Rachel Gibson - Not Another Bad Date

Show-off.

“You don’t?”

Adele shook her head. “Too much going on all in the same bowl.”

“Are you sure you’re from Texas?”

Sometimes she wondered that herself.

Over the next two weeks, they jogged together most weekday mornings. When they returned, they soaped each other up in the shower or in Sherilyn’s spa tub and worked out in a whole different way. Zach always made sure he brought his own condom, and she always made sure she had granola bars or croissants for afterward. Together, they even managed to put up the baby’s crib and swing.

He always parked his Escalade by the curb and didn’t seem concerned that anyone would see them together out on their run, but she knew Tiffany wasn’t aware that her father was spending a lot of time with Adele. Adele did not kid herself into thinking Tiffany would be okay with it.

“Daddy wants to take down the portrait of my momma,” Tiffany mentioned as Adele took her home one day after school. “He says it’s time, but that makes me mad. When your momma died, did your daddy make you take all the pictures out of the house?”

Somehow, Adele figured “all the pictures” was an exaggeration. “Not all of them. Just the ones that made him sad.” She looked into the rearview mirror into Tiffany’s green eyes. “Maybe you could find something to hang up there that would make you both happy.”

A frown appeared between Tiffany’s brows, and Adele returned her gaze to the road. “Do you think the picture of Momma makes my daddy sad?”

No. “Talk to him about it.”

“Right,” Tiffany scoffed. “All he wants to talk about is the game Friday night.”

That particular game was the state championship, and it was being played across town at the Warren P. Bradshaw Stadium. The whole town had been celebrating for a week. The local newspaper had written about the impending game and about Zach, and the story had been picked up in papers across the state. The Dallas Morning News and Austin American Statesman had interviewed him. A former NFL star turned high-school football coach in a small Texas town made great ink.

She asked him if all the pressure got to him and made him nervous. He’d shrugged. “Everyone gets nervous right before a game. L. C. Johnson used to puke before every game. A lot of guys do.”

“Did you?”

“Nah.”

“Who’s L. C. Johnson?”

He’d chuckled and kissed the curve of her neck. “Only the biggest dual threat in the NFL. The last year I played for Denver, he put up some crazy stats. He rushed for over sixteen hundred yards and caught damn near everything I threw to him.”

She’d moved her hair to give him better access. “Do you miss it?”

“Playing ball?” He’d run his finger across her bare shoulder and pushed her bra strap down her arm. “Sometimes, but not as much as I used to. I miss throwing the perfect pass. I miss winning the battle, but I don’t miss trying to get out of bed the morning after a game. Or playing through the pain and nausea right after getting hit by a guy determined to kill me.”

She’d pulled back and looked into his face. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s part of the game. Besides, I had a live-in masseuse.”

She laughed. “I can’t see Devon playing masseuse.”

“Honey, Devon didn’t live in Denver with me.”

“Ever?”

He shook his head. “For most of our marriage she lived here. Across town in the big house she built. I’d come and see her and Tiffany as much as I could.”

Adele couldn’t imagine being married to Zach and living so far away from him. “That doesn’t sound like much of a marriage.”

“It wasn’t.”

She stared into his brown eyes and asked a question that was none of her business, “How could you be faithful to each other if you lived in different states?”

“I wasn’t.”

Adele had guessed that he’d been a typical jock, and it disturbed her more than it should. Bothered her more than she had a right to be bothered, and she looked away. “Oh.”

Zach’s hand at the side of her face brought her gaze back to his. “Devon didn’t give a shit who I slept with. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you don’t understand that.”

He was right. She didn’t.

“You’re a woman who’d want her man’s body and soul. Devon didn’t want me body and soul.”

“What did she want?”

“Money and status. As long as Devon got what she wanted, she didn’t care what I did.”

“What did you get?”

He looked at her as if he’d never thought to ask himself that question. He shook his head slowly. “How did we get on this topic?”

“Football.”

“Ahh.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Are you coming to the game?”

She looked up into his beautiful face and almost said yes, but something held her back. Something deep inside that kept her heart safe. Something that kept her from falling completely in love with him again. “I need to spend time with Sherilyn,” she said, and looked away from the disappointment in his eyes.

