Not wasting the opportunity, Annabeth stepped across the threshold. “I wanted to speak with you, woman-to-woman,” she said, letting her voice carry throughout the small house.
“Oh!” Marie wrung her hands as the three men behind Annabeth crowded into the foyer.
“This will only take a minute,” Annabeth reassured her. The last thing she needed was a panicked Marie Zevalos. Her plan wouldn’t work if the woman collapsed on the floor. Gently taking the woman’s elbow, she steered her toward the airy kitchen at the back of the house. “We have so much to catch up on,” she said loudly.
A spasm of coughing from a nearby room grabbed Marie’s attention.
“Marie!”
Annabeth’s knees nearly buckled with relief at the sound of the raspy bellow. Coach Zevalos had heard her, just as she’d planned.
“Oh!” Marie reached for a tray with a can of ginger ale and an empty glass on it. “Just let me give this to Paul and we can have some tea.”
“Tea would be lovely. And please tell Coach Zevalos I said hello.” Annabeth poured on the saccharin.
As soon as Marie disappeared with the tray, Hank gestured for the two league representatives to sit on the sofa in the living room. He turned to Annabeth, a sly smile on his face. “Well played,” he mouthed.
She beamed under his praise but silently worried what he’d think of her after the second act. Marie shuffled back to the kitchen, flustered once again.
“Paul said he’d like to see you. Right now. Before we have tea.” The poor woman clearly didn’t like the idea of anyone upsetting her ill husband, and Annabeth wondered what it was like to love someone so blindly.
“Sure, but I’ll only keep him a minute. Then we girls can chat.” She patted Marie’s shoulder. “Mr. Osbourne is going to go with me to apologize for upsetting Coach during his last visit.”
Before Marie could protest, Annabeth grabbed Hank’s hand, towing him behind her as she made her way into the small sitting room where Coach Zevalos was holed up. The sight before her nearly stole the wind from her sails. The man in the oversized recliner looked nothing like the one she’d met thirteen years ago. Coach Zevalos was now a haggard shell of himself, lung cancer from his pack-a-day habit diminishing what had been a tall, robust, athletically built man. His ashen skin sagged at his jowls and his once-haughty dark eyes were now just angry; whether it was from the sight of her or the fact that his time on this earth was short, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she care.
When he spied Hank, his eyes grew wide and he grabbed the mask from the portable oxygen tank beside him. “Get out!” he gasped, pointing at Hank.
“He stays.”
Annabeth’s tone forced the coach to pull several puffs on his oxygen.
“What do you want?” he asked around the mask.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “For you to do the right thing.”
He wheezed into the mask. A television droned quietly behind her and the cloying smell of sickness teased her nostrils. Annabeth felt a swell of nausea roll through her stomach, but she willed it down. This had to be done.
“I told him,” he gasped, leveling a finger at Hank. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Fine.” Annabeth held her ground. “If you won’t talk, I will.”
The coach struggled in the chair, but it was no use. He no longer had the strength to stand and intimidate her with his dominance. He took another frustrated pull of oxygen.
“I’ll tell your wife about the day you came to the trailer park to discuss Will’s college potential privately with me. And when I refused your disgusting requirements for the advancement of my son’s career, you found another willing participant in the trailer next door.”
Her hands were trembling. She felt Hank’s body draw up to full alertness beside her.
“I took what she offered!” he spat out. “I had no idea how old she was.”
“She was fifteen!” Annabeth cried. “With the body of a twenty-five-year-old and the morals of an alley cat. But that didn’t mean you were allowed to touch her. “
“Jesus,” she heard Hank whisper.
“Someone should have been watching her,” the coach wheezed before a coughing spasm overtook him.
He was right; someone should have been watching over Bethany, but her mother worked two jobs and her father had been a long-haul truck driver. The teen was left on her own more than she should have been, wandering the trailer park looking for anyone who’d pay attention to her. She probably thought a man like Paul Zevalos was her ticket out.
Annabeth’s knees were shaking now. She felt Hank take a step closer, his warm hand settling on the small of her back. He was breathing forcefully beside her as if it were taking all the strength he had to contain himself.