Fourth and Long

by Michele M. Rakes

  “Yeah?”

  “Coach, it’s Irus.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got some trouble here.”

  “Where’s here?”

  “Jackson’s house.”

  He’s quiet. Some interference with the line, and then he’s back. “How bad is it?”

  “Well, it’s not good.”

  “Coach Bryant and I are on our way with Doc. We were just talking about him. Is he physically okay?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know where he is at the moment. He went native on me.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “He’s a woodsman. He’s gone somewhere into the wilds! Who the fuck knows. Just help me out here.”

  “Hang tight, we’re on our way.”

  Lord, please let me be doing the right thing here.

  * * * *

  Jacks still isn’t back when the cavalry arrives. Assistant Coach Daily and Doc come through the door, soaking wet and shaking out their coats.

  “Where’s Coach Bryant?”

  “He’s on the phone, talking to Coach Paul,” says Doc.

  I must’ve turned white or something because Coach Daily’s eyes get real big.

  “Irus? What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t bring that man here.” I run out into the rain, slipping in the mud as I reach the car door. Coach Bryant rolls the window down. Rain spatters his face as he squints up at me.

  “Coach,” I whisper. “Don’t tell him anything, please. I’ll explain inside.”

  “Listen, Paul, I have to go, but I’ll keep you informed. You know how Doc gets over these concussions. Yeah, Jackson has a hard head. I’m sure he’ll be fine and back with you in practice soon. Okay. Bye.”

  Coach Bryant rolls the window up and steps out of the car. “Well, let’s get inside so you can spill your guts.”

  Inside, I lead everyone to the living room, where I’ve managed to keep the fire going so it’ll be warm for Jacks when he comes back.

  Assistant Coach Daily looks around the house. “This is nice. Remote, but nice.”

  “Where’s Jackson?” Doc asks.

  “He ran away. Into the woods.”

  “Why?”

  The sliding door into the kitchen opens before I can say anything. Jacks comes into the living room. He’s soaked to the bone. The T-shirt he wears is torn and blood tinges the stark material. Scratches litter his arms, and the tears in his faded jeans are tattered around the edges. Blond hair mats to his wet skin. Everything about Jacks looks frayed, all the way down to the look in his eyes. He doesn’t even notice the guys on the couch.

  Jesus Christ. I’m so relieved to see him. Without any hesitation, I scoop him up, holding him as he starts to cry, lurching to the floor with him in my arms. He’s exhausted, breathing heavy as he sobs, and it breaks my heart. I look up at Coach Bryant.

  “Coach, I’m gay. Jackson’s my lover. I’ll do anything to protect him. You have to know that right now. Anything. Coach Paul did this to Jackson.”

  I shock myself. I never intended to come out to them. Just, seeing Jackson in this state makes me irrational, or maybe confrontational. I’m daring them to say something about us. About me. If we can get that out of the way, maybe we can figure all this shit out and get back to playing football. The only thing Jacks really needs.

  “I know,” Coach Bryant says.

  “You know? I didn’t. How’d you know? I spend more time with the players than you do?” Assistant Coach Daily asks.

  Coach Bryant laughs. “That’s why I’m the head coach and you’re the assistant.”

  Doc kneels next to Jackson and probes the scratches gently. Jacks refuses to look at him. He sits still, though. Doc forces Jacks to face him so he can check his eyes for responsiveness.

  “I’m fine,” Jacks says. “Just tired. Been running.”

  “So I hear,” Doc says. “Why don’t we get you to bed? I think rest and warm blankets will do you some good.”

  I take Jacks upstairs to get him in some warm, dry clothes. He doesn’t want to sleep, so I grab a blanket to snuggle him down with, and we go downstairs to sit on the couch. The coaches and Doc are talking quietly in front of the fire.

  Jacks tucks in next to me, still shivering a little even under the blanket.

  Doc wonders aloud if it’s shock.

  Jacks looks at him, giving him an “are you completely mad” expression. “I’ve been running for hours in the rain. Been doing this since I was a kid. I’ll stop shivering in about an hour.”

