The Education of Giacomo Jones

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.

CHAPTER THREE - 110 %

Rance Martin was told to be in Stark Middleton's office by 7:45 Tuesday morning. He got there early. He sat alone across from his offensive line coach's desk, and Middleton was late. Rance was texting Gia.

He's late. Don't think he's asking re: us, but I have to tell him truth if he does. Hurley figured it out cupla weeks ago, so others probly know

, he typed.

Not gonna hide us anymore.

K. I trust u

, she responded. She followed it with a heart emoji.

The door opened behind Rance and in walked Middleton, looking harried with his team-issued iPad in one hand and a Red Bull in the other.

"Morning coach," Rance said, rising as his position coach walked in.

"Keep your seat, Rance. Sorry I'm late," Middleton said. "Sorry for the early hour, too, but I got some news last night that I needed to share with you before it got out on the street."

Rance braced himself, expecting to get an earful about Gia. He looked Middleton in the eyes.

"Rance, Harvey's out a month to six weeks minimum, maybe the season. They did an MRI in Charlotte yesterday and it's a severely strained, most likely a torn right MCL. They'll have to scope his knee to be sure. Been giving him trouble since the Wake Forest game. Right now they can't tell if he'll need surgery, but we'll see what the scope reveals and whether rehab and a brace can work. So what that means is you're now our guy, our starter," Middleton said.

"This is when I normally tell a guy moving into a starting job it's time for him to step up, but you did that already," Middleton continued, drawing a big gulp of his energy drink from its small, silvery can.. "You played pretty much the whole State game and did a great job against Wake after Harvey went down, and tell you the truth, you've consistently graded out better than Harvey."

Rance relaxed slightly and nodded. "I'm ready coach, and you know I'll give it my all."

Middleton nodded. "I know that, Rance. You always give me 110 percent, but I see an opportunity here for a lot more than taking over for an injured starter. In just three games, you've gained this whole team's respect by the quiet example you've set. Your film study, your work habits, your focus and game-week mental prep - that's the kind of thing that makes a winning football team. So now that you're the man for the foreseeable future, I want to challenge you to not just set an example but help Gerow lead this offense."

"Hell, Rance, you're picking up stuff from film study that our coaches and analytics folks are missing. You've been getting the better of bigger, stronger guys because of brains and technique. That's pro-level work, son. I want the rest of the line to start thinking like you. We've even thought about moving you to center so you can make line blocking calls, but I've argued that we can get better results by keeping you where you are and having you do film study with Crews," Middleton said.

Matthew Crews was a junior in his second season as a starter at center. He was a compact, stocky, archetypal offensive center - at 285 pounds a tad undersized for the SEC - but, like Rance, was solid at technique and footwork. He was still getting the hang of making blocking calls, just based on defensive alignments, and had yet to refine the knack for spotting the personal idiosyncrasies and tendencies of individual players that telegraph what they're about to do the way Rance, a sophomore, already had.

"You've got an eye for it, Rance, and Crews will learn it from you a lot better than from a coach, so we see you staying at right tackle and teaching that to others as a force-multiplier," Middleton said.

"I won't disappoint you," Rance said.

Middleton extended his hand across the desk toward Rance, and Rance shook it.

"Any questions you have for me? Anything on your mind," Middleton asked, now relaxed and reclining in his swivel chair.

Rance debated within himself a few seconds and decided it was time to get ahead of any issues his courtship with Gia might create.

"There is one, coach. It's about a relationship I'm in with someone who's sort of part of the team. Hurley, my roommate, already knows and I think, or

hope

, he's keeping it on the downlow, but it's going to come out eventually, and I wanted to ask you about whether it would cause problems," Rance said.

The color drained from Middleton's face. "You ain't like ...

gay

are ya, son?" he said. "I mean, it's not a problem if you are - at this university, we accept everybody and your lifestyle's none of ..."

Rance, smiling, waved him off. "No, coach, nothing like that."

"Oh thank God ..." Middleton exhaled, his relief palpable.

"She's a member of the equipment staff. She's on a full academic ride, so she doesn't receive anything from the athletic department, it's strictly voluntary. We've been dating about five weeks now and it's, you know, somewhat serious," Rance said. "She's only 19 but she gets her degree in December and starts her graduate work in microbiology here next semester."

"Jock Jones?" Middleton asked. "She's only

19

, and about to

graduate

? Holy shit, she some kind of

genius

?"

