Homecoming King

by Jami Albright

  He shakes his head. “I guess you do understand. What changed for you?”

  “How do you know I have changed?”

  He picks up the ice pack, sits back, and places it under his calf again. “For one, you’re not dragging around a hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight in the form of your ex-husband. And I don’t know, there’s something else.” He makes a V with the fingers of one hand and points them at his eyes. “You’ve got the same determined look I see in some rookies at their first training camp. They’re usually the guys who’ve come from nothing, and the NFL is their chance to get out of poverty, or to help their family. Those guys have a higher chance of making the team because they’re playing for more than fame.”

  “Just like you?”

  He nods. “I was pretty damned determined.” He points his long index finger at me. “But I want to know what happened to you. Stop dodging the question.”

  Busted.

  I should just tell him the rest. I’ve already told him most of it anyway. “A couple of years ago, I went to Guatemala with a medical relief organization. They let me go, even though I have no medical training. Brad and my parents thought it would be good PR because Brad wants to make a run for the US Senate in the next few years. I’m sure everyone thought I’d go as an observer and not get my hands dirty, but that’s not what happened.” Warm satisfaction fills me from the inside out when I think of that time. “I scrubbed bed pans, shoveled ditches, and did any and all crap jobs they needed done. It was the best month of my life.”

  “Really?”

  I’m not offended by the surprised tone in his voice. “Nobody was more surprised than me at how much I loved it. Funny thing about sick people, they don’t care where you’re from, what you look like, or if you have status or not. They only need help and want to feel better.”

  “They were lucky to have you on the trip.”

  I’m shaking my head before he stops talking. “No, I was the lucky one. The Guatemalan people are so kind and generous. Most live in abject poverty and have lived through terrible things. But there’s a sense of contentment that permeates their lives. I’d never seen anything like it before. They enjoy and celebrate things that we take for granted or dismiss as unimportant.”

  “Yeah, not much contentment here in the States.”

  I try and fail to stop the tear that rolls down my cheek. “It changed me. Watching those people fight for a life that most Americans would dismiss as pitiful and worthless helped me see that I was fighting for nothing. I’d taken the path of least resistance, had every material thing I could ever want, and I was miserable. It was humbling.” I laugh and swipe at another tear. “They also thought I was too skinny. Some of the women called me esqueleto, skeleton in Spanish. It became their mission in life to fatten me up. I gained seven pounds while I was there, even with all the physical labor.”

  I wait for him to comment on that, but he says nothing.

  “The weight was the first thing Brad mentioned when I got off the plane. Pretty sad that I was so thin you could notice seven pounds. But that was one of the two final nails in the coffin of our marriage.”

  He takes the ice pack from under his leg and stands to take it to the sink in the kitchen. “Just drop it in here?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” I’m not sure if he’s bored with the story or not. I know it’s not very meaningful to anyone but me.

  He returns to his seat on the sofa. “What was the other?”

  “The other?”

  “The other nail in the coffin.”

  “Oh, when I got home, Maggie was really sick. In fact, that’s why I came home. I’d planned to stay two more weeks with the organization, but Donny called me and said the doctors had told the family to prepare for the worst.” I pull my legs into the chair until my knees are under my chin. “I was shocked. She was fine when I left. I mean, she had cancer, but was responding well, hadn’t been very sick from the chemo, generally handling everything fine. But she got an infection that her depressed immune system couldn’t fight.”

  He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped. “That must’ve been awful.”

  “Scariest three days of my life. Donny and I sat vigil by her side. He crooned sweet, silly things to her the whole time, as though he could stop her from dying by the sheer force of his will and love. I realized if it was me in that bed, no one would have willed me to live. Oh, they’d have been sad, but they wouldn’t have fought for my life.” I chuckle. “Well, no one but Maggie. Anyway, thankfully, she recovered, and I knew my marriage was over. Though it took another couple of months for it finally to come to an end. My parents have pretty much disowned me. Wayland Estate is supposed to be mine. It’s been passed down to the first girl of the family for a couple of generations, but they sold it when they moved instead of giving it to me. Not that I wanted it, but still, it hurt.”

  “Wow. That’s …”

  “Stupid?”

  “No.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first to say it. My brother thinks I’m a lunatic for getting out of their good graces and bank accounts and for giving … well, everything up for my principles.”

  “I was going to say brave. That’s fuckin’ brave, Tiger.”

  I’m so shocked by his statement that I blink like an owl with a concussion. “Um, thanks.”

  He scratches at the stubble on his chin. “It does clear up a few questions I’ve had.”

  “Such as?”

  “This is going to make me sound like a jerk, but I’ve been wondering why you didn’t fund the rec center project with family money.”

  I lift my hands in a what can you do gesture. “Now you know.” I’m not telling him about my trust fund. That’s none of his business, but I can try to explain. “I want my life to count for something, you know? To do more than take up space in this world.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  His praise is intoxicating and the last thing I expected.

