maybe.” She took a step toward him. She was wearing gray wool pants and a soft looking white coat. The neck of that Bobcat blue team mom shirt brushed her collarbones and her cheeks were pink from the cold.
“Sorry,” he said.
She cupped his cheek. “Rough night?”
“Yeah. Do you know what happened?”
“Enough.” She nodded. “Between Harris’s explanation and what I saw, I would say that you did what you had to do — like you always do.”
“No other clear way.” Her hand felt so good on his cheek — cool and smooth. “You’re cold. You should go home and get warm. I am not fit company.”
“No,” she said and she slid her glorious little rump into his lap and put her arms around his neck. “I am betting you haven’t had anything to eat today since you had breakfast with the team.”
“I have too,” he countered.
“What?” She gave him a brief kiss. “A milk shake and an Almond Joy?”
“It was a Snickers. Peanuts for protein.” She bent her forehead to his. He still wasn’t happy — not even on the same continent with happy, but she was here and that was something.
“Uh huh.” She kissed his jawbone. “I’ll tell you what is going to happen. You are going to go have some peace and quiet with your friends, along with a drink and a real meal.”
“There will be no peace and quiet at Applebee’s,” he said. The entire town descended there after every home game and he always went, Townshend with him lately. But a lot of people wanted his blood right now for taking Grayson out after that showboat pass, though most of them didn’t even know it was showboat. Not that he cared what they thought. He was just in no mood to have to head off a scene.
“There will be peace and quiet at the country club,” Townshend said and buried her sweet little face in his neck. His stomach turned over. That got him every time. She squirmed a little in his lap. Dear God. “The only people there besides us will be the five who do not care about football. Missy called. They are saving us that big booth in the bar. The others have gone ahead.”
His stomach growled and he could almost taste the bourbon. Everyone at that table would understand what had happened. Still …
“I don’t know. Like I said, I’m not fit company.”
“You are fit enough for me.” She leered at him, as best she knew how, which wasn’t saying much. Still, it warmed him. She smoothed his hair back. “And then — “ she kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other “ — then, you are going to go home with me, where I am going to love you seven ways ’til Sunday. Or Saturday, as it were. Until it’s time to clean the stadium and watch game film.”
“What?” All night with Townshend? Waking up with her? “But Kirby — ”
“Is spending the night with Marcus Bowman.”
She got up from his lap and held out her hand.
What the hell? He might find just a little edge of heaven.
• • •
There were more people in the Merritt Country Club bar than Tolly would have supposed — maybe twenty in all. But a quick survey told her that it wasn’t likely that anyone here would try to approach Nathan to talk football. At least she hoped not. She was going to take care of him tonight, starting with his straight bourbon that was already on the table waiting for him. Someone had ordered her a glass of wine.
As Tolly and Nathan approached, Harris, who was sitting on the outside of the circular booth, sprang to his feet, like their grandmother had taught him.
“Good game, Coach,” he said as Tolly slid in beside Lucy and Nathan dropped down beside her.
“Thanks,” Nathan said and took a sip of his bourbon. “And thanks for the drink.”
“Just following Tolly’s instructions.” Harris reclaimed his place by Missy.
“To another Bobcat victory.” Missy raised her margarita glass. Beer mugs, wine glasses, and double old fashions met together with the clink of cheap glass on cheap glass. Missy and Lanie’s drinks would be virgins. Missy would never drink while pregnant but she liked to pretend to be a rebel in public. Apparently Lanie had gotten on the pretend bad girl bandwagon tonight.
“Always the cheerleader,” Nathan said.
“It’s a birthright.” Missy laid her had on her stomach. “Hear that, Baby Girl?”
“Great,” Harris said. “That’s all I need. A daughter who looks like her mama in a cheerleader uniform. I’ll never live through it.”
“The sins of the father,” Tolly said. Harris groaned and everyone, including Nathan, laughed. Good. He was loosening up. Relaxing.
“I’m glad we’re having a boy,” Luke said.
“Like you have dodged that bullet,” Harris said. “Emma will be a teenager before you know it.”
“Maybe we can find us a good convent,” Luke said. “Preferably on an island.”
The waiter arrived with a huge platter of nachos and a double order of artichoke dip.
“Not sure we need to order dinner, with all this,” Lucy said.
“Speak for yourself,” Lanie said and they placed their orders.
“So, who’s ready for Homecoming week?” Missy asked.
“I am
meeting Aunt Annelle at the shop to decorate when we are done here,” Lucy said.
“I should be over there with my crew now,” Lanie said. “But my plans were vetoed.”
“You need to eat and rest,” Luke said. “And no climbing.”
“How about you, Nathan?” Lucy asked.
“I hate Homecoming. Parades. Prayer meetings, meals — it all distracts my team.”
“Don’t forget float building,” Tolly said.
“Ought to be outlawed,” Nathan said. “I told them to go ahead and work on the floats, but they need to leave for home at nine o’clock. I want them in bed by ten every night this week.”
“They won’t go to bed,” Missy said. “That’s when the yard rolling starts.”
“If they want to do any yard rolling, they had better get it done on their own time, which does not include when I have directed them to be home. I might have to put in some surprise visits at the float building sites.”
This conversation was getting dangerously close to the obedience of Nathan’s team. Tolly cocked her head to the side and met Harris’s eyes. He flicked his eyelids to indicate that he got it.
“I guess you’ve got a full week, don’t you, brat?” Harris said to Tolly.
Subject changed. “Snacks for float building Monday and Wednesday. Chaperoning float building Tuesday night. Chaperoning the dance after the game. Oh, and I am supposed to serve at the athletic alumni dinner Wednesday night.”
There was a moment of silence and the whole table burst out laughing.
“What?” Tolly asked. “What are you laughing at?”
Nathan, put his arm around her and pulled her to him. “You are going to wait tables? Oh, sweetheart!” He closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling all the while.
Oh. Her breath caught. He’d never called her sweetheart before, or any term of endearment. And he looked so happy. Surely, this was one of life’s sweetest moments.
She tried to look indignant at having her table waiting skills questioned and opened her mouth to say something sarcastic and funny.
But everything stopped.
Scrimmage Gone South (Crimson Romance) Page 12