"Yes," Rance answered matter-of-factly. "Her IQ is 179."

"Well, spank my ass! I had no idea. Y'all certainly don't let on around the facility or in a team setting, which is to your credit. I don't think I've heard Jock say more'n a dozen words. Quiet. Listens real well. Keeps her head down and tends to her business. Coaches and staff like her, trust her," Middleton said. "Can't say I even know what she looks like other than dark hair - she's always wearing her cap and shades. How serious are y'all?"

"Well, I mean I very much care for her and vice versa, but again, I'm 19 and a sophomore and she's a graduating senior at 19, so ..." Rance said, "For sure, it's unusual ... but yeah, I think I'd say it feels serious, youth notwithstanding. What I wanted to know is if there's any rules against players dating others connected to the team."

Middleton's brow furrowed in thought.

"Well, I can't say as I

know

of any. Not sure I've encountered exactly this situation before. I don't think there's any problem between two people in athletics in a relationship long as they're not employees with one in a supervisory position over the other. Crews is dating a girl on the women's soccer team. And Rowland Burks married a girl he met when she was a student intern in the sports information office last year before he declared for the NFL draft," Middleton said.

"Let me ask Coach Hemp and maybe the rules and compliance folks in the AD's office, just to be sure, but I would guess y'all are OK. Sit tight before y'all go public so I can get back to you. Should know something by practice this afternoon," he said.

"Thanks coach," Rance said. "About to be late for class."

●●●

The Generals finished the first quarter of the season with a 2-1 record and nine games to go. They'd upset Wake Forest and taken care of a feisty nonconference Ohio University team out of the Mid-American Conference, both at home, and dropped the heartbreaker at Mississippi State on a bobbled snap during a fake extra point kick attempt.

It was Tuesday, and the first full-pads practice of the week ahead of the upcoming home game against in-state archrival South Carolina. Rance had just finished buckling into his shoulder pads and mesh practice jersey when Stark Middleton walked by and tapped him on the arm. He gave Rance a thumbs-up. "Y'all good." And that was it.

Rance smiled and exhaled. The worry he'd been carrying around like sandbags for weeks disappeared. He actually

felt

lighter as he grabbed his helmet and headed out the tunnel onto the practice field. He scanned the upper practice field, where offensive teams practiced, and the lower field, where the defense worked, looking for Gia. He found her driving a four-wheeler that was pulling a trailer laden with dummies she had retrieved from the storage room inside the practice facility. She was heading to the lower field to array the dummies for defensive drills. He ran through a smattering of defensive players who had come out early to stretch and made a bee line to Gia. He reached her about the time she brought the vehicle to a stop on the far corner of the defensive practice field, and she was momentarily startled to see him there.

"What are you doing down here?" she said in a hushed voice, nervously scanning the field.

"Haven't had a chance to see you and I wanted to tell you in person," Rance said. "Met with Coach Middleton this morning and the news he had for me is that I'm the starter for at least the next four weeks, probably the season. Tyrone's out with a MCL."

Gia had to restrain herself from giving him a celebratory hug. She smiled broadly.

"So proud of you, Rance," she said.

"And better news," he continued. "I laid the cards on the table with Coach about us. Told him we were worried about whether we were breaking any rules. He checked with Hemp and the AD's office and we're all good. We don't have to hide it anymore, but we need to keep our relationship at work - here and around the facility - businesslike."

Both of them fought every impulse to kiss right there. Tears trickled from beneath her sunglasses and down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.

"Oh thank God," she said, her voice quivering. "It was killing me that I felt I had to be quiet and secretive about the first boy I loved."

Boom! The 'L' Word. And she looked at him the instant after it crossed her lips, petrified, fearful that she wouldn't get the same response from Rance. No taking that back.

It was out there, naturally and unguarded, certainly unplanned. She stood there with her fingers pressed to her lips, her breathing all but suspended.

"Baby, if you hadn't said it, I was about to. I love you," Rance said, willing the emotions that were swelling his heart at this moment deep down for retrieval later, in private, when he could act upon it. "Never thought this is where I'd firstr say that, but ... it's the truth. Now we both gotta get to work."

Gia raised her hand as one would for a high five, but rather than an open-palm clap, Rance laced his fingers between hers and there they stayed, interlocked, for several seconds, before Rance said, "Work time," then turned and jogged back to the upper practice field. Gia grabbed the first of five body-sized green dummies, hoisted it to her shoulder and dropped it in place for the upcoming defensive team agility drills.

