Team Mom (3 page)

A sign that said
CAR WASH AND BARBECUE
was placed high on the back of Coach's truck bed for all to see after he parked his truck front end forward toward the Shines Barbecue Pit, which was allowing the team to use its lot for their fund-raiser. No matter how the media tried to portray Atlanta and its surrounding area as a high-end, fast-moving sector of the country, it would never lose its essence as a place where a good car wash and a fish fry with lemonade could always bring in the cash. Coach and most of the team, along with some parents of the team members, were all well rested and ready to wash cars and give out coupons for a tasty barbecue chicken sandwich at Shines to anyone who supported their efforts. During the lunchtime rush the crowd at the location began to swell, and so did the drama.

A parent approached Coach as he was standing by the grill, showing two of his running backs how to turn the meat on the grill. Coach took it upon himself to educate his players in any area he could, and they were listening too.

The parent asked, “Hey, Coach, do you have a minute?”

Coach sensed by the parent's tone that it was going to be a conversation for his ears only. He walked away from the grill and realized the lady who had approached him was the mother of one of his linemen. She kind of smiled at him. Then she came right out with it.

She said, “I'm sorry this is not what I normally do, but some of the other mothers along with myself feel that the shorts the team mom has on are highly inappropriate.”

Coach was taken back because he didn't know Shonda Black was even at the event. Plus, he'd never been put in the position where he would have to look into a grown woman's wardrobe selection and appearance.

Coach pointed at the lady who was speaking to him. “Ms. Thomas, right?” Coach asked, just to make sure.

She smiled and shook her head yes, pleased that Coach remembered her name.

“You're saying she's dressed inappropriately?”

“Uh-huh, that's right. She is dressed like one of those freaky video girls on television, you know, the ones that cause you to scream at your son to shut the television set off.”

“Is that right?”

The woman had Coach's full attention, and her eyes were connected to his 100 percent. She said, “I think what she has on . . . Well, she thinks those are shorts. But me and a few of the other moms feel like they are more like panties, see-through at that.”

Coach tried to take it all in. Despite his hesitation, he was making an effort to read the mother. He wondered what the hell she wanted him to do about it. He looked around for the team mom. All he could see were the players still at the grill and some standing out front, near the road, holding up signs letting oncoming traffic know about their fund-raiser.

“Oh, she's in the back, helping with the cars,” the woman informed him. “We'd really appreciate it if you talked to her. Maybe ask her to change into something less revealing. Christ, cover up at least. I mean, everything seems to be just hanging out.... I'm just saying.”

There was a pause, followed by a brief stare down. On the surface Coach thought this was pure bullshit. If he were back on the streets in a squad car and got a call like this, he would hop back in his car and drive off without thinking twice.

Conceding, he said, “I'll look into it.”

She smiled, then walked away, looking back at Coach twice before she went back to her team mom lookout position.

Coach didn't want to rush over to where the cars were being washed. It would give the appearance that he was automatically siding with the women who had a complaint. He wasn't sure if there had already been words between any of the women. Just in case, he went back to the grill for about ten minutes before he went to see what the commotion was about. After all, they were just shorts.

The ten minutes went by entirely too fast. Before Coach made his way over to check on the shorts, he took a drumstick off the grill, then went into the cooler for a grape soda. Then, with caution, he walked to the back where the cars were being washed to see what the fuss was all about. He was surprised at who he saw all up in the mix.

“Calvin?”

“The one and only. What's up, bruh?” Calvin had soap suds on his hands.

Coach said, “You tell me. Thought you didn't do fund-raisers?”

“I do when I get calls that tell me that I need to check out the view.” Calvin had a wide grin on his face. He pushed his head in the direction of a car that was being washed. When Coach looked over, all he could see was the team mom whirling and twirling in soap suds while washing a car. She was helping a few players who were attempting to get the hood of an SUV squeaky clean. “Nice, right . . . ?” Calvin noted.

Coach tried not to stare, but the team mom, Shonda Black, was just standing there, devoid of even the slightest bit of concern. Coach didn't realize it, but he was staring. It was more a longer look-see than a glance. He was trying to put things in perspective perhaps and decide if she was out of line or not.

