Chapter 15
Fifteen
J oe
It was a good thing there was no drought in Iowa, because Joe planned to spend the next several hours standing under a hose. It was the only way he was going to survive the brutal heat.
Marti’d had the brilliant idea to do a car wash on Sunday, when the college kids were moving in and literally everyone in town would have to pass by the town’s only gas station on their way to the three churches.
“They’ll see us on their way and come back by after service.
It’s not supposed to rain for a few days. It’s perfect!”
And of course Terrell had helped modernize the car wash by posting it all over the college’s social media, tagging everyone he knew in Missouri who wouldn’t mind driving a couple of hours on a boring Sunday to get their cars washed by hot guys, gals, and nonbinary pals.
Joe capitalized on his massive social media following by running a live feed and a crowdfunding link.
Folks could get autographed pictures or personalized video messages for making donations.
He could answer a thread of “ask me anything” questions while shirtless in the hot sun while lovingly washing cars.
An hour into the car wash, they had a line of cars as far as the eye could see.
Traffic on the two-lane main road through town was at a standstill.
The deputies were trying to reroute through-traffic onto residential streets to go around the mess, and three news vans, TMZ, and Buzzfeed had been dispatched.
Joe ended up doing more interviews and signing autographs than washing cars, but then he got to work and let Marti take over schmoozing with folks.
Around noon, a minivan showed up carrying three of his former mentees from Dance Machine ready to join in the fun.
They lived within a four-hour-drive radius and Joe promised them hotel, food, and personal coaching at a later date in exchange for their appearances.
They came dressed for washing cars and the cameras ate up their hamming around, splashing each other, and flirting with customers.
A few lucky standersby even got dance lessons.
Joe kept the sunscreen on, passing bottles around and reminding his ten squad members and fifteen hopefuls that stunting would be painful with sunburns. He stayed hydrated, ate a couple of protein bars, and tried to conserve his energy.
Until Leslie showed up in his giant truck around noon. His completely mud-covered monster.
“So this was your brilliant plan,” Les said, grinning and shaking his head as he slid down out of the cab.
“Like I said, cheerleaders have been fundraising forever. We got this.”
“Really. All right, I admit it’s a nice idea. You might make a grand today—”
“We’re up to thirteen thousand eight hundred, Coach Judd.” Terrell came over and handed Joe his phone. “Your manager just texted you with numbers from the online fundraiser.” Terrell turned and acted surprised to see Les. “Oh, hi there, Coach Payton.”
“Simmons,” Les shook his hand. “My offer is still open. I got your stats from your high school coach. Seems a pity to not have you on my defense this year.”
Terrell kicked up his chin. “I told my parents after high school I wanted to pursue dancing. No offense, Coach, but I never felt real comfortable on a football team.”
Leslie's smile faded and he took on a terrifying expression. Terrell took a step back, bumping into Joe.
“I do not tolerate that kind of nonsense, son. I think you understand why.”
“Y-yes sir,” Terrell said. “And I appreciate that. But if it’s all the same, sir, dancing is my passion, and I’m afraid that a football injury could kill both potential careers.”
Joe caught the shift in Leslie from fierce to frightened and he intervened and he breathed easier.
He’d never considered Leslie scary at all, but then he’d seen the soft gooey inside that no one else got to see.
It was sometimes easy to forget that Leslie was raised on one of the roughest and most violent sports on the planet.
“Thanks for the update, Terrell,” he said, squeezing the kid’s arm. “Can you go share the numbers with your mom?”
“Sure, coach. And thank you, Coach Payton.”
Leslie nodded, tried to look pleasant, but his jaw muscle twitched.
“I can’t believe you would try to poach one of my prospects, Coach Payton.” Joe tried to lighten the mood, and it worked. Either his joke or the way his wet trunks cling to his pelvis. Or the fact that he was shirtless. There was no way he was going to chance getting a farmer tan.
Leslie groaned. “You’re trouble.” Then he sighed. “How much would it take to get Coach Judd to climb up there and personally wash my…pickup?”
Joe’s eyes flared and he barked out a laugh. He glanced around and leaned in closer. “After last night? I’d wash it for free. I’d be glad to do it.”
