Coach Love

by Liz Crowe

  Kieran emerged from behind the tap truck alone, no sign of that Melinda anywhere. Cara pushed away from the table, stumbling as she climbed over the bench. Instead of the expected assistance at her elbow from Kent, some stranger passing by holding a beer in one hand righted her with a smile and a wink.

  She glanced over at Kent, a mild tremor of irritation hitting her nerves. As she prepared to smack his shoulder in half-serious aggravation, she noted that every bit of color had drained from his face. He froze, stock-still, facing the temporary bar in front of the Love Brewing tap truck, jaw slack, blinking as if trying to clear his vision.

  Following his gaze she saw nothing strange or upsetting—just the usual scrum of people, weighted heavily toward pretty young ladies, crowding around the bar. The women giggled and preened their tail feathers for the group of hot men all with the last name Love who poured and flirted like pros, even the married ones.

  Dominic climbed onto the bar and kissed some girl right on the lips before pressing a Love Brewing temporary tattoo to her exposed upper breast. Antony slapped him a high-five then the two of them kept pouring and serving.

  “I think I’m gonna go, too. Cara, would you mind runnin’ me home real quick,” Lindsay asked, rising. Aiden rushed to her side but she waved him away. “Stop fussin’ over me, boy.” He hovered a few more seconds then pecked his mama’s cheek and trotted away to clear tables. Kieran was wiping down the bar while the other siblings served the ever-increasing crowd.

  “I’m guessing Missus Cooper might need a ride in the opposite direction. Kent, I think you should take her on home.” Lindsay patted the woman’s shoulder. Cara marveled at the way Kieran’s mother still managed to boss people around in her polite, unobtrusive way.

  Kent still hadn’t moved. She elbowed him. He flinched and cleared his throat. “Um, yes ma’am I sure can do that.” He rallied and held out his elbow. Cara’s mother beamed at him. “I’ll meet you at your place,” he said to Cara. She caught the tremor in his voice.

  “Sure,” she replied, mystified by Kent’s weird behavior, but unable to stop watching Kieran charm a new cluster of girls. “Sure,” she repeated, teeth clenched as she reached for Kent and pressed her lips to his, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. It felt like kissing a rock at first, but he finally warmed up and met her halfway, drawing wolf whistles and applause. She grinned and tucked into his side, making sure Kieran had seen it. He must have, if the evil look he was shooting right at her was any indication.

  Good.

  Jerk.

  At that moment, Melinda materialized, smoothing her hair and straightening her skirt, her face flushed. The woman slipped behind the bar and smacked Kieran on the ass. He grinned at her then at Cara, before grabbing his apparently not-so-ex-fiancée and locking lips with her so hard the applause and cheers drowned out everything else.

  “Come on, honey.” Lindsay tugged her away from the scene. “Let’s go.”

  Irrational, ridiculous, jealous rage rendered her speechless as Cara let Kieran’s mother drag her away.

  They drove out of the parking lot in silence, Cara keeping a death grip on the wheel, grinding her teeth down to nubs. At the last major intersection where the new Target shopping center had been constructed on a former horse farm, Lindsay sighed.

  “I know my son still loves you.”

  Cara offered a half-snorting grunt in reply then apologized. Lindsay chuckled.

  “You know, one thing I realize about the male of our species, having so many of them in my life, is that they don’t ever get smarter. The men they become is determined by the boys they once were. I got put on this earth to guide them in the right direction, or so I hoped.”

  The light Cara willed green stayed stubbornly red, the lack of oncoming traffic mocking her in the way of superfluous, small-town signals.

  Lindsay continued. “My sweet Kieran. He deserves so much more. All his life he wanted to make everyone else happy, most especially his Daddy who didn’t have him do anything but play basketball, day and night. I’ll declare we had more fights about all that nonsense. The boy never got to enjoy his boyhood.”

  Cara shook her head, unwilling to argue, but recalling plenty of times he had enjoyed boyhood, at least with her, before they’d discovered their immature, but mutual physical attraction. She shot down the darkened street, its curves and hills etched into her memory. Tears stung at the realization that she’d be leaving this all behind in a week, on to her new life in Louisville, with her husband—the man who loved her, but also, apparently, another man.

