Chapter 12 #2
“He started with landscaping. One truck, tools, whatever work he could get. Jones Outdoor is what grew out of that. I wasn't ever gon’ make the part that started us disappear because I could afford something shinier.”
Her face softened.
“That makes sense.”
It did to me.
I liked that it did to her too.
The private lot near the stadium was filling when we reached campus. Staff checked the decal and waved us toward the reserved section.
Imani looked at the sign marking my space.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“You can get in anywhere.”
“It has perks. You dressed cute. Now you don't have to walk six blocks.”
She glanced down at her shoes. “I will concede that this particular privilege has value.”
“Knew you would.”
I went around to open her door. She took my hand when she stepped down, landing close enough that her perfume reached me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then somebody called my name from near the gate.
Crown Weekend had apparently decided I'd had enough privacy.
We barely made it through the entrance before people started stopping me. Board members. Athletic staff. Former trainers. Alumni who wanted pictures. I gave everybody what I could, but Imani remained close enough that her arm brushed mine every few steps.
She wasn't somewhere in the crowd anymore.
She was with me.
Then I saw twenty-two.
The young running back stood near the gate with his helmet under his arm, dark-brown skin, low cut, thick through his shoulders and thighs in that unfinished way college players had before age and work finished building them.
He had been pretending to relax until he realized I was walking toward him.
“You wearing my number?”
“Yes, sir.”
“First thing, stop calling me sir.”
His teammate laughed, and the kid tried not to.
He told me he was a junior and starting back. His teammate bragged about his yards before he could, which embarrassed him enough to make me like both of them.
Then he looked down at the number on his jersey.
“I picked twenty-two because I had your Forge jersey when I was little. My mama finally made me stop wearing it when it looked crazy small.”
Something inside me went quiet.
Years ago, AWU had asked about retiring my number. I told them no. A number hanging where nobody could touch it had never interested me.
I wanted another kid to put it on and make it his.
Standing in front of him now, I was glad I had.
We took a picture.
Before he walked away, I touched his shoulder. “Take care of it.”
His smile faded into something serious. “I will.”
When I turned, Imani was watching me.
There was pride in her face.
Tenderness too.
The kind of look a man wanted to keep deserving.
She came toward me and slipped her hand into mine.
We had barely started moving again when I heard a voice I knew.
“Jones.”
Coach Wallace stood near the field-level club entrance with more gray in his beard and the same expression that used to tell me he knew I was about to bounce a run outside before I decided to do it.
“Coach.”
He pulled me into a hard hug and asked after my parents before his attention shifted toward the tunnel twenty-two had disappeared through.
“Good thing you left that number for somebody else.”
“Means more this way.”
“It does.”
Then he saw Imani.
His whole face changed.
“Well, now.”
Imani smiled. “Coach Wallace.”
“Imani Bennett.” He opened his arms. “Look at you.”
She hugged him, laughing when he reminded her she had been the only woman on campus capable of making me remember I had homework.
“I did not have that kind of power.”
Coach looked at me. “Had more than anybody else.”
“Here you go.”
Imani enjoyed that entirely too much.
Coach asked about Saint Aurelia and accepted her correction when he called it a jewelry company.
“Luxury house,” she said.
“My mistake.”
“Thank you.”
I caught myself smiling.
Coach caught me too.
“Same damn look.”
“What look?” Imani asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
Coach laughed.
He let me suffer about two seconds before his face turned serious.
“Come see me before you leave.”
“I will.”
“I’m serious.”
“I heard you.”
“I don’t think you did.” He looked toward the field. “You still see this game faster than most people. Always did once you stopped believing speed could fix everything.”
Imani made a small sound beside me.
I ignored her.
“The Forge ain’t been the same without you,” he continued.
That found somewhere tender.
“They got talent.”
“Talent ain’t the issue. That running back room has legs. What they need is eyes. Patience. Somebody who knows how to teach what you learned the hard way.”
I looked toward the field.
“You ever think about coaching?”
I laughed because that was easier than answering.
“You trying to ruin my weekend?”
“I’m trying to help you find your next field.”
He said it plainly and let it stay there.
Old coaches knew how to plant something without digging it back up to see if it took.
Imani’s hand stayed in mine.
No pity. No speech.
Just her.
“I’ll think about it.”
Coach smiled. “That’s all I wanted.”
Once we were walking again, Imani glanced up at me. “He still likes me better.”
“Always did.”
“I understand why.”
I cut my eyes toward her. “That confidence still intact?”
“Very.”
I laughed.
The Crown Club was filling quickly. Purple and gold covered the stands while Royal Sound warmed up across the field and smoke drifted from the tailgate lots beyond the open end of the stadium.
Eventually, we reached our seats.
Imani stopped before sitting and looked over everything.
Her smile came slowly.
“You missed this.”
“A little.”
“You used to bring homework to my games.”
“I was committed to my education.”
“You ain't turn one page once I touched the ball.”
“That is a lie.”
“You watched every play.”
“I was making sure you didn't get hurt.”
I laughed. “You liked watching me run.”
Her eyes came to mine. “You were good.”
“Good?”
“See? This is why I don't compliment you.”
I took her coat, still laughing.
After we sat, I stretched my left leg farther beneath the seat ahead of me. The knee had tightened from the weekend.
Imani noticed.
She didn't fuss or ask six questions.
Her hand simply rested near mine.
I covered it.
“Thank you.”
Her fingers turned beneath mine and threaded through them.
A few students in the row below recognized me. Then alumni. One woman let her eyes move over me long enough to make her intention clear before looking away.
I barely noticed. Imani did. She looked at the woman, then smiled, sweet enough for church and possessive enough to make my chest tighten. The woman turned back around.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“What?” Imani asked.
“Nothing.”
“Mmhmm.”
I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
The softness that crossed her face nearly took me out.
Royal Sound struck its first full note, and the stadium rose around us.
For years, I had scored in this place and searched the stands until I found Imani. Two fingers to my mouth. A kiss toward her section. Every time.
Today, somebody else wore twenty-two.
Imani wasn't somewhere in the crowd waiting for me to find her.
She sat beside me with her hand in mine when AWU came running out of the tunnel and the stadium shook.
For the first time since football ended, I didn't miss being the man on the field.
I liked where I was.