by Liz Talley
He yawned. “Yeah. I guess. I think I’m pretty set on going here. I like Coach Dufrene and I’ll be close to you and Lori.”
She winced. He wanted ULBR.
Well, of course, he did. It was the state flagship school, had won several National Championships in the last decade and was just close enough that he could bring her his laundry. “We still have a few other visits to make.”
“We don’t have to go on them. I don’t really care.”
“Way, this is important. It’s not like choosing your socks.”
“I know that.” He yawned again and pulled the white sheet up to his ears before rolling over. “I’ve always wanted to go to ULBR and this weekend confirmed it.”
Lou rubbed her eyes and tried to think how to play this out. She had to tell him before he saw it somewhere, but what if Don wasn’t going to release the video or pictures or whatever he’d recorded? Maybe he thought to use it as leverage.
She shook her head. No way. Don would use it to cause Waylon trouble, rock his recruiting process and cast doubt on his family. The man would do anything to get his son ahead—even ruining someone else’s life.
“Way?”
“Mmm?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?”
“Probably not.”
He rolled back over and squinted at her in the faint light.
And then she’d told him. About the near-miss sexscapade at Rendezvous. About how hard she’d tried not to fall for Abram. About Don and what had happened that night. Waylon listened quietly, not saying a word until she ended her recounting. Then he asked her one question.
“You told me months ago there was nothing going on between you and Coach Dufrene. Did you lie?”
“Not exactly.”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s not a sex thing. It’s a—” She stopped talking because Waylon rolled over. He said nothing more to her, nothing beyond perfunctory yes, no, or okay.
And his silence had lasted for weeks.
He’d even kept up the cold shoulder act throughout their whole visit to the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa and Christmas wasn’t looking promising. This weekend they were scheduled to visit Clemson and she wasn’t sure if she could handle much more of Waylon giving her a dead stare and ignoring any overtures she made to smooth things over.
After all, she was the one being cast as the slut sister shopping her brother around to the highest bidder. She was the one being stared at in the grocery store, being given disapproving looks from the people she went to church with and dodging every major sports outlet in the country.
And she was the one going to bed every night alone, stewing over what had happened, trying to ignore her broken heart and the fact she’d not had one single call from Abram.
So she tried to ignore her thoughts and instead do her job. That was the one thing she had control over every day.
Just like today—prepping the ground for pouring the pad. Easy peasy to handle. No problem.
Ten minutes into the job, Manuel waved her off.
She pulled off her gloves and cut the engine. Her foreman never stopped her unless there was an emergency, so she knew this wouldn’t be some reporter looking for a story.
She climbed down, rubbing her hands over her denim-clad thighs, and headed to where Manuel stood pointing at something on some blueprints. The man in khakis looked aggravated.
“What’s up?” she said, doffing her sunglasses. The late-November sun made a harsh glare reflect off the concrete of the lot next to them so she had a pseudo-headache even with the shades.
“School called. Principal Travers has Waylon in his office.”
Something sunk inside her chest and the weight that constantly pressed on her shoulders grew heavier than she thought she could bear. “Did he say why?”
“No, but he said you need to come down. Go ahead. I’ll get Digger to finish up. Jay will drive you to your car.”
She nodded and headed to where the company truck rattled near a Laundromat across the street from the construction site. Several miles later, she slid from the cab, gave the older man who served as transport a wave, climbed into her car and set off for Bonnet Creek High.
As the wheels turned, so did her mind. What had he done this time? Why was he so angry all the time? What more would she have to endure in raising her brother and sister?
The mostly empty road held no answers.
When she entered the school office, Helen Barham gave her a disapproving stare and motioned toward Harold Travers’ open door.
Screw Helen Barham.
Helen had been talking about her at church last Sunday, turning away and making “told you so” eyes at the tittering old wrens clumped together in the worship hall. It had bothered Lou, not because she expected more of Helen, but because she’d always been a family friend.
“Lou, thanks for coming,” Harold said, rising from his desk and indicating the seat next to Waylon. Her brother slunk low in his chair, holding an ice pack to his cheek.
“What happened?” she asked, glancing at her brother before meeting Harold’s sympathetic gaze.
“Waylon got into an altercation with Brian Meeks before school this morning. They weren’t on campus, but were outside Corky’s.”
“Brian?” She glanced sharply at her brother. “But they’re good friends.”
Harold cleared his throat. “Well, apparently not this morning.”
Lou laid a hand on her brother’s arm. “Way, what happened?”
He pulled his arm from her grasp and shrugged, refusing to say anything.
She turned back to Harold and spread her hands. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Things have been so crazy lately with all these rumors and allegations. I’m afraid none of us is doing well.”
“Understandable, but we don’t tolerate fighting. From what I understand, Waylon threw the first punch, and he’s very lucky it wasn’t on campus or our security officer would have had to arrest him and take him in. If Brian or his parents press charges, there may be nothing I can do at this point.”
Lou swallowed the panic. Everything she’d sacrificed for all those years. Everything she thought he wanted—and she couldn’t stop him from chucking it away. “Well, thank you for calling me.”
