by Claire Adams
I shook my head. It still pissed me off to think about it. “Do you really think those rumors about Coach Edwards are true?”
“Are you kidding?” she replied. “They have to be. Why else would you have been a benchwarmer the last two seasons when you're clearly one of the best players – if not the best player – on the team?”
I blushed, a bit embarrassed by Leena's praise. “C'mon, I'm not the best player on the team.”
“Like hell you're not! Quit being so modest. I mean seriously, you are here on a volleyball scholarship. That makes it even more criminal that you haven't been part of the starting lineup!”
“It does look like that might change now, though,” I replied with a smile.
“Yes, it does! Things seem to be changing for sure.”
I was about to respond when I heard my phone ringing in my gym bag. “Hold that thought, Lee, let me see who this is.”
I reached into my bag and grabbed my phone. When I looked at the screen, I shook my head as a flood of emotions rushed through me, none of them good.
When Leena saw my expression change, she glanced down at the screen and quickly snatched the phone away from me before I could answer it; she rejected the call, sending it straight to voicemail.
“Tim is a grade-A asshat,” she said, shaking her head. “I can't believe that cheating douche is still trying to call you.”
“I wasn't gonna talk him,” I replied.
“Good. He doesn't deserve a single second of your time. He already wasted two semesters of it with his lies and cheating. Why is he trying to call you and message you all the time, anyway? I mean, it only started up around a week ago, right?”
“He broke up with Ma-”
“'The Whore,' Eryn, 'The Whore,'” Leena interrupted me. “I thought we'd agreed on calling her by her correct name, ‘cause that's what she is.”
“Well, whatever you wanna call her, they broke up. She dumped him-”
“Oh, and now he thinks he can just waltz right back into your life, huh? Hell, no. HELL to the no.”
“Don't worry, Lee. Like I said, I'm not gonna talk to him. It's over, and it's been over for a long time.”
“I hope so, Eryn. You know how much of a jerk he is. Even if you did love him, don’t forget how he had you fooled for so long. And, don't let your heart deceive your head – it was lies, not love, even if you really want to believe otherwise.”
“I know, I know.” We walked in silence until we reached the showers.
“All right, let's get cleaned up. Then how about grabbing a bite to eat afterward?” Leena asked.
“Not tonight, Lee,” I replied. “I'm going to stay at my mom's place for the night and make her dinner and then breakfast in the morning. That asshole store manager has her working double shifts this week.”
“Ugh, that's terrible. She really should be taking things a little easier at her age.”
“I know, Lee, believe me, I know – but it's tough for her being on her own. Times are hard, and there are bills to pay. My sister helps out when she can, but she's all the way across the country now and has a family of her own to provide for. Mom made a lot of sacrifices for my sister and me, and I gotta do what I can to help her out.”
“I understand. Well, maybe we can get coffee tomorrow morning if you've got a gap between lectures?”
“I do. We can do that. C'mon now, let's get showered up and then we'll make plans for tomorrow.”
*****
I got out of the taxi and looked up at the front of the familiar building — the one I'd grown up in. It had never been a particularly attractive building, but these days, it was looking shabbier than ever. The plaster was cracked and stained around the corners, but the graffiti on the ground level at least attempted to mask it a bit.
My senses rose to full alert the moment I stepped out of the taxi; this had never been a great neighborhood, and it had gotten worse over the years. My first priority when I graduated college and started making a salary was going to be to get my mother out of this area.
I darted up to the entrance of the building and buzzed myself in, then bounded up the familiar flight of stairs until I reached my mom's door. Beyond it was the small, two-bedroom home where my sister and I had grown up, raised by a single mom after our dad walked out on us. I didn’t remember much about him; I'd been a toddler when he left.
I slid my key in the lock, opened the door, and walked in to the sound of the TV blaring. I saw my mom in front of it on the sofa, still dressed in her work uniform from the supermarket.
“Hi, Ma,” I called out. There was no reply. “Ma, did you hear me?” I moved a little closer and saw that her eyes were closed; her thin chest was rising up and down in a slow, gentle rhythm.
I sighed, feeling a stab of pain tear through my chest. “You really are killing yourself. I promise you that it's not always gonna be like this. Somehow, I'm gonna get you out of this cycle. You've spent too long now working yourself to the bone just to scrape by. I don't know how yet, but somehow I'm going to get you out of this situation,” I whispered and leaned down, pulling a blanket up over her sleeping form before gently placing a kiss on her forehead.
I tiptoed away, so as not to wake her from a nap she no doubt needed after a 12-hour shift, and headed into the kitchen to quietly prepare dinner.
Life was going to change for us. It had to. I had to make sure of that.
Chapter Two
Wade
I sipped slowly on my beer, relishing every mouthful of the crisp, amber liquid. In the background, over the buzz of conversation and laughter in the bar, the Beach Boys’ “Kokomo” was playing. I let out a soft chuckle as the chorus echoed through the bar. It was appropriate, wasn't it? A perfect tune for my first night back in Florida.
My miserable, lonely, first night back in Florida.
