Beauty and the Baller(7)

She takes my arm gently, being careful around Sparky. “Dear. Just let Coach have his party. We beat Wilson High last night—and it’s his birthday. The boosters are throwing him a small thing. You know how important football is to Blue Belle.”

I physically recoil. A Texas high school football coach is living next door!

She’s oblivious to my horror. “We made it to the state finals last year with him. He used to play pro ball—”

I glare at my decimated bushes. “I don’t care who he is.”

“I understand you’re upset, but let the flower beds go for a moment.” She gives me a reassuring smile, one I’m sure she’s given many Blue Belle citizens who need managing. She herds me away from the party house. “How are you? Really? I heard that quarterback from the New England Cougars broke your heart for a supermodel. Just terrible. What was his name?”

I’d bet a hundred bucks she knows his name, stats, and salary.

My chest tightens. “Zane, and she was a flight attendant.”

We dated for six months; then things started to fizzle. He was in the middle of football season, and I was working two jobs. It felt like a lull, but I assumed once we weren’t so busy, it would fire back up.

I didn’t know he was looking for greener pastures.

We should explore options but still see each other, Nova.

In other words, I’ll keep you on the line while I bang this hot, younger girl I met on a Delta flight.

A long sigh comes from me.

Since high school, athletes were my kryptonite, but Zane was the last straw.

I’m done now. No more jocks. No more sexy muscles and cocksure attitudes. I swear to God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost.

“Ah,” she murmurs. “I see. So you’ll be looking for a man. Maybe you should meet Coach, but don’t go over there angry. Let me see if I can get him to the Waffle House for breakfast tomorrow, and you can drop by, yes?”

I come to a stop. “I don’t need a man, Mrs. Meadows. I have a life. A career.” This is a lie. I have nothing. The Manhattan preschool where I worked has already hired someone. The Baller has tons of servers who wanted my position.

“Call me Lois. Remember that time I caught you stealing apples from my prize tree in the backyard? The green ones I use to make my jelly?”

“Yes.” I’d taken them several times before, successfully, but that day I fell out of the tree and skinned my knees. She scolded me for half an hour, pacing around her backyard and waving her hands as she warned me about the perils of a life of crime. I was ten.

“Lordy, you were a handful growing up. I never told your mama about any of it.”

“Thank you?”

She nods sagely. “All I’m saying is I know when to preserve the peace. Instead of telling your mama about you stealing my apples, I gave you a good talking-to, and that was the end of it.”

“I see. You want me to preserve the peace. With the coach?”

“Yes. I’ll chat with him for you.” She leans in. “Look, things are precarious right now. I’m worried he might not stay in town, so we got a special committee together to find him a nice local gal to settle down with—” She lets out a squeak as I flip around and march toward his house. “Wait!”

I walk toward my neighbor’s. “I get it, Mrs. Meadows; you don’t want me to rock the boat, but I’m not going to . . .” I inhale a breath as I search the sky for words. “Ruin anything for the team or you. I just want to talk to him.” And get a look at him because she’s made me wonder just who the heck this man is. A person needs to know their enemies, and yes, right now, he’s the bad guy who’s having a party, and I must assess. “Plus, there’s a vehicle parked behind mine, and I want ice cream.” Just now, I decided it.

“Take my car.”

I halt and gape at her. “You’re serious, aren’t you? He doesn’t get a pass just because he’s on a pedestal.”

She reaches for her inhaler in her pocket and takes a shot. “I knew you were going to be trouble.”

“Trouble is tattooed on my ass,” I reply.

She follows me down the sidewalk to his house, her fluffy house shoes keeping step with my Converses. “My grandson, Milo, plays wide receiver. He’s really good, Nova, and we’re hoping he can get a football scholarship to UT next year. I need Coach to stay in town if it’s going to happen.”

“That’s wonderful that Milo’s talented,” I say gently as I recall a rambunctious blond-haired little boy who used to play with my sister. “I can understand that you want the best for him. You’re a good grandma.”

“Right. Let’s me and you go back to my house. I have this essential oil, lavender, that I put in a diffuser. It gives you calm, and I’ll fire it up; then we can have some tea and cookies. I can get out my apple jelly and give you a jar to—”

“That sounds fabulous. Some other time.” I march up the newly redone steps of the house to the porch, taking in the mounted ceiling speakers where the music is blasting. Nice.

I dodge around the dancing women. She follows, panting slightly.

Points to Mrs. Meadows for determination, but my roses demand recompense. Seeing them mowed down is a metaphor for my entire life, and now that I know he’s an ex–football player, I find it even more despicable.