  “Have you been on anymore of those trips?”

  “I went back to Guatemala a few months ago for a short two-week visit, and the women living around the clinic were happy to see I’d gained fifteen pounds.”

  What the hell am I doing, besides giving him information to use against me? One side of his mouth curls, and I prepare myself for the dig that’s sure to come. Given the number of supermodels I’ve seen on his arm over the years, he probably thinks fifteen pounds is an enormous amount of weight.

  “I think you could use a few more pounds. Don’t get me wrong, you look strong now, but your frame can hold a little more weight and still be healthy.”

  Blink.

  Blink.

  Blink.

  I might’ve just fallen in love with him.

  He shakes his head. “I’m also sorry about the house. I guess that seems disingenuous coming from the guy who bought it.”

  The change in topic is like a car going ninety miles an hour and coming to a screeching halt. One minute, I’m about to declare undying love for him because he called me strong and said I looked healthy, then the next, he’s talking about buying Wayland Estate. I wave off his concern. “I’ve made peace with it. It wasn’t about the house—it’s much more than I want to handle. It was the FU from my parents that really hurt. The message couldn’t have been clearer—fall into line or you get nothing from us, including our love.”

  “That’s shitty.”

  “Those are my parents.”

  He scrubs his hand through his hair and leans back on the couch so that his head is resting against the back and his long legs are planted on the floor. “Parents, man.”

  “Yeah. But not your mom. She’s great.”

  “She is great, unless you make her mad. That’s why I slept here last night. She kicked me out.”

  “Why?” I can’t think of one scenario that would make Gracie King kick her precious boy out of her house.

  Big arms spread wide to indicate the space around us. “
Wayland Estate. She got mad because I bought it for her. She said I was embarrassed by her and where she comes from.”

  “Are you?”

  He slants his head slightly so I can see his eyes. “I’m not embarrassed by her. But where she came from … where I came from? Maybe.” The back and forth motion of his head as he shakes it causes a few stands of hair to fall over his forehead. “I swear, getting her to leave the old neighborhood is like pulling teeth.”

  I know he’s being serious, but I can’t help the chuckle that skips up my throat. “You make it sound like she’s being held hostage.”

  “In a way she is, but she doesn’t see it.”

  “I don’t understand, and I don’t know why you’d want her out of Ryder East. Yes, it has its problems, but the people there are lovely.”

  “Most aren’t.”

  “You’ve been away a long time. It’s not like that anymore.”

  Before he can argue, his phone rings. “It’s my foundation manager.” He swipes the phone and puts it to his ear. “Hey, Carlton.”

  He cuts his eyes to me as he listens. The hair on my arms stands at attention, and not in a good way.

  “Carlton, I’m going to put you on speaker.” His blunt finger punches the button. “Can you repeat what you just said?”

  “Sure.” The guy’s voice comes through the speaker. “We couldn’t approve the grant because the application was incomplete.”

  “That’s not true,” shoots from my mouth before I even know I’ve spoken.

  “Who’s that?”

  “That’s Tiger Lyons, Carlton. She filled out the application.”

  “I’m sorry, but it is true, Ms. Lyons. There were key elements missing.”

  Fiery heat stings my skin as it spreads up my neck to my face. “I swear it was complete.”

  Cash holds the phone closer to his mouth. “Are you sure, Carlton?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what happened between when you finished it, Ms. Lyons, and when we received it, but it wasn’t complete. I reached out to the city more than once, but no one got back to me.”

  “Why wasn’t I notified, Carlton?” Cash asks. “Surely you knew the application came from my hometown?”

  “Cash, I was only following your instructions.” Even through my misery, I can hear the tight irritation in his voice. “You said you didn’t want to be bothered with the day-to-day running of the foundation. However, I did send you an email because it was from Ryder. I never heard back from you.”

  All the color bleeds from Cash’s face, and he looks as embarrassed and miserable as I feel.

  He takes the phone off speaker and puts it to his ear. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  My thoughts are bouncing around my head. What could’ve happened? An ugly and dark suspicion begins to worm its way to the front of my mind.

  “See ya, man.” Cash disconnects and gives me a commiserative look.

  “That application was complete. I checked it three times before I turned it in to City Hall. I had Maggie check it too.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I jump to my feet and begin to pace. “The hell it doesn’t matter. My reputation is on the line.”

  “You don’t have to worry about your reputation. I’m getting involved and taking responsibility for making this happen. I’m giving you the money. Tell me where you want me to send it, and I’ll get this ball rolling.”

  His open, smiling face should’ve caused little ballerinas to prance around my belly, but instead it makes me sick. An old familiar anger and helplessness washes over me. Just like Brad, he’s going to take this away from me.

  “Send it to hell. Where you can go, too, Cash King.”

  Fifteen

  Cash

  I stare into Tiger’s furious eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She stops pacing and jabs her finger my direction. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. This is my baby, and you swoop in and want to rub some money on it and take a project I’ve been working on for months away from me.”

