Pete Sebastian, Coach

by Jean C. Joachim

  The soundman flipped a switch and the microphone on the dais under the canopy went on. The minister tapped it then cleared his throat. A hush fell on the spectators as the reverend conducted the ceremony.

  When he concluded, Buddy gave Emmy a huge, back-bending kiss to thunderous applause. They each ate a bite of wedding cake. Then, Emmy took the mic from the minister and sang “Love on the Wing,” the song she had written for Buddy. When she was finished, the helicopter dropped a platform from the sky.

  Two security men helped Buddy and Emmy into the contraption and strapped them in. The couple stood, clinging to each other and fastened to the sturdy poles on the side, as the copter lifted them off the ground. Confetti choked the air.

  A million light bulbs flashed. As the bucket ascended, the newlyweds appeared on the huge instant replay screen, smiling and waving. The crowd went wild. The helicopter flew off with them in the cage-like holder. It was deposited behind the stadium, where a limousine was waiting to take them to the posh Greenwich Arms hotel tucked away on a quiet side street in Greenwich Village in New York City. The entire top floor had been reserved for them. They had to postpone a real honeymoon until the football season was over, but they would have a couple of nights of private luxury there.

  More security men lined the field as people began to leave. Griff and Pete, heads together, returned to the locker room. Hearing snatches of their conversation, Jo knew they were deconstructing the game they had almost lost.

  Griff glanced at his watch. “Gotta go. Lauren’s alone with Hank.”

  “He’s a toddler now, right?” Jo asked.

  “He is and into everything.” Griff disappeared into the private area of the locker room.

  “Well, Josie, that was a fantastic event! I think it calls for dinner out,” Pete said.

  “Wonderful! Let’s bring the girls.”

  “First, I gotta get out of this monkey suit.”

  “But you look so fantastic,” she whined.

  “Really? I feel like shit. Like I’m wearing a straitjacket.”

  The twins joined them, babbling about the wedding.

  “Dinner? With you guys? We have dates,” Alyssa said, sneaking a peek at her sister.

  “That’s right. Our friends want to know all about everything. We couldn’t tell them before the wedding, but we can now,” Lexie confirmed.

  “And I got some great pictures!” Alyssa added.

  They kissed their dad, waved to Jo, and ran off to their car.

  Jo sighed. “I can’t believe it’s over.”

  “It was spectacular,” Pete said, returning after donning pants and a sports jacket.

  Jo smiled. Satisfaction flowed through her. She had nearly killed herself, but every detail had gone perfectly.

  “I guess it’s just you and me, Josie.” Pete offered her his arm.

  She accompanied him to The Sweet Magnolia. Pete ordered champagne.

  “To my beautiful Josie and the wedding of the century.”

  “To the winningest coach, ever,” she replied.

  They clinked glasses and drank, sharing their victories. Later that night, they watched footage of the game and the wedding on the news. Snuggled up to Pete on the sofa, Jo couldn’t stop grinning. The elusive happiness she had sought seemed finally to be in her grasp.

  * * * *

  Jo scheduled a press conference. She had the check for $307,500 ready for Lyle Barker to hand over to The New Life Women’s Shelter.

  Samantha Drake was practically jumping out of her skin. “This money is going to bring safety to so many women and children. I can’t believe it. The largest donation the shelter has ever had.”

  “You should be proud, Sam. You helped to bring this about,” Jo said, replenishing her lipstick.

  Cameramen turned on their lights when Lyle Barker entered the room. The big man with the shiny head and the paunch grinned broadly. Lyle loves the spotlight. Keep him there, and I’ll keep my job.

  Jo stepped up to the podium. “Thank you for coming. Today, The Connecticut Kings make history…again—”

  Before she could finish, Lyle joined her, nudging her out of the way and took over the conference. After a few jokes, he called up the head of the shelter, Gina Banks. He whipped the check out of his breast pocket. He held it up for the cameramen then handed it over. “I just love when an idea like this hits me. Gives me gooseflesh.” He smiled.

