Pete Sebastian, Coach

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Guess I’ll have to.”

  “I’m starved. No time to eat for me at the event. Can we start?”

  “Might as well. Who knows how long they’ll be.” Lexie took her seat.

  The women served themselves in silence. As Jo was about to take her first bite, Alyssa and Pete returned. He hugged her and kissed her head before releasing her.

  The young woman approached Jo. “I’m sorry. I’m not upset about you marrying Dad. I like you. But a baby.” She stopped to take a shuddering breath. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Thank you, Lyssa,” Jo said, rising to embrace the girl.

  Alyssa managed a small smile.

  “Come on. Chow down. This food looks great. You girls are amazing,” Jo commented. She took her first bite. “Delicious. Wish I could cook like this.”

  “Dad’ll teach you. He taught us.” Alyssa sat down.

  Pete retrieved a bottle of champagne from the fridge and popped the cork. “We have many things to celebrate today. First, welcome to the family, Jo.” The twins and Pete raised their flutes in a toast. Jo joined them. “And Jo’s dinner for the shelter women and kids was a huge success. And, last but not least, we beat the L.A. Tigers today!”

  The bubbles tickled her nose, making Jo feel giddy. She couldn’t remember feeling this happy since Tommy Anderson, captain of the football team, had asked her to the senior prom. The twins admired her ring, and the blonde couldn’t take her eyes from it. She kept glancing at the stone as if it was going to vanish.

  A little voice in her head warned her. You’re not at the altar yet. Don’t celebrate too much. Sick of being cautious all her life, Jo shut the door on her conscience. Happiness painted a grin across her face. Her gaze connected with Pete’s across the table. She stared into his light brown, experienced eyes and saw his joy. His warm smile reassured her.

  After dinner, Jo and Pete cleaned up then she slipped away to take a bath and call Beth.

  “Guess what?”

  “Uh oh. What?”

  “I’m engaged!”

  Beth screamed into the phone, forcing Jo to hold it at arm’s length. “Really? To the coach?”

  “Who else?”

  “I never know with you. You’re a fast worker.”

  “Not that fast. Will you be in my wedding party?”

  “Depends on the birth. But if I can, I will. Happily.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Delirious.”

  “Wonderful. Happy Thanksgiving, babe.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” Hanging up and climbing into the tub, Jo sank down under the water to her chin. She pondered calling her parents, but knew they’d be having some nice evening somewhere, and she didn’t want to interrupt. I’ll get to them. Tomorrow. Saturday. Whenever.

  She scrubbed her body and smoothed lotion over her legs. Perhaps Pete is planning another kind of celebration? She slipped on a silky, light pink gown and matching robe. The girls were watching a movie, so she and Pete wouldn’t be disturbed.

  Jo switched off the bathroom light. There was only one dim lamp on in the bedroom. Pete was sprawled on the bed, naked, but under the covers. She tiptoed over. Easing the quilt down, she slipped in beside him. The soft burr of his snore met her ears. He’s out cold. Asleep!

  With a smile and a soft chuckle, she understood. Winning the game, proposing, and a half bottle of champagne. No wonder. A lifetime of nights with Pete stretched before Jo. She sighed in satisfaction as she turned off the light and snuggled down under the comforter.

  Pete moaned a little, turned on his side, and flung his arm over her. “Josie,” he muttered in his sleep, pulling her closer.

  Maybe I finally have a home.

  * * * *

  The Connecticut Kings were headed for the playoffs. Their winning streak continued. Jo had become chummy with the press after Emmy and Buddy’s wedding. Then the Thanksgiving meal, which got some attention, but she kept it minimal, so as not to embarrass the women.

  Now, it was time to set up press coverage for the Christmas party and work out a menu. She opted for coffee and cookies to keep the cost down, as Lyle was beginning to squawk about the bills. But he was right there, taking center stage when it came to claiming credit.