I'd moved across the entire country to get away from the mess my life had become in Los Angeles. And boy, what a mess it was.
It almost seemed like some strange dream I was only beginning to wake up from. How had all of that stuff happened? How had I gone from winning Olympic gold and having a promising career ahead of me – hell, my whole life ahead of me – to becoming involved in…well, a shame spiral of bad decisions and worse relationships.
It had almost destroyed me.
Almost.
But I'd realized what was happening in time to save myself. Call it an epiphany, if you would. And, it had taken ending my relationship with Georgia Jackson for it to happen.
I'd lost myself, I'd lost everything about myself that was truly me. All for the sake of her — a woman every man on the planet would likely give his left nut to be with for just one night. But fantasizing about a Hollywood A-list actress and actually dating one were two different things entirely, and I’d found that out the hard way. Life was not all glitz and glamour, and those people were, believe it or not, just normal people like everyone else beneath all of the hype.
They had their flaws, too, as much as we can't or don't want to believe it. I mean, hell, for the longest time, I didn't want to believe it, either. And that forced ignorance on my part had not only blinded me to the type of person Georgia really was, but it had also almost killed me.
“Would you like another beer, sir?” a gentle, female voice asked from behind me.
I turned around and saw the young waitress who had brought me a beer earlier waiting with an expectant look on her face.
“Yeah, I’ll take another Bud Light, please.”
She smiled, nodded, and hurried off behind the bar to grab another bottle.
I smiled, too. I could only assume the tabloids and press weren't as active, or at least as widely read, over on the East Coast as they were on the West. So far, nobody in Tallahassee had recognized me. If they had, they hadn't said anything to my face, at least.
I was counting that as a win. I had no desire to talk about all the rumors, all the gossip, and all the controversy and allegations surrounding this and that.
That was my old life, the trap I'd been pulled into, and it was a trap I'd managed to escape.
Well, I hope I had escaped it. I mean, hell, I packed up everything – my whole damn life to be precise – and left to come here with the hope of starting fresh and living a normal life dedicated to my passion: volleyball.
It was weird being back in Tallahassee. I hadn't been back since graduation. I'd left immediately and gone straight to the West Coast to play professionally. Most of my friends from my college days had moved elsewhere as well except one: John Robinson. He was why I was even at the bar; I was waiting for him, and he was supposed to have arrived half an hour ago.
I chuckled when I thought about that; he hadn't changed much in that regard. As the waitress arrived with my second beer, I saw John hurry through the door, looking flustered.
“Sorry to send you running again, but can you bring me another beer for my friend there?” I asked before she left.
“Sure thing,” she replied with a smile.
I watched John make his way toward me. He'd put on a bit of weight since our college days, but was still looking fairly youthful for a 32-year-old. He saw me almost instantly, and a big grin appeared on his face as he rushed over. I stood to greet him and we gave each other a big hug and then chuckled as we sat down together.
“Jesus H. Christ!” he exclaimed. “You look fantastic, Wade. Just great, man! You been working out?”
“Working out like crazy, man. I don't think I've missed a day at the gym over the last six months. It's one of the only things that's kept me sane.”
“I don't think I've set foot in a gym once in the last six months!” he countered, letting out a loud belly laugh which I couldn't help laughing along with. He patted his stomach and grinned. “And my lack of effort shows, doesn't it?”
I chuckled. “I'm gonna make it my personal mission to get you back in shape, Johnny boy. You're gonna have a six pack in a few months, just like back in our college days. I’ll be your personal coach.”
“I'd rather have a six pack of this,” he said, taking the beer from the waitress as she came back.
“All right, all right,” I laughed.
“Speaking of coaching, isn’t your first day tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How are you feelin' about that?”
“Well, I mean, it's what I do best, but I can't help being a little nervous about meeting a new team. Especially when I've got a professional reputation to uphold and a personal one to live down. Then, you throw in the pressure from all the expectations Florida State has of me. They're really expecting me to take this team to the top.”
“You will, Wade. C'mon, you're a great coach. One of the best in the country. There ain't nothing to be nervous about.”
“Yeah, I know. But enough about me; how are you? How's the university's IT department?”
“As exciting as it sounds,” he replied. “But hey, it's a great job, and computers have always been my thing.”
“You were a great volleyball player, too, you know,” I reminded him.
“I had a few skills, I guess, but I never had the passion for it like you did. That's why you went pro, and me? Well, I kinda gave it up.”
“You ever regret that? I mean, not trying to go pro.”
“No, I just wasn't good enough. And, I really do feel fulfilled working with computers. I love what I do.”
“I’m glad you do. C'mon, drink up, buddy! To you loving your job and to my, well, not-quite-so triumphant return to FSU!”
We both grinned, clinked our bottles together, downed our beers, and spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about our younger days.
*****
I stared into the mirror on the wall of my new office. Staring back at me was the reflection of a man who was both broken and repaired at the same time.
