Chapter Three #2
He kept walking toward the podium that had been set up on the stage at the front of the room, all the while trying to make sense of the surreal scene.
Then he heard a familiar-sounding voice call his name, and when his head swiveled toward the sound, he caught sight of a columnist he knew from SportsSphere, one of the biggest cable sports networks.
The national press had turned up for this?
His agent had been right. Thank heavens Harper had talked some sense into him earlier. If he’d been a no-show for this, he could’ve kissed his career goodbye. He owed her a gift basket of something. At the very least, he needed to make good on his promise to take a selfie with the dog.
“You know what?” Jackson turned toward Tommy and murmured under his breath. “I think I’ll take Bishop up there with me, after all.”
He was in no way prepared for the questions that were about to be lobbed his way. At least if the mascot accompanied him, the optics might be decent.
“Yes sir, Coach,” Tommy said as he offered him the leash.
Jackson did one better and bent to scoop the bulldog into his arms. He held back a grunt as he hoisted the pup off the floor.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a lot heavier than you look?” he whispered.
Bishop snorted, spraying Jackson’s jersey with god-knows-what. He ignored it and pasted a smile on his face worthy of a Colgate endorsement as he took his place at the podium.
Time to face the music.
* * *
For half an hour, Calla stood against the back wall of the cafetorium and watched as Jackson Knight charmed his way through the press conference.
Bringing the mascot on stage with him had been a genius move.
Reporters were melting around her, left and right.
Not one of them asked him a question that demanded an answer of anything remotely resembling substance.
It was infuriating on every possible level.
She glanced down at her notepad, still opened to a fresh, blank page.
How was it possible that she’d listened to the man talk for thirty minutes and hadn’t jotted down a single note?
She knew her editor probably expected a puff piece, but this was ridiculous.
How was she supposed to cobble together a story out of sound bites like “football is about discipline, teamwork and finishing strong” and “you’ve already got a talented group here, and I’m looking forward to bringing out their best”?
Sure you are, Calla thought. For all practical purposes, he’d been exiled. Surely she wasn’t the only person in the building who realized he was using this team for his own personal redemption. Not just the team, but the entire town.
Then again, maybe she was the only one who still had her wits about herself. Jackson Knight was famous for his charm, so she should’ve been prepared. Still, hearing about it was one thing. Seeing him in action was really something else.
The reporter standing directly in front of her shifted as he raised his hand, fully blocking Calla’s view of the proceedings. Jackson must’ve pointed at him, because he stuttered a few times before spitting out a question. “Wh-what drew you to this coaching position in Bishop Falls?”
Calla simply couldn’t roll her eyes hard enough.
Where to start? How about the absurd payday—a record for a Texas public school coaching position?
Not that it mattered, since it hardly compared to the money he pulled in from the league and various endorsements.
His reason for accepting the position was obvious.
“I thought it would be a great way for me to stay connected to the game while rehabbing my knee,” Jackson said with another dazzling grin. “And who wouldn’t want to work with the kids down here? The football program in Bishop Falls is one of a kind.”
Calla waited for someone— anyone —to ask him to elaborate on that vague explanation, but of course no one did.
What a joke. From what she’d overheard of his phone conversation, he didn’t have the first clue about the town or the team.
And now every reporter in the room was giving him a free pass.
No one had even mentioned the curse, for crying out loud.
“I think we’ve got time for one last question.” Principal Dean, who’d been monitoring the press conference along with the athletic director, glanced at his watch.
Calla’s hand flew up before she could stop it.
Ugh, what was she doing ? Stan was going to kill her. She snatched her hand back down, but it was too late.
“You, there. In the back,” Jackson said.
The reporter standing in front of her glanced over his shoulder at her, and then shifted to the side. In an instant, every pair of eyes in the room landed squarely on Calla, including Jackson’s.
She swallowed as their gazes locked.
Then his lips quirked into a cocky, lopsided grin of recognition, and she knew she was about to shoot her entire career right in the foot. “Hi, there.”
He was so sure of himself, so smug. Not fazed in the slightest to find out she was a journalist. Clearly, he expected her to fall in line with the rest of his admirers, despite the things she’d overheard him saying earlier. Honestly, how gigantic was this man’s ego? The mind reeled.
“Calla Dunne from the Lone Star Gazette ,” she said, introducing herself the same way the other reporters had.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she wasn’t here to sabotage her future. She was perfectly capable of gritting her teeth and asking a benign question, just like everyone else had.