The second Saturday in December, the Cedar Creek Cougars squared off against Odessa for the state championship at Warren P. Bradshaw Stadium. Twenty-five thousand fans from around the state packed the seats, chanting and cheering and stomping their feet.

At the half, the score was tied at fourteen all, and Zach stood in the home team’s locker room with his arms crossed over his chest. His boys had played near-perfect ball. They’d played in sync, hitting and sticking and moving the ball down the field. They were doing everything he asked of them, and he feared it might not be enough. Odessa had come to play, and they were bigger and faster than the Cougars.

Joe stood in front of the boys going over defensive plays, and for once, he wasn’t ballistic. He went over the strategies and what the boys should do depending on how Odessa lined up on the offense.

Zach knew the pressures of the game, had lived it most of his life. The last time he’d felt pressure like this was when he’d played in the Super Bowl. When Joe finished, Zach stepped to the front of the team. He looked at them all sitting there, beat-up, bloodied, and grass-stained. He’d never been prouder.

“You boys have given me everything you have to give. You’ve left your blood and sweat out on that field. You haven’t held anything back, and the other coaches and I thank you.

“I’m not going to lie to you guys, you’re too smart and deserve the truth. Those Odessa boys are bigger and faster than we are. We knew that going in, but we’re hanging in there. Going toe-to-toe. Hit for hit, just like we talked about. Y’all should be proud of what you’ve accomplished so far today.

“But now every one of you is going to have to pull something extra from somewhere. Something that’s gonna make you play better than you have your whole lives. You’re going to have to seize every opportunity. Take every advantage. When you step onto the field, you go balls out. You stick every play and don’t give them anything. I know you can win this thing. They might be bigger and faster, but you’re smarter. It’s going to come down to who wants it more.”

He looked into the faces of his young warriors, their hair sticking up at odd angles or plastered to their heads.

“This is it, gentlemen. This is what we’ve been playin’ for all season. Some of you are going to go on to play college ball. Some will go on to different lives, but I guaran-goddamn-tee every last one of you will remember this night. You will either look back on it with glory or regret. The choice is yours. You play with your hearts and guts, and you’ll get the glory.”

He gathered the team around him. “So let’s hear it together: hearts, guts, glory.”

“Hearts, guts, glory!” they yelled, butting chests and helmets. Then they raised a battle cry and ran toward the field and the destiny that waited for them.

Zach lined up with the other coaches, and they followed the players out of the tunnel to the blare of horns and boom of drums as the Cedar Creek band played the school fight song.

During the third quarter, both teams played textbook ball, but in the last five minutes, Odessa’s size and speed finally gained them an advantage, and they scored on a thirty-eight-yard drive.

Zach stood on the sidelines, his heart in his stomach, and studied both teams’ offensive and defensive formations. He looked at how they lined up, and five minutes into the fourth quarter, he finally saw what he’d been looking for: a crack in the Odessa defense. Something he hadn’t seen in the hours of game tapes he’d watched. If the Cougars could take advantage of it, exploit it, they just might turn the game around. He called a time-out and walked out to meet his quarterback. He told him to start playing the left side. Then he turned toward the sidelines and something made him look up. Maybe it was the blast from an air horn or someone waving silver pompoms, but he looked up and saw her. She sat on the second deck, a few rows over from the fifty. Perhaps it was her wild blond hair that drew his gaze, or maybe it was her smile. Whatever it was, it had always been that way. Wherever she was in a crowd, his attention had always been drawn to Adele.

He turned back toward the game, pulled the brim of his hat lower, and smiled. She’d come. He guessed he’d better win this thing.

Growing up in Texas, Adele knew the basics of football. There are four quarters and each team tries to score a touchdown when it got the ball. Watching Zach, she had a feeling that the game was a lot more complicated than that. At first glance, he appeared just to be standing there, but the more she watched him, the more she noticed his hands move. He’d point to the left or the right, make some sort of signal with his fingers, or send one of the players out to the huddle. He talked into his headset and raised a clenched fist into the air when the Cougars made a good play. He was like a general directing his troops, and her heart warmed a little as she watched him. He turned and glanced up at her, and her stomach got light and fuzzy and took a tumble.