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COACH TERRENCE JACKSON PARKED his shiny red car in a space far from any tree. Birds leaving clues of their visit always triggered a strong urge within the coach to purchase a shotgun. Today was not going to include a stop at the carwash to rid himself of their visit.
He left his car in the treeless parking space and strolled through the lot overstocked with top-of-the-line cars in the cool Pennsylvania spring air. He reached the sand-colored brick building sporting a wall of sky-high windows and squinted against the blinding light. They were throwing back the glare of the sun straight into his face. He picked up his pace.
Checking his watch as he climbed the steps, he noted he was early. The meeting was set for noon. This wasn’t his first rodeo, so he knew to be late would spell shortcomings for his team. At the top of the wide brick stairs, he heaved the huge glass door open and went straight to the elevator. The doors stood ajar as if welcoming him back with open arms. Pressing floor three, he stepped back, straightening his tie, and following up with a full body shake to loosen the tension. The doors opened. He stepped out into a massive corridor barren of people. Terrence didn’t need directions. He was familiar with this neck of the woods as if it was his own back yard.
He found the conference room with the door ajar. Voices of jolly men permeated the corridor. He tapped on the wooden door twice and pushed through. With his signature smile plastered on his face, the coach entered a generous sized room banked with a wall of windows overlooking the campus. The afternoon sun was persistent at its bathing of the massive glass.
A rustic, hardwood, wine console complete with wheels stood in the far corner, topped with a coffee dispenser and Styrofoam cups, a rainbow of sugar packets, and gourmet creams. Three walls were done up in cashmere beige paint. These walls held pictures of the university’s presidents who had passed through over the years. One wall was dressed up with charcoal and champagne wallpaper giving the room a masculine, old money feel.
Six prosperous-looking men wearing delighted faces sat around the boat-shaped, cherry wood conference table planted smack in the middle of the room.
“Coach Jackson, glad you could make it,” a square man with silver hair, and dirty gold, alligator skin greeted as he stood and grasped the coach’s hand.
The coach nodded. “Glad to be here, Charlie.”
Charlie was the man in charge. He had final say of which athlete would receive the coveted full rides. Terrence went around the table shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.
As he was taking the only vacant seat a younger man of about forty, and a light weight compared to the other men in the room said, “I kept tabs on your trial. I’m in awe of you, buddy. I didn’t think you would get off.” The man was smiling and shaking his head.
Another chimed in, “I was just wondering how you managed to get that hearing pushed through so quickly. What was it, a matter of months?”
Terrence peered from face to face. They were throwing fastballs at him, not giving him a second to respond. He sat listening to every question and pun.
“If I’m ever in a tight spot, Terry, I’ll need the name of your lawyer.” That comment was from another one of the square-shaped men. Terry was the coach’s nick name from college.
Charlie, the man in charge, put up his hand palm out. “That’s not why we are here today,” his words slow and measured. His voice was baritone with a slight southern drawl. “It’s over and behind us. Let us not speak of it again. We need to get down to business.” In front of him lay a stack of manila file folders. He flipped the top one open. “Let’s discuss your boys one by one.”
“Alright,” Terrence replied, albeit his gaze was targeted across the room in the direction of the door as he was thinking how soon he could make use of it. Charlie continued evaluating the athletes—their stats in the game, their grades, community service, scrapes with the law, and on and on.
Terrence was no longer listening. He was thinking about Rose. Everywhere he went, everything he did, somehow, she seemed to make an appearance. She was ruining his life. He had been declared innocent, but people always wanted to hash it over. He was exonerated, but people constantly watched him. He felt like a huge goldfish in a too small glass bowl like the ones you win at the fair. Somehow, he had to take care of this.
“Terry...Terry. Are you with us?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, sorry. It was a long ride.” He gunned a finger and thumb toward the corner. “Do you mind if I get a cup of coffee?”
“Help yourself. Anyone else want one?” Charlie inquired of the men.
It seemed they all wanted a coffee break. The wheels of the black leather executive chairs bumped over the plush beige carpet as bodies spilled out to pour much-needed caffeine into the white cups. Terrence eyed his watch. One hour had passed since the meeting had begun. There was no sign of it drawing to a close.
The guys mulled around the windows as if they were at a family get together. They were like clones of each other. One hand held a cup filled with coffee, steam drifting above. The other hand was stuffed inside a pocket, suit jackets open and ties choking their necks. They were discussing the upcoming game where the coach would showcase his athletes in an exhibition game. The room smelled like a coffee shop.
Charlie rested a hand on Terrence’s shoulder. The other held a cup of steaming coffee. “Terry, you know this is just a formality. We always take care of you. You’re a gifted coach. It shows in your boys. And your son, Jonas, shows great promise. You’ve done well as a single father.” He clapped Terrence on the back. “Let’s bring this meeting to a close.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Charlie. I needed an ego booster. It’s been a rough few months.”
“Hey, man,” the lightweight began, “you had your day in court. You were declared not guilty.” He squeezed the coach’s shoulder. “You’ve been on hold too long. We need to pick up where we left off. Are you game, buddy?”
Terrence plastered on his smile, showing all his teeth. “Yeah, man, I’m game.” They shook hands.
“Terry.” Charlie spoke from his executive chair. “On a more serious note, I’m aware that the girl is still attending the school. Has that been a problem?”
“Not so far, Charlie.” His smile was still anchored in place.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Charlie said.