  It’s so good to hear Jacks’s mind back up and running, as it were.

  “Son, tell us what’s been going on.” Coach Bryant is gentle but firm.

  “Some people came today asking questions about Coach Paul. They upset me.”

  “I talked to them, as well. I’m sorry, Jackson. I should have told you. The concussion had me worried. I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring it up.”

  “They want me to testify in a grand jury hearing.”

  “We’re working with them too.”

  “We’re?”

  “The organization. Agent Maddox came to us shortly after we hired Paul.”

  “So why is he still here?” I demand.

  “Intel. Keep your enemies close. We’re helping in the investigation.”

  Jacks jumps up. “Don’t you realize he had a little kid with him? He was getting ready to take him into the showers!”

  “I’m sorry, son. I’ve known Paul for a lot of years. I didn’t believe it at first. Now I do.”

  “I didn’t get to play! You knew this wasn’t because of my concussion, and you refused to let me play?”

  “Jackson, I was concerned for you. I didn’t know. I had to protect you.”

  “You’re the goddamn head coach! Your job is to win!”

  “Not at the cost of my players! Not if it means killing them. You had a severe concussion. Your symptoms could have been from swelling in your brain, bleeding, who the fuck knows, and if you think for one minute I’m going to risk you for a win, for money, then you’re insane. I don’t play that game. I know the team you come from does, but I don’t.

  “When Agent Maddox called me today and told me one of my players admitted to being molested by that sick fuck, I knew. I realized you weren’t acting out because of a concussion. You got to understand, Jackson, those are serious allegations that could ruin a good man. I had to be cautious. I had to do what’s right for the team, but I also have to do what’s right for you. I agreed to allow the investigators into the organization.”

  “You what? No. No, I’m not testifying. I can’t tell—what will people say? Whenever they see me? Oh, that’s the gay guy who slept with his coach!”

  “You were molested—”

  “I fucked him all through college! What about this aren’t you people getting? I’m a whore! I’ve always been a football whore.”

  Coach Bryant crosses the room and knocks Jacks on his ass, back onto the couch. I jump up, putting my hand on Coach’s chest. He looks at me and back to Jacks. The emotion in his face can’t be defined.

  “I let that man babysit my kids. My sons. There’s no way I’d let either of them call themselves a whore because of that bastard. I’m not going to let you do it either.”

  God, I don’t know how much longer I can hold it together. The pain in Coach Bryant’s voice mirrors Jackson’s. I glance at Assistant Coach Daily. His face says it all. He has a small boy. Jacks is going to be safe with these men.

  “What’re we gonna do?” I ask Coach Bryant.

  “We’re gonna burn him down. Call a meeting with the receivers and Mal. Daily, make sure you organize it away from the facility. I don’t want Paul getting wind of this. And bring the playbook. Jackson’s got to get ready for the upcoming game against the Tigers. I don’t want Paul having anything to do with Jacks getting ready.”

  “I haven’t signed off—”

  Doc gets cut off by Coach Bryant. “You will. Right now. Seems
to me anyone who can run for nearly eight hours should be able to handle four fifteen-minute quarters.”

  Jacks stands up and smiles. “I’m gonna play?”

  “Damn straight you’re gonna play, but we’ve got a few tricks up our sleeve where you’re concerned.”

  “Trick plays?”

  “Special plays.”

  Jackson’s excitement is short-lived, squashed by Coach Bryant.

  “You’re going to testify, Jackson.” Bryant doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

  “Sir?”

  “I don’t believe in keeping the truth secret. This man hurts children. You’re going to do what is right, son.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Highlanders’ Athletic Facility

  Jackson McCoy

  It’s a beautiful day. I’m enjoying practice. Coach Bryant encourages me to keep cool with Paul, but when I see him come across the field with the kid, Kiernan, in tow, I lose my shit. I send Haines to intercept them and take the kid to meet some of the other players.

  “Come here,” I demand. Paul follows me into the building. I can hear Assistant Coach Daily hollering at me. Once we’re inside, I yank Paul into one of the offices.