Harold nodded. “I’ve talked with our counselor, and she’s agreed to see Waylon and help him deal with his anger.”
Waylon sat up. “I don’t need anyone to talk to. Just have Officer Slade take me in.”
Lou whirled toward her brother. “Shut up. You’ll do exactly as told. You’re acting like someone I don’t even know.”
He turned angry eyes on her. “Oh, yeah? Well, so are you.”
She flinched. “Why are you so angry all the time? Because of this whole scandal?”
He broke eye contact. “Why don’t you call it what everyone else in Louisiana is calling it? Lougate. Yeah. That’s what they’re saying. You snuck around and put out for a coach to get me an offer. How do you think that makes me feel, Lou?”
“How does it make you feel?” She jumped to her feet, feeling the anger she’d held in check course through her. She didn’t care Harold Travers was in the room. She was tired of this crap. “Try being me. Try being accused of something you didn’t do. I never slept with Abram because I didn’t want to run the risk of jeopardizing your recruitment, I didn’t want Abram to lose the job he loves, and I wanted to get you and Lori out of Bonnet Creek.”
“So you could get rid of us?” His words felt like bullets.
“Get rid of you?”
Harold pushed back his chair. “I’m going to hide my letter opener and give you kids a chance to talk for a moment. I don’t think I’m needed in this conversation.”
He rose, pocketed the brass letter opener and headed for the door. It shut with a soft snick.
“He really took his letter opener?” Lou said more to herself than Waylon.
Her brother flicked his gaze to the door and shrugged. “Guess he thought you might kill me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She moved her chair closer to him. “Waylon, what’s wrong with you? Really? I’ve tried so hard to give you a place to share your feelings, but you won’t. Family pizza night was a fail. My giving you a curfew is a fail. Nothing works. So, please, let’s stop skirting the issue. Please.”
He turned and looked at her with eyes that looked so much like her daddy’s her heart squeezed. “It’s about everything in life sucking, Lou. That’s what it’s about.”
“How?”
“Our parents are gone, you resent me and Lori because we held you back, we didn’t make the playoffs this year and Morgan cheated on me with that asshole’s son. Not to mention, all the programs who’ve been pestering me now think I’m tainted goods. Lots of suck in my life, Lou.”
She slumped back in the chair and tried to rein in the constant despair that had sat inside her since she’d left Abram that night nearly five weeks ago. “Okay, life sucks, but it sucks for everyone at times. That’s part of living. And those coaches are still calling, so I’m pretty sure you’re not sunk on getting a scholarship. That is, if you can stop getting in fights and acting like a butthead.”
“Wow, you’re full of good advice, Lou,” he drawled.
She clenched the arms of the chair holding tight so she wouldn’t smack her brother. “Life hands you crap sometimes, Waylon. Are you going to hold it, carry it with you? Let it stink up your world? Or are you going to throw it aside, wash your hands and keep on going?”
He shrugged.
“I lost Mom and Dad, too. And it hurt, but I didn’t have time to break down. I had you and Lori to look after. Do I resent it at times? Yeah. I do. I was your age, Way. I was a senior with a college scholarship in hand. I was you.”
His head jerked a little but he still said nothing.
“I understand the pressure you’re under, but God gave you a talent for playing football. When you’re on that field, you’re a genius. Doesn’t matter where you go…or how people say you got there, you have the opportunity I never had sitting right in your hand. Schools haven’t stopped recruiting you because you’re incredible, and people won’t remember anything about this scandal once you hit the field again. You can’t throw everything away because you’re angry at me, or at Morgan or at your football coach.”
“Everybody lets me down.” His voice was so sad Lou felt tears prick her eyes.
“People are human. They make mistakes. You can’t wall yourself away because you make mistakes, too.”
He shook his head. “The only person I had left to trust was you…and even you lied to me.”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Get over yourself and think about someone else for a change.”
“What?” He stiffened and set the ice pack on the floor.
“Do you realize what a little shit you sound like?” She stood again because she couldn’t sit still any longer. “I didn’t do anything wrong. The only thing I did was fall in love. Period. Do you see us together? Do you see me smiling and happy because for the first time in my life I’m in love?”
He looked up at her. “No.”
“Yeah, not happening for me, is it?” Her words sounded bitter, but she couldn’t help it. She was bitter. Everything she’d gone through felt like it had been for nothing. Her knucklehead brother seemed determined to throw his desirability as a recruit away just to spite her. Proverbial baby with the bathwater. And though he’d not said it, she knew Abram’s career was more important to him than her. That’s why he let her walk away. He needed damage control. Distance. Nothing more to do with her.
“You want to know the craziest thing?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I’m still a virgin.”
Her brother shifted in his chair. For a moment, she thought he might bolt for the door.
“Yeah, bet you never thought about that. I’ve never had a boyfriend for longer than a month, mostly because I had kids. Most men don’t want a woman with kids, you know? So I spent my nights washing dishes, folding your socks and teaching Lori how to tie her shoes. I finally found someone, Way, and I couldn’t have him.” Her voice broke and she shook her head.
