“Hey there, Darcy-girl. I heard you were back in town.” A smoke-roughened breathless voice emerged from the recesses of the antique store. Darcy jogged over to grab the other end of a side table the man hauled out to the sidewalk.
“Word travels fast,” she said.
Over the years, Henry Wilson had maintained the twinkle in his eye, a full head of white hair, and a close-cropped beard. As a child, Darcy had fantasies Henry was Santa Claus taking a sabbatical.
After they set the side table out, he leaned a hip and a hand on the scarred wood, wheezing deep breaths.
“Are you all right? Can I get you some water or something?” Darcy laid a hand on his arm.
He patted her hand and straightened. “Just getting old. Happens to everyone. Speaking of old,” Henry cackled good-naturedly, “how’s Ada feeling?”
“Better. Still can’t get around, but Ms. Evelyn is whipping her into shape as we speak.”
“How long are you staying?” He rearranged the front, moving the lamp to the sideboard and tucking the cord out of sight.
“As long as Ada needs me.” The pat answer rolled off her tongue. “What can I give you for that crystal lamp?”
“That old thing? Darlin’, it’s yours. Consider it a welcome-home present.” He swept the lamp into her arms before she had a chance to protest.
“But, Henry—”
“Nope. It’s yours. Not many young people feel the obligation to take care of their own these days. Ada must be right-proud of you and Logan.”
Another shot of guilt burned through her stomach, but Darcy smiled and nodded, murmuring her thanks.
Henry waggled his eyebrows. “Season starts in less than a month. You excited?”
When Darcy had left Falcon, she’d shed the football fanaticism that infected the town. “I hope the team turns around. Ada said last season was dismal.”
“Heads will roll if it doesn’t.” Henry’s tone and expression matched the somber prophesy.
Darcy squeezed the lamp a little tighter and took two steps back. “I’m meeting Kat. I’ll see you later, Henry.”
He smiled, the crinkles around his eyes morphing from serious to playful, his twinkle back. “Tell Ada I’m praying for her.”
“Will do.” She turned around and picked up the pace down the sidewalk.
The Diner sat at the end of the street, the small gravel lot packed. The restaurant stayed busy. The food was good and fast, the tea iced and sweet. Darcy bypassed the crowd at the door and found Kat lounging at a table in the middle of the room. Why did it feel like a hundred eyes followed her progress across the floor?
Katherine Renshaw dangled one long leg over the other. If it wasn’t for her impeccably cut business suit and deadly spiked four-inch heels, the woman could have passed for a Nubian queen. Her ebony skin glowed, and her hair was a riot of natural curls held back by a gauzy scarf, tied so the ends slashed red over the shoulder of her black blazer. One elegant red-tipped finger tapped matching full lips.
Darcy swept a hand over her messy ponytail and pulled at her rumpled, sweaty T-shirt. Sliding onto a vinyl-covered seat across from her best friend, she set the lamp between them. “God, it’s good to see you.” She clamped her mouth shut while a waiter set down two waters in cloudy plastic glasses and bustled off with promises to return. “I made a total ass out of myself last night,” Darcy whispered.
Kat looked over the edge of her menu like a scolding teacher. “I can only assume Logan was somehow involved.”
“Only incidentally. I got a little nervous, drank too much, and had to be driven home.” Darcy chewed on a fingernail until she drew blood.
Kat eyebrows arched higher. “That’s not like you at all.”
And, it wasn’t. Darcy usually maintained rigid control. Her goal was to erase any shades of her mother in her personality and behavior. The one time she’d gotten plastered in college, she had hooked up with an unnamed boy and woken up mortified, but thankfully alone, in her own bed.
Kat checked her watch and signaled for help with a snap of her fingers. “You good with ham and cheese?” At Darcy’s nod, Kat said, “Mitch, we need two specials to go, please. Throw in some chips and Cokes? Thanks, sweetie.”
“Why to go?” Darcy already dreaded stepping out of the blessed air-conditioning.
“Otherwise, we’ll be late and get stuck with bad seats.”
“Where are we going?”
“Football practice.”
