Fourth Down: A Beaumont Series Next Generation Spin-off

by McLaughlin, Heidi

  “My run was great. The weather is perfect today.”

  Peyton laughs. “Almost as if you predicted it yourself.”

  I follow suit and shake my head. “Puns for days,” I say to her. “I keep seeing this older couple. I don’t know, I’d guess they’re in their eighties or something, but each time I see them, they’re holding hands and seem so in love. My grandmother is always talking about how my granddad is driving her crazy and says they’ve been married way too long.”

  “My mom’s parents are still alive, as is my father’s dad and my dad’s mom.”

  I hold up my hand. “Okay, explain the dad/father thing to me.”

  Peyton smiles and readjusts herself in her seat. “My dad is Harrison. He adopted my sister and me, and my mom adopted his son, Quinn. They’re my parents. They have been together since Elle and I were about six. My father is Mason, and he died when I was five.”

  “You sometimes talk about your father like he’s still part of your life.”

  “That’s because he is, sort of. Football was his thing. He played in high school with my Uncle Liam and played in college. Then he started coaching back at his high school. My sister gravitated toward my mom, and I was my father’s football buddy. My dad has always encouraged us to talk about our father. There are even pictures of him up at my parents’ house.”

  “Got it, I think.” Our waitress arrives at our table with our mimosas and takes our order. Once she’s gone, I continue. “And Noah has always been there?”

  “Every memory I have, he’s in.”

  “That’s so crazy. You’d think you’d be tired of each other. My parents are like that, high school sweethearts. How long have your parents been married?”

  Peyton’s eyes widen, and she lets out a chuckle. “They’re not. My mom wasn’t ready to get married, and my dad said a piece of paper isn’t going to change how he feels. They’ve been together for over twenty years, but you’d think they’re still in the early days of dating. My sister, brother, and I have walked in on them way too many times.”

  I want a love like that, something that spans years and decades but never fizzles. Something tells me that Peyton and Noah have that one of a kind of love, where absolutely nothing else matters in their world.

  “Okay, I have to ask, what is the deal with Julius Cunningham?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I lean forward to talk quieter. You never know who is eavesdropping. “At the game, daggers. This man loathes me, and I don’t understand why. I know he thinks I’m using you, but his anger toward me has to be something else. Then, I see him after the game. He’s in the parking lot with his wife, and things are not going well. I can tell they're heated, so Lisette and I are trying to keep to the shadows. Some older man comes up to Julius, and he sort of shoves him away. I can hear kids crying. His wife and an older lady are screaming. It was all a mess. Worst part—Julius saw me there.”

  Peyton clears her throat. “I don’t want to speak for Julius.”

  “I know, but why does he hate me so much?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know. It’s so unlike him.”

  Our server brings our breakfast, and we focus on our food for a bit. Peyton sets her fork down and asks what I’m doing over the weekend.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “There’s a fundraiser for the Children’s Museum on Saturday. The team is going because Alex Moore’s girlfriend conned them all into volunteering. There’s a silent auction, some raffles, dinner, drinks, and dancing. Noah and I will be there. Aiden will likely be there. You should come, hang out, and meet a ton more people.”

  “Don’t you guys have a game on Sunday?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s a bye week, which works out because our GM is big on social events. Anything to put the team in a good light.”

  “Sounds like fun. I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  When the driver of my rideshare pulls up in front of the Benson Hotel, my stomach flip flops. I press my hand over it to quell the unease I feel. “What did I agree to?” I mutter in the backseat. There are photographers, bright lights, and a freaking red carpet.

  “Ma’am,” the driver says to get my attention.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  This is the last place I want to be right now. Peyton never said anything about a dress code, but the people walking in—the ones who are having their pictures taken—are dressed like they’re at a Hollywood Premiere while I’m dressed like I’m going on a date. “Oh, why did I agree to this?”

  “Autumn!”

  I turn at the sound of my name and see Leon coming toward me. “It’s nice to see you here tonight.”

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I tell him. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Yes, well, we are among celebrities tonight.”

  What the hell is he talking about?

  “Wait, I thought this was a team event?”

  Leon chuckles. “It is, but mostly a fundraiser, and from what I hear, her father and his band are coming.”

  Just then, a roar deafens my eardrums. A long, black limo stops in the middle of the road. Security guards, who have appeared out of nowhere, work to hold the crowd back. Within seconds, chants start. Names shouted. Squeals emitted. And I stand there, dumbfounded.

  The door to the limo opens, and a woman steps out first. She looks identical to Peyton, and I’m going to assume it’s her sister, followed by three men in tuxedos. More names shouted, screamed actually, and the camera flashes are going wild.

  “Holy shit, that’s Liam Page,” I mutter. Leon laughs.

  “I take it you’re a fan?”

  “I’m actually not a fan. My mother is die-hard though. She’s going to be so mad I didn’t invite her.”

  “Come on, let’s go in.”

  Thankfully, Leon guides me to the door where we run into Peyton. She smiles when she sees me, and we hug. “You didn’t tell me you invited your dad and his band.”

