Chapter 6
Jackson
“How many titles am I supposed to have before they take me seriously?” I yell and slam my water bottle on the counter. My agent called just as I was trying to get out of the house and get to practice.
“It’s not your talent in question, it’s your personal life.”
“That shouldn’t matter!”
“It does when you’re mentoring kids, Jackson!”
Tony, my agent, just told me everything I already suspected about why I wasn’t getting callbacks. People read some bad press, some crazy tabloid stories and they think they know me. Half that stuff is downright false, and the other half is so doctored it’s barely even close to the truth.
“Your record is impeccable, but your reputation is a risk. A dangerous risk they do not want to take. I warned you about this,” Tony says. “If we didn’t handle these lies when they first came about, it was going to get you in the end.”
“No one was going to believe me downplaying any of it. People saw me out when I first got on the team. I liked to party. The entire team did! That wasn’t a secret. I just don’t understand how they can use that against me now, especially since I’ve basically been in hiding for the last three years.”
After I got hurt and the Carolina Warriors and I severed my contract, I returned to Christmas and went into a depression.
I knew nothing else but football, and that had been ripped from me.
If it wasn’t for Adam and his whole family, honestly, I don’t know where I would be right now.
They helped pick me back up, dust the dirt off and got me the head coaching job at our old high school.
If I couldn’t kick ass on the field, I could kick other asses on that same field, as Adam put it.
I just don’t know how to clear up the image I used to have. Hurt or not, sympathy for the millionaire bad boy only goes so far.
“I’m sorry Jackson. If you’re really looking to get out of the high school rut and make your way back up, you need a college team to take a good look at you. My advice—work on your image. No one knows you’ve changed if you don’t put yourself out there.”
“I haven’t changed, Tony. I’m still me. I changed when I got to the NFL. That’s the difference.”
Life changed me, and I let it. Like a puppy let loose in a ball pit, I was a stupid kid let loose on his own for the first time, with money, women all around, and no one keeping tabs on me. It was a recipe for disaster, and I played right into that losing hand elegantly.
Well, more like I played into it like a bull in a China shop, but you get the idea.
I fucked up.
“Then I suggest you introduce the world to the real Jackson.”
I sigh. “How do I go about doing that?”
I hear his papers shuffling on the other end, knowing he’s probably tiring of my shitty attitude.
“Listen, go update your social media. Talk about the kids you’re coaching.
Hire a PR firm. Get a girlfriend and make yourself monogamous.
” He laughs a little too hard at that but continues right on.
“That town of yours is a social media gold mine. Make it work for you.”
I grunt but say, “I was just named as the Grand Marshall for the Almost Christmas festival.”
“Well, there you go!” he exclaims. “Use that to your benefit.”
Tony rattles off more ideas but all I’m hearing is hire a PR agent… get a girlfriend… Francesca does PR. Maybe her coming back here was a good thing; she can help me.
“Okay Tony. I’ve got a friend that just came back into town that does PR. Maybe she can help me out.”
“She? You’re talking about Adam's sister?” Tony knows my life story.
He was my agent when I first signed, and I kept him on even after I was cut because I trust him.
He still works hard for me and I’m grateful he’s kept me as a client, even though I don’t help his cause out much anymore.
Tony knows Adam is my best friend. Shit, more like a brother.
He knows his family is the one who kept me sane, especially after my second year in the league, and then finally when I got let go from the team altogether.
He’s met them all plenty of times, but Chess was never around.
How the hell does he know about her? I know she worked for a big-name company, but she was a little fish in the big pond there.
He whistles through his teeth. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. ”
“Why? What’s wrong with Chess?”
“Well, first, your families are too close. And your use of a nickname means you’re too close to her. Plus, she’s had some trouble lately,” he says tentatively.
“What do you mean, trouble? And what does me being close with her family have anything to do with it? They could vouch for me; wouldn’t that work out well for me?
Besides, her and I haven’t really spoken since I left ten years ago.
” Besides a random holiday run in, and my sister’s wedding, we have spent little time together at all.
“She was just fired from Goldman PR a few weeks ago. Something about defrauding her clients and claiming other people’s work for her own.”
“No way! That is not the Francesca I know. She wouldn’t do that.”
“I wouldn’t think so either, from what I know of her and her family. But you said so yourself, you haven’t seen her in ten years. People change,” he tsks and continues shuffling papers in the background.
That they do, I think. I take a breath and let it out. “I’m going to talk to her. My image can’t get worse, right?” I chuckle, but Tony doesn’t think it’s funny.
“Listen, I told you my piece. If you want to ask her to help you out, I know she’s more than capable. She was a rising star in that place. Shocked us all to hear what had happened.”
“Maybe what happened isn’t the whole truth. You and I know that more than anyone.”
“You’re right. Okay Gage, I’ve got to go. I’ll send over the samples of that new sports drink, see if you want to jump on board. Then get back to me and we’ll move from there.”
“Thanks man, talk later.”
I end the call and slide onto a stool at my kitchen island. Hire a PR, get a girlfriend… what if I can get both?
* * *
The next morning, I’m on the field watching the boys run laps around the field while I drink a cup of coffee.
This is definitely the better side to be on when the laps, sprints and mad dashes come out.
I laugh to myself when I think back to when Adam and I were running this same field all those years ago…
staying out the night before drinking with the cheerleaders in the abandoned parking lot just outside of town, then having to be on the field at six-thirty in the morning, begging for anyone to put us out of our misery.