  While it annoyed her that he wouldn’t give her one ounce of recognition, she chalked it up to his huge ego. She shrugged. As long as he paid the bills, he was entitled to crow, she figured. And the press ate it up. The Kings were the only team that had adopted a women’s shelter, and their popularity with future footballers, as well as fans, was at an all-time high. Attendance at games increased by fifteen percent.

  Jo cleared out the file drawer in her desk, moving the current folders to a cabinet across the room. She needed that space for new ones. When she returned, the piece of paper stuck in the back had come loose. She picked it up. It was a pay stub for Lonnie Gowan, the man who’d had the job before her.

  She smoothed the page out on her desk. It showed all the data for a pay period in 2013. Something doesn’t add up. Jo pulled out her phone and hit the calculator button. She ran the numbers then pulled out her most recent pay stub. She put them side by side.

  Shit! She ran the numbers again. Then stared at the two stubs. Then ran the numbers one more time. Anger sparked in her, growing with every minute. She grabbed her cell and the stubs and headed for Lyle Barker’s office.

  He was there, but Edie indicated he was on a call. Jo ignored her and threw open his door.

  “I’ll have to call you back, dumpling,” Lyle said into his phone before hanging up. “What the hell? Don’t you knock?” he asked Jo.

  “Don’t give me that shit. What the hell is this?” She slapped the two stubs down on his desk.

  Lyle picked them up. “Where did you get this?” He indicated Gowan’s stub.

  “What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a difference. Did Pete give it to you?”

  “No. Pete didn’t give it to me. I found it in my file drawer.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “You’re damn right it’s unfortunate. You were paying him one hundred and fifty grand to do a shitty job. You’re paying me one third—one third—less. And I’m doing a better job than he ever did.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean, ‘so’?”

  “You accepted that salary. Can I help it if you didn’t negotiate?”

  “Were you willing to go to a hundred and fifty grand for me?”

  “Of course not. You’re a single woman. What do you need that kind of money for?”

  Jo swore later that steam had poured from her ears then. “That’s against the law. That’s discrimination.” Her voice rose.

  “That’s your opinion. I say it’s shrewd negotiating.”

  “I can sue you.”

  “Go ahead. You’ll never win. My lawyers will tie this up for years, until you’re down to your last cent,” Lyle hollered.

  “You bastard!” Jo screamed.

  “If you sue me, I’ll fire Pete.”

  She gasped and was quiet for a moment. “That’s bullshit. You’d never fire him. He’s won a Super Bowl for you and is on his way to another one.”

  “So?”

  “Winning is all you care about.”

  “What’s wrong with that? I’m not a charity. I’m here to win football games and make money.”

  “And you made fifty grand off me.”

  “Yeah. Smart move.”

  As their voices escalated again, Pete burst into the room. “What the hell is going on?” He looked from Jo to Lyle then back to Jo.

  “Aw, your girlfriend is making a stink because I paid that asshole Gowan fifty grand more than her. Would you please tell her that’s life in the big leagues?”

  Jo turned to face him.

  “Did you tell her, Pete?” Lyle asked.

  The coach’s face grew pale. “No.”

  “You knew?” Jo stared at him. When he no
dded, all her senses quit on her. She couldn’t speak or hear. Sweat broke out on her arms and forehead. All she could do was gape, with her mouth open slightly.

  She looked deep into his eyes and saw embarrassment and confusion. Everything became clear to her. Her anger became pain. The pain became overwhelming. She gulped air and found her voice. “You knew?” she whispered again.

  Pete stepped toward her, but she skirted around him, heading for the door. “It’s not like that, Jo. Let me explain. Wait, please,” he called after her, but she was already in the hall.

  Her throat closed, trapping words she didn’t want to say. She bent over her desk, trying to breathe. He knew. He knew all along, but never told me. He knew Lyle was screwing me. He knew I was getting a raw deal. A few deep breaths enabled her to calm down enough to sit. She gathered her belongings and strode toward the parking lot.

  When she got there, she remembered she had ridden with Pete and didn’t have her car. Returning to Edie’s desk, Jo swallowed her pride. “Call me a cab, Edie.”