Darcy’s confused blinks counted beats of silence. “Have I stepped into the Twilight Zone?”
Kat fingered the dangling diamond cut crystals of the lamp. “I thought you were all into eclectic and clean lines.”
“I am. It’s for Ada.”
“Everything okay? You tend to buy peace offerings and make food when you’re feeling guilty.”
“What are you talking about?” Darcy sloshed a quarter of her water on the table and sopped it up with a dozen flimsy paper napkins she yanked out of the on-table holder.
“Whenever we had a fight, you’d invariably bike over bearing a baggie of fresh baked cookies.”
Darcy poked at the sodden mass of napkins, avoiding Kat’s knowing gaze. “I love Ada and want to help her get better. I should be happy to come home.”
“But?” Kat leaned forward on her arms.
“But . . . I’m up for a promotion at work. This months-long sojourn isn’t going to look good. I’m already the youngest one in the running. I keep getting calls and texts from my temporary replacement. Am I being a selfish brat for worrying about my job?”
“You’re entitled to some resentment. Your life has been turned upside down. But, you did come home, and you’ll stay as long as Ada needs you. Right?”
“Of course.”
“Then, don’t beat yourself up about a few feelings.”
Darcy heaved a sigh and fanned herself with the menu. “I swear to God, in Atlanta, I’m totally professional and competent. I step one foot over the city limits, and I’m pulled over by Rick, get drunk and disorderly at The Tavern, and—” For some reason, she was hesitant to confess Robbie had caught her skinny-dipping.
Kat heaved a relieved sigh when Mitch put a full paper bag and two drinks complete with lids and straws on the table. She handed the man a twenty-dollar bill. “Come on or we’ll be stuck watching with the retirees.”
“Have you been taken into an alien ship and brainwashed? You could care less about football.”
“True. But I love hot men, and the new coaches are on fire. Logan included. The army sure cleaned him up nice.” Kat cuffed Darcy’s wrist, and she was pulled along in Kat’s wake. Nothing new about that. Kat was an elemental force unto herself.
They trailed behind a group of tittering, well-dressed women who were strangely headed toward the summer practice field too. The towered lights of the main stadium were the tallest structures in town and stood farther down the road.
“Your cousin really stuck his neck out for Dalt. I hope it pays off.”
“What do you mean? Did Logan pull some strings? I didn’t think Logan even had strings to pull.”
Kat slowed their pace, and they fell behind the group. “The school board meetings have been like watching Days of Our Lives or something. The drama. We still haven’t recovered from the Coach Hiddleston drug scandal.”
“Is the loser still in jail?”
“Yep. But no coach worth anything has wanted to touch Falcon’s program for the last five years. Our record was a measly two and six last year. Of course, Perkins has been salivating for the job since Hiddleston got sent up.”
Darcy shook her head and chuffed. “According to Logan, there is no way Perkins didn’t at least know about the steroids even if Hiddleston was the one who distributed them.”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Kat said with a definite ironic lilt. “I happen to agree, but none of the boys implicated him. Anyway, this spring the board did something shocking and most unlike them.”
“W
hat’s that?”
“Got their heads out of their asses and hired an outsider. Logan lobbied hard for his army buddy.”
“Robbie,” Darcy said in a near whisper.
“On a first name basis with Coach Dalton, are we?”
“He’s the one who drove me home last night.” Darcy looked up at the cloudless blue sky and blinding sun.
“Well, well . . . how interesting.”
Regret tingled in her heart. “Nothing happened, of course.”
The gaggle of women made their way across the open field, trotting as if they had cloven hooves to keep their pointed heels from sinking into the soft ground. Darcy was the only one without makeup and in sensible running shoes.
Kat slipped off her jacket and climbed to the top row of the aluminum bleachers. Darcy perched on the edge of the scalding metal next to her. Three contingents crowded in. Overdressed youngish women on the prowl, middle-aged motherly women checking on their young, and old retired men attempting to prognosticate the season. The buzz of the female voices filled the air like a hive—some shrill, some throaty, but all reflecting an excitement bordering on arousal.
