by L A Cotton
As I caught sight of the crowd making its way toward me, my eyes immediately found her. She was tucked behind Jared and Micah, but I could just make out her brown curls bouncing with each step. The black and white yoga suit hugged her petite frame, molding perfectly to her curves. Huge tan sunglasses covered her eyes, and I watched her intently as she talked to the boys. She seemed more relaxed than last week. She’d been so uptight, I could literally see the stress in her shoulders—the way she was holding herself. I wanted to ask her what was up, but words weren’t exactly my thing. So, I persuaded her to join the game, instead.
“Hey, you’re early, Coach. Couldn’t wait to see us?”
“You especially, Kenny,” I said, and a sloppy grin broke over his face. “Right guys, warm up, fifteen minutes. You know the drill. Then I want you back here to go over today’s session. Off you go.”
The boys moved into centerfield and Kenny and Micah took it upon themselves to go through the warm-up drills. I was impressed with their ability to command fifteen of their peers.
“Well, would you look at that. You seemed to have rubbed off on them.” Sharn moved up next to me, nodding toward the group.
“So it would seem.”
She stood slightly in front of me with her back facing my chest. My eyes moved down her body—hair settled in big curls over her shoulders, tiny waist, and perfectly round ass. She was small, but her legs seemed lengthened by her tight pants. As my eyes roamed back up, I met two brown eyes looking directly at me.
“See something you like?” She raised an eyebrow, a suggestive smirk breaking across her face, and I blushed, muttering something about needing to check the equipment. As I headed to the pile of gloves and bats, her laugh followed me.
“So, I got permission for the field trip.”
I pretended to be busy to avoid looking at her. I couldn’t believe I’d been caught checking her out. “Cool. I’ll have a talk with the group now, and we’ll spend the rest of the session in a game. Give them some practice.” I brushed past her and headed for the boys. “Time’s up, bring it in.”
As they all dropped to the grass and waited for me to get started, I noticed that Keylon didn’t seem his usual self. He wasn’t one of the louder ones, but he always wore a smile and seemed popular with the others. “Okay, so I thought you all might like to play ball for real—”
“You mean you’ve been teaching us wrong, Coach?” Marc called out.
The group erupted into cheers.
“All right, all right, quiet down. Actually, I thought you might like to play another team. Some real competition.” Arms folded over my chest, I watched the seventeen boys in front of me. The more confident ones seemed excited by my suggestion. They were talking smack about the other team and bragging up their skills. Others looked uncomfortable with my announcement. And Keylon and Otis—eyes almost bugging out, their jaws hanging open—just looked in shock, like I'd suggested a trip to Mars instead of just the next town over.
“Bring it in. I know you're all excited, but we need to go over some things. First, the team we'll be visiting are friends of mine, well, their Coach is, so best behavior. Or you’re off the team. Miss Macer will be accompanying us. This is a school trip, which means school rules apply. It's just a friendly game, but it'll be a good experience for you. Any questions?”
A single hand rose in the air.
“Keylon?”
“Uh... umm, what if we can't get permission to come?”
“Speak to me or Miss Macer at the end of the session. Okay, you know which team you're on, gear up, and get out there.”
The boys moved into their positions, and I made a beeline for Sharn. “What's up with Keylon? Something feels off.”
“I'm not sure. He was fine Friday afternoon but came into school yesterday withdrawn. When I asked him about it, he got real defensive. I know his home life isn't the best.”
“I'll keep an eye out.” My eyes met hers and she smiled. And fuck, it was as if someone punched me hard in the chest. She was so beautiful it hurt—left me completely winded. You’re so fucked, Smith.
“So, anyway, we're all good to go. I mean, umm…the group…the group is all good to go. With me…and you. Right, so I'll just be over there.” She hurried toward the bleachers, all flustered and tongue-tied, and I smiled to myself at the thought of someone like me making someone like her nervous.