  Jo frowned. He’s taking credit for my idea and my work.

  The press pelted him with questions about the fundraiser then about the team. He fielded everything like an expert, giving just enough information to answer, but not give away any secrets. The conference was over in ten minutes. Lyle took pictures with Samantha and Gina.

  Jo returned to her office. Later that day, a bouquet of roses accompanied by a bottle of Moet et Chandon champagne arrived for Jo with a lovely note attached. It was from Emmy and Buddy.

  Lyle stuck his head in. “Got some other guy tryin’ to steal you from Pete?”

  “No.” She bristled. “It’s from Emmy and Buddy. A thank-you gift.” Not that you would ever stoop to saying “thank you.”

  “Emmy? Oh, yeah. The gal at the wedding. Don’t you dump ole Pete now. I need him happy and satisfied.” Lyle leered at her and gave a salacious snicker.

  Jo felt the blood drain from her face. She clamped her lips together in a thin line as she watched the big man leave her doorway. Fucking asshole. Who does he think he is? Determined not to let the insensitive publicity hound she worked for ruin her day, Jo packed up and headed for Pete’s. She arrived before he did. The twins were in their room.

  As she put the roses in water and the champagne in the fridge, the good feeling they were intended to create was spoiled. She couldn’t get over the fact that Lyle hadn’t acknowledged her at all. Not to the press and not even in private. A heaviness weighed on her chest.

  Pete slammed into the house full of issues about the team and nerves about the next game. He grabbed some meat and headed for the backyard. Jo pulled out greens, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, and cucumbers. While Pete grilled burgers, she whipped up a salad.

  Joining her, the girls chattered away while she worked, but Jo was silent. She handled the letdown the way she always did, by keeping it to herself. Her life had been full of disappointment from the day she had failed her parents by being born a girl. And it never seemed to stop.

  No one noticed, which suited her just fine. She hated to lie, but didn’t want to admit the truth. Maybe she wasn’t worth acknowledgment? Or maybe she kept relying on the wrong people. Either way, her heart hung heavy. She watched the animated faces of the twins over dinner. They chatted on about a planned shopping trip and a weekend at the shore with friends. Pete questioned them about the details and said it was a reward for a job well done helping Jo.

  After dinner, the girls cleaned up. Jo claimed a headache and went for a walk on the beach with Daisy. Pity parties are ugly. Jo simply wanted to lick her wounds in private. The crash of the waves echoed the anger and frustration burning inside her. Though never one to beg for attention, rejection depressed her. She sank down with her pug next to her.

  Bending her knees, she rested her chin on her hands and stared out to sea. I thought this job would be different. Thought I was past the chauvinism. Guess not. She sighed and closed her eyes. Fighting for recognition was exhausting. She’d done it all her life. First at home then in the NFL.

  The sand shifted, and she opened her eyes. A pair of light brown ones stared back at her. The question in them unmistakable. “What’s wrong? You got beautiful flowers, champagne, the press…but you didn’t say a word at dinner. And now, here? By yourself? What’s up?”

  “Nothing.”

  Pete frowned, and the curious eyes bored into hers until she looked away. “Don’t lie. I can read you like a book.”

  His statement made her madder. She sensed the heat rise in her face. “Bullshit.”

  “I don’t mean…I mean…it’s not wha
t…that came out wrong,” he sputtered.

  “Damn right it did.”

  “Josie, honey, something’s bugging you. Tell me.” He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp. “Was it me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then, what?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Don’t freeze me out.” He grabbed her, tightening his grip so she couldn’t slip out.

  “Ouch.”

  “I’m not hurting you. You just want me to let go.”

  She shoved against his chest, taking him by surprise. The coach fell backward, releasing her. She stopped at the look of shock on his face.

  “What the hell? What did I do?”

