“I say the both of us just stop thinking and start doing. That we both just do whatever we want to, whatever makes us happy. And if that means I never want to leave Summer and she’s it for me, or hell, even if that means you end up back with Nash… or if it means that what happened between us last night was not a onetime thing, I say we don’t worry about it. I say we just live and see what happens. As long as we know we have each other no matter what, I don’t think we have anything to lose.”
She finally smiles at me. “That sounds like a pretty good plan.”
I pull her body to mine, releasing her hands so I can wrap mine around her back. I kiss the top of her head and tell her, “It is a good plan. We’re gonna get this figured out, Tate. We just have to listen to our hearts and not our minds.”
When I pick Summer up I’m glad to say that I don’t have to pretend to be happy. I even feel excited. Tatum lit a fire in me today and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to get my team, my life, back on track.
“Wow, you look… beautiful,” I tell her when she opens her front door. She’s wearing a long, strapless dress that shows off her toned, tanned shoulders and her long neck. She did something to her eyes so they look bigger and brighter than usual. Her long brunette hair is not in a high ponytail, but flowing down one side of her face. She’s beautiful; she always has and always will be. But tonight she looks more sexy than cute.
“You’re looking pretty great yourself, Mr. Eastman. I thought you said you were a mess from…” she trails off, not willing to, or not knowing how to, say out loud that my dad hit me.
“I am a mess, but Tally did a pretty good job covering it up.”
She gives me a shy smile. “Did she put… makeup on you?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not admitting anything.”
“Well whatever she did, she made you look flawless. Like always.” I smile at her but wonder what she would say if I showed up here looking like I did last night. I’m guessing she would have cried and then told me it was going to be okay.
“You ready?” I ask her.
“Bye Mom, bye Daddy,” she calls before walking out the door and shutting it behind her.
When we walk into Green Haven, Carver’s one fancy restaurant that the booster club secured for tonight’s dinner, I’m glad that the lighting is dim. The idea that one of these guys will figure out I’m wearing makeup is about the only thing that’s bothering me right now.
That’s not to say that I’m immune to the dirty looks I’m getting or the way people are averting their eyes from me.
I walk over to the small group of starters that are gathered near the back of the room. Reggie and Nash aren’t here yet, but Colby, August and most of the other guys are. I clasp August on the back and ask him how he’s doing, knowing he will be the most receptive towards me.
“I’m okay. How are you doing? You got pounded last night.”
Two of my guards snicker at that. “I could have used more protection but I’m good. We’ll get it straightened out by playoffs.” I give him another smile and a slap on the shoulder, exiting the group before one of them can make some snide comment.
I work my way around the room weaving between the groups that include local business owners, parents, booster club members, cheerleaders, and the coaching staff, each time making my presence and my hopeful outlook on the playoff’s known then exiting the circle before any one has a chance to berate me.
The only time I linger is by Coach Mason. “Roger and Beverly couldn’t make it tonight?” he asks me after we spend a few minutes talking about the overall state of the team and what we have to work on before playoffs.
“I hope not,” I tell him honestly. “Roger wasn’t happy about the outcome of last night’s game.”
He leans into me and squints his eyes. “Are those cuts over your eye and on your lip, son?”
“When I say he wasn’t happy I mean, he was out of his mind and angry as hell.”
Coach drops his head and shakes it. “You know if you need to get out of the house for a while, my door is always open. Eve’s mother is staying with us for a couple of weeks, the girls are sharing a bed, but our sofa is always available.”
Mike and Eve and their three little girls are the best family I’ve ever known. They always make me feel welcome. But even when I’m just there for dinner their place feels cramped with my extra body in it. “I’m good, Coach, but thanks.”
Sissy Cafferty’s high pitched voice cracks through the microphone letting us know it’s time to find our seats. I make my way over to one of the front tables where Summer is waiting for me with a smile. Nash is there too with Jolee by his side. He gives me a lazy, yet somehow condescending, smile as I approach. I clasp his shoulder as I pass then take my seat and give Summer a kiss before leaning into the table, looking around Jolee and at Nash. I smile at him before turning my eyes on Jolee. “I didn’t expect to see you here with Nash. Lawson not cutting it anymore now that he’s back on second string?” I ask about the guy who took Nash’s place on the team for a week. The guy that Jolee cared about enough to willingly corroborate the lie that she and Nash didn’t sleep together while Tatum was in L.A.
“I was always holding out for this guy,” she tells me, wrapping her hand possessively around Nash’s thigh. “It just took him a minute to come to his senses.”
I nod my head at her. “You are so right about that. You are a serious upgrade from Tatum. Nash is one lucky guy to have managed to snag you. I know you play hard to get,” I say, glancing at Nash who finally looks irritated.
“I am an upgrade,” she tells me, leaning over to show off her freckled cleavage. “I know how to treat a man. How to respect a man. And that’s something that girl will never figure out. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you Brandon?”
