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CHAPTER 4
brICK SHITHOUSE
DAVID
David sat back in his chair, the joints groaning under his weight. Somehow he’d managed to land himself right in the middle of a goddamn shit storm, and practices hadn’t even started yet.
A tiny part of him had wondered when he saw the name Sage come across his inbox. But it would have been a laughable coincidence if it was the same woman, right?
Who’s laughing now, David?
He closed his eyes, trying to call upon the part of himself that was good at showing up on the tough days and facing challenges with a cool, calm demeanor worthy of a man who was rapidly approaching middle aged.
But that part of himself was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found.
“Well that was something.”
David glanced over at his assistant coach, whose glasses had slipped down his nose. When the older man peered at him over the silver frames, it made David feel like a kid in the principal’s office — not the feeling he should have with the guy who was supposed to be taking direction from him.
He still didn’t know what to think about Tim Dixon.
He definitely knew Tim Dixon didn’t know what to think about him.
He suspected that Tim was still deciding whether or not David had what it took to lead the Southeastern team. Tim had been the assistant for Coach Reyes, the previous coach, and when the university hired David, it had been under the condition that he kept Tim as an assistant. They’d said something about continuity for the players and offering valuable experience , but all David heard was: We don’t believe in you…yet. So here’s a safety net.
Clearing his throat, he scratched his face, where the two-day beard was an almost constant distraction. He’d decided to grow it out to try something different — Chuck’s suggestion, not his — but already regretted it. “Yeah, it was. She certainly knows basketball.”
He couldn’t tell Tim that after seeing Sage under the warm glow of string lights with her bare arms and the jeans that hugged her thighs he had no doubt in his mind that the woman could hold her own in any situation. It had been obvious from the first second that he saw her that her body was powerful, but her confidence… goddamn her confidence had turned him inside out. The way she’d looked at him, refusing to look away, practically dared him to refuse her. She could have eaten him alive, and he would have been absolutely thrilled to have been chosen. And, if that night had gone according to plan, he would have spent every second in her company proving just how much he had to offer her, with his voice or hands or tongue or whatever she asked of him.
Well now that possibility was about as laughable as David actually managing to pull off a winning season.
The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind his left eye.
He knew he was a good coach. That wasn’t the issue. He’d had years of experience as an assistant at the college level, and knew that he was ready to take on a head coaching job. The X’s and O’s, the practice planning, the building of a team — that he could do. It was just the fact that the job was here , at Southeastern, the place where he’d captained the very same team thirteen years ago. It was a place that meant more to him than he knew how to express, and the idea that he might mess it up? Well, frankly, it terrified him.
He shook himself, realizing belatedly that Tim was talking to him. “Sorry, what was that?” David asked, cringing at his inability to focus today.
Tim looked unimpressed. “What’s your plan for meeting the guys?”
David glanced down at the printed school calendar on his desk. “I want them to get through the first week of classes first.” He glanced up at Tim. “I’m thinking team meeting Sunday afternoon.”
“Hm.” Tim remained expressionless. “That might work.”
Might?
David took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face. “So we’re a go with Sage Fogerty?”
“Not like we have another choice,” Tim replied, shrugging. “Well, I’m out,” he continued, standing up and giving David a quick nod. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too, Coach.”
When the door shut behind him, David sighed and dropped his head down onto the desk.
Everything is going to be fine, he told himself. Absolutely fine.
* * *
“What’ll it be?”
David slid onto the wooden barstool, dropping his phone, wallet, and keys onto the bar in front of him. “Corona dressed, please.”
He immediately recognized Maggie, the bartender from the other night, and he guessed that she recognized him based on how she cocked a pierced brow at him as she sauntered up. “If it ain’t the beautiful man himself,” she said, grinning at him.
He hadn’t been back to The Grove since that night when, once again, being a good friend had taken him away from what he knew would have been an incredible night with the tall, self-assured blonde.
Who just so happened to be his new team manager.
Goddamn poetic bad luck.
Something must have shown on his face, because Maggie asked, “Rough day?” as she slid the beer toward him.
“Nah.” David accepted the drink, nodding in thanks. “Just adjusting to a new job.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a five and a one, tossing them down.
Maggie collected the cash and stuffed it into her apron pocket. “It isn’t right for a man who looks like you to be drinkin’ alone,” she said, shaking her head at him. “What ever happened with you and my new best friend?” Her red-painted lips pulled down into a frown. “Speakin’ of that feisty blonde, I haven’t seen her since that night you were here. Have you been keepin’ her busy?” She waggled her brows as her eyes widened. “Doin’ some of the horizontal tango, if you know what I’m sayin’?”
David choked on his beer, sputtering as he tried to find his breath again. “Yeah…nope. None of the horizontal tango. Didn’t work out, unfortunately.”