  “I’m a great keeper of secrets,” she whispers. Before I can respond, she calls out for her dad. I stand there, in awe of watching a celebrity interact with his daughter. It amazes me the pedestal we put people on when they’re just as ordinary as the rest of us.

  “Daddy, I want you to meet my friend, Autumn.” Her father sticks his hand out to shake mine.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Harrison, this is Liam, and that’s JD. Peyton has told me a lot about you.”

  “Same,” I say stupidly. “I feel like I already know everyone.”

  He laughs and steps aside. Did he seriously laugh? Was it a good laugh or an I-think-she’s-bat-shit-crazy-laugh? Aw crap. There isn’t a doubt in my mind I’m going to embarrass myself tonight. In fact, I’m willing to bet I do so in a colossal way.

  Bring it on.

  The elegantly decorated ballroom is booming with people when I finally walk in. If I had any hope of hanging out with Peyton tonight, that notion is long gone. I stick to Leon until I find Aiden and his wife, and then I attach myself to them. We mingle, introductions are made, and careers talked about. Every so often, I zero in on one of the guys from the band, curious to see how they handle their fans, and each time I see them, they’re walking around, talking to whoever stops and talks to them. Like I said, ordinary.

  As the night goes on, I have minor run-ins with Julius. This game he’s playing, the “let’s-make-sure-Autumn-knows-I-don’t-like-her” game, is getting on my nerves. I don’t understand it. Besides Peyton, we have nothing in common, and he’s just butthurt that she’s my friend. It’s almost like he wanted her to get his permission or something. None of it makes sense. Yet, wherever I go, he’s there, watching me like a hawk.

  When it’s time to sit for dinner, I’m surprised to find I’m at Peyton’s table and sitting next to her. She introduces me to her sister, who asks me tons of questions about the weather. Their father asks a few as well, but it’s JD and his British accent that has me in sti
tches. I could spend hours talking to him about nothing, as long as he’s the one talking. According to Peyton, JD is laying it on thick tonight because I’m infatuated. I don’t care, either way, as long as his words continue to flow in my direction.

  When dinner is over, Noah whisks Peyton off to the dance floor. Harrison follows with Elle, leaving me sitting with two of the hottest older men I’ve ever been around. I’ve always been a date near my age type of woman, but damn it, this older gentleman vibe is definitely something I might want to try.

  If I was expecting either of them to talk to me, I was sorely mistaken. Within minutes of everyone getting up, they did as well. I knew any fantasy I conjured in my mind would have to stay there for a lifetime. I do, however, follow their lead and decide to head toward the auction room. I see Julius’s name down on a bid form—something about a handyman, jack of all trade sort of thing—and put down a bid. I’m sure I’ll never win, but it’s for the kids. If I do win, I think he could wash my windows, or maybe I’ll tie him to a chair and keep him there until he tells me why he hates me so much. The latter is very unlike me, so windows it is.

  I bid on a few other things before making my way back to the table. A crowd has formed, and the conversation seems lighthearted. I hear “weather girl” and groan. I’ve never hated a nickname more in my life than I do that one. I ignore Julius because flipping him off in public could be a bad career move.

  “Gentlemen, if you are up for auction, please come to the stage.”

  “I hate this shit,” Julius mumbles as he sets his drink down. He hates it, yet volunteers? I don’t get him at all. I do, however, keep my eyes focused on him as he walks to the stage. His black pants are form fitting, hugging his tight muscles and firm . . . I clear my thoughts. There is no need for my mind to go into the gutter where this man is concerned.

  Each player has their name called, and each winner comes forward. When Julius steps up to the front of the stage, I smirk and take a sip of my gin and tonic. Some unlucky person is going to have to spend the day with him, and I’m thankful—

  “Congratulations, Autumn LaRosa.”

  I spit my drink out, sputtering, and some kind person pats me on the back. I bend at the waist, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Shit,” I mutter and stand upright, only to come face to face with Julius.

  “Tell me how much so I can write you a check.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, Weather Girl. How much did you bid? There is no way in hell I’m spending the day with you.”

  At this moment, I realize my only mission in life is to make Julius Cunningham miserable. “I hope you like windows,” I say before turning and walking away. I may look confident on the outside, but my nerves are frayed. By the time I make it to the bathroom, I’m ready to hurl.

  Ten

  Julius

  My weekend sucked. I somehow convinced Reggie and Roxy that we needed to stay in on Sunday. I kept the blinds closed, helped them build a blanket and pillow fort in the living room, turned my phone off, and laid under the tent with the kids watching movies. I may have taken a nap or two as well. Mostly, I laid there and allowed Roxy to climb all over me while I battled the demons in my mind. It’s funny how what I call demons are images of two women: my ex and the Weather Girl.

  Weather Girl pulled a fast one on me the other night when she won the auction. I’m confused why she would even bid on me. It’s not like I want to spend time with her. Hell, I can’t even stand to be in the same room as her, and I don’t get it. I don’t know what it is about Autumn and why I’m so hung up on her. I just am, and I hate it. I hate that she’s on my mind. She shouldn’t be. Yet, each time I close my eyes, she’s there, smiling and doing a hair flip, even though I’ve never seen her do such a thing. Every time I see her, she’s poised and unaffected by my brutish behavior. Clearly, whatever subtle message I’m trying to send isn’t working, and I’m going to have to use the powers that be to let her know this, whatever the hell you call it, isn’t happening.

