Sidelined Page 6

  All the coaches grabbed at the extra copies.

  “You were in a pageant?” Erik asked, laughing. “Look at you! You’re a woman. Like, a real woman.”

  “Of course I’m a real woman, Johnson. I’m not Pinocchio,” I snapped.

  Ronnie snickered to himself.

  “What do you have to say, Rosario?” I asked, hoping the sharpness of my tone would wipe the grin off his face. It did, and his cheeks turned an embarrassed shade of red.

  “Say it,” I said, standing up.

  “Coach . . . you’re kind of . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re kind of . . . hot,” he said, holding up the picture of me from when I was in college, wearing a sparkly blue dress with my hair all tousled. I hadn’t even made it to the second round, which wasn’t unexpected, although my competitive nature had been disappointed.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I threw my pen on the desk and glared at McGuire. Al smirked next him. “I don’t need to explain myself to you,” I said. “To any of you.”

  But as I looked them all in the eyes, I knew I’d lost my credibility.

  “Yes, I was in a beauty pageant. I grew up in the South, pageants and debutante parties were a big thing. My grandma wanted me to do it, so I did it to make her happy. Now, all y’all satisfied?”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Ken said.

  McGuire shifted his weight, drawing my attention back to him. “You said you don’t like the cameras, but this”—he pointed to the paper—“says otherwise.”

  I snatched all the papers out of their hands and tore them up before tossing them in the garbage. “We’re makin’ changes on the squad startin’ today.” I looked at Al. “Defense played like shit yesterday. You better get it together out there. Xavier missed every tackle. Spencer’s movin’ to safety and Anderson will start quarterback.”

  “What?” McGuire and Al said at the same time.

  “You didn’t talk about this with me,” McGuire said, moving closer to me.

  “I don’t need to. I’m the head coach. Spencer is too arrogant on and off the field to be quarterback. He holds on to the ball too long and thinks he’s better than he is. Nate is a hard worker, and the team will listen to him. He just hasn’t been given the chance to show off his arm.”

  “Spencer doesn’t know any of the defensive plays,” Al argued.

  “Then teach him!” I waved my arm toward the door. “Do your job, Al. We have lazy players on this team, and I can only assume it’s because they were allowed to be.”

  He opened his mouth, but I held my hand up. He was on my last nerve.

  “Al, I spoke to you last week about this. I’m not gonna have my decisions questioned at every turn. You’re either gonna do what’s best for the team or you leave.”

  “You don’t know what’s best for the team!” Al roared.

  “I do. And you’re not it. Get out. I don’t want to see you on my field again.”

  Al’s mouth dropped open like a fish.

  “Rosario, you’re on defense today.”

  Rosario stuttered.

  “Everyone out of my office. Now.”

  They all moved in silence except for Al, who mumbled about how I would regret this, but I was too irate to care.

  “McGuire, stay.”

  He turned, took his hat off, and crumpled it in his hands, his eyes boring into mine. “Why’d you do that?”

  “You know why I did that,” I said, my voice nearly a whisper through gritted teeth. “Al was the laziest person on this team. He didn’t do anything for the players.”

  “He’s been here forever. He’s a teacher here.”

  “So what? He’s been here too long. He needed to go. I know you aren’t dim-witted enough to think otherwise. Because as much as you hate me, you know I know what I’m doin’.”

  He crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to back me up. The more you try to tear me down, the more motivated you make me. So if you want to keep bringin’ these stupid pictures and articles in, go for it. You’ll find your ass out on the curb with Al.”

  His jaw worked as we stood off, neither one backing down. I knew he was a good coach, and a more than half-decent player in his time. I also knew that he wouldn’t leave this team in the lurch. He simply needed to not be an asshole.

  “I have one question for you,” he said after a while.

  “What?”

  “Why are you here? Why this team? Why Minneapolis?”

  “That’s more than one question.”

  He shook his head. “Smart-ass.”

  “You think I got to this position by bein’ nice? By rollin’ over?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Just answer me, why are you here?”

  “Because I live in the real world. I, unlike everyone else on this staff, am not afforded the luxury of bein’ lazy. I can’t just pass, I need to excel. I hit my ceiling at Tech. Football is still a man’s world, and I’ve barely got my toe in the door. I needed to go where I was wanted, and where I’d be able to shine. Where I could show everyone what I can do. That’s why I’m here. Because I can turn this team around.”

  His eyes narrowed briefly before he dropped his arms.

  “And I’d really like your help with that,” I added.

  After a beat, he put his hat back on his head. “I still don’t like you.”

  “I don’t like you either.”

  The idea crossed my mind that I should tell him I’d moved in with his friend, but the hell with it. He’d find out sooner or later. Save that fight for a different day.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Charlie

  Parking my car in front of a brick twin townhouse, I checked the address on the slip of paper again before turning my car off. It was late, right in the middle of dinnertime, but I felt I owed Jaylin an explanation. After his obvious disappointment during and after the game on Friday and his slow performance at practice the past two days, I wanted to have a conversation with him away from the other players and in a room that wasn’t my tiny office.

