by Claire Adams
“Working out like crazy, man. I don't think I've missed a day at the gym over the last six months. It's one of the only things that's kept me sane.”
“I don't think I've set foot in a gym once in the last six months!” he countered, letting out a loud belly laugh which I couldn't help laughing along with. He patted his stomach and grinned. “And my lack of effort shows, doesn't it?”
I chuckled. “I'm gonna make it my personal mission to get you back in shape, Johnny boy. You're gonna have a six pack in a few months, just like back in our college days. I’ll be your personal coach.”
“I'd rather have a six pack of this,” he said, taking the beer from the waitress as she came back.
“All right, all right,” I laughed.
“Speaking of coaching, isn’t your first day tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How are you feelin' about that?”
“Well, I mean, it's what I do best, but I can't help being a little nervous about meeting a new team. Especially when I've got a professional reputation to uphold and a personal one to live down. Then, you throw in the pressure from all the expectations Florida State has of me. They're really expecting me to take this team to the top.”
“You will, Wade. C'mon, you're a great coach. One of the best in the country. There ain't nothing to be nervous about.”
“Yeah, I know. But enough about me; how are you? How's the university's IT department?”
“As exciting as it sounds,” he replied. “But hey, it's a great job, and computers have always been my thing.”
“You were a great volleyball player, too, you know,” I reminded him.
“I had a few skills, I guess, but I never had the passion for it like you did. That's why you went pro, and me? Well, I kinda gave it up.”
“You ever regret that? I mean, not trying to go pro.”
“No, I just wasn't good enough. And, I really do feel fulfilled working with computers. I love what I do.”
“I’m glad you do. C'mon, drink up, buddy! To you loving your job and to my, well, not-quite-so triumphant return to FSU!”
We both grinned, clinked our bottles together, downed our beers, and spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about our younger days.
*****
I stared into the mirror on the wall of my new office. Staring back at me was the reflection of a man who was both broken and repaired at the same time.
Physically, I looked good, better than I had in years. Like I'd told John the night before, I'd been hitting the gym regularly and hard. I'd inherited good genes from my parents, as well – a strong jawline and thick, dark hair from my dad, and my mom's piercing green eyes and smooth, youthful skin. I’ve always known how lucky I was to have been gifted with good looks, but also cursed, in a way.
The part-time modeling I'd done after being noticed in the Olympics was what had gotten me into those Hollywood parties and that circle of people. It was the beginning of my downward spiral and had gotten me into more trouble than it was worth. If I'd been a more average-looking guy, I don’t think any of that would have happened. I'd probably still be coaching at UCLA in blissful obscurity, living a quiet and relaxing life. Maybe I'd even be married with two kids and a dog, a house with a white picket fence, and all of that.
However, that wasn't how things had turned out.
At least I now had the opportunity to have a fresh start. And this time, I wasn't going to let any woman close enough to get my life into a gigantic mess again. No sir, no way – going forward, I was doing things for me, and me only.
I ran my fingers through my hair to settle it into place and then hung my old whistle around my neck – my lucky whistle, the one I'd used when coaching my first team and taking them to the top of the league. I was ready.
I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until practice was set to start. I ran over the notes again given to me by Coach Hatting. For a moment, I thought about the days he’d coached me when I'd been on the Florida State University team. He was a great coach and knew the game better than any coach I’d ever had, even the coaches of the Olympic team.
I double-checked the names of the players Coach Hatting noted I needed to be paying attention to. Some names were underlined in green, some in red, some in blue. The red ones were bad apples – players who either had bad attitudes or were lazy. The green ones were players who, under the old coach, had been unfairly overlooked despite having real talent.
The blue ones were different altogether. They were connected with the scandal in which the former coach had been involved. The school had managed to keep it pretty hush-hush, but Coach Hatting had informed me that the former coach had taken bribes from these players’ parents to put them in the starting lineup. Now it was up to me to evaluate them and see if they actually had any talent, or if they were starters simply because their parents had paid for the position.
I took a deep breath. It was such a mess to clean up. Coach Hatting had tried, but he was only there for a few short weeks. It was up to me to sort everything out. I folded the list and put it in my pocket before heading over to the indoor court where the practice was to be held.
As I arrived, the girls were all busy warming up, chatting and laughing as they did, but when they saw me, a hush quickly fell over the court. I tried to tamp down the uneasiness as a few of them checked me out. As flattering as it was, it got in the way of being professional, and the last thing I wanted to deal with starting with a new team was a bunch of flirty college kids. I just wanted to do my job as professionally as possible.
I moved my eyes over the crowd and wondered how long it would take to learn all of their names. There were 22 players on the roster. That may not seem like an overwhelming number of names to learn, but when you’re already terrible with names to begin with, it was.
I studied the team for a moment, watching how they interacted and how they moved as they warmed up. They all looked to be in good shape, and most seemed to just be going through the motions. Not that you would expect anything more from a warm-up team.
Then, my eyes reached a player at the edge of the court. Her back was to me, but she stood out. Her form was flawless and her hustle was clearly more intense than the rest of the team. She reminded me of myself. All in, all the time. One hundred percent.