“Stop it,” Leslie whispered, his cheeks beet red and not from the heat. “You’re getting me all worked up over here, and I actually have something serious to discuss.”
Joe ran a hand in front of his face to wipe away his smirk. “Yes, Coach Payton. What can I do to you…I mean for you?”
Leslie attempted a reprimanding look, but all it did was make Joe grin wider .
“You can run training for my players tomorrow. Hard training, like the kind that will make them walk funny afterwards.”
It was Joe’s turn to laugh. “Are you serious? What do I know about training football players?”
“You know about training bodies in flexibility, agility, balance, and strength. That’s what I want. Plus I’ve got a few boys that could stand to be taken down a peg, if you know what I mean.”
Joe crossed his arms over his chest, which he sensed was in the beginning stages of a burn. “So you want me to put up with a bunch of homophobic douche bags and teach them a lesson.”
“I do. Look, Terrell’s right. Football as a whole could use a little education and I can’t think of a more qualified person.”
Joe loosened his arms. “You know I’m going to make them all suffer. I’d do no less for my team.”
Leslie inclined his head. “I’d expect nothing less. Sandy and Randy will be there to supervise. I’ve gotta fly out for Monday Night Football or else I’d be there…”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got this. What time? And where should we meet?”
“Tomorrow afternoon? How about the high school gym? Should be big enough?”
“You’re on.” Joe gave a confident smile that didn’t reach all the way inside.
He wasn’t sure he was quite ready for this much of a challenge to his authority—to his masculinity—so soon, but he also didn’t want to let Leslie down.
“No problem. As long as you know what shape they’ll be in Tuesday morning. ”
“Sounds great. Now, about washing my pickup…”
Joe leaned a little closer. “You couldn’t afford me. Besides, I’d insist on doing it naked and, well, this town ain’t ready for that on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” Leslie said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll have the, um, kids wash it then.”
“Probably safer for you that way. I’ll just be over here reapplying sunscreen.” He took out the bottle and squeezed some in his hands, rubbing it slowly between his palms, coating them generously.
Leslie’s eyes bugged out and he cleared his throat. “Coach.” He walked swiftly away and toward Marti, who he handed a wad of bills before walking over to chat with some of the townsfolk waiting for their cars.
“That was cruel, even for you,” Marti said as she joined him. “That poor man.”
“You saw that, did you?”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You’re bad. Now, you want the totals?”
“Give it to me. Oh, and guess who’s leading football practice tomorrow afternoon?”
Marti’s eyebrows raised dramatically. “Oh, oh…oh, this is priceless. That’s what he was asking you for?”
“Mm-hmm, I get to torture footballers for two straight hours. I think I’ve died and found heaven in a cornfield.”
“Man, I’d love to be there, but I’ve got clinics tomorrow from four to six. But you could take Terrell? You know, if you needed an assistant.”
“That’s a good idea. Can you believe Payton was trying to poach him?” Joe shook his head.
Marti laughed. “I can believe it. My son made up his mind. His dad and I fully support his decision. I have to admit I’m relieved, although you’re going to have to hold my hand through all the auditions and shit. A career in dance is a roller coaster I never wanted to ride on.”
“He’s going to be great. How could he not? Look at who raised him.”
The two of them plotted the best exercises Joe could give the team to really make them suffer.
Joe promised to make it to clinics for the second half and the two agreed that it was good for her to have some time alone with them.
They’d been afraid that some of the kids would just be trying to show off in front of him rather than truly trying to make the team.
They called Terrell over and he was hesitant to go to the football practice, but he agreed when Joe told him about the whole torture part.
By four o’clock, the cheerleaders were toast and they’d made over $3,000 in cash and another $20,000 online. Joe was pleased, it was a good start, but they had a long way to go to break through the level he knew Leslie would reach with his contacts .
By the time Joe got back to his apartment, he found a cooler outside his door with a massive salad, homemade bread, and granola. On top was a note.
You worked so hard today, I wanted to feed you myself, but I have to prepare for tomorrow night’s game. I wish I could take you with me to Dallas. We’d have a hotel suite after the game…
Anyway, my mom made this for you and would like you to come to dinner one night soon. It would mean a lot to her, but I understand if that’s not comfortable for you and she will too.
Your kids did a great job on my truck. Nice work today.
Les