  A light in the front window illuminated the living room and an orange-tinted wreath with ribbon woven around it hung on the door. When I rang the doorbell, a woman in purple scrubs, with dark skin and hair in a neat bun, opened the door. “Hi, I’m right in the middle of making dinner. Can I help you?”

  “Ms. Bose, I’m Charlie Gibb, Jaylin’s coach.”

  “Oh, hello.” She tilted her head.

  “I wanted to talk to Jaylin.”

  Worry etched itself on her face. “Is everything all right? Did something happen?”

  “Yes—I mean, no . . .”

  Her confused look told me I was screwing this up already, and a voice in the back of my head that sounded a lot like McGuire’s reminded me how all the players and their parents were used to talking with him.

  “I wanted to sit down with Jaylin and talk to him about the game on Friday and his ankle.”

  Ms. Bose nodded and opened the door wider for me to enter her house. “I’ve been on night shift for the past two weeks and I missed the game. He told me he didn’t play at all.” She gestured me toward a beige couch in the living room as she went to turn off the burners in the kitchen before joining me. “He was really upset.”

  “I know,” I said, leaning forward. “That’s why I wanted to come here to speak to him.”

  She shook her head, eyes on a framed photo of Jaylin. “I told him he had to be careful and give himself time to rest, but of course he didn’t listen to me.”

  Her exasperated smile made me smile. “High ankle sprains are tricky injuries—”

  “Oh, I know,” she said, raising her hand. “I had multiple doctors explain it to him. But Jay’s got a thick head, like his father.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Ms. Bose—”

  “Call me Deb.”

  “Deb,” I started again, “I know Jaylin’s upset with me, but I know what he’s capable
of when he’s completely healthy. I’ve watched film from last year, and he’s got a lot of natural talent. He just has to be patient while he fully heals so he doesn’t injure himself further.”

  Deb nodded. “And you came all the way over here to say that?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I know I have to earn trust from the players, and I’m not afraid of that.”

  She eyed me in that way only a mother could. “How’s it going for you at the school? I have to say I’ve never heard of a woman football coach.”

  “Yeah, you and a lot of other people,” I said with a bitter laugh. “I’m really just trying to work hard. We’re all trying.”

  Deb winked. “I like that.” She got up and called up the stairs. “Jaylin, come down here, please.”

  Seconds later, quick steps trotted downstairs. Jaylin’s eyes found his mother, and then me. “Hey, Coach.”

  “Hi. I wanted to talk to you for a couple minutes.”

  “I’m going to go finish supper,” Deb said, ducking out of the room.

  Jaylin sat down across from me, in the seat his mother had vacated. “What’s up?”

  “You have a lot of good qualities that I admire.” When he raised his brows, I continued, “You wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re smart. You’re energetic. But you’re also really stubborn.”

  He hmmed and put his chin in his palm.

  “I might know a little somethin’ about being stubborn,” I added.

  That made him laugh.

  “Look, Jaylin, you are a leader on this team. The other kids obviously look up to you, and they should. But that means you need to lead them by example.”

  He started to roll his eyes, so I leaned forward to catch his attention. “Don’t make that face. You know they do. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  Deb’s head popped out from around the kitchen wall. She pointedly cleared her throat at Jaylin. I went on, “Are you going to step up and be the captain they need, or are you going to lie back, do the same old thing? You know what it’s been like, you want it to stay the same?”

  Jaylin clapped his palm around his fist. “I want to win, Coach.”

  “Me too. I need you to show it in practice. Even when you’re mad at me for not playing you.”

  Deb walked back into the living room and put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Coach Gibb knows what she’s doing. If she didn’t think you were physically ready, then you need to accept that. What would’ve happened if you had played and hurt yourself worse, huh?”

  I nodded. “I’ve seen a lot of players get held back by going into the game too early. I understand that you wanted to play last weekend, but I wanted to make sure you were completely healed. Now that I know you are, I promise you will start, but you need to start acting like the player I know you are. If you are at your best, the rest of the team will follow along. But if you half-ass it—” I glanced up at Deb. “Excuse my language.”

  She shrugged.

  I turned back to Jaylin. “If you practice half-speed, so will the others, and we’ll end up where y’all were last year.”

  “I get it. I get it,” he said, nodding.

  “This is your senior year, you’ve been on this varsity team for three years now, I know you must be getting some letters from colleges now.”

  “A few,” he said with a shy smile.

  Deb pointed to a desk in the corner. “We have a couple, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with them.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  She grabbed a couple of envelopes from a drawer and handed them to me. “Jaylin’s dad and I divorced a few years ago, and he’s not always in the picture. I try to be there for him as much as I can, but I also need to pay the bills, and I take on a lot of extra shifts at the hospital to make sure Jay has everything he needs.” She waved her hands to the papers. “I want to help him with this, but . . .”

  I stood up and patted her on the back. “I would be happy to help. I did a lot of recruiting in Georgia. Don’t worry.”

  She hugged me, whispering, “Thank you. Thank you.”

  Jaylin stood up, and I hugged him too. “Just focus on keeping your grades up and doing your best on the field, and we’ll get you there.”