When she turned around, I had to catch my breath. She was stunning. I didn't know if it was her honey-colored eyes or wavy, chestnut hair. But when she smiled at her teammate, she took my breath away all over again.
I'd gotten used to the bleached, fake, surgically-enhanced, and plastic-pumped “beauty” in Los Angeles, but hers was a natural beauty, classic almost. This girl had your old-fashioned, girl-next-door kind of a look to her – a look I hadn't seen in years.
I jolted myself out of my little trance. Stop it, Wade. I should not have been staring at her, especially since I was the coach and she was a student who was at least a decade, or more, younger than me. I had to remind myself that I was here to do a job, not get caught up in admiring the view.
I cleared my throat as I took a few steps closer to the court and prepared to speak.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” I waited until they had all turned to face me. “As you may have guessed, I'm your new coach, Wade Vinson. You can call me Coach Vinson or Mr. Vinson. I won’t be asking for anything outrageous from you ladies. I’ve been where you are, so I know what should be expected.
“What I will ask for is total commitment out there on the court. If I'm going to take this team to the top, I'm going to need each of you to do everything I tell you, to the absolute letter, without complaining or whining or asking questions. Do you all understand?”
“Yes, Coach Vinson,” came the reply spoke in unison. There were a few giggles, but mostly the girls seemed as serious about this as I was. That was good.
“All right, since today is my first day and I don't know any of you, I just want you each to introduce yourselves to me. Let’s all go over to the bleachers, and yo
u can each take a turn to stand up, tell me your name and where you're from, and what you're majoring in here at Florida State. After that, we'll play a few games so I can see you in action and see who's really got what it takes to be in the starting lineup. So go on, get a move on.”
The girls did as I said and sat in two neat rows on the bottom bleachers. I guessed Coach Hatting had whipped them into shape over the past few weeks; I was grateful he had at least taken care of one issue for me.
I quickly took out the list of names and scanned over it, making sure I wouldn't miss the players Coach Hatting pointed out – for both good and bad reasons.
The first girl who stood up was a blonde knockout, one who would totally look at home in any L.A. A-list party, and therefore, one I felt a little repelled by. I didn't want to be reminded too much of those times. She was even wearing a shit-ton of makeup…for a volleyball practice. Really? Come on.
“Hi, Coach,” she said, smiling flirtatiously and batting her eyes.
Oh, this was just great. Already someone trying to win me over with what she surely thought was her feminine charm.
“I'm Tammy McRae.”
Ahhh. I remembered that name from the list. She was one of the players whose parents had been slipping the coach a little something on the side. Well, bribing the coach, to be more accurate.
“I'm 21 years old, and I'm from Los Angeles. I'm majoring in acting and drama. And, I must say, I feel so, so privileged to be coached by a volleyball legend like you,” she added, giving me a lustful gaze.
Great, just great – a wannabe starlet. I didn’t need any more of those in my life.
I listened to the several of the girls as they introduced themselves. More than a few of them had cushy majors and gave me that flirty smile I was hoping to avoid. I could only hope they could be professional and take their position on the team seriously.
Finally, though, the girl who had caught my eye – and taken my breath away – stood up and introduced herself.
“Hi, Coach Vinson,” she said in a soft, but confident tone. “My name is Eryn Barnett. I'm 21 years old, and I'm majoring in computer programming.”
Interesting. It seemed that this girl had brains as well as beauty. And, I immediately recognized her name as the one on Coach Hatting’s watch list.
However, her attitude was nothing like the majority of the others who had gone before her. The way she looked at me came across as if she didn't want to talk to me, at all. Still, I couldn't help but stare at her as she spoke. I caught myself doing so and immediately blushed, hoping she or none of the other girls had noticed.
She smiled a tight-lipped smile and sat down abruptly.
If she was one Hatting said had talent, there was only one way to find out about that: get her out there on the court and play. I made a few notes on my chart as the remaining players made their introductions.
“All right, girls,” I said, “let's get you into two teams, and then you can show me what you've got.”
I arranged them into two teams and let them go at it while I watched carefully and took notes. Hatting was right: there were a few stellar players who seemed to have been unfairly excluded from the previous starting lineup, most likely because they hadn't paid off the coach.
And chief among these was Eryn Barnett. My God, she could play – she had incredible talent.
I knew I had to speak to her after practice. It was rare that I came across anyone with such natural talent for the sport. I sent the team to hit the showers, but as they were leaving, I hurried over to Eryn as she was picking up her gym bag.
“Hold on there, Miss Barnett,” I said, hoping that she wouldn't notice the raw attraction gleaming in my eyes. “Can I have a quick word with you…in private?”
Chapter Three
Eryn
I couldn't help the sudden rush of nervousness that invaded when Coach Vinson asked me to stay behind after practice. We’d had one practice. What did he need to talk to me about? And why me, but no other players on the team? To be perfectly honest, it made me a little nervous – for more reasons than one.
Even though I’d played it down with Leena, seeing him in person, I couldn't deny that the man was absolutely gorgeous. He was hands-down one of the best looking men I'd ever laid eyes on.
