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"Do you need some donations? I can sign some gear, maybe get one of the ladies from around here to bake a few pies."
Coach sighs. "Your presence is what I need, Sanderson."
"In New York? That is a hard pass, Coach. I'm working, and I can't leave my guys in the lurch and understaffed."
"I’m sure someone else can help an elderly person off the floor or get a cat out of a tree for a few days." He scoffs.
"It's much more than that, Coach. I know you've never been to Cottage Grove, but I'm a member of the search and rescue team as well and one of only four certified divers. We are right on the ocean. It's not all helping old ladies with their groceries and rescuing cats."
"Sanderson, I didn’t mean any offense. I'm just in a world of hurt here and I could really use your help. Your presence at this gala could make a huge difference to the boosters and that could make the difference between me having or not having a job."
I close my eyes and rub one hand down my face. I know that my former team is on a losing streak. They just don’t seem to be able to get things together and the boosters have to be all over Coach because of it. He's the reason I was even drafted in the first place. He saw something in me and fought to get me on the team. Now he is asking a favor and I can't really say no. I owe him.
"Fine, I can come down for the gala weekend. Do you really think having a washed-up former player will make that much of a difference?"
"Sanderson, we both know that you were the best in the league before the accident. People are still talking about that play you made to win the last Championship game. How many rings do you have again?"
"Five, Coach."
"Five championship rings before the age of thirty. That is impressive no matter what. Boosters are still in awe of you andif I can tell them you will be at the gala as a favor to me, I might be able to keep my job and try to get this sorry excuse for a team turned around. Hell, maybe you can even come to practice. It might help morale."
"I will see what I can do, Coach. Text me the dates and I will clear it with the Captain."
"You're a lifesaver, Sanderson. I won’t forget this. I will take care of everything and get you the best accommodations in the city. What about a date? Do you need me to find you some arm candy?"
I wince at his words. "First of all, women aren't arm candy, Coach. And second, I can find my own date."
"Thanks again, Sanderson. I need to make some calls. I’ll text you the details."
I end the call and hear a chuckle.
"You're such a bleeding-heart, Mason. He played you like a fiddle."
"I know but I'm loyal, it's just who I am."
"What did ole' Coach Ferguson rope you into now?" Jack asks, sitting beside me and handing me a cup of coffee.
"He wants me to come to New York and attend some charity events and a gala."
"You hate that stuff. I can barely get you to show up for a clambake or a cookout and that is with people you know and like. I’m surprised that you’re going to a place you dislike to schmooze with the boosters."
"I owe Coach. Without him I never would have had a pro career at all. Now, onto the next problem, I need a date."
"I can't believe that you would have a hard time finding someone to get dressed up and schmooze with society's finest."
"That isn’t the problem. The problem is I don’t want someone who is going to expect some romantic attachment after the weekend. I don’t want to move back to New York and any of thewomen I would ask to accompany me aren't going to want to move to a tiny town in Maine.
"Ask Emily," Jack says, as if it is the most obvious answer in the world.
"Emily?" I raise an eyebrow thinking about his bookish quiet sister.
"She runs a business and deals with customers all day long. I've seen her interact with the tourists and she is good at it. She is the perfect choice. She won't want to date you—she's known you your entire life and she knows who you really are." Jack smirks and I frown at him but the idea is growing on me.
"Do you think she'd even want to go to New York?"
"Of course. The libraries, museums, all that culture. She won't want to live there but I bet you can convince her to go for a weekend if you offer up a trip to the Museum of Modern Art and a trip to the New York Library as bribes."
"Jack, I think you might be a genius." I slap him on the back as the bell above our heads starts signaling a call out.