  “Your mama is a fine woman,” Lindsay said. “She really is.”

  “You know better than that, Miss Lindsay,” Cara insisted. “You and Mister Love practically raised me.”

  “Well, some folks deserve second chances and I’m thinking she’s one of those. She’s trying. You gotta give her some credit for that.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll try.” Cara turned onto the long gravel drive and threw the car into park. “I love him, too,” she whispered, relieved to say it to someone other than herself. “I swear I don’t know why I ever—” She stopped with a loud, embarrassing sob.

  “Shhh, shhh, now.” Lindsay draped an arm around her and let Cara sob into her shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”

  “How? How can it possibly?”

  “Not sure yet, honey.” Kieran’s mother patted her shoulder. “But usually when I think nothing will ever be right again, the good Lord surprises me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Take it off.”

  “Uh, what?” Kieran gripped his sunglasses as he attempted to figure out what the woman in the foyer of the Pussycat Club meant by that. His brain felt foggy from lack of sleep. He’d pulled a double the day before, pocketing the near four hundred bucks in tips before falling face first into his unmade bed, still dressed in his dark jeans and T-shirt uniform, reeking of cheap air freshener, glittery perfume, and booze.

  “You heard me, Red. Let me see whatcha got under them clothes.”

  “Are you messing with me right now, Jackie? Because I’m not in the mood.” He put his cardboard cup of coffee on the damp bar top and flopped into the nearest chair. A puff of stale air surrounded him that smelled of cheapened hopes and shattered dreams. He groaned under his breath for even thinking that, realizing for the millionth time that this had to be the most depressing place in the universe.

  The woman crossed her arms over her ample chest. He sighed, got up, and yanked his shirt over his head so she’d go away and leave him alone. Since the weekend of the fish fry he’d focused forward, determined to ignore not only Melinda’s full-court pressure to reconcile, but more importantly his growing urge to peel Cara away from her perfectly nice fiancé and run away with her.

  As he waited, exposed, skin pebbling in the early morning gloom, he got past the initial embarrassment at her frank scrutiny of his naked torso by recalling all his time spent in various locker rooms. What he wouldn’t give for that life, one where he had shoved memories of Cara to the dump heap, letting long simmering anger at how she’d kicked him to the curb fuel his ardor for other women—lots of other women.

  But no, she had to move home, get hired at the new physical therapy clinic, and he had to walk in the door after his injury and become her patient. When he’d seen her the first time, it had taken him several seconds to find words. Her long auburn hair, a near perfect color match to his, had been scraped into a ponytail, she’d been chewing on her fingernail, concentrating on a computer screen at the front desk. The mild tremor of hope that fate had tossed him a bone squashed in the blinding light of her giant rock of an engagement ring.

  “Hi,” he’d said, his voice croaky and lame.

  When she’d met his gaze after he’d cleared his throat the second time, all the color had drained from her face.

  “Uh, well, I’m here for....” He’d pointed down at his leg by way of explanation.

  The other girl at the desk had gone full-flirtation mode,
seemingly blind and deaf to the obvious tension between them. When Cara had finally spoken, his gut churned. Every single miserable moment he’d spent pondering how he could have been a better boyfriend to her, so she would not have dumped him so blithely slammed into his consciousness. He’d very nearly walked right out and driven into Lexington for therapy. The last thing he needed was the woman who’d broken his young heart into a zillion pieces touching him anywhere, even clinically. He honestly didn’t think he could take that, on top of all the failure he’d been gagging on the last few weeks since the injury.

  But it had been all right after that initial shock. Her brisk, professional approach and cool touch had calmed him. Once he’d been evaluated and had his first torturous session, he’d been in too much pain to worry about her. But it had set off a chain of events that led him to that wine bar and tumbling back into her life. He knew that as well as he knew he had to let it go, let her go. She had a new future now, one that included a rich husband and a move to the city.

  A strange touch on his belt made him jump back to the present. “What’re you doing?” He stepped away, alarmed.