The boys worked hard, amped up at the prospect of facing off against another team. Only a handful remained to help pack up. Keylon was talking to Sharn in a hushed voice, and I moved closer to try to hear.
“I don't know if Treyvon will let me go next week, Miss M.” His head dropped as he said the man's name, fear flashing in his eyes.
“What about your mom, sweetie? I could talk to her if you like?”
He shifted on his feet and his hands jammed into his pockets. “Hmm, no- no. I'll talk to her, Miss M. She might let me if I tell her how good I’ve been doing.”
Something was definitely up with him. He avoided making eye contact with Sharn, looking everywhere but directly at her. His hands fidgeted in his pockets and his hunched shoulders seemed to shrink him into himself—he looked scared.
I approached them. “Everything okay, Keylon?”
His eyes widened as he realized that I'd overheard his conversation, and he stuttered. “Yes, Coach.”
“Good, keep up the good work. We'll need that pitching arm of yours next week.”
He brushed past me and nodded. Sharn watched me, concern showing in her frown. “Do you think he'll turn up next week?”
“I have no idea. Who's Treyvon?”
“From what I can gather, he’s his mom’s boyfriend. I've heard some of the other teachers mention him before. Nasty piece of work.”
“He tensed when he mentioned his name. I don't like it.”
Sharn handed me the remaining gloves and I stuffed them into the bag. “I'll speak to his homeroom teacher.”
We walked toward the lot in comfortable silence. I knew firsthand how difficult growing up could be, but for as crappy a father as Dad had been, he was never abusive. My anger was the product of frustration and despair at the cards I'd been dealt, not the result of living under an iron fist.
“So, I'll organize permission slips and things on my end, and we'll just meet here as usual?”
“Yep, but we'll finish later than usual. We should arrive back here at seven.”
“Okay. I'll need to put our contact numbers on the letter. Should I get it from the principal?”
“Umm, no I can give it to you.” This was the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, but all I could imagine was the moment she asked about my family. Asked what my parents were like. So, I gave her my number, said goodbye, and got the hell out of there.
Chapter 7
~ Sharn ~
“Huh.” I watched Keefer's truck roar out of the parking lot. I'd caught him checking me out more than once. Well, I was pretty sure I had. Our conversations always felt flirty, but when I inadvertently asked for his number, he gave it to me and split. He'd raced out of there like I was waiting for a marriage proposal. It was something I wasn't familiar with—guys playing hard to get. Not that I was even sure I wanted Keefer, but it still left me feeling rejected. He didn't even ask for it under the pretense of keeping in touch about the program. Maybe I was misreading his actions. It was probably just part of the awkward, silent, brooding thing he had going on.
I climbed into my car and threw my bag onto the passenger seat. I had enough going on without getting all worked up over a guy I wasn't even sure I liked. He was the total opposite of everything I usually went for. Who was I trying to kid? I liked him. But other than working with kids, we didn't have much in common. And then it occurred to me—I didn't really know much about him. If his quick exit were anything to go by, I wouldn't be finding out more details anytime soon. Perhaps he had a girlfriend and felt guilty when I caught him checking me out. That made sense.
My o
ut of tune singing came to an abrupt halt when I turned into the driveway and saw Mom's car. “Shit.” The last thing I wanted was a showdown with Momma dearest. I'd managed to avoid her since her revelation. Any conversation between the two of us would only end one way, and it wouldn't be pretty.
With a heavy heart, I dragged myself out of the car and made my way up to the porch. Dad's four-by-four wasn't in the garage—I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.
As I entered the house, I could hear Mom upstairs. It sounded like she was packing. Before I had a chance to decide my best course of action, her voice called out.
“Sharnai, is that you? Can you come up here, please?”
I winced and my stomach plummeted into my toes. I hated being called by my full name, and she knew it. My feet reluctantly carried me up the stairs, and I entered my parents’ bedroom. “What do you want?” The bitterness in my voice was obvious.
“Have you seen my black Manolos?”
