“That’s nice.”
There’s a small pause before she speaks again. “Nick, I’m so sorry about last night,” Grace apologizes for the second time since I called.
“Stop worrying about it. I understand.”
“The street fair slipped my mind. By the time I remembered, it was too late to cancel.”
Knowing that she even considered canceling for a phone call from me gives me encouragement. Her words are full of sincerity, which is something else that triggers memories of her.
“How did it go?”
“Okay, I guess. It’s crazy to know my decision is what gets people recognition.”
“You have an eye for art. If I remember correctly, it’s always been your forte.” I think back to how passionate she became two years ago when she described her love of art.
“You remember that? It was so long ago.”
I want to tell her I remember everything about the time we spent together, that I’ve relived our conversations in my head more times than I should admit, but it seems like too much. “It was hard to forget.”
“Well, thank you for understanding. I felt terrible.”
My teammates swarm the area as boarding is announced, and I spot two planes ready for us.
“Hate to do this, but I have to go.”
“Good luck with the game. Logan’s having a game party on Sunday, so I’ll be watching.”
“Pressure’s on then. I need to make sure and perform for the pretty lady watching in Miami.”
Her breath hitches, and I grin as someone yells my name to get going.
“I’ll call you later, Grace. Have a good day.”
“Okay, Nick, have a safe flight.” She hangs up, and I pocket my phone with a smile on my face.
A few guys give me a sideways glance as I get on the plane and take my seat, not talking to anyone. Eddie Jarvis, our number one wide receiver, sits next to me and gives me a quick shoulder bump before putting on his headphones and settling back in his seat. The flight attendant comes through to make sure everyone is buckled in and all overhead bins are secure. She stops at our aisle and asks if there’s anything we need. Both of us shake our head, and she eyes me with disappointment before going to her own seat for take-off.
Once we’re in the air, I grab my iPad and log into the in-flight internet. Usually, I take this time to lock out of general everyday life and mentally prepare for football—getting my head in the game for the upcoming weekend. However, today, I have a mission.
When Mathis left last night, I fought with the decision to try to find out more about Grace and her life. Shaw would be the obvious choice to do some digging, but it feels like a betrayal to ask him to do it.
So I’m going to go the amateur route and see what I come up with.
I start with basic searches in Google by using her name only.
Articles pop up with recent stories highlighting the gallery and events around town. A lot of them refer back to the gallery web page for more information.
I do another search for Grace Monroe + Thomasville Georgia.
The screen loads with tons of articles on the Monroe family in Thomasville with highlights to the name Grace. I start with the most recent.
Holy shit! The Monroes are royalty in the small town of Thomasville. I click on story after story and learn several men in Grace’s family have served as elected officials, most recently her Father, Carl Monroe, who was elected Mayor.
Pictures in the local papers show Grace, Logan, and her parents at several events, and I zoom in as close as possible to see her. She’s smiling in every shot, her beauty shining.
There are a few mentions of her family farm on the outskirts of town, which specializes in peach orchards and pecan trees. There’s a large shot of their home, which appears every bit a sprawling southern mansion, with large columns framing a wrap-around porch on the three-story brick home.
It’s gorgeous, with classic southern style, and I curse myself for not asking her more about herself. Grace Monroe was a popular name in searches, but the Grace Monroe of Thomasville is an encyclopedia of useful knowledge.
The flight attendant returns with two bottles of water for Eddie and me. He takes his with a thanks and lays his head back, closing his eyes again. I reach for mine, and she wraps her hand around my fingers, placing a napkin in my palm.
“I’ll be in Indy for a few days if you’d like to meet up,” she tells me in a seductive whisper, winking.
“Thanks.” I practically snatch the water and let the napkin fall into Eddie’s lap. It lands face up with her number and a large red lipstick kiss. She watches expectantly to see if I’m going to pick it up.
I don’t move, not trying to be rude but having no interest in her number or meeting up with her.
Eddie picks up the napkin and flashes a smile at her. “Sorry, sweet cheeks, he’s off the market, but I’ll gladly take this if you’re looking for a good time.”
Her face flames as she rushes away, and I drop my head to hide my chuckle.
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
“Don’t mention it. You gonna ever get to the good stuff, or are we going to read about this girl’s family the whole flight?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Six, we’ve been in the air for thirty minutes, and no shit, you’ve almost put me to sleep reading about this southern girl’s family. Where’s the good stuff?”
“Once again, what are you talking about?”
“Spotted it the minute you walked into the terminal on the phone. You were talking to a chick, and it wasn’t Bizzy. We all know the Bizzy look. This was different. The second clue was when you boarded and didn’t give that attendant a second glance when she shoved her tits in your face. Then you took out your iPad in stealth mode, searching for information on this girl.”
“I think you may have taken a few too many hits on the field.” I shield the screen, slightly embarrassed that I’ve been caught. “Why the hell are you spying on me?”
“Not spying. It’s common curiosity. So let’s see it. Grace looks like a hot piece. Want to tell me why you’re combing through her history?”
