“PJ needs to shake these boys up. I’d like to be a fly on the wall in that locker room.”
Mary Lou, Joy Mason, Marlene Smith and Harper Winters all sat with me in the spouse’s section behind the team’s bench. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed basketball until the game started. Now the excitement of the student body, the speed of the college game, and my boyfriend doing the coaching, ignited a passion deep inside. The wives only laughed at me when they found out how much I knew about the game. I didn’t tell them I had more going for me than a pretty face, and a bar. I had game.
Joy, the unofficial leader of this band of sisters, spoke up. “I’m going to get some drinks and popcorn. Who’s coming with me?”
“I’ll help you,” Marlene replied, looking at me. “You want a drink and popcorn too?”
“Sure”
“I’m coming too,” Harper jumped in, and in a quieter voice she told the group. “I’ve seriously got to pee!”
As the other girls walked to the concession stand, Mary Lou turned to me. “I haven’t told anyone about this morning.”
“Good.”
“So, how did it go with the boss, Underwood?”
“Well, he hadn’t heard the rumor and was surprised, but appreciated PJ telling him. We asked about a lawyer, but he thought it was too early for that, and the University would provide PJ with legal counsel if things ever got that far.”
“Say what you will about Underwood, he always takes care of his own. So everything is on the table and okay with him?”
“Absolutely. PJ is lucky to get in front of this thing before it got any bigger.”
“What about the rest of the day?”
I drew a long breath.
“You won’t believe this. We were walking to the Student Union when Rachel caught up with us. She walked right up and took PJ’s elbow. She’s the brassiest woman I have ever set eyes on. She smiled sweetly at PJ and said. ‘Introduce me to your friend.’ As cool and brazen as I have ever seen.”
“She’s trouble alright.”
“She walked with us for a short way, talking about nothing, until we passed a group of students eating on the lawn outside the Union. Then she broke off and left.”
“She needed to be seen with PJ, mark my words.”
“About 4:00 we went to the player’s dining room for a pre-game meal. That was hilarious.”
“They’re great guys and they love Coach Mac.”
“I was holding PJ’s hand when we walked into the dining room. You would have thought a naked woman had walked in front of a bunch of construction workers. They all hooted and whistled, but you know what, to a man they each came up and introduced themselves and had something nice to say. One said. ‘You’ve been good for Coach.’ I nearly cried.”
“Coach teaches that they are all part of family. What you experienced was a family welcome. They know the rumors going around and were picking sides. You just got yourself a strong ally in those young guys.”
“I hope so, Mary Lou.”
Suddenly we were surrounded again by the others.
“We’re back with goodies, Cokes and popcorn. The Twix is mine so hands off,” Harper cried and laughed as she passed out the food. “We miss anything?”
“Not a thing,” I said. “Half getting ready to start.”
The Bulldogs came out on fire and gradually built the lead to ten points, but not a good enough spread against a good team. While the girls talked and enjoyed themselves, I was paying full attention to the game. It was noticeable that the big forward Edelman still hadn’t taken a shot, although there were at least three times when he was wide open from the corner. The ball went to Edelman.
“Shoot, big man, shoot!”I screamed.
But he passed up the shot.
And a curious thing happened. Shannon, the guard, called a timeout. As the players came to the bench, Shannon pulled Coach to the side and said a few words, enough for Coach to return to the bench, leaving the players to converse among themselves.
Shannon inbounded the ball from the near side. They worked the ball around to Edelman. He took a step to the basket and passed back out front. The Bulldog guard sidestepped the defender and drove the basket for a clear layup. But he didn’t take the shot; he whipped it instead to Edelman in the corner. He dribbled around the edge of the three-point arch and passed the ball to the big center in the paint. Instead of taking an open sweeping hook, the ball came back to Edelman. This cat and mouse game continued until the possession clock ran out.
The AAU team took advantage of the turnover and converted a three-point play. Shannon brought the ball down and started a play. The ball worked its way back to Edelman, who again passed up a shot. This continued until the possession clock sounded a second time.
I was beside myself. PJ was sitting calmly on the bench. He was uncharacteristically quiet. Apparently he was not going to pull Edelman! Or call a timeout?
I turned to Mary Lou. “What is he doing? Edelman needs to come out. If no one takes a shot we’re going to give the game away.”
“You’re seeing PJ’s ‘family’ work. Edelman’s lost some confidence in his shooting according to Coach. His brothers are going to make him shoot. They won’t shoot until he does. He doesn’t have to make the shot, just take it.”
“But it could cost us the game.”
“No matter. Their brother is more important than the game. It won’t take long for Edelman to get the message.”
A raucous cry went up from the crowd, as Edelman hit a three-pointer from the corner, not an easy shot. The next time down court he was calling for the ball, and proceeded to go on a shooting spree. The Curtis Bulldogs coasted to a fifteen-point victory, with PJ clearing the bench.
“Well you were right about Edelman. He got the message. Did he ever light it up? What do the spouses do after the game, Mary Lou?”