“Nice . . . right?” Calvin said again. Then he nudged Coach on his arm. “Damn. Why are you staring like that? I can't take you anywhere, Coach.”

Coach said, “What do you think about what she's wearing? Borderline, right?”

“Nah, not one bit,” Calvin confirmed. “Not one bit at all.”

She had on shorts, a tight-fitting tee, and flip-flops. There was no doubt she spent time in the gym.

When Shonda Black, the team mom, bent down to retrieve the water hose, it seemed as though the entire lot became quiet. But it could have just been Coach's imagination messing with him.

“Did you hear that?” Calvin wanted to know.

“What?” Coach asked.

“That silence when she bent down. Or was it just me?”

Coach had to ponder his initial thought, then dismiss it and clear his mind. “Calvin, please, man. She's grown, right?”

Calvin hadn't taken his eyes off her. “Sure is . . .”

“Shorts and a T-shirt, man. That's all it is. No foul, no harm.” Coach announced, having decided the outfit passed inspection.

“I don't know about all that, because she is hurting me,” Calvin said. “But what I do know is you need to have more of these fund-raisers.”

Coach looked around to assess the situation again. The first person he saw was none other than Ms. Thomas. She was standing with her arms tucked tightly over her big breasts, waiting to see what he was going to do about Shonda Black. Three other mothers had their eyes peeled too. Coach read the ladies and scanned the crowd just like he did during his nine-to-five. At first he thought about going over to speak with the team mom, maybe pulling her aside. But that wasn't a good idea. He didn't know her like that, and maybe she would get pissed. He decided to walk away instead. He could see Ms. Thomas turn her hands up skyward, then drop them down to her sides. Coach could hear Calvin ask him where he was going, but he kept walking away.

Coach had never been the type to loud talk his players, even when others thought he should. He would speak directly to them. He preferred the one-on-one approach. He'd always been a stickler for respect. Getting it and giving it. It was going to be the same way when he spoke with the team mom. Unbelievably, with everything else going on, he was now on booty patrol. Coach knew her son, J, was out front, directing drivers into the car wash, so he walked over to him and asked him to go get his mother because he needed to speak with her.

When she finally made her way over to him, her T-shirt was soaked and her nipples were trying to escape from her shirt. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “Hey, Coach. What's up? This turnout is wonderful, isn't it? Who would have guessed I would have so much fun? What's up? You need me to do something for you?”

Coach took a deep breath and blew it out. “Hey . . . Shonda.”

She forced her eyes tight, wondering why Coach was hesitating and shit. Then he said her name again. She waited for him to speak.

Coach said, “Shonda . . .”

She confirmed that her name was, indeed, Shonda. “Yes, Coach, that's my name . . . Shonda Black.”

“Right. Look, I have to tell you something.” Coach was looking into her eyes, but more than once his eyes traveled down to her shirt to her nipples, which were gesturing at him and bidding him hello. For no other reason than respect, he took his sunglasses, which were hanging on his shirt, and put them on. “Okay, I'm going to come right out and say this.”

“Okay . . . ,” she replied.

“Um, I'm getting a few complaints about what you have on.”

She smiled because she was shocked. “What?” She looked at her clothes. “What's wrong with what I have on?”

“Well, I've had heard some grumbles about the ensemble you're wearing.”

She began to laugh, then looked over in the direction of the women in the back, where all the cars were, and then back at Coach. “I knew it. I always go with my gut feeling. You ever do that, Coach? I just knew those ladies were gawking at me.”

“Is that right?” Coach asked.

“Yeah, whispering and shit,” she sang.

“Seems that . . . I'm not saying who . . . but they don't want their sons seeing all your—” Coach stopped.

“All my what, Coach?”

Coach moved his hand up and down. “All of... this . . . all of you . . . well, your shorts and shirt, I guess.”

“Well, I hate to break it to them, but those little girls that go to school with their sons dress worse than this. The men of those ladies who are talking about me enjoy seeing a woman in the hot-ass sun, working, not afraid to wear comfortable clothing. Have you seen what some of those mothers have on? All those tired-ass leggings and hot-ass jeans and freakin' polyester shirts up to their necks? Having the nerve to have a weave on . . . standing under umbrellas, sweating their asses off. Shoot, they just jealous, Coach.”