Physically, I looked good, better than I had in years. Like I'd told John the night before, I'd been hitting the gym regularly and hard. I'd inherited good genes from my parents, as well – a strong jawline and thick, dark hair from my dad, and my mom's piercing green eyes and smooth, youthful skin. I’ve always known how lucky I was to have been gifted with good looks, but also cursed, in a way.
The part-time modeling I'd done after being noticed in the Olympics was what had gotten me into those Hollywood parties and that circle of people. It was the beginning of my downward spiral and had gotten me into more trouble than it was worth. If I'd been a more average-looking guy, I don’t think any of that would have happened. I'd probably still be coaching at UCLA in blissful obscurity, living a quiet and relaxing life. Maybe I'd even be married with two kids and a dog, a house with a white picket fence, and all of that.
However, that wasn't how things had turned out.
At least I now had the opportunity to have a fresh start. And this time, I wasn't going to let any woman close enough to get my life into a gigantic mess again. No sir, no way – going forward, I was doing things for me, and me only.
I ran my fingers through my hair to settle it into place and then hung my old whistle around my neck – my lucky whistle, the one I'd used when coaching my first team and taking them to the top of the league. I was ready.
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until practice was set to start. I ran over the notes again given to me by Coach Hatting. For a moment, I thought about the days he’d coached me when I'd been on the Florida State University team. He was a great coach and knew the game better than any coach I’d ever had, even the coaches of the Olympic team.
I double-checked the names of the players Coach Hatting noted I needed to be paying attention to. Some names were underlined in green, some in red, some in blue. The red ones were bad apples – players who either had bad attitudes or were lazy. The green ones were players who, under the old coach, had been unfairly overlooked despite having real talent.
The blue ones were different altogether. They were connected with the scandal in which the former coach had been involved. The school had managed to keep it pretty hush-hush, but Coach Hatting had informed me that the former coach had taken bribes from these players’ parents to put them in the starting lineup. Now it was up to me to evaluate them and see if they actually had any talent, or if they were starters simply because their parents had paid for the position.
I took a deep breath. It was such a mess to clean up. Coach Hatting had tried, but he was only there for a few short weeks. It was up to me to sort everything out. I folded the list and put it in my pocket before heading over to the indoor court where the practice was to be held.
As I arrived, the girls were all busy warming up, chatting and laughing as they did, but when they saw me, a hush quickly fell over the court. I tried to tamp down the uneasiness as a few of them checked me out. As flattering as it was, it got in the way of being professional, and the last thing I wanted to deal with starting with a new team was a bunch of flirty college kids. I just wanted to do my job as professionally as possible.
I moved my eyes over the crowd and wondered how long it would take to learn all of their names. There were 22 players on the roster. That may not seem like an overwhelming number of names to learn, but when you’re already terrible with names to begin with, it was.
I studied the team for a moment, watching how they interacted and how they moved as they warmed up. They all looked to be in good shape, and most seemed to just be going through the motions. Not that you would expect anything more from a warm-up team.
Then, my eyes reached a player at the edge of the court. Her back was to me, but she stood out. Her form was flawless and her hustle was clearly more intense than the rest of the team. She reminded me of myself. All in, all the time. One hundred percent.
When she turned around, I had to catch my breath. She was stunning. I didn't know if it was her honey-colored eyes or wavy, chestnut hair. But when she smiled at her teammate, she took my breath away all over again.
I'd gotten used to the bleached, fake, surgically-
enhanced, and plastic-pumped “beauty” in Los Angeles, but hers was a natural beauty, classic almost. This girl had your old-fashioned, girl-next-door kind of a look to her – a look I hadn't seen in years.
I jolted myself out of my little trance. Stop it, Wade. I should not have been staring at her, especially since I was the coach and she was a student who was at least a decade, or more, younger than me. I had to remind myself that I was here to do a job, not get caught up in admiring the view.
I cleared my throat as I took a few steps closer to the court and prepared to speak.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” I waited until they had all turned to face me. “As you may have guessed, I'm your new coach, Wade Vinson. You can call me Coach Vinson or Mr. Vinson. I won’t be asking for anything outrageous from you ladies. I’ve been where you are, so I know what should be expected.
“What I will ask for is total commitment out there on the court. If I'm going to take this team to the top, I'm going to need each of you to do everything I tell you, to the absolute letter, without complaining or whining or asking questions. Do you all understand?”
“Yes, Coach Vinson,” came the reply spoke in unison. There were a few giggles, but mostly the girls seemed as serious about this as I was. That was good.
“All right, since today is my first day and I don't know any of you, I just want you each to introduce yourselves to me. Let’s all go over to the bleachers, and you can each take a turn to stand up, tell me your name and where you're from, and what you're majoring in here at Florida State. After that, we'll play a few games so I can see you in action and see who's really got what it takes to be in the starting lineup. So go on, get a move on.”
The girls did as I said and sat in two neat rows on the bottom bleachers. I guessed Coach Hatting had whipped them into shape over the past few weeks; I was grateful he had at least taken care of one issue for me.
I quickly took out the list of names and scanned over it, making sure I wouldn't miss the players Coach Hatting pointed out – for both good and bad reasons.