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Mike Stanton, Chicago’s star player, was on injured reserve with a pulled groin. In the back of my mind, I was hoping to put Jarvis there with him. The more Jolie told me about how he’d treated her, the more I disliked him. If I started shit with someone for no good reason tonight, just to get them out of their zone, it would be him.
“Questions?” Coach asked.
I shook my head and looked around at the other guys, who were all silent. Coach Gizzard seemed more intense than usual today, like he wanted a win badly. It was probably because we needed a win to put us back in first place, but there was something more to it, too.
We used to joke, quietly of course, that Gizzard was pulling for Chicago when we played them since Jarvis was the son he never had. Not anymore, though.
Coach Gizzard was a great coach. He was deliberate about letting his players know we could come to him with personal issues if we needed time off, but he didn’t want us to consider him a friend. He’d given up on his hair, which was slowly disappearing, last year and started shaving his head. That was the kind of man he was—a straight shooter. He often used the lipstick and pig analogy. It took a lot to coach at this level of the game, and he never asked more of any of us than he asked of himself as far as time spent in the arena. I respected him a lot.
“Boone, can you stay behind for a minute?” he asked as he ended the meeting.
“Sure, Coach.”
“Ron, tell the second liners I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” he said to one of our assistant coaches, who nodded and closed the door behind him.
I sat back down in the metal folding chair I’d been watching film in, my heart pounding. The deadline for trades was approaching, and based on Evelyn’s informal inquiries, Coach Gizzard had to know I wanted to go to Nashville.
This could be it. He could be telling me tonight was my last game with St. Louis. I was relieved before he even said a word at the thought of taking Joey home while Emma completed her treatment. We’d finally be with family, which I needed more than ever. I had no experience dealing with a kid crying because I was leaving, not to mention the trauma he was experiencing over Emma being gone. I’d hire someone to help with him when I needed it, but I knew we’d be okay. When Emma finished treatment, she could move in with me.
I’d miss Jolie, but my family needed me. If Andy was nearing the end of his life, I had to be there for him as much as possible.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Coach said. “I hear my daughter is spending a lot of time taking care of your kid.”
Record scratch.
“I don’t have a kid, Coach. Joey’s my nephew.”
He glared at me. “Whatever he is, why is my daughter, who is supposed to be working on her dissertation, taking him to Chuck E. Cheese and out to lunch with my mother?”
I didn’t have the fiery temper a lot of my teammates did. I considered myself damn lucky to even be on a professional team, and I kept my head down and did my part. But hearing Coach talk about Joey with derision in his voice, like he wasn’t worthy of Jolie’s attention, set me off in an instant. I took a second, forcing myself not to fly off the handle like I wanted to.
“Jolie has become friends with a lot of the wives, and she offered to help Hadley Kirby with Joey when I’m on the road. He’s with me the rest of the time because my sis”
His eyes widened and his engine light came on. That’s what we called it when Coach Gizzard’s neck vein bulged—it meant he was really pissed.
“I don’t give a good goddamn why he’s with you! I asked you why you’re using my daughter as your babysitter. That’s the only question you need to answer.”
Asshole. Why did I respect this man who didn’t give a shit about me or my family?
“I never asked her to do it,” I said, sitting up to my full height and holding his gaze. “She offered.”
“And that’s when a light should go off in that tiny little brain of yours reminding you that I told you to stay the fuck away from my daughter!”
Nash would tell him to go fuck himself. He wouldn’t worry about the consequences. But I couldn’t. I needed my job, and I needed a trade. I couldn’t help getting in a small jab, though.
“Well, Coach, if Jolie is taking care of Joey while I’m on the road, I’m not actually near her.”
I thought the vein was going to explode. He tossed his remote to the other side of the room and it silently hit the wall and slid down. Our video coordinator Mo had wrapped the remote in bubble wrap and duct tape, leaving only the buttons exposed for such occasions.
“Don’t get cute with me, Boone! I know what you’re doing. You’re using that kid to get into my daughter’s pants and so help me”
I stood up, my throat tight. “With all due respect, go to hell, Coach. My nephew has been through more than you can imagine, and he’sfour fucking years old. This isn’t about you.”
Angry tears blurred my vision as I pictured Joey clutching the stuffed elephant that was the only constant in his life. Coach Gizzard could talk all the shit he wanted about me, but I wouldn’t listen to him telling me Joey was unworthy or a pawn in some grand scheme to get laid.
“I could have phrased that better,” Coach said, backpedaling a little and looking contrite. “The point is, you care about your family and I care about mine. My daughter’s been through a lot, too. She’s been in college for…hell, I think eight years now, and she’s finally finishing. She’s our only child.”
The vein was receding. He was actually trying to be decent about this. I took a deep breath, taking the same tone.
