Page 49 of The Perfect Pass
Another of the men piped up again. “College scouts are already looking at Stokes, Collier and Brown. Missing even a single game would put their futures at risk, especially since their stats aren’t as high as they could be, given your decision to sub them out for the fourth quarter in nearly every game.”
Ah, so any subsequent recruiting problems wereJackson’sfault. The teenagers who’d outright assaulted one of their fellow players were just innocent victims. Un-freaking-believable.
“The team needs those kids, Coach. They’re the backbone of our entire program this year. The Bulldogs have had a great season so far, but we’ve still got a ways to go to get to State. We’re sure you know that, but I want to make the position of the Victory Club board clear.” Earl circled a finger in the air, encompassing the other men surrounding him, who were apparently the other members of the board of directors. “We supportallour players. The best thing for everyone involved is for the Bulldogs to advance to the championships. I’m sure you agree.”
The Victory Club president finally paused and twirled his championship ring around his finger with the pad of his thumb while he waited for Jackson’s assurances.
He knew what he was supposed to say. They’d all butwritten a script for him. The Victory Club didn’t want to see anyone suspended from any games, full stop.
The club president’s bushy eyebrows crept closer to the brim of his Bulldogs cap. “Do we have an understanding, Jackson?”
“Your coffees are ready!” Bailey chirped as she swished toward them from behind the counter.
Jackson wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her from the waist down before. On busy mornings like today, she never budged from her spot at the espresso machine.
She winked as she handed him his cup and then turned toward the Victory Club guys. “Now shoo, y’all. Leave the coaches alone. They’ve got to get to work, and I know you don’t want to make them late. Right?”
She crossed her arms over her apron. It had little footballs topped with pink bows printed on it. Bailey might look sweet and delicate on the outside, but Jackson had an inkling she had more grit than most people realized. This rescue attempt only confirmed that suspicion.
The men shifted awkwardly in their cowboy boots.
“You heard me. Now, go.” Bailey made a shooing motion with her hands, and somehow managed to make even that look graceful. “Unless you need coffee. And if that’s the case, I’ll meet you right over there.”
She pointed to the far end of the counter, and the Victory Club board begrudgingly followed her command.
“That was genuinely impressive,” Jackson said, smirking into his coffee cup.
“Yeah, well.” Cade’s eyes followed Calla’s friend and sister-in-law as she floated back to the espresso machine, pausing on the way to reach for a dog biscuit from her pocket and slip it to Bishop. “That’s Bailey for you.”
Chapter Fourteen
If Jackson thought the encounter at the coffee shop would be the Victory Club’s only attempt to pressure him into not disciplining the team captains, he’d have been sorely mistaken. He’d barely had time to get settled in his office—several minutes ahead of the tardy bell, thank you very much—when Principal Dean’s assistant called, summoning him to a meeting at the main office.
“Let me guess,” Cade said as Jackson replaced the phone’s receiver into its cradle. The communication system at Bishop Falls High School was about as antiquated as the decrepit coffee maker at his rental house. “You just got called into the principal’s office.”
Jackson pushed his chair back from his desk and stood, hands loosely planted on his hips. “How did you know?”
“The same way I knew Earl Whitaker and his crew would be lying in wait for you this morning at Huddle Up,” Cade said with a raised eyebrow.
“A heads-up would’ve been nice,” Jackson countered.
“Come on, you can’t tell me Calla didn’t warn you.”
“That she did.” Jackson shifted uneasily on his feet. His knee hadn’t been troubling him much lately. At least one thing was going right. “So did Tommy Riess’s mother.”
He still couldn’t get the conversation with the injured player’s mom out of his head. She’d tried so hard to stay strong in front of her son, but as soon as they’d moved to the hospital hallway, he’d easily seen how shaken up she was by the beating. Looking into her eyes, red and swollen from crying, the mixture of resignation and hope he’d seen there had humbled him like nothing else had in years.
He had a responsibility to these kids that went beyond sports. A real coach was a mentor, both on and off the field, and that’s what this team needed most of all—not a state championship, but a coach they could count on. Someone who was steady and true.
Jackson wasn’t that man, obviously. But at the moment, he was as close as it got.
“Those boys need consequences,” he said tersely.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Cade steepled his hands and appeared to choose his next words carefully. “Just be prepared before you go in there. They’re going to do everything in their power to convince you otherwise. It’s not just going to be Principal Dean. Odds are, there’s already an entire firing squad waiting for you in the conference room.”
The joke was on them, though, because Jackson was indeed ready. And as crazy as it seemed, he had Bishop to thank for it.
He jerked his head in the direction of the bulldog splayed with his paws pointed skyward and snoring his head off on his dog bed. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on you-know-who while I’m gone. And don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