I looked at her incredulously. “Is that honestly all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? You know me better than that,” she said, not bothering to stop taking clothes out of the dresser.
“Why, Mom? Why stick with Dad all these years?” I guessed it was because Dad was happy to keep her in her life of designer shoes and love of jewelry, but I wanted to hear her say the words.
“We were happy before you and Russ came along. I loved him. We were childhood sweethearts, you know.”
Tear pricked the backs of my eyes. “So, why? Why now?”
“I'm in love. With Geary. It isn't fair on your father for me to stay.”
“FAIR.” I sounded hysterical. “Let me tell you a few things about being fair, Mom.” The floodgates burst and a river of tears flowed down my cheek. “All I ever wanted was a mom who was proud of me, and instead, I got you.”
Her eyes widened and a small gasp escaped her lips. But I wasn't done yet. “I remember everything, every damn single thing. Like my thirteenth birthday when you and Dad took me to Celia's ice-cream parlor. I ordered a Celia's Super Sundae, and you asked me if I was sure that was what I wanted. Because you thought that I'd be cutting back since I'd gained weight. Or in junior high when Devon Price broke my heart, and the first thing you said was 'well, you must've done something. I knew you couldn't keep a boy like him.' What kind of mother says those things?”
She glared at me—looked right through me. The woman was devoid of emotion.
“And what about Benson? You didn’t even ask me about him. Not once. He ripped out my heart and ruined my life. He drove me back here. And you said nothing. I thought he was the one. He was supposed to be the one.”
“I was toughening you up. It's not easy out there.” She dropped a pair of black pants into the case and folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, you never liked me. You always preferred your father. Daddy’s little girl.” The venom in her voice hit me like a freight train. I didn't even recognize the vindictive woman standing in front of me.
“Are you for real? Listen to yourself, Mom. I was a child. It wasn't my responsibility to make our relationship work. As soon as I got boobs, you started to resent me. You were jealous; you sad, pathetic woman,” I spat out. “Dad is better off without you. We all are.”
Before she had a chance to respond, I turned around and left the room, slamming the door on my way out. I ran to my room and grabbed a jacket, my make-up bag, and some heels, and left the house. I didn't even want to breathe the same air as her.
~
“Hey, girl. What's up? Cocktails on a school night?” Mae breezed into the booth. With her slender frame, short blond hair, and soft blue eyes, she looked like she’d come straight off the runway.
I shrugged, not wanting to give away too much. “Bad day.”
“Well, I'm just glad you called. Phil's away, again. I might as well live alone.” She waved over a waiter and ordered our usual. We settled into small talk, avoiding the two elephants in the room: her crumbling relationship with her husband and my family drama. I was just telling her about my plans for the upcoming holiday when a smile crept over her heart-shaped face. “Deacon and his friends just walked in.”
“Shit.”
“He's not that bad, Sharn. They're all so hot…I think I'm going to combust.” She fanned herself with a beer mat.
“Seriously, woman, you are married.”
“So, a girl can look.” She winked at me.
“Mae!”
“Oops, umm, Deac spotted me. He's coming over.”
“Shit. I don't want to be stuck with him all night. I'm going the restrooms. Get rid of him.” I glared at her, hoping she'd understand I really didn't want to deal with Deacon and his ego tonight. I exited the booth, careful not to turn toward the bar. If I made eye contact with him then I'd have to talk to him. I hurried through the white door and locked myself in a stall. My purse vibrated and I pulled out my cell.
Mae: We have company. Sorry x
Shit, shit, shit, I groaned. Deacon was bad enough on his own, but a whole group of Deacon clones—so not what I had in mind when I fled from my showdown with Mom. Leaving the stall, I rinsed my hands. The girl staring back at me looked worn out. To anyone else, the perfectly rimmed eyes and delicately placed curls were signs of a happy, content woman. But I could see the dull eyes lacking their usual sparkle and the smile that didn’t quite reach them. I grabbed my purse and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the situation awaiting me on the other side of the door.