The boys ran on the field in workout clothes and tossed their pads aside. They started a suicide drill from the 50-yard line. Granted, some of the players were big, manly looking dudes, but were any of them even eighteen?
“Kat, this is probably illegal and definitely creepy.” Darcy shielded her eyes.
“Don’t worry, we’re not here for them. We’re here for . . . them.” Kat pointed a red-tipped finger and sighed like a third-grader seeing her favorite boy-band on the cover of a magazine.
Out ran five grown men. Four of them hotter than sin.
One was her cousin . . . so, ick.
One was Robbie . . . gay and taken.
One was a burly, handsome black man. Kat’s gaze followed him to the nearest end zone.
One was a stranger with a lean, broad-shouldered build. He threw tight spirals with two boys on the far sideline.
The fifth man was older, fatter, and grumpier. He spit a mouthful of tobacco and yelled at the offensive line until his face was as red as a full-bellied tick. Coach Perkins. Obviously, his panties were still in a wad about not getting the head job.
A mangy-looking three-legged dog trotted up and down the field and retrieved stray balls. Its face was black, its body tan, and its ears cocked and alert. It didn’t bark or chase the boys, and an innate intelligence shined in the way it anticipated the trajectory of the balls. It checked in frequently with Robbie, who caressed the dog’s head and earned affectionate nudges.
Darcy leaned close to Kat. “Who’s that working with the quarterbacks?”
“Alec Grayson. He was a highly touted QB in the NFL before he got hurt. He’s a contractor, new to town, and he’s single.” Kat shot her side-eye glance and a half-smile.
“Good grief, I’m not looking to date while I’m home, Kat.”
“What happened with you and your boss?”
“Gavin was not my boss. He’s on the library’s board of directors. I went out with him twice. Huge mistake.” Darcy tried but failed not to sound like a prude. “He tried to get me into bed on the second date.”
“Oh, the horror of having a successful man find you attractive.”
At Kat’s mocking tone, Darcy elbowed her in the ribs.
A woman with a smile on her face, malice in her voice, and a steel rod implanted up her butt interrupted their teasing laughter. “Darcy Wilde. How long are you staying in town?”
The woman tossed blonde hair with dark brown roots over her shoulder. Recognition jolted Darcy. Sheila Robinson had graduated high school with Logan and married the star wide receiver turned town dentist. She had also been the woman talking to Rick last night.
“As long as Ada needs me.” Darcy’s gaze ricocheted back to the field. Not to the hot, available quarterback coach, but to Robbie. The epitome of masculine power and grace, he ran wind sprints with the cornerbacks and wide receivers.
“You left with Coach Dalton last night.” Sheila’s accusatory tone was out of place and disconcerting. She crossed her feet at the ankles and cocked her head toward Darcy with an arrogance only upper-crust Southern women can emulate. Darcy had never perfected the skill. “What are your plans?”
Some of the women cast her curious looks from the corner of their eyes and others turned away as if embarrassed by Sheila’s cattiness, but the entire semicircle seemed to lean in with their ears.
Darcy tucked a few pieces of stray hair back into her ponytail, and her shoulders sloped in a defensive posture she’d worked hard to correct since high school. “My plans with respect to what? Dinner tonight? Does James know you’re out here gawking at other men?”
Swift intakes of breath huffed around them. “James and I are separated. And thank you for bringing it up. As if everyone doesn’t know he cheated on me with that . . . that floozy of a hygienist.” Sheila’s tears looked real.
Darcy felt about as big as a fire ant and just as hated. “I’m sorry, Sheila, I honestly—”
“It was embarrassing to watch you throw yourself at Dalt last night. As if he would be interested in you.”
Any embarrassment melted under her anger. They were both grown women now, and Darcy refused to cow to her. “Are you dating him?”
Sheila narrowed her eyes but stayed silent.
“Why are you insulting me and acting like I’m poaching in your territory?”
Kat laid a hand on Darcy’s knee and squeezed, her voice jokey. “Settle down ladies. We’re a little beyond playground fights over boys, aren’t we?”