“I’m going home … but the wives usually wait in the coach’s lounge outside the locker room. Takes about twenty minutes for everyone to come out. Harper and Joy will show you. See you tomorrow, I hope.”
“See you, Mary Lou. Hey Joy, Harper, wait for me.”
“Come on, we usually wait in the coach’s lounge. Great game.”
We walked under the stands, down the hall to the locker rooms. The coach’s lounge was a small room in the coaching offices, with a coffee machine, microwave, a refrigerator, a small TV and a few chairs.
I had to comment and remarked. “Kind of sparse … needs something.”
“Like paint and some comfortable chairs and pictures, for starters,” Joy replied, laughing.
Harper added. “Money is always tight. Most of the budget goes into facilities for the players. Hard to get alumni money for coaches.”
“They’re men, they like it. They don’t have to clean up after themselves!” Both Joy and Harper then laughed out loud.
About fifteen minutes later, Jerry and Ronnie poked their heads in and claimed their wives.
“Hi, Charley, see you tomorrow?”
“Hope so.”
Finally PJ emerged. “Charley, I’ll be a minute. Rachel is still here. Give me a minute and then come rescue me.”
And with a smile and a sexy wink he slid back into the locker room. “Okay … hurry!”
Chapter Forty-Two
Time passes slowly when you’re all alone and waiting. The clock seems to slow down; one minute, two … and three and four. Getting a little jittery, I put down my magazine and walked to the thin locker room door. Rachel’s high pitched voice was clear.
“Come on PJ, you know we’re right for each other. The campus already thinks we’re doing it now. You know you want me.”
“Rachel, you’re crazy. You’re a pretty girl, but I’m fifteen years older and I already have a girlfriend. I’m not interested in you at all, not that way.”
“But Coach, I’m here all the time, and besides, I can give you so much more than that wimpy hayseed from Nashville. See …”
At the word
‘see’ I knew I had to go in. Just as I suspected, Rachel was taking off her shirt and pressing herself against PJ’s chest, while he was retreating and attempting to push her away. PJ had a bewildered look in his eyes, and was obviously trying to be gentle but firm, as he rejected Rachel. He didn’t want to touch her the wrong way. The situation had sexual harassment written all over it, and PJ was scared to death. He obviously needed help.
“Back off, Rachel … let him go. You heard him, he’s not interested.”
Rachel turned to face me with that same hateful stare she gave me this afternoon. PJ stepped back from Rachel’s grasp and retreated several feet away.
“What do you want, you country fried bitch?” Rachel snarled, her pretty face distorted by anger. “You’re not allowed in here.”
When we were talking about her in PJ’s office, she was just an irritation. But now she had made it plain personal. I put my five foot ten inch frame against her chest and moved her back. I looked down at the petite trouble maker and continued advancing, continued to press … until Rachel gave way. I wanted to tear into her, but knew I needed to remain in control.
“You don’t know who you are dealing with, slut. I’ve handled worse than you. Now I’m telling you. Stop this nonsense with PJ.”
Rachel tried to get into a verbal battle with me.“You’re one to talk. You’re just a common whore. Everyone knows Coach picked you up in a bar. How much did he pay you?”
“Did they tell you I own that bar, bitch? Did they tell you, two people had to die before I got that bar, bitch? Did they tell you about my men, Roberto, Lloyd and Ronnie, bitch? You’re right about one thing, I am a country fried bitch and believe me, you don’t want to be on my bad side.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be sweet cakes. If you want to fuck someone so bad, stick to some dimple-faced nitwit your own age.”
“Age doesn’t matter. How old are you forty, forty-five?”
I snickered. “Is that the best you got?”
“I got …”
“… Nothing, you got nothing. Now listen, I’m only going to say it once. PJ is mine … leave him alone. Understand?”
I jabbed her with my finger.
Rachel was not ready to give up yet.
“Where I come from, if you don’t have a ring on your finger, you ain’t got nothing. PJ’s free to choose anyone. Apparently he hasn’t chosen yet, whore.” Rachel stormed out of the room. “This isn’t over.”
Shaking, as the adrenaline drained from my body, I turned into PJ’s arms and let my emotions take over. “I didn’t handle that too well did I?”
“Well no. But you did better than me. She attacked me and before I knew it, she was stripping. Damn it Charley, I’m so sorry you’ve been pulled into the middle of all this.”
“I would rather be in the middle than not have you at all.”
I was fuming, my face was flushed and I was shaking all over. My sweet man pulled me to his chest and held me tightly. He rubbed my back to relieve the tension, as I began a good cry.
Shortly, he began to chuckle, at first to himself and then out loud.
“What are you laughing about?”
He could barely control himself. “You’re a country fried bitch? Two men had to die? Your men? You are a piece of work, sweetheart.”
I leaned back in his arms. “You think I went a little too far?”
“You think?”
“Think it worked?’
“I doubt it.”
“Doesn’t matter, let’s go home.”
Chapter Forty-Three
I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, drawn by the smell of bacon cooking and PJ shouting to me. “Good morning sleepyhead. I’ve got bacon and biscuits cooking. Coffee is on the counter, brew your own flavor.”