“Here she is,” Deacon’s husky voice called out as I approached the booth, now crowded with Mae and five guys sporting the same tailored look.
Deacon stood to greet me. As his head dipped toward me, I turned away and his lips brushed my cheek. His buddies smirked.
“So, the one and only Sharn Macer. Deac’s told us all about you,” a dark-haired guy with a pinstriped gray suit said.
“And what, may I ask, has Deac said?” I glared at him, daring him to reveal all.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, little lady?” He winked, causing me to shudder. He was creepy and so full of himself that I was surprised his head fit through the door.
As I shuffled in next to Mae, Deacon followed behind, caging me in. I felt suffocated as he pressed himself into me as much as possible. He grinned down at me, and I noticed the slight discoloration of his cheekbone, like an old bruise. “What happened to your face?” I blurted out.
“Oh, this?” He brushed over the bruise with his knuckle. “Some punk took a cheap shot.”
“Someone just came up to you and hit you?” Mae said as her eyebrow raised in question.
“We were in Durty’s enjoying an after-work drink, and this guy comes out of nowhere and plants one right on Deac. We dragged him off, his friends apologized, and escorted him outta there. Crazy dude.”
“Animal,” I muttered under my breath. I despised guys who fought.
“He’s just lucky his friends got him outta there. We would’ve kicked his ass.” Deacon puffed his chest out and I rolled my eyes.
Mae listened intently to the guys discussing their latest escapades and I let my mind drift. I avoided making eye contact with any of them, pretending I couldn’t feel Deacon’s hand brushing my thigh. Every time his fingers swept across my pants, I had to fight off the urge to gag. He’d obviously not taken me seriously when I’d told him that I wasn’t interested in a second date. I kept readjusting myself, trying to move closer to Mae, but it was useless. Deacon just took it as an invitation to move closer.
I checked my watch; it was almost eleven. I needed to get home and get some sleep before the morning. The last thing I needed was to be tired and hungover. “Hey, Mae. I’ve got to go.”
“Eleven, already? Yeah, we’d better head out.”
The guys protested, trying to persuade us to stay for another round, but I nudged Deacon, hoping he’d take the hint. As I brushed past him, he grabbed my arm and leaned down. His breath tickled my ear
. “You should definitely agree to that second date. I could rock your world,” he purred, but I shrugged him off, laughing at his blatant and futile attempt at sounding seductive. “I told you, Deacon, I’m not interested.”
“We’ll see.” He winked and headed to the bar.
Mae linked her arm through mine, and we made our way out of the bar to find a cab. “Sharn, he’s so hot. Please, please, go out with him. Just so I can hear all about it.” She chuckled and I shook my head at her. “You need to get laid. And quickly.”
“Don’t I know it.”
~
The rest of the week was busy. I barely had time to think about my showdown with Mom, although the stress headache was reminder enough. It was Friday and I needed to make sure everything was in order for the field trip with Keefer and the kids. The game was over at Nations Park in Newberry. It was only twenty minutes out, but I was still feeling a little nervous about taking the boys that far.
My class door knocked, and Nev poked his head around. “Hey girl, all set for next Tuesday?”
“Yeah, just going through the permission slips now. I think they’re all complete apart from two.”
“Whose?”
I sighed. “Keylon and Otis.”
“Good luck with that. Otis probably just forgot, so give his momma a call. Keylon, well you know the story with that one.” He saluted and closed the door, and I stared down at the pile of white tickets. Most of the boys had returned the slips to me yesterday, so excited about the trip. I’d reminded Otis and Keylon that they needed to return them by Monday at the latest or they wouldn’t be able to attend. Otis promised that he would have his today. Keylon just shrugged.
Another knock at the door, much quieter than the bang Nev had created. “Miss M,” a small voice spoke.
“Otis, you can come in.”
“I got the slip signed.” He handed it to me and I smiled at him. “That’s great, Otis. The team didn’t want you missing.”
