“Griff?”
Shit! Coach.
Griff hoped he couldn’t be seen where he was slouched on the ratty sofa watching TV. But no such luck. The door squeaked when it was pushed open, and he cursed himself for not having locked it. In his peripheral vision, Coach appeared at the end of the sofa. Hands on hips, he stood looking down at Griff with disapproval.
“I missed you at practice. School office tells me you’ve been absent from classes the last three days. Where’ve you been?”
“Here,” Griff said, continuing to stare at the TV.
“You sick?”
“No.”
A pause. “Where’s your mom?”
“Fuck I know?” he grumbled.
“I’m gonna ask you again. Where’s your mom?”
Griff looked up at him then and with exaggerated innocence said, “I think she’s at the PTA meeting. Either that or the church ladies’ sewing group.”
Coach walked over to the TV. He didn’t turn it off; he yanked the plug from the wall outlet. “Get your stuff.”
“Huh?”
“Get your stuff.”
Griff didn’t move. Coach walked toward him, his footfalls rattling the empty cereal bowls and soda cans littering the TV tray Griff had placed in front of the sofa. “Gather up your stuff. Right now.”
“What for? Where am I going?”
“To my house.”
“Like hell.”
“Or cop an attitude with me, and I’ll call CPS.” Coach placed his meaty fists on his hips again and glared down at him. “You’ve got one second to choose.”
Laughter from a nearby table jerked Griff back into the present. At some point during his reverie, the waitress had brought his Perrier. He drank it like a man dying of thirst. He was covering a soft belch when the woman he’d been waiting for came through the revolving entrance door. He stood up and waved at the waitress to bring his check, and by doing so attracted the woman’s attention.
Upon seeing him, she stopped suddenly, obviously surprised.
He signaled for her to wait while he took care of his tab. He did that with dispatch, then walked toward the woman where she still stood halfway between the entrance and the elevators.
“Hey, Marcia.”
“Griff. I heard you were getting out.”
“Bad news travels fast.”
“No, it’s wonderful to see you.” She smiled and looked him over. “You look good.”
He drank in the sight of her, from the top of her tousled auburn hair to her high-heeled sandals. The curvy terrain in between made him light-headed with lust. Laughing softly, he said, “Not as good as you.”
“Thank you.”
He held her gaze for several moments, then asked, “Are you available?”
Her smile faltered. She glanced around the lobby, her unease showing.