  “Nothing. Nothing.” Tears flooded her eyes. She pushed up, attempting to stand, but Pete circled her waist with his arm and dragged her up against him. She crumbled, dissolving in tears while he stroked her back. She nestled her face into his neck. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Let’s go home,” he said, rising to his feet and extending his hand to her.

  She leaned on him, wiping her face with her fingers. Home. If only it were.

  “We’ll get in bed, and you’ll tell me all about it. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  * * * *

  With the twins away, Jo and Pete didn’t have to be quiet when they made love. The coach was frisky, moving her through several positions. He put her on top to start then he bent her over the mattress and finished up, driving into her beneath him. Jo played along, seduced by his amazing lovemaking techniques. He made sure she climaxed in each position before taking his own pleasure.

  Coach Bass could be a selfish, controlling man. He was a coach, after all, responsible for all the men on his team and driven to win. Some of this paternalistic attitude carried over with Jo. There were days when she relished his taking over and times when she didn’t. But in bed, she handed herself over to him, knowing he’d always put her first. God, the man could heat up the sheets.

  On this particular occasion, when they were finished, locked in a sweaty embrace, he kissed her belly and spooned her. It wasn’t long before he was asleep. Jo dozed for an hour or two then awoke. An idea lodged in her brain. She swore she did her best thinking during the night.

  She eased out of bed gently, not disturbing Pete, and tossed his T-shirt on. Daisy picked her head up and yawned. Jo padded into the living room and curled up on the sofa. Daisy wasn’t far behind. She jumped up and lay down, resting her chin on Jo’s leg.

  The pretty blonde picked up a pen and her notebook from the coffee table. She jotted down several ideas. The more she wrote, the more came to her. She was at it for about an hour. Then, exhaustion sent her back to slip between the sheets.

  “You okay?” Pete murmured, half asleep.

  “Just jotting down a few ideas. Go back to sleep.” She kissed his cheek and combed his hair with her fingers.

  Pete put her wrist to his lips. “God, I love the way you smell,” he said. Then, he was out.

  In the morning, Jo slept in. It wasn’t Coach Bass leaving the bed that woke her, but the smell of coffee and pancakes. Stretching, she smiled. Coach was up, cooking. How did I get so lucky?

  She scampered to the closet and donned one of her sexiest nighties. Man deserves eye candy for fixing breakfast. She tiptoed into the kitchen where Pete was humming “I Can’t Smile Without You.” She snaked her arms around his middle.

  “Aha! There you are,” he said.

  She rested her head against his back. He wrapped his fingers around her hand. With the other, he flipped pancakes.

  “Plates?” she asked.

  “All set.”

  “You’re a keeper.” She chuckled.

  He twisted his head around to make eye contact with her. “Do you mean that?”

  Do I mean it? “Smells great. Let’s eat,” she said, breaking her hold on him. She padded to the table, feeling his gaze on her body.

  “Is that for me?” He followed her.

  She stopped and did a curtsy. “Like it?”

  “Smokin’ babe.” He fingered the lace across the top of her breast.

  They sat down to plates full of chocolate chip pancakes and mugs of steaming coffee. Pete’s gaze was glued to her chest, mostly visible through the almost see-through top.

  “Can I discuss my new ideas with you?” she asked, taking a forkful of pancake.

  “I’ll try to concentrate, but with you looking like that…it’ll be tough.”

  “Should I get a robe?” She shot him a saucy look.

  “God no. Go ahead. I’ll try to focus.” He took a sip of his drink as she began her explanation. When she finished, Pete smiled. “You’ve got to take those to Lyle. He’d be an idiot to turn you down.”

  “I thought we’d established he was an idiot last night.”

  He smiled. “You’re right. We did. But your plans for Thanksgiving and Christmas will make him and the team look good.”

  “And he’s enough of an egotistical maniac to appreciate that.”

  “You hit the nail on the head. Of course, you’ll have to keep the cost down.”