Darcy jerked her knee out of Kat’s grasp and rose, shifting the lamp to her hip. This was exactly the kind of thing she’d wanted to escape when she left for college. The women were silent as Darcy stomped down the rows of bleachers. The distinctive clang of heels on metal sounded behind her. Kat caught up with her halfway to the gray concrete cube that housed the public restrooms.
“Thanks for backing me up,” Darcy said, unable to stop frustration from biting through her words.
“You should thank me. Sheila has turned positively rabid since James left her. No offense, but she would rip you to threads. The woman is cray-cray.” Kat circled her temple with her forefinger.
They propped themselves on the far side of the bathrooms, out of sight from the bleachers. Darcy set the lamp on the ground, and Kat handed her a sandwich. She took a bite, but between the heat and the confrontation with Sheila, her appetite was nonexistent.
“Shelia is determined to bag Dalt,” Kat said between sips of her Coke.
“That is ridiculous considering the man is gay. Does she think her ginormous boobs will make him switch teams?”
Kat stared at her as if a huge, pus-filled zit protruded out of her forehead.
Darcy’s lips went numb. “You look surprised. Is he not out?”
“Try flabbergasted. Who told you Dalt is gay?”
“He told me. He was pretty upfront about it.”
Kat looked toward the buildings of town. “This is not going to go over well.”
A nugget of panic settled in Darcy’s stomach. “Things are different now. People are more accepting.”
“If it’s their hairdresser or interior decorator, sure, but not the football coach. Falcon is a good twenty years or more behind the social curve.”
“Cyrus never got bullied. People love him,” Darcy said.
“My brother never pretended to be anything but what he was. Soon as he saved enough money, he left.” Kat took another long pull on her Coke until she hit ice. “Let me get this right. Dalt said, ‘I’m gay.’”
Darcy rubbed her forehead. “Not in so many words—”
The squeak of the bathroom door froze them. Kat put a finger to her lips and popped her head around the side. “Shitfire. Margie’s hot-footing it back to the bleachers.”
“Do you think she heard us?” Darcy crouched and stuck her head below Kat’s to watch
the women.
“Is everyone pulling out phones?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Kat turned to face Darcy. “What does ‘not in so many words’ mean?”
“Logan said something about Robbie being a ‘man’s man,’ and then Robbie said Avery was waiting for him and that Avery wasn’t a girl. He talked about Avery like he was really special. It was humbling.”
Kat’s face waged a battle between laughter and horror. “Avery? You think Avery is Dalt’s gay lover?”
With her stomach crushed somewhere beneath her feet, Darcy wiped at sweat that wasn’t caused by the heat. Her underarms grew damp, and she flapped her shirt. “Who is Avery then?”
The hand over her mouth distorted Kat’s words, and Darcy wasn’t sure if she was trying to stem laughter or a horrified gasp. “He’s on the field.”
“He’s here?”
“He’s never too far away.” Kat jerked her head toward the cacophony of yells and grunts and crashing helmets.
Darcy left the shelter of the restrooms to scan the field. An occasional glance was fired over a shoulder from the bleachers, but no one acted like they had the choicest piece of gossip to hit the town in years between their teeth. “Robbie said Avery lost a leg, so it can’t be the running back coach, right?”
“Nope. That’s Laurence Malone. Avery did lose a leg. That left him with three.”
“Three-legs . . .” Her gaze settled on the dog. “No,” she repeated over and over. “The dog? The freaking dog? That’s Avery?”
Darcy dropped into a squat and wrapped her arms around knees, rocking back and forth. Along with the blanket of guilt, embarrassment, and shame came a stab of relief. She pushed herself back up as if she were the one with two broken hips. “Should I go make an announcement? Apologize for the misunderstanding?”
Kat paced and fiddled with the ends of her scarf. “This is tough. What if Margie didn’t hear anything? If you go over and announce Dalt isn’t gay, it’s going to raise all sorts of unnecessary questions. Rumors will spread like kudzu.”
“Maybe I should wait it out. If Margie heard, then we’ll hear and I can . . .” She gnawed the inside of her mouth. What kind of damage control could she implement at that point?
Slow and Steady Rush: Sweet Home Alabama Page 5