Chapter 5

Liza

 

 

I had been dreading this night for two weeks. Ever since my dad told me about his plan to recruit Milo Pastek to his team. Initially, I wondered if I could somehow change his mind, and maybe talk him out of it. As if. Ever since Dad coached him in college, the two had kept in touch. When the opportunity arose, my dad jumped at the chance to get Milo on his team.

I had been less than thrilled but knew it made my dad happy. I had thought I’d never have to see the man again. I mean, I caught a glimpse of him on television on occasion, and I had seen him at a couple of games, but that was from afar. This was going to be different.

“Are you ready to go, sweetie?” I asked Ainsley, who clearly wasn’t. She was sitting on the couch in our apartment with one shoe on, her focus on the iPad in her hands.

“Ainsley, get your shoes on, please. We don’t want to miss Grandpa’s first game.”

“It’s not his first game, Mama,” she pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. “I meant his first game with his new quarterback. Remember, Papa told us all about it. This is a big deal. We need to be there to support him.”

She heaved the heavy sigh that only a four-year-old could pull off. “We go to his games all the time.”

I laughed. In the past, we had typically gone to all of his games, but not this season. Now that Ainsley was in pre-school, I couldn’t justify dragging her all across the country on the weekends. This was only the second home game, and I wasn’t going to miss it, even if it was a Monday night.

“Come on; you can bring your tablet and play with it when you get bored.”

“Am I going to get to have snacks? I want a hotdog.”

“You just ate dinner an hour ago,” I reminded her.

“But I’m hungry,” she whined.

“Yes, you can have a hotdog, but no soda. It’s too late,” I told her.

She grumbled a little and I braced myself for that stubborn streak she had that I was certain came from that red hair she had. I often told my dad I was going to dye it. When she was three, I had been tempted to try anything. She was a strong-willed child. My Dad said that was all me, but I couldn’t possibly have been as bad as my own, sweet child.

 

Down on the field, Ainsley had bolted away from me and run straight for Papa. I would have to have yet another talk with her about running away from me in big crowds. Thankfully, most of the people who worked with the team looked out for her.

“Good to see you, Liza,” one of the coaches greeted me.

“You too. Tonight looked good. A huge improvement,” I complimented.

The guy laughed. “Will you please do your best to convince Coach Summers of that? I can already feel the ass-chewing headed our way.”

I laughed and made my way to where my dad was standing and holding Ainsley. She had become a fixture during these after-game interviews. I was convinced he encouraged her to cling to him so he would have an excuse not to talk to the reporters. He hated the field interviews and preferred to wait until the press conference after the game when he’d had time to get his thoughts together.

“Sorry, Dad! I’ll get her,” I called out, getting his attention.

He looked at me and signaled it was okay. I chose to stay far away from the spotlight and hovered on the outside edge of the crowd surrounding the players coming off the field. A familiar voice caught my attention, and I turned towards the man I had been so afraid to see.

Oh. My. God.

There he was. I couldn’t believe he was standing just twenty feet away from me. I hadn’t seen him since that day in his room. Well, really seen him, like this close and in person. It was very different than through the safety of the television. He had essentially disappeared from my life after that day. I could have forgotten about him had I not seen that infamous red hair that was identical to his every damn day of my life. His daughter had been born with red hair. Over the years, it had lightened up and was now more of that light strawberry blond color that his hair tended to be.

I casually listened as he openly flirted with the reporter. My Dad was going to kick his ass. He had a rule about that kind of behavior when one of his players was in uniform. I couldn’t wait until he reviewed the post-game interviews, and he always did. He always checked to see what his players were saying.

I turned my attention back to my dad and saw that the initial mob of reporters had thinned out. I walked closer to him but made sure I stayed away from the cameras.

“How’s my little pumpkin?” my dad was muttering, hugging Ainsley close.

It wasn’t long before another reporter was shoving a microphone in his face, firing questions at him.

“I can take her,” I whispered.

“No, no. She likes to be on camera, don’t you sweetie?”

“Dad,” I said, in a warning voice. I didn’t like my daughter to be quite so front and center. She was already a bit of a celebrity around Florida. It made me a little uncomfortable to have so many people looking at her. Truthfully, I worried Milo would see her and figure out my secret.

“She’s fine. You don’t mind, do you?” he said to the reporter holding a cellphone up to record with.