Coach knew exactly where we had been the night before and used that information to torture us.
Adam learned, but I didn’t, and repeated that same scenario a few too many times in college. I’m amazed they still drafted me.
Another runner catches my eye, though. Over on the track, which circles our football field, I see a woman running laps as well.
Francesca.
I’d know her anywhere now that I’ve gotten a look at her again.
She’s not the 15-year-old I left behind when Adam and I went to college.
Her long legs are toned, showcased in purple short shorts, and that ass is round and firm.
I can tell from here. And that ponytail again.
Fuck, what is it about seeing her ponytail swing back and forth?
I imagine it would swing the same way as she bobbed up and down on me.
That long hair wrapped around my palm. As she gets closer to us as she circles the track, I have to adjust myself in my shorts while my two assistant coaches yell at the boys to huddle up.
“Coach?”
I’m snapped away from my gawking. Clearing my throat, I toss my coffee into the receptacle and squeeze the back of my neck with one hand and clench the other into a fist, trying to get myself under control.
What is it with this girl? I tamp down how turned on she’s gotten me, then I spin to address the team.
MY team.
“Fellas! You’re looking a little slow out there this morning. Too much partying? Do I need to drive around town to make sure you’re all tucked in your beds by ten o’clock each night?”
The boys laugh amongst themselves. Connor, my wide receiver, pipes up.
“There’s only one of us you need to check on, Coach.
” He elbows his best friend, my first-string quarterback, Jameson.
My eyes trail to Jameson as the rest of the team ‘oohs’ at him, and he drops his eyes as his cheeks redden.
I laugh to myself because this sounds just like Adam and me all those years ago.
If it was going to jeopardize my game, he would out me.
Not to be a dick, but because he cared. And he wanted me to be the best.
“Oh? And why do I need to check on you, Jay?” I question as I cross my arms over my chest, watching him squirm and elbow Connor back. Connor speaks for him.
“Because he was out late with Layla last night. Like he is most nights.” The boys bark and start pushing each other around. Real classy, but again, it’s like I’m watching myself all those years ago. Teen boys don’t change, only the decade they live in does.
“Cheerleader Layla, right?” I eye him, knowing exactly who Layla is.
These two are town sweethearts. However, Jameson is going places.
I know Layla will support him. I hope she will anyway, but I don’t want their relationship to be a deterrent to him getting on with his life.
Plus, they’re young. Too young to be making permanent decisions, even if by mistake.
The team makes little rumbling comments. I’m picking up a word or two, but they keep it respectful. They won’t dare piss off their quarterback.
“You did it Coach! You were out partying every night and you were still drafted first! An hour past curfew will not break me,” Jameson replies.
And there it is. There’s the terrible reputation that colleges don’t want me putting on their kids. The same kids who saw me and think they can pull the same antics and have the same turnout.
A flash of purple catches my eye as I see Chess approaching our huddle as she circles the track again.
“Yes, I did party. And yes, I was drafted first. But maybe if I spent more time in the weight room or training room or in my own bed, alone,” I emphasize the word, “I’d still be in the NFL, instead of here with you jack assess!
” The boys laugh and I turn just in time to see Chess snicker to herself as she passes us, my eyes trailing her ass as she does.
Dylan jumps in next. “But that’s the perk of making it big! Getting all the chicks!” He does some sort of pelvic thrust, and I groan and roll my eyes.
I clap my hands before this gets out of control.
“Alright, get in your lines. Let’s run that play we were working on yesterday and fine tune it.
” I blow my whistle and the team breaks.
I make a mental note to speak with Jameson alone.
I need to make sure he isn’t getting sidetracked.
Maybe with the rest of the team too, clear up some misconceptions of what they think making it big really means.
My other coaches walk through the play with the team, and I wait for Chess to come around again. As she gets closer, I walk towards her. She’s eyeing me and slows down.
“That was some pep talk you gave those boys,” she smiles.
God, how can I earn more of those smiles?
“I have the gift of gab. What can I say?” I wink at her.
She stutters a step slightly, then tries to pick it up and keep passing me, but I reach out for her arm.
“Wait, I want to ask you something, Chess.” She slows again, eyeing me with concern.
Damn, what the hell happened to her? She never used to be this wary around me. “I could use your help,” I say.
She pauses and when I say nothing more, she says, “Help. With what exactly?”
“Can we meet at the diner after this? Catch up a little?”
“Jackson, what do you need? I need to help my mom get started with this festival.”
“Oh! You’re meeting with her today? I’ll come with you since I’m supposed to be involved and all.”
Please let me tag along.
Wait, what? I don’t beg.
“Why? So, you can pick on me or call me names like when we were kids?” she sighs and I stay silent.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you.” She tightens her ponytail then runs her hands along her sides, smoothing down her tank, drawing my attention to her chest. Luckily, she’s looking at the ground and doesn’t see me leering.
“Do you really need help, or are you just trying to tease me some more?”
“If I was teasing you, you’d enjoy it.” The comment slips out before I can stop it. My natural flirty banter can’t be bottled.
She rolls her eyes. “Typical, Gage. Let me know when you get serious about… anything.” She turns up the speed and power walks past me. Shaking my head and grinning, I turn back to my team thinking to myself, this is going to be harder than I thought.