PJ was unusually chipper.
“Big Boy, you do get up early, it must be six or six-thirty.”
“It’s just seven-thirty. You were exhausted last night. I think you went to sleep as I was kissing you.”
“That thing with Rachel just took a lot out of me. Thanks for letting me sleep, I needed it.”
“We’ve got a big morning ahead. After weekend games, a bunch of us meet at the gym for a little fun pick-up game. They usually get there around ten. I open up and get balls out at nine.”
“So what am I going to do while you boys play? Can I go back to bed?”
“You’re coming with me. We can shower there first before heading off to Cincy for some shopping and spend some time together.”
“I’m up for shopping. What are we shopping for?”
“We need to shop for the birthday present you’re going to give me.”
“Okay, so what is it you want?” As I said it, I knew what he really wanted. “Other than that!”
“Let me give you a hint. Our first stop will be at Victoria’s Secret, and we might browse next around the Hustler Shop.”
“PJ, you are a dirty old man, and I love it.”
PJ laughed and replied. “Guess I am. Wear some gym clothes and shoes. Pack what you want to wear shopping. We’ll shower at the gym and leave from there.”
At 8:45, we pulled up at the side entrance to the Old Field House where the Bulldogs practiced.
“Go on in and flip on the lights, I’ll get the balls.”
I walked through the dark foyer and pushed aside the double doors leading into the dimly light gym. The unique smell of an old gym with its freshly waxed floor, awakened memories for me of a quite different and simpler time. The early morning sun filtered into the huge room from the small windows around the top of the stands. The individual beams of light picked up dust particles, and formed diagonal patterns of light and dark streaks. It was as if I’d walked into my old high school gym at game time. Even in the quiet, I heard the crowd, heard Coach Byrd shouting encouragement, and could see the scoreboard on the far wall. Basking in the familiar warmth of the old gym, I air dribbled to center court, side stepped a defender, shuffled my feet, whirled around and took a jump shoot from half court. The unique squeak of sneakers on a basketball court joined the chorus of cheers in my mind.
I was home.
I miss this so much.
As if by magic, the distinctive sound of a bouncing basketball fully interrupted my daydreaming. I turned as one rolled to my feet. I scooped up the ball and headed for the far basket. I was airborne just inside the foul line, and floated to the basket, releasing a soft finger roll that barely ruffled the net as it dropped through.
God that felt good.
Retrieving the ball I began pushing the ball up-court. As I crossed the center line, a tall defender stepped out of the shadows and into my path. My instincts and training took control, and I charged directly at the shadow, faked right, then with a behind-the-back crossover dribble, I drove left. With arms pushing and elbows wide, I sold my drive to the basket. When the defender bought the drive, and pulled back to block the obvious layup, I stopped short and hit a perfect fadeaway jump shot. The sound of the net brought a satisfied smile to my face.
“Swish!!” I yelled out, and pumped my hands in the air.
Haven’t lost anything!
“Play some ball?” the shadow said.
“A little,” I gasped.
All gym rats are the same. The game has a mystical pull, especially in an old gym. It’s like an old pair of jeans with ragged hems and holes, and a fabric that has finally molded to the unique creases and folds of your body. When you need to relax, you want the familiar, whether it’s a pair of well worn jeans or a basketball gym. I just needed to relax.
“I miss basketball.”
“You must have played in high school, but those sure weren’t high school moves. Did you play college ball?”
“Four years at Tennessee.”
“Any good?”
“No, not really,” I bantered back. I lied.
“Want to play some?”
“Sure, you take it out first.”
> We played like two freshmen, determined to show up the other, as if a position on the varsity was the prize. PJ was taller, bulkier and had experience at the pro level. But he was also older and heavier than his prime playing days, and slower. I didn’t have as much height, but I had speed and quickness. My college experience was at the highest level. While at Tennessee, I perfected a three-point jump shot that was hard to defend. And I used it!
So the rabbit and the bear did battle with the advantage swinging between the two. After a few minutes, the bear forgot how delicate the rabbit was, and knocked its backside with a practiced professional hip check. Not to be outdone, the rabbit stole the ball from the bear and dribbled around him, taunting him unmercifully to come get the ball. In the end, they both fell to the floor exhausted.
“I need a break.”
“Okay old man, I guess you can catch your breath.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Finally, I had to admit. “I’m sore, a little out of practice.”
“You need a good rub down in the training room.”
“The trainer any good?”
“The best!”
We both laughed out loud.
“What are you so happy about Coach?”
The voice came from a tall thin kid. I instantly recognized the voice as belonging to Shannon, the point guard from the game last night.
“Hi Shannon.”
“Hi, Ms. Howard.”
“Call me Charley, Ms. Howard was my mom. Shannon, we were just messing around a bit, playing a little one-on-one.”
“Say what? I didn’t mean to interrupt Coach.”
“Basketball, big man. Basketball.”
I teased Shannon, and added a fist to his shoulder to emphasize the point. He was keen to continue to talk.
Charley Page 20