Caught Running (7 page)
Starting down the stairs, Brandon raised a hand and nodded. He got settled in the car and drove off, all the while feeling very self-conscious because Jake stood there in the doorway, watching him the whole time. Jake waited until the headlights were gone, then turned back into his house and shut the door slowly. It was a habit learned from his father, to watch a visitor leave until they were out of sight. He didn't even know that he did it. With a sigh, he trudged toward the stairs and the shower on the upper level. Something about Brandon was ringing in his ears, but he couldn't place it. It left him unsettled and cranky, and Jake didn't like being either.
The drive home seemed to whip by because Brandon's head was full of new images and ideas—baseball, tight white pants, health class, Jake Campbell. He stopped the car in the driveway and climbed out automatically, looking at the rustic white bungalow surrounded by wild flowers. So different from Jake's house. But tonight, Brandon thought they might have discovered they had at least a tiny something in common. He headed inside, deciding to finish grading the essays and the other block's work before taking a run around the lake. It was going to be a long night. The first of many.
The science teacher leaned on the third baseline fence next to Jonathan as the younger man mused over the reasoning behind some of the drills Jake was running to evaluate the kids at tryouts. About four had dropped out from yesterday to today, fewer than expected, according to the freshman coach.
On the field, Jake was a force. Even Troy the pretty boy was eclipsed by the sheer power of Jake's personality, and Brandon could readily see that popular homecoming king in the head coach. But now the allure was transformed into a man comfortable with his confidence and not afraid to put it to use. Again Brandon tamped down the flicker of interest beyond professional involvement. He was determined to quash it, to not let the idea even see the light of day.
Although Jonathan had offered, Brandon had run the suicides again today. He remembered Jake's pain from the night before and was unwilling to let the head coach do the running. Three guys instead of two outran Brandon this time, but he'd not even been a half step behind. Maybe he'd do some speed drills in the park to practice.
Jonathan pointed out how the kids were practicing sidestepping, and while Brandon recognized the effort, he could tell the balance involved wasn't a strong skill for most of the players. It didn't help when Jake's voice lashed out.
"You don't even have a glove in your hands!” Jake bellowed. “How the hell are you gonna field a ball if you can't stay on your feet?” he questioned as he walked through the lines of boys doing the complicated drill. The first and foremost reason for it was to teach them the most effective way to turn and run by ingraining it in their muscle memory. But it also doubled as a good base running drill, and as a way to weed out the waverers who had stuck through after yesterday.
"Pick your feet up!” Troy shouted from the other side of the grid of players, the two of them double-teaming as they circled the kids like vultures. Jake glanced over at the fence where the other coaches were calling out encouragement to the kids, thinking how the staff formed a pretty decent good cop/bad cop crew. He caught sight of Brandon, standing there beside Jonathan and murmuring to each other, and he looked away quickly before he could let himself be distracted. He remembered some of the things he had told the man last night, things he shouldn't have said to anyone probably, and he flushed a little with the memory. He made it a point of keeping his private life private for a reason. And really, this sudden interest in the man, it wasn't a good thing.
"Well, I'm not sure I'd do so well with that my first time, either. But I've got pretty good balance,” Brandon said. He glanced up to see Jake look over them and then go back to the kids. “Should we be doing something?"
"Nah, wait ‘til the drill's over or we'll just be in the way,” Jonathan answered with a wave of his hand. “And watch the kids. Pick out the weakest ones from the herd, that sort of thing."
Brandon nodded slowly, adding what he was seeing to the information he'd gathered last night. On a whim, he'd jotted some thoughts last night in a small pocket-sized notebook that was now in his back pocket. “Did you play ball in school?” he asked.
"Yep, right here at Parkview. I was a freshman when Jake was a senior,” Jonathan answered with a nod as he squinted into the sun. “Every once in a while our coach would have us stop practice and watch the varsity just to learn,” he laughed. “God, what a crop of talent they were. What some of those guys could have done if they'd been given the chance,” he mused, watching Jake stalk up to a kid who had fallen and yank him bodily off the ground by his belt.
