Page 8 of Mr. B

“Yes, it’s great.”

“Anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

She moved away, and he glanced at her, then returned his attention to the coach. Polly came over and stood next to him. “How’s that going?”

He sighed. “It’s going. I hate…I don’t like how I am around her. I turn into a petulant teenager.”

Polly patted his arm. “If you’re aware of it, then perhaps you can work on that.”

“Are you aware of it?”

“Maybe a little. But no one else sees it.”

He turned to her. “Polly, this job would be so much harder without you.”

“Does that earn me a raise?”

He laughed. “I’ll bring it up at the next budget meeting. But you know Stu. It takes an act of God to get him to open his wallet.”

“Well, a girl can dream.” She watched Cassandra for a moment. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Dr. Jordan?”

“Probably not.”

“I guess I’ll just have to go with what’s in my imagination, then.”

Wes smiled. “It can’t be as bad as the real thing.”

She put a hand on his back. “Well, I don’t have much love for anyone who hurt you.”

“Don’t let my relationship with Dr. Jordan influence yours. You need to work with her, too.”

“I’ll always be on your side, Mr. B.”

When the pep rally ended, Wes headed home instead of going back to the office. The car seemed eerily quiet after an hour of deafening noise from the enthusiastic students during the rally. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror. It had been an exhausting day, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes. Or maybe he was just getting old. He shook it off. “Tomorrow will be better.”

Remembering he didn’t have much food at home and didn’t feel like cooking, he drove to Rocco’s. It was a little early for the dinner rush, so the place was almost empty. He got a wave from both Abe and Gentry as he walked through the door.

When he went to a booth and sat down, Maggie came over with a glass of water and a smile. “You look like you had a day.”

He leaned back in the booth. “I’ve had better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I left early to make up for it. Will you have Abe make me the Weston Special?”

“Yes. What size?”

“Um…a medium. What I can’t eat, I’ll take home.”

“Beer?”

He blew out a breath. “A little early for me, but hell, why not?”

While he was waiting for his pizza, Abe came to the table and slid into the seat across from him. “Cassandra, huh?”

Wes glanced at Gentry in the kitchen. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than gossip about me?”