“I sure do,” I tell her with mock enthusiasm. “Congratulations Carter, you totally scored with this gem,” I tell him through my laughter before turning away from his irritated face and back to Summer, wrapping an arm around her.
She smiles up at me sweetly and folds her fingers into mine, resting them on my thigh. I look down at her hand in mine, at the familiar and comfortable sight. I look at her shiny pink nails and all I can feel are Tatum’s nails digging into my back and running through my hair. It takes everything inside of me not to remove my hand from hers.
I focus instead on the stage where people are making speeches. The same people making slightly different speeches from the ones they always make. There’s a good chance I’m gonna get called onto that stage myself.
Mayor O’Dell wraps up her talk and calls Coach Mason to the stage. The applause isn’t as buoyant as it usually is. I’m not the only one taking heat for last night’s loss.
He grasps the podium and looks out into the audience for so long it’s uncomfortable. He straightens himself up then says, “This year our team has faced all kinds of adversity. Three of our starters have suffered major injuries causing them to miss games, I’ve had boys not show up for practices, I’ve had boys show up drunk for practices, I’ve had boys walk off my field because they couldn’t handle the workouts, I’ve made more boys puke from exhaustion than I ever have in any previous season.” He pauses and the crowd laughs.
“I’ve had to deal with people questioning the funding the Cougar football program receives. I’ve had to provide receipts for every jock strap purchase I’ve authorized. I’ve had to meet with legal counsel over questionable behavior some of my boys were participating in. It’s been a hell of a year. I mean hell, I had to play an entire game without my starters. And I have to say, I knew I had a strong second string, but I couldn’t have won that game without the time and devotion Nash Carter and Brandon Eastman gave me working with those boys.” He pauses and the crowd applauds out of courtesy.
“It’s been a hell of a year. But I’m proud to say that all of the problems we’ve had off the field have managed to stay where they belong – off the field. That is until last night.” He pau
ses again and this time the room is silent. “I read that article in the school paper just like the rest of you did. And I have to say, I’ve been working with Brandon since he was fourteen – the summer before his freshman year of high school – and I knew that article was, well frankly, bullshit. I know Brandon. He’s not only the best leader and quarterback I’ve ever seen but he’s a good person. He’s dedicated and humble and smart. He’s respectful and kind and optimistic. He’s part of my family and I love him like a son. And I thought that my players loved him like a brother, the same way he loves them. But I realized yesterday, I was wrong. Now, normally I keep our team’s personal issues behind closed doors but I can’t sit back and watch you people, you grown adults, you leaders of the community, turn against him and tear him down. No, I didn’t believe that Brandon thought he was a God in Carver, but I do believe that he is treated like one which is no one’s fault but yours. I don’t know what to say about that other than I think all of you should be ashamed.” He stands there looking at us as we wait for him to go on. But he doesn’t. He shakes his head and walks off of the stage without introducing the next speaker.
The room is dead silent. I can just imagine the hatred being born in all of these people for Coach and the words he just spoke.
The hushed chatter starts up and I assume the speeches are over for the night but then I hear the room gasp. I look back up to the stage and see Tatum’s long legs making their way across it. She’s wearing the same sweats and tank top she had on all day and something about that makes me feel possessive and protective. What the hell is she doing here subjecting herself to a room full of people that hate her?
“This should be good,” I hear Jolee laugh.
“What is she doing?” Summer whispers.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
I watch as Tatum stands behind the podium, looking out confidently into the audience. She stands there until the room falls silent.
“I’m sure y’all know who I am. If you don’t, you don’t belong in this room because clearly you don’t follow Carver football.” I laugh at that but it appears as though I am the only one. Not even Nash is laughing.
“I know you all are staring at me with hatred. You didn’t like me when I questioned the amount of money this program receives, not only from you fine people in the audience, but also from school funds. I made you uncomfortable when I pointed out that the gifts players, like Reggie Norris, receive form college recruiters is actually illegal. Somehow you were charmed by my piece on Nash Carter, as is the way all things Nash Carter go, rather than repelled and disgusted by the favors he willingly receives from most of you people in this room.”
She pauses then, her eyes searching the audience until she finds mine. “You weren’t mad at the players. You were mad at me. And yet, I wrote an article that was just as relevant, just as steeped in facts, not any more damaging than my other articles, and you turned, not on me, but on Brandon Eastman. And why did you do that? In case any of you missed the main point of my article, I will refresh your memory. You turned on Brandon because I pointed out the fact that he is more important to your liveliness, your wellbeing and your happiness than the God that you worship on Sunday morning is. I pointed out the fact that in this wholesome, churchgoing, bible reading, Jesus Christ worshiping community more of you show up for Friday night’s game than you do for Sunday service. I made you feel ashamed. I made you uncomfortable. But instead of looking at your own lives, instead of questioning your own behavior, you took all of that guilt and all of that shame and you put it on Brandon, the eighteen year old kid you worship whether you can admit it to yourselves or not.
