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She was my forever. At seventeen, I knew that. I might’ve been young and dumb, but I suppose an argument could be made that now I’m old and dumb.
I’m thirty-six, and I’ve been unable to replicate what I had when I was seventeen…over half my life ago. I haven’t been able to find someone who understood me the way Jolene did. Someone who loved me the way she did.
But all that passion was what led to a fiery end for us, and it’s best kept in the past.
Especially now. Especially as I’m starting this new position. The last thing I need is the media making a field day out of my personal life.
But, Jesus, time has been good to her. She’s even more beautiful now than she was back then. The gold flecks in her eyes glitter and glow at me even from a safe distance of ten or so feet apart.
I can’t get closer.
If I get too close, if I smell her, if I feel her soft skin, if her heat radiates toward me and pulls me back into her orbit…it’ll be too hard to come back from that.
Jack sits at the conference table, clearly intent on sitting in on this interview. “We’ve got a press conference in two hours to prepare for, so if you could get this rolling that would be great,” he says.
The camera guy hands me a mic pack, and I clip the tiny microphone onto my suit jacket and slide the box into my pocket.
I take a seat in the chair clearly set up for me in here, and Jolene sits across from me.
Getting over what happened between us was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I can’t subject myself to that again.
But in all honesty, as I look at her sitting across from me, all professional in a black dress with a belt across the middle and black heels that would look nice perched up on my shoulders as I grind into her, one gorgeous leg crossed over the other as she draws in a breath to start the interview, I’m not totally sure I ever did fully get over what happened between us.
She clears her throat. “Congratulations again on your new position as head coach of the Vegas Aces,” she begins, and it’s clear she’s pulled on her professional hat as tightly over her head as she possibly can. “How do you plan to lead the team to victory this season?”
I’ve done plenty of interviews before. I can get through this.
I just have to pretend she’s someone else. This isn’t Jolene Bailey, the love of my life who got away and now our families hate one another in a feud as fiery and angry as that of Montagues and the Capulets. This is a local sports correspondent interviewing me and allowing me to get my message out to the fans.
Even though a huge part of me wants to just cut to the chase and get this over with, I know I can’t. I need to capitalize on this opportunity, and Jolene is my vehicle to do it. This is the first impression I’ll be making on this town and on this fan base, and I need to tread carefully while showcasing my strengths and the reason Jack believed in me enough to give me the job over everyone else.
I lean back in the chair, casual and confident as I consider her question. “I’ve been gifted a team with a lot of talent here, and I will capitalize on those strengths and the winning culture we already have in this building while instilling my own style of coaching.”
“And what is that style?” she presses.
“I’m tough but fair. I’m not the kind of guy who just stands on the sidelines barking orders. I’m out on that field showing them how to lead and how to take calculated risks, finding ways to get my players to trust me with a strong team culture so we can work together to win games. Each player is valued and their contributions matter. I will push them to be the best they can be both on the field and off.” It’s a generic answer, but it’s also the truth.
“What about younger players?” she asks. “Do you have any strategies for working with rookies and players new to the team?” She’s scribbling notes as I talk even though the camera guy is recording me, and I imagine it’s so she doesn’t have to look at me. I wonder if she’s as affected by me as I am by her.
“I believe in hard work and respect, and that goes for young players and veterans alike. I treat everyone like a starter because you never know if they will be. My job is to make sure every player on this team knows they’re valued and might be called upon at any time.” I feel like I’m going to be saying the same damn thing over and over and over at these interviews.
She glances up at me, but her eyes immediately return to her notebook. She seems…flustered. “What do you think sets this team apart?”
“This team has a whole lot of heart,” I say slowly as I think back to why I took the interview with the Aces in the first place. “There’s so much natural talent here, and these guys play because they love the game. I want to cultivate that passion and dedication this season as we take on a new era of Vegas Aces football, and most importantly, I think the fans here in Vegas set this team apart. They’re passionate and dedicated, too, and they’re exactly what we need to win games.”
We talk for a solid forty-five minutes as she asks about my football experience and history, my leadership style, my coaching strengths, how I’ll handle the stress of the position, and my goals.
“Who will fill the holes in the roster, specifically the quarterback?” she asks as we’re nearing the end of the interview.
I’m a little caught off guard by the question even though I should’ve expected it. I exercise my right not to answer to get my way out of that one. “We have a lot of work to do to prepare for the season, but it’s only March. We have time.”
“One more question,” Jack says, and frankly I’m surprised he stayed for the entire interview.
Jolene looks up at him as if she’s surprised by his intrusive words, and she glances back down at her papers. She clears her throat, flustered again as she tries to figure out which question to ask.
She takes a deep breath and glances up at me, and I spot the hurt in her eyes. “Is your father proud of you?”