Suppressing a laugh at the look of horror on the kid's face, Brandon shifted sideways to face the other man. “I didn't know you went to school here. I wonder how many people come back over time.” He started trying to count. There'd been several who drifted through, especially his first few years here, many doing student teaching and then heading off to bigger, more moneyed schools in Atlanta or even out of state.
"I'd say anyone who washed out in college comes back,” Jonathan ventured with a nod at Jake.
"Next person to fall down will owe everyone a lap!” Jake shouted as he tossed the kid back into line and continued his prowling. The drill went on for another minute or so, and Jake called a halt to it just before he knew kids would start falling over and not getting back up. “Go get water!” he ordered, stalking back to the fence. Behind him, some kids literally crawled to the dugout.
Brandon was momentarily shocked by Jonathan's comment, but then realized he was talking about sports. Jake would have had to complete his degree to teach, but not playing sports wouldn't have stopped him. The blown-out knee was starting to make more sense. And why Jake was here and not playing professional ball somewhere. He remembered there'd been talk. He watched Jake approach, straightening a little and pulling out his pad to make a few notes, checking the numbers on a few of the players.
Jake frowned at the little pad of paper and raised an eyebrow in question as he came up to the fence and leaned against it. “That little dude is gonna be your leadoff hitter, I guarantee it,” he said to Jonathan with a nod at a freshman kid who was little more than five feet tall. “Shortstop."
Jonathan nodded. That was one of the kids he didn't know, who had filtered in from another middle school. But he could see what Jake saw clearly enough.
"Any observations?” Jake invited of Brandon as Troy came trotting up to them noisily.
Brandon glanced over his shorthand. “Jack will be a good runner, so will Evan,” he said of two juniors. “Jimmy's not very fast or suited to running, but solid. First base, maybe. And Junior in the outfield, he's got the endurance to do the distance. Not sure about the eye, though.” He looked up to see all three men staring at him. It was starting to get a little unnerving. “What?” he asked for about the millionth time.
Jake stifled laugh and shook his head. “All right, then,” he responded without answering. “Let's break ‘em up,” he ordered as he stepped away from the fence and bellowed the order.
"Do I want to know what that was about?” the science teacher muttered as they followed the varsity coach back out onto the field.
"You never know,” Jonathan laughed with a shake of his head. The kids trudged out obediently and began to work the same drills from yesterday. Jake worked them until the sun started to go down, then called a halt to the activities and had the kids start putting up the equipment.
"You put up your own equipment until the day someone offers to pay you to play ball!” Jake was shouting as he watched. “If I see you letting someone else do the work, I'll
make
work for you!"
Brandon stood near third base, watching the tired kids scurry. Hell, he was tired just looking at them. Soon the field was clear, and he walked to join the others at home base.
"Tomorrow we'll start making lists,” Jake told the coaches as they gathered around him. Light was fading quickly now, and he glanced around the field to make certain it was clear. “By Friday we'll have the teams set. Sound about right?” The others nodded obediently, and Jake refrained from rolling his eyes. “See you guys tomorrow,” he told them, giving one of the college kids a slap on the back that had him staggering forward as Jake turned and headed for the gate.
Jonathan waved goodbye to Brandon, who nodded an answer before starting to walk back to the gym himself. Troy whizzed off in that golf cart—where on
Earth
did he get that thing and why did Jake tolerate it?—and the biology teacher found himself walking through the parking lot in the dusk. It was quiet and cool, and he shivered a little.
Jake flopped down on the steps near the entrance, dragged off his cleats, slid into his trainers and stood again slowly, shouldering his heavy equipment bag as he watched the other guys head off. He watched Brandon for a moment, not even sure what he was thinking at that point. It annoyed him that he couldn't make up his mind about the guy. He stood and stretched, his long body arching gracefully, then he turned to head for the road and the walk home.
Spur of the moment, Brandon piped up. “You good to get home, Coach?” he asked neutrally as he came to a clacking stop on the concrete with the cleats.
Jake turned around and looked back at the man. “Yeah,” he called in answer. “I plan to hijack Troy on the road and steal his golf cart,” he said seriously. “I figure even if he hits me with it, it can't do much damage,” he snickered.
Brandon's nose wrinkled in a smile. “Why the hell do you let him drive that insane thing?” he asked.