  “He reminds me of you at that age.” Paul says. “You were prettier. Looked just like your mother.”

  “Don’t reminisce, Paul.”

  His hands rest on my shoulders. Shit. We’re alone. The door’s shut. Paul reaches behind him to turn the deadbolt. My skin’s on fire. Nerves send waves of fear through me. A familiar feeling with Paul. Always with his hands on my shoulders. Adrenaline kicks in, and I jerk from his grasp.

  “Back the fuck off.”

  He drops his hands to his hips, taking that disappointed father pose he used when I would refuse to cooperate. Fuck him. “What’s with you bringing the kid? You promised me, when you retired, you’d stay out of the charity shit.”

  “I know. I even backed out gracefully like you wanted, but son, a man needs certain things in life.” He moves closer to me as he speaks, backing me against the wall. “I can’t go without satisfying my needs. Unless you’re willing to help me out here.”

  How does he always do this to me? “Why should I help you?”

  “Think of it as helping Kiernan. The boy needs a mentor. His mother is ill. The boy’s father was killed in action. He’s a good kid.”

  “Yeah, and he deserves better, Paul. Don’t bring him around again. I see you with another kid, I’m going to Coach Bryant.” I turn to leave, twisting the lock to escape from having to deal with Paul any longer than necessary.

  Paul slams the door shut just as I pull it open. His big body traps me. The flush of memory floods my skin. The size of him alone fuels the heat in my body. Not desire, but fear and anger. The frightening thing is the small part of the lust I felt with Branson springs from this man’s touch. The thought kicks up my fear, and without warning, I’m eleven again. Paul’s hands wander down to my hips, and he squeezes me tightly. “You won’t say a word, little Jackie. How many scandals do you think you can survive?”

  He spins me around, latching on to my lips, stuffing his disgusting old-man tongue into my mouth. I bite him.

  “Ow, fuck! Jackie, what’d you do that for, huh?”

  “Don’t fucking touch me, you hear? I’ll kill you. Leave the kid alone. No more charity work. No more kids.” My voice wavers, escalating in pitch until I feel like I’m losing the battle for control. I’m two seconds away from gloating about him going to prison. About testifying against him. I shove him away from me.

  “I help these boys. They need someone like me in their lives. Look where you’re at now because of me. I’m the reason you have all this, a career, something to lose.”

  Is he threatening me? “Whatever, Paul. Keep lying to yourself, man.”

  Paul whispers in my ear. Fear skitters down my spine. “You owe me, Jackie. You’re bought and paid for. I didn’t invest all that money in your future for nothing, son.”

  “I’ve already overpaid you, fucker.”

  “Not hardly. In fact,” he breathes in my ear, “I think we should start thinking about some restitution for all my hard work. Your mouth still works, right?”

  When his hand cups my balls, I’m out the door, running away like always. I can hear him laughing.

  * * * *

  A Few Weeks Later

  “Paul’s pissing me off,” I scream at Assistant Coach Daily. “Where’s Maddox? Every day they say the arrest is going to happen. What the fuck?”

  “Paul Phelps is a highly respected individual. He has friends in a lot of places.”

  “No shit.” In the back of my mind, I know I shouldn’t take this out on Daily, but I’m a centimeter shy of snapping. “He wanted me to top him off! Implied he’d leave Kiernan alone.”

  “You don’t think he knows, do you?” Irus asks.

  Daily shrugs. “He might. Has he been acting any different toward you, McCoy?”

  “Not in front of the guys, but—”

  “What?”

  “Besides the obvious, I catch him staring at me sometimes. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid. I want to talk to Maddox.”

  “I’ll give him a call, but you know what he said. We have to be patient.”

  “This isn’t working out the way they promised. Can’t we just fire him?”

  Daily leans back, throwing his arms in the air. “What grounds? We asked him to come out of retirement, for chrissakes.” He pushes from the chair, pacing back and forth, making me nervous. “It was so perfect getting the guy who trained you. We thought we were doing the right thing.”

