Page 16 of The Perfect Pass
Chapter Five
The school bell rang just as Jackson and Cade walked through the front door of the building, and of course, Principal Dean was standing in the front lobby with his arms crossed over his Bulldog-green tie and his feet planted wide apart as if braced for impact.
“You’re tardy,” he said, eyes darting briefly toward Cade before settling on Jackson with obvious disdain.
Jackson’s steps slowed. “Am I, though?” He pointed a finger overhead as the blare of the bell came to an abrupt stop. “Sounds like I’m right on time.”
“You have students waiting for you in the weight room. As a member of the faculty, your day begins before the bell rings. Not after.” The principal smoothed down the hideous necktie. “You’re an educator now, Coach Jackson. Contrary to what you might think, this job isn’t a joke. Nor is it a walk in the park. There are people counting on you.”
Jackson nodded. “Noted.”
He wasn’t going to argue with the guy. After what happened yesterday, he deserved the lecture. Arriving early would’ve been a good call, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the conversation with Calla. Tomorrow, he’d be on time…
Assuming he still had a job here by then. That seemed somewhat up in the air.
“It’s his first day, Dean. He’ll get it figured out.” Cade offered the principal an easy smile and handed him a to-go coffee from Huddle Up. “We got you a coffee.”
“Thank you.” Principal Dean accepted the cup with a sigh and cut another exasperated look at Jackson. “Don’t let it happen again, though. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” Jackson said.
“Wow.” Cade lifted his baseball cap, ran a hand through his hair and replaced it as the principal stalked toward the front office. “You didn’t waste any time getting on his bad side, did you?”
What else was new? Jackson’s reputation had been preceding him for his entire life.
“I’m here to coach, not win any popularity contests,” Jackson said, although he wasn’t altogether sure his agent would agree with that sentiment.
Cade patted him on the back and guided him toward the athletic offices, where Jackson assumed they’d find the weight room. “That’s good, because you’ve got bigger problems to worry about than Principal Dean and all the recent bad press.”
That sounded ominous, and also par for the course with the way things had been going. “What kind of problems?”
Cade lowered his voice as they passed the opened door to the teacher’s lounge and several heads swiveled in their direction. “You’re going to get a lot of looks today, obviously. Most will just be curious. You’re famous, after all.”
Some might say infamous, especially given recent events, but perhaps it was best not to dwell on the distinction.
“Others might be a bit more hostile,” Cade said. It was the second time he’d used that particular word since showing up this morning on Jackson’s doorstep. Something was up, and whatever it was didn’t sound good. “I’m guessing you haven’t had time to familiarize yourself with the coaching staff ?”
Jackson shook his head. “Not yet.”
He’d been a little busy, what with researching his press conference fail and watching himself get eviscerated on national television.
“We’ve got the athletic director, who you met yesterday,” Cade said.
Right—the guy who’d moderated Jackson’s humiliation in the cafetorium. He nodded.
“He oversees the entire sports program here at the high school. There are six of us on staff specifically for varsity football—head coach, assistant coach, offensive coordinator/quarterbacks coach, defensive coordinator, special teams coach and the junior varsity head coach.” Cade lowered his voice. “It’s Simmons, the assistant coach, you might want to watch out for. He’s not exactly thrilled to have you on board.”
“What’s his deal? Is he a Vipers fan?” Jackson asked, name-dropping the Cyclones’ fiercest rivals in the league. Their fan base was intense, to say the least.
Cade shook his head. “Nothing like that. He was actually hoping to get your position for himself. Simmons was the acting head coach over the summer and for the first few weeks of school while your contract was being negotiated.”
How was it that everyone seemed to know more about Jackson’s employment contract than he did?
Cade’s steps slowed as they approached the weight room.The metallic clink of weight plates being loaded onto barbells was punctuated by the occasional thud of a dropped dumbbell. Country music blared from a speaker somewhere, but at least it sounded like the kids were lifting.
“Simmons has been here forever. He’s old-school—not too crazy about newcomers, in general, and especially distrustful of ‘a flashy pro athlete who’s never coached a day in his life’ stealing the top job out from under him.” Cade cleared his throat. “For the record, those are his words, not mine. No offense.”
“None taken,” Jackson said dryly.
