His father waved him off. “You’re a busy man.”
“Aww,” Tilly added, lightly swatting him again. “You can’t help being the world-famous football coach. Your father always talks about you being in such high demand. Says rival universities are always trying to poach you.”
“Till…” Denny Rourke called from over Levi’s shoulder, a note of caution in his tone.
Tilly’s smile fell, which meant she’d caught on immediately.
“Right,” she continued, answering an unasked question. “Shame what happened at that playoff game. We all have slumps, right? Life can’t be one big, ole winning streak.” She winced and glanced back at Levi’s father, obviously looking for an assist. Levi couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t exactly told his father the whole story, but the man had surely seen enough of the fallout on TV to get the gist.
The referee made a bad call. Levi called him on the bad call. The ref growled something only Levi could hear, and Levi decked him.
Surprise! He was back in Summertown after a footballcoaching career that kept on climbing, reaching for the summit, until his harness snapped and Levi hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.
No, life wasnotone big winning streak. Levi had known that since he was in college. The game had been the one place, though, where everything felt right. Until now.
He sighed and let his father and Tilly lead him into the house where he’d peruse the real estate section of the newspaper like it was 1995. As soon as he stepped foot in the kitchen, though, Levi saw Denny Rourke’s boxer briefs along with Mrs. Higginson’s bras and panties hanging over a wooden drying rack—right beside the kitchen table.
“You know what?” Levi began. “It’s a nice day. It’s been a while since I’ve been home. I think I’m just gonna walk around town and—uh—see what I see. People still use For Rent signs, right? There’s gotta be something.”
After a beat of silence, Denny and Tilly burst into laughter.
“Oh, Den!” Tilly managed while wheezing for breath. “I was so excited to see Levi that I forgot to clean up!”
Levi slapped a hand over his eyes. It didn’t matter that he was a grown man in his thirties or that he was no stranger to a woman’s undergarments. He’d never be mature enough to handle this. Even if it was only laundry. But the laundry alluded to other things, and he was not in the right headspace to imagine…other things.
Oh god. Trying not to imagine other things only made him imagine other things.
He spun on his heel, eyes still covered, and felt his way backtoward the door.
“Come on, Son!” his father called after him, still laughing. “You don’t have to leave!”
“I’ll call you later after I find a place!” Levi called back, dropping his hand a fraction of a second too late so that his face greeted the front doorframe with a smack.
“Shit!” he hissed, but kept moving even as the spot beneath his right eye began to throb. He thought he heard his father or Tilly ask if he was okay, but he didn’t wait to make sure.
To use a sports metaphor other than football, the termites were definitely strike one, and his father and his girlfriend’s mixed unmentionables were strike two. He’d venture to guess that a doorframe to the face counted as strike three, which meant he’d been in town for less than an hour so far and had already struck out.
It was time to turn this game around.
***
He felt like an asshole for what he was about to do, but Levi had no choice. So he pulled out his phone as he began walking toward town past trimmed topiaries and other lawn art that included hubcaps painted to look like daisies or calla lilies. He did a double take when he caught sight of a whole bunch of hubcaps painted and fashioned to look like a topiary of a teacup poodle.
For the second year in a row, Summertown had been the victor in the Twin Town Garden Fest, besting their rival, Middlebrook, with their combination of living and inanimate gardens.
If it went to voicemail, he would not leave a message. But ifsomeone happened to pick up…
“Five-Oh-One! What is up, my friend? Didn’t I just see you?” His buddy Tommy Crawford chuckled on the other end.
Despite his state of affairs, Levi always laughed at Tommy’s nickname for him.
“Why are you answering your phone on your honeymoon?” Levi asked.
“Why are you calling me while I’m on my honeymoon?” Tommy countered. “By the way, we’re in a freaking cabana right now. Someone comes by every twenty minutes to check if we need more drinks. I don’t think I’m ever coming home.”
Levi groaned. “I’m sorry to bother you. I really am, but…I’m desperate. I mean, I’m heading to town now to see if anyone’s got an apartment to rent, but I just have this feeling based on the shit hour I’ve had back in town that I’m going to be shit out of luck once I get to the square.”
“I’ll be off in a second, Babe,” he heard Tommy say, his voice slightly further away. “I’ll head outside so you don’t need to listen to us, but it’s the Bat Signal, and I have no choice but to answer.”