Him calling her a hot piece sends a spark of anger through me, and apparently, I don’t hide it well.
“Calm down, I ain’t going to close in on your girl unless you tell me it’s okay.” His lips twitch, waiting for my response. He’s goading me, which is common among most of the players. Watching the other guys get riled up is usually hilarious, but not now that the tables are turned.
“It’s not okay,” is my only response.
“Who is she, Six?”
I think about lying and blowing him off with a simple explanation, but he’s probably my best friend on the team. We’ve worked in tandem and developed a level of trust from day one. He may give me shit, but he’s always got my back.
“She’s a girl I met in college and recently ran into again.”
“You hittin’ that?”
“Eddie, she’s not player pussy material,” I warn him dryly.
“Obviously. She’s more of the ‘belle of the ball’ type, from what I can tell.”
“We’re done with this conversation.”
“I’m only pulling your chain, man. Chill. Let’s get back to the good stuff. This time, maybe you can angle the screen so I don’t get a crick in my neck trying to read.”
“You’re a nosy motherfucker,” I mumble, typing a few more keywords into the search engine, focusing on two years ago.
Tension fills my body at the top three results. All of them caption a picture of a family dressed all in black, Grace clutching onto Logan tightly, her face buried in his chest. My eyes scan the titles, one immediately catching my eye.
ENTIRE COMMUNITY MOURNS AS KAYLA MONROE IS PUT TO REST IN THE MONROE FAMILY CEMETARY
Yesterday, the town of Thomasville gathered together to pay respect to the Monroe family as they buried their beloved Kayla Rae Monroe in the family cemetery at Monroe Gardens
.
Citizens from all over came to mourn the loss of the incredible woman who touched our town for all of her life. Kayla, or Kayla Rae as her friends called her, was a lifelong resident of Thomasville and the founding member of so many of our beloved town traditions.
Last week, our community was shaken to the core when news of Kayla’s death spread following an automobile accident on State Road 8. According to the local authorities, details of the accident are still under investigation, but they have confirmed the accident did not involve another vehicle.
Kayla was survived by her husband of fifty years, Roy; Son, Carl; Daughter–in-law, Sharon; and grandchildren, Logan and Grace Monroe.
Our thoughts and prayers go out to the family. The Monroe family has been a staple in the community for many generations…
The article goes on, giving details of the family and their legacy in Thomasville. I skim, scrolling down and stopping at a collage of family portraits. My heart stills when my eyes land on pictures of Grace with her grandmother at several community events.
In every shot, they are laughing or smiling with identical smiles.
There’s another small article at the bottom of the page that catches my attention immediately.
Remembering Kayla Rae— from the desk of Grace Rae Monroe
First and foremost, my family and I would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all your heartfelt prayers and kind words during this difficult time. Even in the darkest of hours, the outpouring of support has been a guiding light. We could not have asked for a better community to lift us in these times of sorrow.
As most of you know, Kayla Rae was more than my grandma; she was my inspiration, my cheerleader, and my best friend. From as early as I can remember, she was by my side every step of the way, always supporting every decision I made and encouraging me to follow my dreams. And for that I am grateful.
Referred to as the town Matriarch, Grandma reminded me often of the importance of family, friends, and community. She loved her life here in Thomasville and loved each of you for what you represented of ‘her’ town.
Many of you have reached out to my family with personal memories of Kayla and how she touched your life in some way. Every one of these stories has brought a smile to our faces, and I encourage you to continue to share.
I will not pretend there isn’t a giant void left by Grandma’s death. We are all still reeling with shock and sadness, but we will persevere. Kayla would have it no other way.
With great consideration and thought, I have decided to take a leave from college and stay in order to help my family. My mother, Sharon, and I will be assuming all philanthropic duties to help transition so many of the town’s beloved traditions.
Once again, thank you all for loving Kayla Rae Monroe and helping us heal.
~Grace Monroe
“Fuck, that’s rough,” Eddie hisses beside me, reminding me he’s been reading as well. “Sucks to lose a family member, but looks like she really is small town royalty. Did you see they have a cemetery in their name?”
“Shit.”
“Did you know?”
I shake my head and close the iPad, dropping it in my bag. “Had no idea, but why wouldn’t she tell me her grandma died? We didn’t know each other well, but I’d have been supportive.”
“Reading that tells me so much more than what’s printed in black and white. That story drips monarchy, timeless traditions, and southern obligations. If I had to guess, there’s a smokescreen there, hiding a few real reasons Grace stayed home.”
I think about what he’s said and let the words sink in. Maybe it wasn’t a simple case of losing a grandmother. Maybe he’s on to something. It did seem as if her family had deep roots. But why didn’t she just tell me?
“What’s the deal with this woman? Who is she really?” He lowers his voice.
I glance around to make sure no one’s listening and find most of the guys with their headphones on and heads laid back. Quietly, I explain my brief history with Grace and her reappearance a few days ago. I skip over my endless search after she disappeared, partly trying to keep some semblance of manliness and partly because I’m embarrassed.