  “I’ve got his number on that one.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to let him take the credit on these ideas too.”

  Pete covered her hand with his. “Don’t let his ego get you down. The people who count will know these are yours.”

  “Thanks.” She shot him a warm smile. “Where would I be without you?”

  “Don’t know and don’t intend to let you find out.” He leaned across the table to kiss her.

  “I’ve got to get his buy-off on these.”

  “You will. Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  Jo sat back in her chair, a Cheshire grin on her face, holding her drink with both hands. “I’ll craft them so he can’t turn them down.”

  “That’s my girl. The smartest, sexiest woman in town.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jo dressed with care, selecting a russet brown suit with a light orange silk blouse. She wore shorter heels. It was the day of her meeting with Lyle, and she needed to make sure she didn’t appear sexy or too tall. She was determined to be taken seriously.

  “Do I look okay?” She twirled in front of Pete who was eating toast and folding the newspaper.

  “Beautiful, as always.”

  “Business-like?”

  “Always.”

  She frowned. “You’re no help.”

  “Can I help it? I love you. You look great to me.”

  Lyle was already in his office when Jo and Pete arrived. She took a deep breath before marching down the hall.

  “Come in,” Lyle called.

  Edie followed Jo with a tray holding two cups of coffee.

  “What’s this about?” Lyle always got right to the point.

  “I have some new ideas for the team.”

  “How much?”

  “What?” Jo raised her eyebrows.

  “How much is it gonna cost me?”

  She chuckled. “Right to the bottom line, eh?”

  “Yep. I don’t like to waste time.”

  “Give me five minutes to outline the new ideas, first.”

  “Can you do it in three?”

  Jo laughed. “I’ll try.” She opened her notebook and began. “The team has had a ton of publicity from the wedding and the donation to the Women’s Shelter—”

  “Did you know Cap’s been getting calls?”

  “Calls? What kind of calls?” Her pulse kicked up.

  “From moms. Mothers of the boys playin’ college ball.”

  “Really?”

  “They liked that shelter thing. The team supporting it. They want their boys to play football here.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I never kid about the team. That and a few found out about the anger management B.S., and they want that for their sons too. We’re getting quite a few families checking out the Kings way in advance of next year’s draft.”

&n
bsp; “That’s good?”

  “That’s fantastic! Never happened before. Gives us the edge over all the other teams. We may not be able to pick first—especially when we win the Super Bowl again—but we’ll have some young men wanting us to take ’em. Might be worth trading positions just to get ’em.”

  “So, you approve of the program and supporting the shelter?”

  “Of course.”

  “It didn’t cost us anything.”

  “The wedding cost us a shitload.”

  Jo felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “True.”

  “So, what is it this time, and how much’s it gonna cost?”

  “Since we’re started with the shelter, I thought a Thanksgiving dinner thrown by the team.”

  “Where?”

  “Here? Maybe in the Kiwanis Hall?”

  “Maybe. I’ll call my buddy down at the Lions.”

  “Great!”

  “How much can a couple of turkeys cost anyway?”

  “Can we get the team to stop by?”

  “Depends. If we have a home game, sure. Though it’s their holiday too. Maybe just for a quick beer or something.”

  “If we don’t have the team, it’s okay. If it’s just the meal for the women and children at the shelter, that would be okay.”

  “Done.”

  “Now Christmas—”

  “Christmas! Christ, lady. You think I’m made of money?”

  “You’re the richest man I know.”

  “What about Christmas?”

  “A toy drive and party for the shelter kids.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How much?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping the players would contribute gifts, not just you. And maybe stop by? Give the kids a thrill?”

  “I’ll match whatever the players give. How’s that?”

  “Beautiful! Fantastic!” She clapped her hands together.

  “What else?” He tapped a pen on the desk.

  “Nothing.”

  He arched his brows. “Nothing?”

  “Nope. That’s it. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Damn right it’s enough. I’ll be paying off that wedding for the next six months.”