Then she opened her mouth to do just that, but Jackson spoke first, cutting her off.
“Dunne?” he repeated, eyes sparkling like he knew good and well he had the entire room eating out of the palm of his hand. “Any relation?”
The cafetorium went instantly, excruciatingly silent. No one seemed to breathe, and all around her, Calla could feel people averting their eyes, pinning their gazes to the floor…the ceiling…anywhere but in her direction.
Jackson’s smile slipped, but only slightly. He still hadn’t realized the magnitude of the mistake he’d just made.
“I saw the turf logo earlier.” He hitched a thumb in the direction of the school stadium. “On the thirty-yard line, if memory serves. Ethan Dunne Field. Isn’t that what it said?”
Principal Dean cleared his throat. “I think we’re about out of time. Thank you, everyone, for coming.”
Bless the man for trying to save Calla from the uncomfortable moment. It had been eight years since Ethan’s accident and four years since he’d been gone. The question really shouldn’t have knocked the wind out of her the way it did.
No one talked about Ethan anymore, though.
After he died, his story became part of Bishop Falls history.
The team ended up losing the state championship, and that’s when whispers of a curse began circulating around town.
Maybe if Bulldogs fans weren’t so afraid to say Ethan’s name out loud, she would’ve been prepared for Jackson’s remarks.
Or maybe it would’ve felt like a blow to her chest either way.
All she knew at that precise moment was that she couldn’t just leave without saying a word.
Jackson had just stuck his foot in his mouth in a major way, and the gracious thing to do would be to gather her belongings and quietly go back to her office and pen the sort of column Stan expected her to write.
But Calla wasn’t feeling particularly gracious at the moment.
Now that Ethan’s name had finally been uttered out loud, a part of her felt like it had cracked open and she was unspooling like a ribbon.
“Ethan Dunne was my brother,” Calla said in a voice loud enough to put an immediate stop to Principal Dean’s attempt to end the press conference.
Reporters stopped packing up their things, and out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a video camera swiveling in her direction.
“Which anyone who’d done the slightest bit of research into the Bishop Falls High School football program would know. ”
“Um, my apologies,” Jackson said, and to her surprise, he actually sounded sincere. For a second, his mask slipped, and instead of looking like a media-trained professional athlete, he seemed almost human.
Calla wasn’t finished yet, though. After all, he’d called on her to ask a question, hadn’t he?
Buckle up, Benchwarmer.
That nickname wasn’t really applicable, since Jackson held his team’s record for most receiving yards as a tight end in league history, but it gave her a little zing of pleasure nonetheless. And since he’d be riding the bench until his knee healed, it wasn’t wholly inaccurate.
Calla narrowed her gaze at him. “What specific changes do you plan to implement right away, and what results should Bulldogs fan expect to see early on?”
Jackson shifted Bishop from one arm to the other and cleared his throat. “As far as what the fans should expect, that would be a winning team.”
Another generic answer. He’d completely ignored the first part of the question, and this time, the mood in the room had shifted. Reporters weren’t so keen to let it slide. Jackson had shown his hand. He didn’t know the first thing about this town.
“As for the changes Miss Dunne mentioned? What might those be?” a man situated directly in front of the podium prompted.
A furrow formed in Jackson’s perfect brow. He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, leaving just enough time for Calla to interject with another pointed inquiry.
“This team has gone through multiple coaching changes recently. What makes you believe you’re the coach to break that cycle?
” Dare she say the quiet part out loud? Why not?
If she was going to put the poor guy on the spot, she may as well really go for it.
“Or to put it more succinctly, why should we believe you’re the coach who can finally break the curse? ”
There were a few gasps from the locals, followed by a beat of silence. All the while, Calla and Jackson seemed to be engaged in some sort of intriguing staring contest. Calla’s heart felt like it might gallop right out of her chest. She’d just opened Pandora’s box, in more ways than one.
Somewhere, a camera clicked. Then another…and another. Jackson was the first to look away as he tried to gather his thoughts, and the second he dropped his gaze to the podium, the room exploded into a cacophony of sound. Reporters shouted over each other, shooting rapid-fire questions.
“How do you plan to connect with this small-town community and earn their trust when you don’t appear to know anything about the football program here?”
“Do you have a plan for making all your players and fellow coaching staff feel supported and valued?”
“Are you here for the long haul, or is this an attempt to improve your reputation within the Cyclones organization?”
The kid gloves had well and truly come off.