Coach was still trying to digest everything she had said at a hundred miles an hour.

“Okay, okay, Shonda. Can you just stay in front with me? Maybe just hold the sign out front or something. I will send the rest of the boys to the back to wash the cars.”

She looked at Coach and started to laugh. “Okay. I can do that. I am not trying to be back there with those tired-ass ladies, anyway.”

The car wash became so packed that afternoon that Coach had to stop letting people in. It was like magic. Shonda Black, in all her sparkle, went out to the street, holding a sign that read
SUPPORT OUR TEAM AND WASH YOUR CAR
. And within minutes cars were lining up, requesting the deluxe wash for ten dollars. Calvin wasn't too happy, as he had to pitch in and get grimy and wet in the trenches along with the boys. After all was said and done, the team made close to two thousand dollars to cover their expenses.

Afterward, Coach wanted to go to his favorite sports bar and drink some brew with Calvin. But Calvin barely had enough energy to drive home after working so hard during the car wash. All he wanted to do was sleep.

So Coach decided to go alone. He found a nice little quiet spot in the bar. It was in a corner with the perfect view of the big-screen TV. About forty minutes later, after having enjoyed some much-deserved time alone, Coach looked up and found Shonda Black, the team mom, standing at his table, smiling.

She said, “You have to remind me to put your number in my phone.”

Coach was confused but smiled at her, anyway. He put down his beer; then he wiped his mouth.

Shonda continued, “That way, I could have called you and let you know I was on my way. I'm still on the staff, right?” She snickered. “You didn't kick me off because of my ensemble at the fund-raiser, did you?”

Coach didn't get a chance to answer her. It was like she was waiting until he opened his mouth to speak to cut him off. Plus, he was still amazed that she was standing in front of him.

“I overheard Calvin tell you he couldn't make it, so I thought I would come by here, to see if you were here.”

Her presence made more sense now to Coach.

She pulled out the chair on the other side of the table. “You don't mind, do you?”

Coach laughed a bit. “No, c'mon. Sit.”

The moment was sort of awkward for him. Not for Shonda Black, though.

She said, “So, is this what you do? Come to the sports bar, watch football?”

“Yeah, it's what I like to do from time to time.”

She looked around, sized up the layout of the sports bar, the people inside, the football banners. There were some baseball ones too. A different sport was on each of the televisions. She took a glance at the poster of Serena Williams, then put her eyes back on Coach. “What do you eat?”

“Depends.”

She looked at the pitcher of beer. “So I take it you're just thirsty tonight?”

Coach rested his eyes on the half-done pitcher in front of him. “Guess so.”

“So what's your waitress's name?”

Coach wondered what she meant. His eyes told her so.

She repeated her question to Coach, this time really inquiring “What's your waitress's name?”

Coach looked around. “Hell, I don't know.”

“You sure?” The way she looked at him, she might as well have asked him one more time.

Coach chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I'm sure. Why?”

“Just sayin'. Coach . . . you're not here with anyone, so I thought just maybe you'd come to see a waitress or something.”

Coach needed some more beer to go along with her question. Then he asked her, “What makes you think that?”

“I used to be a waitress.”

“Oh, I get it. Quite a few visitors, huh?”

“I had my share,” she said. Shonda's eyes cut to the television screen, and she gave Coach a chance to gather himself and take another gulp of his suds. Then she said, “Is that all you're drinking tonight?”

He looked down at his beer mug. Yeah, think so.”

“No shots? Are you scared of shots, Coach?”

“Hold up. I never said that.”

“No?”

“Hell, no. Shot's don't deter me.”

She was laughing now. “Right. You look like a one-and-done type of drinker to me.”

“Trust me, I'm not him.”

She smiled and taunted him by saying, “Oh, yeah?”

“That's right.”

She looked around the sports establishment, smiling the entire time. “I am so glad you got a table way back here in the corner, then,” she told him.

“Why is that?”

Shonda said, “This is why.” Then she put her hand deep down into her oversize Fendi bag and pulled out a fifth of her favorite tequila, Pepe Lopez, and a packaged shot glass. She pushed them over to Coach and then pulled out a pink shot glass from her bag for herself without another word until they both had two shots each.