  By the time I get to the practice facility, I’m in a mood. I’m not sure I ever came out of my funk, but nonetheless, I’m angry. At the world. My life. Everything around me. Usually, on a bye weekend, I use it to my advantage by taking the kids someplace fun. I should’ve bailed on the fundraiser and taken the kids to Disney or something, but then I’d have to see Elena. After her last trip here, I think it’s best we stay away from each other. Elena gave me some song and dance on how her father is considering pressing charges against me for shoving him. It’s so rewarding seeing your family members evolve over time. I go from being the best thing to ever happen to their daughter, to the worst. Good times.

  As soon as I walk into the gym, the guys start catcalling me. Assholes. “I don’t know what you guys are doing, but stop,” I tell them as I step onto the treadmill.

  “Where are you going on your fancy date?” one of the rookies asks.

  “What date?” I start with a slow jog.

  Chase Montgomery chimes in with, “The one with the hot reporter.” Weather Girl.

  I ignore my teammates and push the button to increase my speed. Someone hops onto the machine next to me.

  “She’s a knockout.” I glance quickly at the voice next to me and groan. Brandon Garrison, our running back and resident loudmouth starts jogging next to me. “You’ll have to take her somewhere cheap so the rest of us can shoot our shot with her. Why she thinks you’re worth it, I’ll never understand.”

  “Feel free to take my date,” I tell him. “I’m not interested.”

  His eyes widen, and his mouth drops. “Give her my number.”

  I sort of shake him off and continue my run. Giving her his number isn’t an option because I don’t plan to spend any time with her at all. Brandon starts running, making me think I’m in the clear, but it’s nothing but a guise.

  “Honestly,” he says while jogging next to me. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

  “Nothing. I don’t even know her.”

  “She bid on you and not the rest of us. Do you expect us to believe you’re not hitting that?”

  I push the stop button and set my feet to the side until the belt stops moving. “I don’t know her, aside from an introduction at Noah’s. If you want to take her out, call her. I’m sure Noah can give you an introduction.”

  “Julius,” the soft voice of Peyton rings out. I look toward her, and my insides drop. I expected Peyton to talk to me last week, but she never got me from practice or requested a meeting. Yet here she is. I swear, she’s like a principal or something. Anytime she shows up, we know we’re in trouble. The catcalls from earlier turn into heckling as I make my way toward her.

  Peyton smiles when I’m near her. “Film time,” she says. To the outside world, Peyton is this tiny woman who doesn’t say boo, but to us, she’s this powerful female who knows more about football than the players. She never tells us we are wrong or makes us feel stupid. Her game film sessions are different. By the time she brings one of us into her office, which is a large room with a massive viewing screen, she’s broken our plays down and asks us to go over them with her. Her favorite question is, “What could’ve been done differently here?” Peyton never blames one person but the entire team.

  I follow her to her office. The entire walk there, she keeps her head down, almost like she’s shy. I mean, I know she is, but she’s worked here for a few years now, and I’ve known her a bit longer. I remember when she would come to see Noah play. She would always spend time with us afterward, something that angered his girlfriend at the time, but Noah never cared. When Peyton walked into a room, Noah’s world changed. Before I really knew Noah, I had asked him how long he and Peyton had been hooking up. He was mad and confided that he had only been with her once but never got that night out of his mind. He was in love with her but was afraid of what people might think of him if he pursued a relationship with a teenager.

  Peyton sits down at the conference table
in her office and presses a few keys on her laptop. On her wall, the film from our previous week appears. A few more clicks and the screen changes to multiple boxes of plays, each one is showing me. I groan.

  “Can I preface this by saying I know I had a bad game?”

  She looks up from her computer. “You can, but it’s not going to change the outcome of the meeting.”

  Ouch, nothing like getting slammed in the gut, but she’s right. I allowed my personal issues to interfere with my job, which should have never happened. I know better. I could easily blame Elena—I mean, it is her fault for showing up—but at the end of the day, the onus lies with me. I have a job to do, one which pays me very well to do it , and I need to get it done.

  Play after play, Peyton breaks down what I could’ve changed, where I ran the route wrong, and where I took my eyes off the ball. Losing sight of the ball is the biggest issue. Peyton points out that I’m a second or two late in turning my head toward the pass.

  “Something to work on in practice,” I say.

  “Yes, I already gave my report to Bud,” Peyton shuts the screen off. I’m thankful I don’t have to stare at my errors anymore. “I do have a list of things you did well during the game if you’d like to go over them?”

  I shake my head. “We both know the list is short. I had a bad game. I own it.”

  “You did some good things,” she says. I think she only tells me this because she spent the past hour or so pointing out all my mistakes. “I understand the personal part of your life getting in your head though. It happens.”

  “But it can't continue to happen.”

  She shakes her head. “Anything I can help with?”