  “You deaf? Take those off, too.” Jackie unbuttoned him in a way that made him feel as if he were at the doctor’s office for the look-away-and-cough exam.

  “I know I’m hot and all, Jackie, but it’s a little early in the day to jump my bones, don’tcha think?” He kept hold of his zipper, pants still on, aggravated and anxious.

  “I have no more interest in your bones than I do your opinion on the current climate in the Middle East.” She laughed, the sound cigarette-rough. “Now let me see what’s under there.”

  Figuring things were already so surreal, why not get naked in front of his strip-club manager boss, he unzipped and hooked his thumbs into his underwear. The Love household had been strict about nudity. The boys were expected to come out of their rooms dressed, or from the shared, overworked single bathroom covered from the waist down. But years in locker rooms had shed him of modesty.

  “Hold on there, stud.” Jackie turned away. “No full monty. I don’t wanna see your block and tackle. Only get an idea how some woman might imagine it as she holds a fist full of dollars.”

  He got out of his jeans, kicked them aside, and stood dressed in nothing but a ratty pair of boxer briefs. “I’m not stripping for anybody, so get your jollies now so I can get dressed and go into the office for a nap.”

  She circled her finger, indicating he should show her a rear view. He did, wiggling his hips a little.

  She made a satisfied sound. “I’ve got a problem, Love, and I need your help. It’s good for a cool envelope of cash from me and a share of the tips that get shoved into your skivvies—although....” She tapped her teeth with a long red fingernail. “We’ll have to find you some better ones than them Salvation Army drawers.”

  “There aren’t enough cash-stuffed envelopes in the world to make me get up there.” He jerked his thumb toward the main stage, which was drab and cobwebby in the early-morning light shining through the single window. He tugged his jeans over his hips and zipped then reached for the T-shirt he’d draped over the bar stool. Jackie hovered close, still scrutinizing his chest. A telltale flush crept up his neck.

  “Nice. Mostly hairless. That’s the new thing you know. No chest rug for dudes. No carpet down below for the chicks.” She pinched his nipple so hard he yelped. “So, about tonight....”

  He flipped her off and pulled on his shirt before shouldering through the door into the girls’ dressing rooms, not honoring her ridiculous offer with a reply. The couch in the office had been used for countless things, including his naps. Kieran ignored the DNA samples he must be lying on and fell immediately into much-needed, hangover-avoidance sleep.

  “Yo, Red, up and at ‘em.”

  Someone poked his leg. He brushed it away and bumped his nose against the disgusting couch fabric. Sitting up, he rubbed his face then spotted Jackie, changed into her evening work attire of slinky red dress, cut low in front and slit in the side. Her dirty-blonde hair was piled on top of her head, her lips plump and glistening. Quite the transformation from earlier, he thought, recalling her sweat pants and ponytail when she’d been examining him like a piece of meat.

  She tossed something at him. He let it drop into his lap without touching it. “Oh, hell, no. Jackie, I told you. You’re smoking more crack than usual if you honestly think I’m gonna—”

  “Go get a shower, Love bug. There’s some lotion you need to put on. You’re kinda pale but I think some gals will dig that since you’re so cut ’n sliced.” A long fingernail poked his chest. “Some chicks dig the gingery thing. Not me of course. I prefer mine more along the lines of young blond studs who know how to take care of a woman such as myself.”

  Kieran rolled his eyes. Jackie had hooked up with Dominic twice since Dom had taken to hanging out and doing quality checks on Kieran’s new workplace. Jackie had taken one gander at him and pounced.

  “She is one wild-ass kinky gal,” Dom had admitted one Sunday before they walked into church. Kieran had frowned, wanting to ask how he could swing both ways so easily. But Dom had cut him off with a dark glower and they’d taken their places along the pew between their parents, as they had for so many years, every week, no excuses.

  The whole exercise in hymn singing, prayer to some invisible being, and donations to the building where they did it all had long ago lost its spiritual luster. But he would no more cross his mother on it than anything. And he always got a great meal afterward.