But then again, so was my ex. Tim was a model, and so I knew exactly how these male model types worked. Tim lied brilliantly and had me fooled for so long before I finally caught him in the act of one of his multiple affairs. Even then, he'd manipulated me so well that, for a while, I had doubted whether it had even happened, even though I'd seen it with my own eyes.
And this guy, the infamous Wade Vinson, well… I'd heard all the stories about him. Thanks to the tabloids, everyone knew all about the sordid details of his relationship with Georgia Jackson. If you asked me, he was a guy exactly like Tim: arrogant, self-centered, and manipulative. A guy who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and who always got whatever he wanted due to his good looks.
Well, I'd been played once by a guy exactly like that. I had no use for another one in my life. Even if he was just my coach. And because he was my coach, there wasn’t a chance in hell anything was going to happen. Even if the man hadn’t been 11 years older, I wouldn't allow it.
I walked up to him as the other girls left the court. When he beamed a crooked smile at me, I could swear I saw the glint of something flirty in his eyes, but I kept my own expression cool and polite.
“What did you want to talk about, Coach Vinson?” I asked.
“Call me Wade, please,” he replied in a sweet tone.
“I'd prefer to call you 'Coach Vinson,'. Coach Vinson,” I replied somewhat coldly. I was not going to give him any room to try any games with me.
He nodded. “Fair enough. Well, Eryn, I just wanted to say that you really impressed me out there on the court. Your positioning, anticipation of opponents' moves, and your own athleticism and skill at handling the ball are all seriously impressive.”
I couldn't help looking down and blushing. I wasn't used to receiving such sincere and heartfelt compliments.
“Thanks, Coach,” I mumbled in reply, caught off guard.
“There's more, though. I had a long and detailed conversation with Coach Hatting about the team earlier today. He explained everything about, umm, how can I put it…the…irregularities involved with the former coach of this team. Anyway, since the issue hasn't been legally resolved in full, I'm not allowed to go into too much detail about it with you girls yet, but let's just say there was some serious injustice going on regarding selection for the starting lineup.
“I'm aware that, despite you being one of the best players on the team and the fact that you're here on a volleyball scholarship, you haven't been part of the starting lineup. I feel you should know there’s a good chance that's going to change. I judge people on hard work and talent alone. Keep working hard, and I can definitely see you being a starter this season.
“We've got some big games coming up at the start of the season, and because of the…irregularities, we're starting out low on the ladder. We're going to have to work hard to get back to a top spot in the rankings, but I think we can do it.”
I stood in stunned silence for a moment, not sure how to respond. I looked into his eyes and caught myself getting lost in them for a second. Damn, the man was beautiful. I snapped out of it, reminding myself that, despite his pretensions to the contrary, I knew what kind of person he really was: a player, just like my ex. Still, player or not, he had just told me that I was likely to make the starting lineup, and that was the best news I'd had in a long time.
“I… I don't know what to say, Coach Vinson. Thank you. You can bet I'll be working my butt off to get into that starting lineup.”
“You do that. You've got real talent, Eryn, and that could take you far. I mean that.”
“Thank you.”
“That's all; go on and hit the showers. I'll see you tomorrow at practice.”
&
nbsp; “See you then, Wa-, um, Coach Vinson.”
I cursed myself for that little slip of my tongue as I hurried toward the locker room. As I did, I’d have sworn I could feel his eyes piercing into me while I walked away.
*****
I was leaving the computer lab when my professor, Dr. Adams, stopped me.
“Eryn, the secretary at the student finance office asked if I could pass on a message to you.”
“And what might that be, Dr. Adams?”
“She simply asked if you stop by there as soon as possible.”
“Okay, I'll do that. Thanks for passing on the message.”
He smiled at me. “No problem, Eryn. Keep up the good work, by the way; your grades are looking great this semester!”
“Thanks, Dr. Adams,” I said, and then I turned and left.
It was always comforting to know that I was doing well, even though I didn't really have much interest in the subject I’d chosen as my major.
I'd chosen computer programming because I knew there would be excellent work opportunities after I graduated and that was important to me. Seeing my mom suffer through her low pay and long hours just to take care of my sister and me made me focus more on making sure I could land a good job after college, rather than what I’d wanted to study.
Make no mistake, my mind was fully committed to my studies, but deep down, I'd wanted to major in art. Painting was my passion and I was good at it – really good. But realistically, I knew it wouldn't be a field in which I could make a solid living – and I wanted to be certain of a steady income, not only for my sake, but for my mom's. She had suffered long enough, and anything I could do to help her out – well, I'd do it.
As I approached the finance office, I wondered why they wanted to talk to me. I couldn't help but feel a tingle of nerves brewing in my gut. I couldn't afford to lose my scholarship, not now. There was no way either my mom or I could afford to pay full tuition.
Sometimes, I regretted the decision I'd made. I'd been offered a full scholarship to Duke University, but I'd turned it down and taken the partial one offered by Florida State just because I'd wanted to stay here for my mom's sake. With my sister all the way across the country, I was the only person Mom had. She tried to make me take it, make me go to Duke, but without me here, she'd be alone and I couldn’t stand the thought of that at the time.