“I mean, you did bail on her,” Maggie muttered as she wiped down the bar.
It was early enough that David was the only one sitting at the bar, and only a few tables in the courtyard were occupied. He didn’t make a habit of drinking while the sun was out — or really, drinking very much in general — but he felt like he needed a beer after the day he’d had.
Still, he wasn’t in the mood to ignore what the woman was implying. “I had to get a friend home safely,” he said, a bit of annoyance sneaking into his tone. “I don’t mess around with letting my friends drink and drive.”
Maggie’s face softened. “I respect the hell out of that, Mr. Brick Shithouse.”
Again, David sputtered around his beer. “Excuse me?”
“Where I come from, we say that a man like you is built like a brick shithouse,” she said, eyes twinkling.
“Last time you called me beautiful, and now you’re comparing me to an outhouse. Whatever the punchline is, I think I missed it.”
Maggie let out a loud laugh. “Being built like a “brick shithouse” simply means that you’re a big man with a big body.”
David unconsciously ran his hand over his broad chest and down to his stomach that had gained a softness in recent years years that no number of push ups could get rid of.
“It’s a good thing,” Maggie added, her eyes watching him knowingly. “A very good thing.”
Rolling his eyes, David waved off the compliment.
“But seriously,” Maggie leaned forward onto the bar, long pink nails drumming on the polished wood surface. “Did you get her number? You two were all sorts of sparkly together.”
“Ah…no. Didn’t get her number.” He took a long swig of his beer. “Wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”
Maggie scoffed. “We both know that’s bullshit.”
“She works for, well, sort of with me.” David leveled his stare at the bartender, whose eyebrows had popped halfway up her forehead. “Walked right into my office this morning.”
What he didn’t tell her was that for the tiniest moment, David had thought that Sage had been there for him. That somehow she’d tracked him down and had shown up at his office to resume whatever they’d started that night at the bar.
David was fully aware that he was completely delusional, and an idiot.
Leaning back against the bar, Maggie shook her head, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So you’re her boss?”
“Technically, no.” David drained the last of his beer, setting it down with a thunk . “She’s a graduate student doing an internship for the team that I coach.”
“I knew you were both jocks,” Maggie said with a self-satisfied grin. “You looked at her like she was a basket you were trying to strike.”
David laughed. “That’s not a thing.” When she pointed at his empty beer in a silent offering of another, he waved her off.
“Whatever. My point is that the two of you screamed sports with your height and muscles.” Maggie took away the empty bottle. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
He scratched his jaw. “Nothing. I’m going to do nothing.”
“Lame,” Maggie said, her tone teasing.
Pocketing his phone, keys, and wallet, David rolled his eyes. “Smart,” he retorted.
“See you later, beautiful!” Maggie called out, her laughter following him out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.
As he started walking in the direction of home, his thoughts turned to Sage.
The smart thing to do would be to send her a politely worded email to schedule a meeting so that they could clear the air before they actually started working together. But that would involve him figuring out what the hell he was supposed to say to her.
Oh yes, hi there. We met at a bar and had reached a verbal agreement that we’d be engaging in sexual behavior together. While that sexual behavior never happened, I’ve already imagined your naked body in technicolor and for some reason I think that you’re a silent screamer when you come.
He audibly snorted, startling a grackle that had been on the sidewalk next to him. Of course, the grackle flew right at his face, leading David to jump to the side and frantically wave his arms about in an attempt to escape the bird.
Finally the bird found its way into the air above him, and David shook off a shudder. Fucking birds who didn’t know their place in the world. Which, for clarity’s sake, was up in the tops of trees or in the sky. Not on sidewalks or public beaches.
It was still hot, but the devilwood trees that lined the street provided some dappled shade. The Grove was situated on the outskirts of a shopping center that had a nice grocery store, a pet groomer, a bookstore, a coffee shop, at least one insurance agent, and some other businesses David hadn’t taken the time to remember.
He liked this part of town; it was only a six minute drive to the university, so it had been an obvious choice for David to pick an apartment in one of the surrounding complexes. He’d chosen the complex he had for the pool, the larger than average gym, and the fenced, off-leash dog park.
When he reached the metal fence that surrounded his building, he typed in the code for the heavy gate. From there it was a short walk along a winding sidewalk to his building, which was right next to the central communal area that housed the pool and gym.
He jogged up the stairs to the second level, fiddling with his keys before finding the correct one and unlocking the door.
He liked his place. His apartment had an open floor plan, with a carpeted living room next to the tiled kitchen and dining area. There was a bar in the kitchen, and a wide window over the sink that looked out at the tall trees. To the right was a hallway that led to his bedroom and a spacious bathroom that he paid extra for, and to the left was a second bedroom that he currently used as a home office.