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  I made my way to the door, but Deb stopped me. “Want to stay for dinner? I’ve got a casserole in the oven.”

  “Oh no, thank you, though. I appreciate that. Y’all enjoy your night. Jaylin, see you tomorrow.”

  When I got in my car, Deb and Jaylin were by the front door, waving at me. I grinned. I’d do whatever I could to get him a scholarship.

  Back at the house, I dropped my bag inside the door as I kicked my sneakers off to put them in the closet.

  “Hey.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find Piper splayed out on the sofa.

  “Hi. What’re you doing here?”

  “Sonja talked me into yoga.” She grabbed at her workout pants, making a face. “It’s hot yoga, she said it’s supposed to be great.” She sat up with a smile pasted on her face. “Want to come?”

  I shook my head. “I have laundry to do.”

  “You’re going to make me put up with all of Sonja’s perfect poses and breathing on my own?” As Sonja came downstairs, with her hair back behind a headband, Piper pointed to her and breathed deeply with her eyes closed.

  “It’s good for your mind and body,” Sonja said, grabbing a green yoga mat from the closet. “Mindful breathing.”

  Piper waved her off. “I invited Charlie, but she said she has laundry.” She sat up. “We should switch. I’ll do your laundry while you breathe mindfully.”

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

  Sonja elbowed me. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Piper stood up and made a slashing movement across her throat. “It won’t be fun. But you should still come. Oh! We can go out for drinks after.”

  I gestured upstairs. “I have stuff to do.” Sonja and Piper both stared at me, and I laughed. “Really. I do.”

  Sonja crossed her arms. “You know, I hear you sneaking around at night, trying not to make any noise.”

  “I know you go to bed early. I don’t want to wake you up.”

  “This is your house too, you don’t need to worry about that. Piper certainly didn’t.”

  Piper nodded.

  “You also don’t have to hide in your room,” Sonja added.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m getting the feeling you don’t really like us,” Piper said, making sad puppy-dog eyes.

  I clucked my tongue. “You’re silly.”

  “We invite you to come out and you never do,” Sonja said, moving to tie her sneakers.

  “Yeah, and when you’re turning down Sonja’s social invitations, you know you’ve moved into hermit territory.”

  With them laying out all the evidence of my fear to venture out into the world and open myself up to their friendship, I suddenly felt ashamed. They were right. They had only ever been kind to me, but in return, I’d declined every invitation to dinner or anything. I’d been here for weeks now, and hadn’t managed to make any new friends. Here were two women freely offering up their time, and I was too afraid to say yes.

  Silly.

  “I guess I could do laundry tomorrow.”

  “Yes! Put off to tomorrow whatever you could do today.”

  Sonja leveled a glare at Piper. “That’s not how that goes.”

  “Whatever.” Piper handed me my sneakers back. “To a sauna we go.”

  I slipped my sneakers back on and followed Piper out the front door as Sonja locked up. “We really should get that drink after,” I said. “We’ll have to replenish liquids.”

  Sonja growled good-naturedly behind us as Piper threw her hands up. “That’s what I’m saying!”

  CHAPTER

  10

  Charlie

  Tossing the cork of the 2015 Malbec on the counte
r, I felt my mouth water as the purple-red liquid filled up the face of Idris Elba. I picked up the green glass and smelled the wine before taking a sip.

  Sonja leaned over the counter. “You’re a professional.”

  “No, I just like wine.” I twisted my hand, facing the painted gaze of Idris out to her. “Where’d you get these glasses?”

  “A Christmas present from Piper. One year it was David Beckham’s body on a pillowcase. And the year before that it was a watch with Channing Tatum’s face on the face.” She showed off said watch with the hour and minute marks surrounding Channing’s smiling face.

  I laughed and took Idris to the living room. Sonja followed.

  “My favorite thing to do on Sundays is drink a nice glass of red and watch a little bit of football. Relax,” I said as I turned on the TV, searching for the Vikings versus Packers game. I threw my feet up on an ottoman and settled my head back against a pillow—exactly what I needed.

  This past week of practice had been challenging, to say the least.

  I’d brought up a coach from junior varsity, Dave Watson, to help out on defense, and it had made a world of difference. Al was deadweight, and the kids responded much better to someone with energy and motivation.

  Brett had pitched a fit when I’d informed him he’d no longer be starting QB, but after I’d made him run a few laps, he was too exhausted to do anything but stand on the sideline. With Nate in, the rest of the players seemed to fall into line. They understood that big changes needed to be made to make some big gains.

  The downside was the blowback I’d received. I had gotten an earful from Jack Spencer, Brett’s dad, on the phone, telling me his son was a great hockey player, but they’d chosen for him to play football instead. I’d told him they were both welcome to go back to the rink if they’d like. And then he’d called me a bitch.

  Apparently, Spencer men didn’t handle being told what to do by women very well.

  But by the end of the week, the team had improved immensely. So much so that we won our game on Friday. Mr. Spencer had nothing to say to me after that.

  The Otters actually looked like they could pull out a winning season after all. My red wine was well earned.