The reporter was getting frustrated, but my dad didn’t care. The same reporter that was vying for his attention had given a horrible broadcast about my father’s ineptitude as a coach at the beginning of the season. This was Dad’s way of paying the man back.

Another reporter pushed his way in. This one was going to get the story.

“Coach Summer, can you tell us why you chose Milo Pastek for quarterback? His stats are not as impressive as a lot of the other quarterbacks you could have chosen. Why him?”

My dad shook his head in disgust. “It’s not about stats. It’s about heart. It’s about a willingness to play hard, get beaten down and get right back up again. I don’t need an over-inflated guy on my field who has great stats but a bad attitude. This team needs a morale boost. We’re all relatively new, and we need to work together. Milo’s the man who is going to help us make that happen.”

“Do you say that because you’ve coached him in the past? Is that what influenced your decision?”

My dad chuckled. I knew that laugh. It was a laugh of incredulity. “Well, yes it influenced my decision. I know him. I know what he’s capable of and I know he is willing to be coached. Unfortunately, there are too many players in this game who are convinced it’s all about making millions and getting their name on a pair of shoes.”

I bit back a laugh at his subtle dig at his laid-up quarterback.

“Coach,” the reporter started again.

He held up a hand. “That’s all the time I have. I need to get in the locker room. As you probably know, we have a lot to talk about.”

With that, my dad extricated himself from the throng of reporters hoping for the chance to nitpick his every decision in the game. It was the same thing every week.

“That was a good game,” I said, as I walked beside him off the field.

“It was better than the last, but we have a long way to go,” he sighed.

“You’ll do it. What’d you think of your quarterback?” I asked, secretly hoping he’d fire Milo and send him packing away from me and the daughter he didn’t know he had.

He shook his head. “I was pleasantly surprised. I wished we could have done better, but I think Milo will be good for the team. It’s the defense that I am worried about right now.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad. Hopefully, he’ll work out,” I lied. I wasn’t hoping for that at all.

I knew my secret was about to be uncovered. If my dad managed to put two and two together or if Milo happened to see my daughter, I would have a lot of explaining to do. There weren’t a lot of redheaded men in my life five years ago. My dad was a smart man. Milo, I wasn’t so sure about, but I couldn’t risk him figuring it out.

My dad stopped walking within a few feet of Milo. He started to shake his head, and I knew he heard Milo openly flirting with another female reporter. I grinned. Milo is going to get in trouble, I chanted inside my head.

“I better take her so you can get in there and give those boys a good, stern lecture,” I said, reaching out to grab my four-year-old daughter. “Ainsley, tell Papa goodnight. It is way past your bedtime.”

I watched as he kissed her on the forehead and she threw her arms around his neck squeezing tight. “Bye, Papa.”

“I’ll be over in the morning after I drop Ainsley off. We’ll go over the menu for Thursday so I know what I need to pick up from the store.”

When he didn’t immediately answer me, I looked up to see what had gotten his attention. He was staring at Milo. The new QB hadn’t changed a bit, apparently. There was currently a flock of females fawning all over him.

“I hope I didn’t make a mistake with that one. I will not have that from one of my players when he’s in uniform,” he grumbled.

I stared at the young women clinging to him as if he were the only lifeboat in the ocean. It was disgusting. He was all sweaty and gross, and they were still pawing all over him.

“Tell him your rules, Dad. Don’t let him get away with that type of behavior,” I scolded.

“What behavior?” Ainsley asked, innocently.

“Nothing, sweetie,” I said, taking her by the hand. My dad was far bigger and stronger than I and carrying her around like she was a toddler was no big deal for him.

“Pastek!” Dad shouted.

Milo looked through the crowds and found my dad. I didn’t have to see my dad’s face to know he was giving Milo the look. The look that said you better get your ass in that locker room this minute. I watched as Milo separated himself from the young women and made his way to the locker room.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?” he said, turning his attention back to me.

“I said, I will be over in the morning, around nine or so. We need to figure out what you want for Thanksgiving dinner.”

He nodded, “The same stuff.”

I sighed. “I know that, but you said you had a few extra things you wanted to add.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Okay, I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, but I knew he was far too distracted to have any idea what I was saying.

“Let’s go, Ainsley. It is late, and I am tired. Monday night games make it hard to get up in the morning.”

She yawned, “I’m not tired, Mama.”

I chuckled as I walked across the field and out of the stadium to the parking reserved for players and others with special passes. Being the coach’s daughter did come with a few perks.