“Know what? Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to get back to work.” She stared at him hard as he sat before her. He looked ill-at-ease and for once, she didn’t care. “Do what you want to do, Waylon. It’s your life.”
And then she walked out the door, nearly bowling over Helen.
“Oh, sorry, I lost my pencil over here somewhere,” the older woman said, pretending to look under a broad-leafed plant.
“Bull,” Lou said, shooting daggers at the woman. “You were listening in so you could go spread your poisonous gossip. I hope you heard enough. Should be good conversation for around the coffeepot.”
Helen stiffened. “I wasn’t—”
“Look, I don’t care. Where is Mr. Travers?”
Helen swallowed, narrowed her eyes, looked down her nose and pointed toward the hall.
“Thanks.”
Lou walked out, refusing to look back at either the witch or her dumbass brother. Anger had awakened inside her, so it was best Harold took that letter opener.
The principal turned as she approached. The security officer put his hands on his broad hips and looked slightly sheepish.
“Lou, we were just talking—”
“Do what you want to with him. I’m done.” She didn’t bother stopping to talk with either of them—just kept heading for the exit. Waylon had to have repercussions for his actions. He’d slid by the other times. If they wanted to take him to jail then she guessed they would with or without her consent…or dissent. She had no control over anything anymore, did she?
She stalked to her car, daring anyone to get in her way. She might hit someone. Seriously. She hadn’t been this angry since…
Never.
But at that moment, it felt like her world rampaged out of control and it made her plain mad.
“Lou!” The sound came from her left.
She turned to see Amy Landry holding a tray of cookies. Lou tried to head her off by tossing a wave and keeping her head down.
But Amy moved toward her anyway, her little kitten heels clacking on the pavement, her bracelets clinking at her wrist. The coach’s wife always dressed like a lady. “Hey, Lou, I’ve been meaning to stop by and check on you.”
Lou didn’t want to chitchat. “I’m fine.”
Amy came closer, balancing the tray as she tucked a chunk of auburn hair behind her ear. “Are you? I’ve been worried about you. Guess it’s been tough.”
You think? Lou wanted to drawl sarcastically but didn’t. Mostly because Amy was about as nice as they come. She was the day-care coordinator at Bonnet Creek Baptist and served as an interpreter for the deaf in church. She always smiled, had a soft touch with curmudgeonly old men and had never said a mean word in her life. Plus, her snake of a husband was cheating on her.
“Well, thanks for saying so,” Lou said, pulling out her keys and unlocking her car.
“If you need anyone to talk to, you know I’m available. David feels just terrible about this.”
I bet he does. “I appreciate your friendship, Amy, but I’m doing okay. After all, those rumors are untrue. I didn’t have an affair with the ULBR coach. Merely a friendly relationship. So in this case, where there’s smoke, there’s just smoke.”
“Well, maybe you should say something, Lou. Everybody’s thinking the worst.”
“I don’t care what everyone thinks, Amy. I know the truth. Coach Dufrene knows the truth. I’m doing exactly what my attorney has asked me to do—let him handle it.”
“Okay, but if you need anything, let me know.”
Lou nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay, I’m off to surprise David and the boys with some treats. They feel terrible about not making the playoffs.”
Better knock on that door first, sister.
> As Lou climbed into her car, she realized even that pissed her off. Landry snuck around, screwing Carla, and he sat prettily upon the dais as the head coach. Everyone in the community thought he was a wonderful Christian family man.
Ha.
She watched as Amy pulled open the door to the school and gave her another wave. Lou slumped forward and pressed her head against the steering wheel, her anger deflating, leaving her empty. How had things gone so wrong? This time last year, things were gravy. Both Lori and Waylon had been happy, making good grades, doing the things they needed to do to be successful.
But you were lonely and unfulfilled.
Yeah. Big deal. Wasn’t that where she was now—only ten times worse because Waylon might be in handcuffs as she sat there defeated? Plus, everyone in the state, heck, the nation, thought she was a slut?
Last year she hadn’t known Abram.
A lot of good that did her.
She was still alone. Perhaps more alone than ever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ABRAM LOOKED AROUND his now-empty office with a sort of disbelief. The desk was cleared and all the files boxed and labeled for the next coach.
This was it.
Game over.
And though he had walked around for the past two months numb from the fallout, surrendering his pass codes, cleaning out his office and wrapping up his career as a coach at ULBR hadn’t been as bad as he thought. Telling Sue Ann goodbye had been worse. Maybe because she’d cried.
Or maybe it wasn’t so bad because it felt unreal. Like a bad dream. But he’d had no other choice but to resign. It had been best for the program, for the players. It had been the right thing to do.
The right thing.
Funny how doing the right thing sometimes brought about unfair repercussions—like stepping down from the job that had been his identity for the past two years.
All because he’d been human. All because he’d tumbled head over heels for a blue-eyed blond construction worker.
Life was weird.
A sound at the door drew his attention. Jordan stood there, looking like he’d been caught in the middle of a lingerie store looking at stockings. Vastly uncomfortable.