  Kieran contemplated his boss for a moment. She cleaned up nice. He’d admit it. But she’d been rode hard and put up wet too many times for his taste. “Listen to me carefully, Jackie, ’cause obviously somethin’ is wrong with your ears. I am not stripping. I am not wearin’ whatever this banana sling thing is. I am goin’ out there and takin’ my place at the door, checking IDs, and making sure nobody breaks anything. End of discussion.”

  “Ginger, baby, I need your help. A bunch of ladies are coming in for a hen party and I promised them man flesh. They’re renting out the whole place for two hours. I gotta provide, you know....” She pointed to his crotch. He blushed and sat down.

  “Why didn’t you find some pros, you know, guys who can do this without looking like idiots?” He held the black silk underwear and peered through one leg hole. “God, these won’t even cover my ass.”

  “I didn’t have time and I can’t afford those guys for a one-off. I thought I could get you and a few locals, plus one guy I did find on Craigslist. And they aren’t supposed to cover your ass. You don’t got zits on yours do ya? All they cover is the front view, you know ’cause we don’t want anyone to see that. Ew.”

  “You found a male stripper on Craigslist.” Kieran sensed hysteria clamoring around in his head.

  “Yeah, I think he’s an out-of-work actor or somethin’ but he’s cheap and told me he could handle it if I found a couple of local dudes who needed money and were suitable once they got near naked. So, naturally, I thought of you.”

  “Why not your new boyfriend?”

  Jackie laughed again then coughed into her fist. “Oh, Lord have mercy, Dominic is hardly my boyfriend. He’s a ton of fun though. Here he is now!”

  She glanced at the window into the hall and opened the door. Dominic sauntered into the office wearing his leathers and a shit-eating grin. Kieran scowled at him then at Jackie.

  “So help me if my other brothers walk through that door....”

  “Don’t be a dumbass,” Dom said before laying a kiss on Jackie that made Kieran look away. Jackie shoved Dominic off her and turned back to the mirror.

  “Their wives would never allow that,” Dom said, grabbing at her ass before she slapped his hands away.

  “Oh, so the loser single ones get to take off their clothes in front of a bunch of strange women,” Kieran said, his voice dull, the reality of what he was about to agree to making him sick to his stomach.

  “In exchange for
money,” Jackie reminded him, reapplying her lipstick then checking her profile in the long mirror attached to the office door. “You’re gonna be late for your debut, Red. Hit the shower. Use the lotion. Clint will be here any second to give you your first and only stripper lesson. I need to go check the bar inventory.” She waggled her fingers at them and sashayed out the door.

  “Clint,” he muttered, shaking his head, still not quite comprehending what she meant. “Nice.”

  “Yeah.” Dom flopped on the couch next to him and propped his feet on the desk. “Go get a shower like the boss lady told ya to.”

  “You cannot be serious. We can’t…do this.” He held up the scrap of fabric. Dom pulled a matching one out of his leather jacket pocket.

  “I don’t know about you, Ginger, but I need the dough. My freezer fund recently got depleted.”

  Kieran ran his fingers through his hair. “How much?”

  “Five benjies, each. Plus half of whatever tips they stuff down our drawers.”

  He got to his feet and trudged out the door through the dressing room. Under the lukewarm trickle of water, he pondered how low he had actually sunk, going from superstar basketball player with the world at his feet and his choice of women in his bed to this. A guy who for a measly five-hundred bucks would strip down to some kind of thong in front of a bunch of horny women with dollar bills, spilling their watered-down, over-priced drinks.

  After toweling off, he located the lotion. It smelled like rancid flowers and gave him an odd sparkly sheen. He studied his skin, hating it, hating everything about his shitty life, but mostly hating Jackie for making him do this.

  “Let’s go, bro. Clint’s here to show us how to shake our wangs and make some bank.”

  By the time he’d done the rip out of the fake, Velcro-stitched jeans without pulling off the black thong a few times to loud, chest-pounding music, Kieran had consumed enough bourbon to feel, if not at ease, at least not like the largest fool in six counties. When he reached for the bottle again, Jackie snatched it out of his reach.