  The woman nodded and picked up her phone. Jo returned to the parking lot to wait.

  Pete caught up with her. “It’s not like that. I didn’t conspire with Lyle to screw you out of fifty grand.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No. I didn’t know until after you were already hired.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  Pete stopped.

  “Why didn’t you tell me a month later? Why didn’t you tell me three months later? Why didn’t you tell me the night you proposed? Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

  Pete stood silently, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Lyle told me in confidence. If I’d told you, he’d fire me. I hated keeping it from you. I’m sorry. I did the wrong thing.”

  “To save your own skin? He’d never fire you. You won the Super Bowl. I’m leaving.”

  “Let’s talk about it over dinner.”

  “No. I’m not just leaving The Kings. I’m moving out too.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You betrayed me. Here,” she said, slipping the gorgeous diamond off with a trembling hand. “Take it.”

  “No.” He folded her fingers over the ring. “Keep it. Think about what you’re doing. Keep it for a couple of days. Then, let’s talk.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Please. I’m begging you.” His eyes watered as he gripped her fist tighter. “Don’t do this, Jo. We have something special.”

  “Do we? How can I ever trust you again? How will I know what you’re keeping from me?”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground, raising her knuckles to his lips. “All I know is that I love you. I can’t live without you.”

  “Bullshit. You lived without me for a long time.”

  “That’s before I knew you. Now, I’m…I’m spoiled. Wrecked. There’s no one like you.”

  “That’s too bad…for you. Isn’t it?”

  “Please keep the ring, at least overnight. You might feel different in the morning.”

  The taxi pulled up, and the driver tooted his horn. Fist still closed around the diamond, Jo got in. She sat up and saw Pete, shivering in the cold, as the cab turned out of the lot and onto the street. Jo leaned back, letting the events of the last half hour sink in. She wasn’t even at the point of crying. She was still in shock.

  At his house, she threw some of her clothes in a suitcase and leashed Daisy. She packed up her vehicle and drove home. Once inside, she fed the pug and poured herself a big glass of wine. She paced by the window, not sure what to do.

  Finally, Jo opened her laptop and did a search. She found the Minnesota Meerkats website and hunted around until she located the number. She dialed. “Sam Carrollton, please.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Josephine Parker.”

  The line was picked up almost immediately and a gruff voice came on. “Jo Parker? How the hell are you?”

  “Fine, Sam. You?”

  “Pretty good. We beat the Knights today.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “What can I do for you? Can’t talk you into coming to work for us, can I?”

  “Actually, Sam, that’s why I’m calling.” Jo relaxed back into her chair and took a sip of wine.

  * * * *

  The drive home seemed to take twice as long for Coach Bass. He dreaded getting out of the car. The last thing he wanted was to be alone. His footsteps echoed in the house. He even missed the greeting by an eager Daisy, ready to lick his face and jump up on his leg. The only sound was the clicking of the lock as he secured the front door.

  Pete had no appetite. Instead, he went to his den and poured two fingers of fine scotch. He downed that and poured another. Game footage didn’t appeal to him. He looked at the guide for the television, but there was nothing he wanted to watch. He strolled over to the window and stared out at the black of night and the moonlight shining off the waves.

  He wanted Jo and nothing less than her presence would do.

  “Stupid fucking asshole! Why didn’t I tell her? Why didn’t I tell Lyle to ante up and pay her what she’s worth? He shelled out a hundred and a half for that complete moron, shithead, motherfucker. But not for Jo.”

  He sank down into a comfortable chair and put his head in his hands. No solution came to mind. He’d confessed. He’d begged. But he knew she’d be returning the ring. Will she quit? How can she stay? Will she get another job in town? With what she’s done, she could have a P.R. job anywhere. Will she leave? Oh, God. Please. Don’t let her leave Monroe.

  The phone rang. It wasn’t Jo, so he let the machine take a message. It was Lyle. He was smokin’ mad, yelling about lawsuits and pussies who thought they were hot shit. Pete picked up the answering machine and threw it against the wall. The plastic broke, and the battery popped out. But the message stopped recording, and he didn’t have to hear the end of Lyle’s rant.

