Rock Bottom Girl(46)
“Sex?” I asked.
“Usually.”
“Cool. Sign me up for that.”
“We’re not having sex in a fake relationship, Jake,” she groaned.
I tossed the ball up again and caught it one-handed. “Would it matter if I told you that I actually like you?”
“Why wouldn’t you? I’m a catch.” The sarcasm was strong with this one. “I think we’re complicating things enough with a scheme that we have to perpetuate until the holidays. Let’s not add a bigger mess to it,” she continued.
I let my gaze travel the perimeter of the living room. Speaking of messes. Maybe it was time I stopped living like I was a transient teenager.
“Let’s keep it simple then. Friends who occasionally have to hold hands and make out in public,” I suggested.
“That sounds…acceptable.”
“Good. We got a deal? I’ll give you some pointers on coaching and teaching. You be my relationship guru. And we hang out.”
“You’re not going to throw me over for Amie Jo again, are you?” She said it lightly like it was a joke, but there was something serious in her tone.
The tennis ball nailed me in the forehead, and Homer grumbled when it bounced onto his belly. “Throw you over for Amie Jo? When did that ever happen?” I demanded, doing a quick history search in my memory banks.
“Never mind. Got any actionable words of wisdom when it comes to coaching?” she asked, changing the subject. “I can’t for the life of me figure out how to get them to get along.”
I laughed. “Well, you did kinda get them at the worst possible time for a team or a coach.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They didn’t tell you?” I knew the district had been in a hurry to fill the position, but I didn’t think they’d intentionally leave something like that out. I mean, a new coach deserved a heads up.
“Tell me what?”
I could hear the dread in her voice.
“Their old head coach died of a heart attack halfway through the season last year.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Eesh. I had no idea.”
“He died during a game,” I added.
“That’s horrible!”
“An away game. They watched him turn blue and quit breathing on the sidelines and then had to ride home with just the bus driver because their assistant coach went to the hospital with the head coach.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“And if that wasn’t traumatizing enough, one of the team moms took over coaching for the rest of the season, and she went all Hitler on the team. Dividing them right down the middle into favorites and undesirables.”
“That’s beyond horrible,” she said. “But it’s also making me feel a little better. I thought I was the problem.”
“Mars, believe me, you ain’t even half that team’s problem.”
She blew out a breath.
“So how do I undo an entire season of disaster that happened before I got here?”
“One practice, one game at a time,” I suggested.
Marley sighed. “Thanks for getting me up to speed. I can’t believe no one mentioned this before. This is Culpepper. There are no secrets.”
“Well, now you know. Besides, that was last school year. We have the attention span of mosquitos.”
“Everyone still remembers our Homecoming,” she pointed out.
“Well, that was worth remembering.”
She groaned. I found it oddly endearing that the event that she felt some level of guilt over was the event that made her a town hero.
She yawned into the phone. “Look, the Airbnb guy just got out of the bathroom. I’m going to take a shower.”
“Airbnb guy?” I asked, intrigued.
“It’s a long story. Goodnight, Jake.”
“Night, Mars. Sweet dreams.”
27
Marley
I was standing there in front of my entire senior class wondering how in the hell I’d left home without pants while trying to cover my nether regions with my biology binder when I was rescued by a distant ringing.
“’Lo?” I breathed into my phone.
“Up and at ’em, girlfriend.”
“Jake?” I sat up in bed feeling a combination of relief at knowing I had not just been naked in front of half of Culpepper and annoyance at his chipper tone.
“That’s me, baby. Come on. Your life lessons start right now. Get dressed. Running clothes. Meet me outside.”
“You’re here?” I was horrified. I flew to the window and yanked back the curtains. And there in his shirtless glory stood Jake Weston on my parents’ front lawn.
“Cute jammies. Hurry up, peaches. I ain’t got all day.”
“It’s 5:30 in the morning.”
“And if you try to crawl back into that bed, I’m going to ring the damn doorbell and wake up your whole house.”
My parents’ first Airbnb guest would probably protest with a bad review. Byron from Seattle. He had glasses and a briefcase and began every sentence with “I don’t know if you know this, but…”