  The guilt in his voice hurts. “Come on, man. You didn’t know.”

  “How does someone like him get away with it for so long?”

  “By being the greatest guy on earth. He’s everyone’s best friend,” I say.

  “He offered to babysit for me tonight. Overheard me talking about taking my son with us on our anniversary dinner. I told him no. We like taking the little guy with us. He’s so much fun. I don’t get how someone can look at those big blue eyes and hurt him.”

  Irus takes my arm. “Come on, let’s go home.” He turns to Daily. “Tell Maddox to call us tonight. This shit’s gone on long enough. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and we’ll be out of town.”

  “We will?” News to me.

  “Yeah, we’re going to New York. My auntie invited us.”

  New York. To visit the ex. Wow.

  “Come on, wipe that look off your face. It’ll be fun.”

  * * * *

  The soapy plate slips from my hands and shatters in the sink. I can’t believe how angry I am. It’s not like Irus has done anything wrong. “I just think you should’ve run it past me first.”

  “It was a surprise. A gift. Damn it, you need a break from all this shit!”

  “A break with the fucking love of your life? Oh yeah, that’s a real fucking gift. I don’t like surprises. You know that, Irus. How can you be so fucking stupid?”

  “Stupid? You think I’m stupid? Graduated four point two from Tulane. Son, I use little words around you for a reason.”

  My laugh erupts sharp and unhindered. “Really? Is this in between your ghetto speak?”

  “Listen here, my brotha.” He comes around the counter to take the next plate out of my hand.

  “My brotha? Really?”

  I’m losing this battle. His predatory grin weakens my resolve. There’s no resisting him when he turns on the charm. His arms encircle me easily.

  “Kane’s married. We’re best friends. Nothing more. Are you seriously jealous?”

  “No, I just don’t like surprises.”

  “All right, I can dig it.”

  “Can you? You can dig it?”

  “Yeah, my brotha.”

  I shove him away. He laughs loud and obnoxious as he smacks my ass. Irus sobers when my phone rings.

  “You want me to answer it?” he asks.


  “No, I got it,” I say as I dry my hands. “Yeah, hello?”

  An unfamiliar female voice says softly, “Mr. McCoy?”

  “This is he,” I say.

  “My name’s Elaine. I’m Jared’s new social worker. Remember, we met at this year’s football camp. Have you seen or heard from him?”

  Oh shit, no. “What’s happened?”

  Irus is trying to get me to tell him what’s going on, but I can only listen to one person at a goddamn time.

  “He’s run away. His mother’s in—”

  “Treatment—you can say it. Let me guess, Daddy’s back in jail?”

  “We tried to place Jared in a good home, but he took off. He doesn’t trust anyone but you, Mr. McCoy. Police are looking for him, but he’s quite attached to you. My gut tells me he’ll try for your place. Will you let me know if he does?”

  “Yeah, sure. Find him, please.”

  “We will. Thank you for your time.”

  Gently I set my phone on the counter. I don’t need to break anything else tonight. God, I don’t know what to do. Should I go looking for him? Drag Irus into the city to search for one of my kids? Would he do it? Take on that responsibility with me?

  “Damn it, boy. Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  “Jared’s run away.”

  “Jared? Oh, wait, the kid with the foul mouth and cigarette habit.” A loud crash on the patio makes Irus jump. “I hate those raccoons. I don’t know why you insist on feeding them the scraps.”

  A shadow darts across the yard and I run to the door, flipping on the floodlights. “That’s a damn big raccoon.”

  “What? Is it a bear?” Irus joins me at the slider.

  “No, just a city rat.” I open the door. “Get your ass in here, Jared.”

  * * * *

  “What’re you thinking?” The kid’s soaked. It’s been raining for probably an hour now. Irus went upstairs to get some of my sweats.

  Jared shrugs. He lights up a cigarette.

  “Come on, you’re not that stupid.” I yank the disgusting thing from his lips and stuff it down the disposal. “Not in my house. Defile the outside with your cancer-causing pollution.”