  I guess Dr. Wendy McMillan would say I’m a violent man. I threw something. But I want to strangle Lyle, not Jo.

  He finished his drink then fished some frozen, leftover pizza from the freezer. He heated it in the microwave. While he ate, he prayed the twins wouldn’t call. “What would I say to them? Hey, your father’s a total asshole and has lost the only woman he’s ever loved? I probably qualify as a chauvinist too.”

  They’d be coming home the next day for their Christmas vacation. He’d have to figure out something by then. The truth. He’d tell them the truth—their old man was an idiot.

  Pete kicked the couch. And the loveseat. And the ottoman, sending it sailing across the room. It banged into a small table, knocking down a vase, which shattered. The coach was grateful. Now, he had something to do. Something real. Something tangible. He had to clean up the broken glass.

  His cell rang. It played a few strains of “Can’t Smile Without You.” Pete’s eyes watered at the song he had come to think of as his and Jo’s. It was Bill. He answered.

  “Bill, your brother is the biggest asshole on the face of the Earth.”

  “But you won last weekend?”

  “Won the game, but lost my girl.”

  “What happened?”

  Pete poured himself another drink then settled on the sofa for a long conversation. The coach explained everything while his sibling listened.

  “Tomorrow’s a new day. Here’s what I would do, if I were in your shoes,” Bill said.

  The conversation continued for another half hour. After he hung up the phone, Pete washed up, downed a bottle of water, and crawled between the sheets. He was asleep within minutes.

  He passed a restless night, waking up several times, reaching for Jo. The empty bed gave him bad dreams. He awoke in the morning tired and angry. This whole mess was Lyle’s fault. Why the hell didn’t the fucker just pay her what she’s worth from the start? What’s fifty grand to him? Miser. Bastard.

  Coach showered, dressed, and drove to the office. His resolve to follow Bill’s suggestions was ov
ershadowed by an all-consuming hostility toward Lyle. Wendy had advised him never to confront someone until he could control his feelings. He paced, half-listening for some sign of life from Jo’s office, but there was none.

  He downed two cups of coffee waiting for his anger to subside. Instead, it grew. Panic seized him. What if Jo left town? What if I never see her again? She was steamed. Unable to stop himself, he went to Lyle’s office.

  He paused at Edie’s desk. “Jo come in yet?”

  “Yep. Just long enough to leave this.” The woman handed Pete a piece of paper.

  It was Jo’s resignation.

  * * * *

  Back in her townhouse, Jo was packing an overnight bag for her trip to Minnesota. Daisy circled, then ran into the kitchen, then back to the bedroom. The pug hated it when a suitcase came out. Jo crouched down to pet the dog and calm her down.

  Wonder if Sam Carrollton is still interested in me? She had gone to dinner with him once when she had been with the St. Louis Sidewinders and he had been in town. Newly divorced after twenty-five years of marriage, he unwittingly made it clear he was interested in screwing around. Jo had an instinct for men like that. She picked up on his vibes over the appetizer.

  Sam had practically drooled over her, staring at her cleavage like a twelve-year-old boy. Jo had wanted to laugh at him, but hadn’t. She’d made an excuse to end the evening early without getting anywhere near his hotel room. He had looked disappointed, but didn’t give up. He’d called her three more times for dates, even though she’d kept turning him down.

  Jo Parker wasn’t going to be a notch on anyone’s bedpost, no matter how rich he was. A year later, they had met again. Sam had been gallant, kissing her hand. Seemed he’d gotten some of that urge to sleep with anything that walked out of his system. A pretty, busty redhead had hung on his arm, and she hadn’t seemed at all happy to meet Jo.

  Did Sam get married again, or is he still screwing around? She’d find out when she got to Minneapolis. A small doubt nagged at the back of her mind. Sure, Sam had sounded all business on the phone, but would he think sex was part of her job description? She hoped not. She packed up Daisy’s bowl and pillow then headed for the car.