How did I know so little about her? I rack my brain and realize she directed most of our conversations back to me, always listening to me talk about my family, Bizzy, or football.
Back then, I thought I had more time. But I was obviously wrong, and fate had other plans.
Eddie listens, and more than once, I catch his sympathetic gaze. By the time we land, I can’t wait to get through today’s activities.
Tonight, I’m going to start rectifying my ignorance about Grace Monroe. No more side-stepping her life. Now, I’m more determined than ever to know all I can about this woman.
Chapter 5
Grace
The application on the screen taunts me as I try to find the right words to describe why I am the perfect choice to attend the program. It’s easy to fill in the blanks of the normal questionnaire, but when it comes to promoting my own self-worth, I’m useless. Everyone applying for this program is dedicated, talented, and unique in an exceptional way.
You’d think after all my years of schooling, I’d have something to brag about myself, but nothing comes to mind. I’m Grace… the girl who loves art and wants to make blown-glass pieces as a career.
Rarely do I allow myself to think about how things would be if Grandma were still alive. But today, I’m feeling nostalgic as I sit at the computer and glance longingly at the beautiful piece on display in the window of the gallery.
I want to create pieces like that and extend my knowledge to more intricate designs. At one point, the goal seemed out of reach because I knew where I was needed—first at home, now in Miami. It sounds cliché to say this was a dream I shared with my grandma, or that I swore to my crotchety grandpa I’d follow through with the application.
Last week, Logan walked in and handed me a padded envelope with information on an apprentice program, where I could learn the intricacies of the true science and techniques behind designing the world’s best glass. All the excitement from years before came rushing back to me.
If accepted into the program, I’d be learning from the top designers in the country, the crème de la crème to say the least. This goes beyond high manufacturers and ventures into the depths of the timeless pieces on display across the world.
It’s an unbelievable opportunity, one I never thought possible until now.
I stare at the last question, an essay, and swallow hard, searching for a way to put my thoughts into words. ‘What is the single most occurrence, so far in your life, that has shaped your future?’
The alarm beeps in the back, and I lean to see Logan walking in with a relaxed smile. For so long, he’s been stressed, opening the gallery alone and building the business while I popped into town for brief periods of time. Now that I’m living here, he’s been able to take some time off and actually enjoy his new life in Miami.
“How’s it goin’, Gracie Pacey?” He pats me on the head like a family dog then tousles my hair.
“Stop.” I swat at his stomach.
He jumps to the side, so I miss, and then he reaches back to mess with my hair again. He’s in a great mood, one I rarely saw while visiting because of the pressure he was under. I love seeing this side of my brother.
Tall with a muscular build, jet black hair, and deep blue eyes, there was never any denying he was Carl Monroe’s son. Aside from age, he looks exactly like my dad. And as a big brother, he acts exactly like my dad too often to mention.
“Tell me what’s been happening around here.”
“You only took one day off.”
“A lot can happen in one day.”
“Well, I didn’t burn the place to the ground, I scheduled two events in the upcoming weeks, and I may have found our January showcase with the UM students last night. All in all, I think I did well,” I boast because I’m pretty proud of myself.
&nb
sp; “Awesome! And…?” he questions by wiggling his eyebrows.
“And what?”
“And you had an appointment at nine yesterday morning. How’d it go?”
“Fine.” I close my computer and gather my notes. “He wasn’t really a buyer. It didn’t go anywhere.”
“It didn’t go anywhere? Did he show up?”
When I meet his eyes, I see a flash of disappointment and immediately become suspicious.
“Logan?” My instincts go on alert.
“Did he or didn’t he show?”
“Who are you referring to?”
“Nick fucking Bennett! Did he show?”
I swallow slowly, realizing my brother set me up. “You knew it was him?”
“Of course, I knew it was him.”
“You didn’t think to warn me?”
“Hell no! Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you warn me?”
“Warn you? Are you crazy?”
“What are you talking about?” I screech, surprising myself at the outburst.
“You never could hide much, Grace. I knew there was a guy. I just didn’t know who until shortly after Grandma died. You did a terrible job disguising your crush. ”
“You’re wrong! There was no guy, no crush. You imagined it.” My lies sound pathetic and weak. Suddenly, I regret all those games I watched with Logan.
“Really, is that why you took a sudden interest in Miami Football after Nick Bennett was drafted?”
“Once again, you’re imagining it.” I flick my hand in the air, waving him off.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, and he starts to laugh, his stomach shaking until he bends over to hold himself. I try to remain aggravated, but the sound is infectious and I giggle along with him.
“God, it’s great to have you here. I forgot how much fun it is to tease you.”
“And I almost forgot what a jerk you can be.”
His hand covers his heart where he grips it dramatically, feigning hurt. Then his face grows serious. “It’s okay for you to have your own life now, Grace. You’ve earned it. Grandpa’s okay, Mom and Dad are okay, and our hometown is running smoothly. You did what you needed to do. Now, it’s time to live for you. If Nick Bennett makes you happy, go for him.”
Sexy Six Page 5