He’d sold most of the furniture from his apartment in Chicago before he left. He didn’t have an emotional attachment to the generic couch, tables, chairs, and bed that he’d purchased as cheaply as possible when he’d moved out there six years ago.
What he had kept from his Chicago apartment were the little pieces of home that he’d gradually accumulated over the years. A large black-and-white photo of his friends huddled together on the dock at the house on Lake Murray was framed above the gray sectional along one wall. Three concert posters — Modest Mouse, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and George Strait — were framed along another wall. His mom had convinced him that the fake plant tucked next to the dark wood TV stand was a necessary decorative statement, but in David’s eye he much preferred the bookshelf crammed with worn, paperback copies of police procedurals and detective novels, his preferred method of escapism.
An excited bark and the jingle of a collar had David dropping down to his knees just in time to catch the flash of golden fur that careened toward him.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he crooned to the wriggling golden dachshund as he stood up, cradling the small dog in his arms. “How was your day?”
He got a high-pitched yip in response, and he wasted no time grabbing the leash and harness that hung beside his front door.
His days at the office weren’t too long in the summer, and he made a point to come home at lunch to let Daisy out to do her business and run around. She was still a puppy, and even though her legs were comically short, she had a lot of energy.
Daisy stilled once she realized he was trying to put on her harness, and as soon as he clipped the leash into place and set her on the ground, she darted off toward the door.
“Whoa there,” he said with a laugh, stashing a few dog bags in the pocket of his basketball shorts before following her out of his apartment. “Slow down, you crazy beast.”
Daisy gave him a look that could only be described as annoyed before resuming her charge toward the stairs. David locked the door behind them and picked up the pace, jogging to keep up.
It was only a minute walk from his unit to the complex’s dog park. It was empty at the moment, the air quiet and still around the wax myrtle trees that offered welcome shade.
As soon as they passed through the gate, he unclipped the leash and gave Daisy a scratch on the head before she darted off at a run, her long ears flopping behind her. There were park benches scattered around, but there was too much churning in David’s head to make sitting an option. Instead he walked slowly, his footsteps crunching the gravel path that circled the perimeter of the park. Daisy trotted in and out of view as she sniffed and explored.
He hadn’t initially wanted to come back to Charleston. His college years had been both the happiest and most challenging of his life, and there was a part of him that would have been happy to leave South Carolina in the past.
After graduating college, he’d moved home to Atlanta, needing the support of his family after what had happened his senior year. It’s okay to take some time, honey, his mom had told him over and over again. It had helped that he’d gotten an assistant coaching job at one of the larger local high schools with a dominant program. That job had been everything he’d ever wanted, and he’d been able to start to piece himself back together during the long hours spent under the harsh, white, fluorescent lights.
For six years he’d lived out of his childhood bedroom, eating dinner at the table with his parents like no time had passed since high school. But time had passed, and at some point he started scanning job postings for coaching positions at smaller colleges.
He’d moved to Chicago, fitting all of his belongings into the back of the ‘90 Bronco that he’d had since high school. The city was cold, the wind harsh, but he loved the pace of life there. While it never quite felt like home, he’d built a life there consisting of late night pizza, concerts, long lifting sessions at the Chicago Institute of Technology gym, and hours and hours spent building himself into the kind of coach he’d always dreamed of being.
But when Chuck, his best friend and college roommate, had sent him the posting for the head coaching position at Southeastern, he couldn’t stay away. No, this was the chance he’d been searching for in every practice and every game he’d coached since graduating and moving away.
It was the chance to do it right. The chance to be a coach who made a true difference in the lives of young men. Who took the time to see them — truly see them — and listen when they needed to talk.
He could be the kind of leader who wouldn’t miss the small stuff.
And it had always been a dream to coach at Southeastern. For years it was an idea that he nurtured in the quiet, late hours of the night, when he’d pull up the university website and check on how the team was doing. He wasn’t sure how it was possible to want something with every part of himself while simultaneously feeling terrified of the possibility of it coming to pass.
But it was here now. The dream was at his feet, ready and waiting for him. Shit, it was already happening around him: preseason meetings with his assistant, watching game film, crafting a plan for how he was going to approach this team.
It was here, whether or not he was ready.
“Daisy,” David called out, and his dog came trotting over. He quickly located where she’d done her business, picking up the small pile with the baggie and disposing of it in the provided trash can.
Only assholes didn’t clean up after their dogs.
Clipping the leash back into place, David started back toward his building. The afternoon shadows were growing longer, the heat just beginning to fade as the sun dipped behind the tall trees.
As he passed another unit, he thought he saw the flash of a long blonde ponytail, but when he turned around, there was nothing but the green backdrop of the trees and an empty staircase.
Damn blonde team managers with their high ponytails and thighs, already haunting him.