Jake veered off the grass and strolled back into the parking lot. “He drives it to work,” he answered with a smirk. “He lives about a mile that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction of his own house. “He's cheap and lazy. A fearful combination when you add shameless and resourceful."
Unable to stop the snicker, Brandon just shook his head. “That's just incredible,” he commented, eyes dancing.
Jake gave a slight smile and nodded, looking out into the darkness of the road he would be walking. It was an interesting mix of feelings, the need to get home combined with a curious desire to keep talking with a man he had never had much to do with before. Well, there was an easy way to solve that predicament. “You know, if you don't mind, I might take you up on the offer of a ride,” he said with another glance at Brandon. “Gets dark too early."
"No problem,” Brandon replied easily, stopping at the door. “I just need to grab my pack and change my shoes. Be right back.” He ducked inside, shoes clacking on the hard floor.
Jake groaned quietly and flopped his big body to sit on the steps to wait. He was going to have to start actually driving to work. Just because he felt like a walk in the morning didn't mean he would twelve hours later.
It only took Brandon a couple of minutes, and then he was back outside. “I parked back here this morning,” he pointed to the car about halfway back in the lot. “Figured it would make the evenings easier.” He offered Jake a hand up.
Jake reached up for the hand without a second thought, letting the man pull him to his feet with a slight groan. “My ass is too old for this,” he complained good-naturedly as he walked beside Brandon toward the car.
Brandon laughed. “Yesterday you said we weren't old!” he pointed out.
"It's just certain parts of me, that's all,” Jake answered defensively, grinning as he hitched his equipment bag higher.
"The whole young at heart thing is clichéd, but I think it still applies,” Brandon said, digging into his pack for his car keys as they approached the Jetta. “To you, anyway."
"Oh yeah?” Jake asked in slight amusement. “Why's that?"
"That it applies to you?” Brandon opened the locks with the fob and tossed his pack in the back seat. “You still love it. The game. You still have passion. Even though it's a pain in the ass sometimes, and you hurt at night, you still love it."
Jake felt himself flushing in the darkness, and he cleared his throat as he opened the back door. “Yeah, well, yeah,” he muttered in response as he tossed his bag in and closed the door again.
Brandon smiled a bit, recognizing the other man was a little embarrassed. So he just let it drop and climbed into the car. Soon they were off, headed to Jake's house, classic rock playing quietly on the radio from where he'd left it on that morning.
Jake wasn't quite sure what to say on the quiet drive. He felt like he needed to say something, but he was finding that he just didn't know enough about the other man to converse comfortably. They didn't even really have work in common. They were both teachers, technically, but not the same kind.
He wracked his brain, trying to think up something. “So, uh, did you know Jonathan before yesterday?” he finally asked, remembering the two men being chummy on the field.
"No, I didn't know him. I don't think he knows I went to Parkview, either,” Brandon answered, stopping the car at the same light as the night before. “He said he knew your name, looked up to you,” he ribbed a little.
Jake blushed harder and bit his lip. “Yeah,” he agreed as he looked out the window. A lot of people had looked up to him, thinking he of all people would be going on to bigger and better things. Football and baseball scholarships, scouted by Major League and NFL teams.
But here he was instead.
Smiling, Brandon let it go, not wanting to prod Jake into annoyance rather than slight amusement. He drove across the intersection and within a minute he pulled into the driveway and shifted the car into park. “I meant to ask before practice,” Brandon said quietly, “if you were feeling better today."
"Eh,” Jake responded automatically. “All I had to do was put one of those lifts in my shoe again and it solved the ankle thing. Thanks for asking,” he added sincerely.
"Good,” Brandon answered with a nod, and then he was out of things to say. He sat there wracking his brain, trying to come up with something, anything to say, though he had no idea why. Actually, no, he knew
exactly
why. He just didn't want to admit it.
"I would offer you food and beer, but...” Jake turned to the man and smiled slightly. “I'm not good company after 3 p.m."
Brandon compressed his lips to hold back a snicker. When it was safe, he said, “You were fine last night,” rather evenly. He understood, though. Last night was an aberration. Brandon could be on his way now. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty to do. “Have a good night,” he murmured, caught looking at the other man's shadowed face.