We enter the room, give our names to the woman at the door, and she gives us our table number. We head to the bar and begin some small talk with the coaches Jackson recognizes from his time in the NFL. They greet him excitedly and talk about his current team and his current state title. Hearing Jackson talk about his boys, I watch his face light up. He has genuine love and excitement for his team and talks more about where his junior and senior boys are going than where he wants to end up.
We slowly distance ourselves, grab a drink and head to our table to settle in for dinner.
“Do you realize you speak about Jameson and Connor as if they are your own kids?” I tease him.
He grins proudly. “They feel like they’re mine.” He pulls out my chair and I sit. He slides in next to me, laying his hand on my thigh. My open thigh now that the slit in my dress has given way. I have goosebumps. Can he feel them?
“I’ve been with them for the last four years. Talked with them, coached them, hung out during the summer at the field. They’re good kids. I’m going to miss them come next year.”
“Yes, but then you’ll have new kids to worry about. The cycle never stops.”
“You’re right. There will always be new kids, new coaches, people come and go,” he grows quiet.
“Hey,” I reach out and lay my hand over his. “There’s always a cycle with this. When you were playing you had new coaches too, right? It’s part of the sport. No one will be disappointed in you when you move on. Or if you don’t. I want you to know that.”
He looks at me. Really looks at me, like he’s trying to see into my heart and if I’m being honest with him. “I’ve never been told that. I’ve never been told it’s alright to move on. I’ve been told ‘you have to go’ or ‘you can’t be here’, but it was never a point of allowance. So, thank you.” He squeezes my leg, then places it on the back of my chair.
This man breaks my heart. He has the biggest heart, but the world has trampled it. Sometimes I still see that little kid in him.
Other coaches and their wives have joined us at the table. The presentation for the baseball coach is given and then dinner is served. It’s a great night of networking. Jackson is asked a lot about his time on the field and where he wants to go next. It’s good for him to verbalize it. He needs to figure it out for himself exactly where he will be the most content.
Chapter 19
Jackson
Francesca is outstanding. Seeing her open the door tonight in that black dress—she was stunning. She’s naturally beautiful and draws people close. Whether or not she sees it, she has a way of carrying herself that makes people flock to her.
I’m one of them. She sucked me in all those years ago; I’ve never let go and I’ve never been the same since.
I couldn’t leave her again if I tried.
Francesca really has a knack for PR, whether she wants to admit it or not. She makes me feel like I’m the most important person here tonight. She’s introduced me to some fresh faces as well as helped me reconnect with old. The good news is that people recognize me and my talents, and no one has mentioned any of my risqué behavior. As we wind down from dinner, she excuses herself to the restroom and I get us fresh drinks from the bar. As I am waiting for the bartender, a man approaches.
“Coach Gage, what a pleasant surprise.”
I turn at the mention of my name, but I don’t recognize this guy. He looks sketchy. Like a bookie or something. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen so many faces tonight, but I don’t recall your name.”
“Nick Goldman,” he replies. “I believe we have a mutual friend.” He raises his brows like we share a secret.
Goldman. As in Goldman PR. This is the douche who dragged Chess’ name through the mud.
I turn my back on him. “Enjoy your night, Nick.” It’s better to not engage with him at all. Though there are a ton of things I’d love to say to him, I keep my composure, willing this bartender to get a move on.
But Nick keeps talking. “Do you like my sloppy seconds? It’s clear Frankie likes slumming too.”
At the mention of her name, I turn and swing. I didn’t want to. It took all I had to not pop him at first sight. But when he slams her name again, I can’t hold back. I see red. I connect with his jaw. The blond woman he was standing with screams. Nick falls onto the bar then pushes from it, bending at the waist, charging me, and tries to ram me in the stomach. I lift my knee, slamming him in the nose and pushing him back down to the floor. There’s more screaming and gasps. I’m pulled from him and restrained by two men. There’s another man lifting Nick back up. Chess comes around the corner to see us squaring off at each other, Nick still running his mouth.
“I’ll sue you! You just assaulted me!”
“You shouldn’t talk shit when you can’t back it up.”
“Oh please, man, is her pussy really worth the legal fight I’m going to bring on you?”
I roar and charge him again, but a third man jumps in and holds me back. Nick yells, “You’re nothing but a has been. Everyone sees right through this charade you two have going on. I’ll expose you! I’ll end you! Then I’ll own you!” He’s still yelling as they pull him away. Chess steps right in my line of vision. She physically pulls my face to her. “Breathe, babe, breathe. He isn’t worth it. Let’s go.” She pulls on me, until I am following her out the door and into our SUV.
I straighten my tux coat and take a breath. I’m quiet when we get in and the driver heads towards the highway.
“What happened?” she asks quietly.