“Although ninety percent of that article was fact, I’m not proud of it. I’m not proud of it because I took my personal feeling towards Brandon and I used the very small amount of power that I have in this world, in this town, to hurt him. I stand here before all of you and I feel ashamed. Brandon Eastman is the best person I know. He doesn’t want the praise and the worship and the pressure that you all put on him, but he deserves it. If you don’t mind, I would like to play for you now the interview I had with him.
Tatum holds up the recorder she used when she interviewed me. She presses a button and our private interview is suddenly amplified for the entire room to hear.
The couple of minutes that the interview lasts seems like an eternity as our personal conversation is aired. But I know it’s worth it when I hear the last words spoken:
“Brandon Eastman, do you consider yourself a God? Are you worthy of the worship you receive every Friday night?”
“Yes, Tatum Austin. I am a God. This town should drop to their knees, fold their hands and pray to me because I’m the only one who can save them and this ignorant town and bring them the state championship. Is that what you want to hear? Huh?”
The sound of my angry and sarcastic voice rings through the air as Tatum presses stop on the tape. The room is dead silent. Summer is squeezing my leg with support. I can feel several pairs of eyes on me, but all I can focus on is Tatum. Tatum and the fact that she stood up in front of these people who want to murder her and admitted that her article was bullshit in order to save my reputation.
“I’m ashamed for manipulating his words the way I did and you should be ashamed for thinking they were true. What kind of faith do you have in Brandon Eastman, in Coach Mason, in the football team that you claim to support if you are willing to turn your backs on the four years he’s given to this team because of some article I wrote for the school paper? I know that Brandon is going to go on to lead a successful college ball team and all I can do is hope that the supporters of Penn State will appreciate and respect him the way this town and his fellow teammates have failed to.”
She starts to walk away and then doubles back to the podium. “Y’all enjoy that thirty dollar lobster. I would just like to point out that this dinner, so generously provided by the booster club, could buy enough textbooks for an entire course load for dozens of students. Keep being upstanding, supportive, worldly citizens of Carver. Over indulge to your heart’s content,” she says with mock cheer before exiting the stage.
I’m smiling hugely, not because Tatum revealed the truth, but because… she’s just… awesome. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Summer. “I’m gonna try and catch her.”
She gives me a supportive smile and a pat on the arm.
I make my way out of the dining room and through the front door, heading to the back door that she would have exited out of but not finding her. I scan the lot until I see her truck and head over. I’m practically running to her, but I stop when I see her.
She’s leaned against the driver’s side door. Nash has her pinned against the truck and his tongue shoved down her throat.
The sight disgusts me. No matter what I said to her, the idea of her forgiving him literally disgusts me. She had to have seen who he brought to this dinner. Jolee was sitting right next to me. I turn and head back into the restaurant before I have a chance to do exactly what I said I wasn’t going to do- ream her ass for being so blind.
When I get back, Sissy is back on the stage. “There he is. Come on up here Brandon.”
Shit. I try to remember the words that Tatum and I rehearsed today as I smile brightly and walk confidently up to the stage. As I look out into the crowd I can’t remember them at all. When the clapping stops I tell them, “Thank you. I hope, now that that’s cleared up, we can all go back to focusing on what’s really important here which is next Friday’s game, and the one after that, and the one after that, and the one after that until we make it to the finals and bring home another state championship.”
I pause to let the crowd get their cheering out.
“I just want to say one last thing. As you heard in that tape Tatum played, she’s been a good friend to me since we were kids. Our history is long and messy and we’ve both let our deep feelings convolute our better judgement and, as a result, done things to hurt each other. Her actions just happened to
be public but I assure you that my actions towards her were more worthy of condemnation. She’s forgiven me, which is more than I deserve. That girl means the world to me and what I want… what I expect… is that all of you can rise above the situation and forgive her. I wasn’t a good friend to her and that article was personal.”
The room is silent, then Summer starts clapping, then Coach Mason and eventually most of the room joins in.
“I can promise each and every one of you that I, and the rest of Carver’s football team, am going to be ready for Friday night’s game. We’re gonna work our assess off until we’re stronger than we’ve ever been.”
I pause again and wait the cheering out.
“What I said about Carver in that interview is true; I feel blessed to play for a town that respects the game of football, that is willing to rally around our Coach and us plyers and give us the support we need. I’m proud to play for a town that cares about the sport I love. Thank you,” I tell them with a wave before exiting the stage to a loud roar. It takes me five minutes to get back to my seat and my shoulder stings from all the slaps I received.
Summer gives me a big hug and tells me, “You were great.”
I’m surprised to see Nash there, looking a little rumpled, but shaking my hand and telling me, “I’m sorry that I doubted you, man. We’re gonna do this.”
When dinner is over most everyone is planning on going to the after party at the Cafferty’s, including Summer. I need to go, but really I wish I were with Tatum. At the same time, I don’t want to go near her. I can’t believe she forgave him so easily.
A God in Carver (Carver High #1) Page 22