  “What?” I shake my head because I can’t have heard her correctly. “I don’t want to take anything away from you. I’m trying to help. To do more than take up space in this world.”

  Her glare is lethal. I guess she doesn’t like me using her own words against her. “Well, I don’t want your money.”

  “You were going to take money from my foundation.”

  “This is different.”

  “How?”

  “It just is.”

  “What difference does it make if it comes from the foundation or out of my pocket? Unless my money’s not good enough for you.”

  She stares at me. “I thought we settled this. I’ve never thought anything about you was less than. The opposite, in fact. So, can we move past that, or at the very least, can you deal with your issues in private?”

  “Wow, Kitty Cat, don’t hold back.” I also want to know what she means by the opposite, in fact, but don’t ask.

  “I’m not.” She yanks her hair away from her face with both hands and closes her eyes like she’s trying to organize her thoughts, which I hope she is because I have no idea what just happened. Her butt hits the chair, and she gives me her full attention. “For years, Brad took things from me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s been mayor for the last six years, and no one’s opposed him, or no one with family connections like his has. Also, he has gotten some great things done for the city, and every one of those projects were my idea. Every one. Do you think he ever acknowledged my contribution?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Not once.” She spoke as if I hadn’t said anything. “Not privately, and certainly not publicly.”

  “I’m sorry. That is shitty, and I’m not surprised, but I don’t see what it has to do with what just happened.”

  “This project is important to me.”

  “Even more reason to take the money.”

  She pulls at her bottom lip and won’t look me in the eye. Long seconds tick by, and I think she’s going to stick to her guns and refuse my help. But then a sigh as big as Texas escapes through her lips. “Fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” But the word isn’t delivered with the enthusiasm of a woman who’s just had all her problems solved, more like a woman who’s just learned she’s only got months to live.

  “Don’t get too excited.”

  “No, you’re right. It would be stupid not to accept the money. Thank you.” She chews her nail.

  “Okay, you’re going to give me a complex.”

  “What?” Her head jerks up, and she stares at me like she forgot I’m sitting here. She is definitely going to give me a complex.

  “I don’t need you to fawn all over me, but I would like you to be glad that we’ve worked the money thing out.”

  “I am glad. Thank you.” It’s clear by the furrows in her brow that she’s thinking about something intensely.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  She takes a band from her wrist and pulls her hair into a ponytail. “The only way that application could’ve been incomplete is for someone to mess with it after I turned it into Brad’s office.”

  “You think Watson tampered with it?”

  “I don’t know who else could’ve.” She lifts one hand, palm to the ceiling. “Maybe it was an accident. He’s pretty incompetent.”

  I ask what I’ve been dying to ask since I turned the corner and saw him with his hand on her arm. “What was he doing here?”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “He says he wants me back.” Her ponytail swishes against her shoulders when she shakes her head. “I have no idea why all of a sudden he’s decided he can’t live without me. It’s ironic given what he said to me after I told him I wanted a divorce.”

  “What happened?” I can’t believe that incredibly personal question just came out of my mouth. “Nevermind, you don’t have to answer that.”

  She
rises from the chair and makes her way to the kitchen. “I don’t mind, but I need caffeine if I’m going to talk about Brad some more. Want some?”

  “Sure.” I can’t help the way my gaze follows her as she moves around the space. It’s a lot like it used to be in high school. I rarely spoke to her, but I always knew where she was and what she was doing. Some might call it obsessed, but I like to call it observant.

  “Brad told me I no longer brought the things to the table that I used to, and he had no use for me. I think he thought I would cave and fall in line with my parents, but I didn’t, and he hasn’t ever forgiven me. In fact, his big FU to me is that godawful billboard as you come into town.”

  “He did that?”

  She pours coffee into two cups and hands me one. “Oh, yeah. It went up a few months ago. It’s like he won’t let me forget that being Miss Texas is all I’m good for. Like you don’t need some major skills and brains to navigate the pageant circuit.”

  I move to the small island and sit on one of the two stools. “There’s a pageant circuit?”

  She smirks over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah, and it makes what you do on Sunday afternoons look like child’s play.”

  “Noted,” I chuckle. The smell of coffee fills the warm room. I suck it into my lungs and the tension I’ve been carrying around with me for months slides from my muscles. This is what I remember most about those six weeks in high school—how easy it was being with her.

  “The billboard’s a damn eyesore, and now someone’s defacing it weekly. He won’t take it down because he loves that as much as he loved humiliating me with it when it went up. He always has been a vindictive jerk-face.”

  The click, click, click of her spoon stirring sugar and cream into her drink is the only sound in the space as we both drink our coffee.

  “Why did you stay with him?”

  She stares into her cup like it holds the secrets to the universe. “Path of least resistance, like I said. I did believe I could do some good by being the mayor’s wife. Plus, being with him kept my parents off my back, and it got me off the fucking pageant circuit.”