●●●

After practice, Rance had done an additional hour of film study with Matt Crews, running and re-running play after play of the video of the South Carolina defense from its game the previous week against Florida. Crews was astonished at how much more there was to be learned from analyzing the behavior of individual opposing defensive players and how their actions, particularly in certain situations, could accurately foretell what they were about to do when the ball was snapped. He had gamed out at least three idiosyncrasies that reliably betrayed moves that South Carolina's nose tackle would make on Saturday afternoon. He had already identified changes he would make on blocking calls at the line and slight adjustments to his own technique to exploit his opponent's tendencies and use them against him.

Crews was excited at the additional advantages he had gained from just one hour with the smart, young, starting right tackle. And appreciative.

So then Rance picked Crews's brain for a moment.

"Matt, I'm not just asking this to be nosy, but you've been dating Melinda Gearin on the soccer team for nearly two years, right? What was the reaction from the team and the folks in the athletics offices when that became known," Rance asked.

Crews shrugged. "I don't recall there

was

one, at least not that I picked up on. Why would there be? Because she's an athlete?"

"Not so much that as whether there were any concerns about possible strains because both are sort of in the same silo - athletics, scholarship players," Rance said.

Crews shook his head. "Other than it's sort of a strain during the fall because our seasons overlap and it seems like we're both on the road all the time, I can't say there was any problem. Why do ask?"

Rance cleared his throat. "Well I've gotten into a relationship with a girl who's involved in athletics and is part of the equipment staff. We've kept it on the downlow 'til now, but we're going to stop hiding it."

Crews looked surprised. "Really? Who is it?"

"Jock," Rance answered.

"Jock Jones? Wow. You guys sure don't leave any bread crumbs, I'll say that," Crews said. "Why would that be a problem as long as y'all don't flaunt it around the facility and around the team?"

"I hope that's how it plays out. Gia - I don't call her Jock - is quiet, just wants to blend in and do her job. But you know there are a few morons who might make off-color comments about anything or anybody, and that may happen once it becomes known," Rance said.

"I was worried that it might create some kind of conflict for the coaches or the AD, but I asked Coach Middleton about it today and he says we're all good as far as that's concerned. But I want to protect her from as much of the bullshit from players as I can, and any help you can give me on that, I appreciate. You're the clear leader of our offensive line, we all look up to you, and a respected leader on this team. Guys aren't going to run their mouths as much if the team's leaders make it clear that they're not cool with it," he added. "I don't want to have to get in a fight over something like that, but I won't let people trash her."

"I hear ya, Rance," Crews said, nodding. "I'll talk to Gerow, too, and if we hear any shit talk - I really doubt we will - then we'll shoot it down. Jock's a good, hard worker and a sweet girl."

Rance shook his hand, and Crews pulled him in for one of those robust bro-hugs, a mutual acknowledgement that each had the other's back and the most essential building block of a winning team.

It was after 7 p.m. as Rance was leaving the football facility that he texted Gia:

Eat yet?

She replied that she was about to heat up some microwave chili when he texted back.

Hold off. Be there in 3 min. Taking U to the Palmetto Grill. Lots to tell you

.

She was waiting in the Honors College Hall parking lot when Rance pulled up. She started walking toward the passenger door when he saw that Rance had gotten out and was coming toward her.

"Hey, what's ..." she said, unable to finish the question before he kissed her. She dropped her purse to the sidewalk, encircled her arms around his neck and melted into his embrace. So near the main entrance to the Honors College, residents walked by during their extended kiss. One girl snickered. "How sweet," cooed another. "Nice, bro," one guy said.

"I love you, Gia," he said. "Killed me not to be able to do that on the practice field today."

Gia just inhaled deeply and then exhaled slowly, her heart full, her world balanced and happy. "You don't know how happy those words make me."

Together, they wolfed two large bowls of shrimp and grits. Rance put away two large glasses of milk - a highly unusual drink order in a business-casual establishment like the Palmetto - in a bid to keep his weight and muscle mass from slipping during the long, physically demanding season.

Rance filled in the blanks about his morning talk with Stark Middleton, then told her about his conversation with Matt Crews and how the team's leadership would make it clear that there was to be no bullshit talk about their relationship once it was known.

"Honestly, baby, I don't really think there's going to be much talk, at least not anything hurtful. I discovered everybody has a tremendous regard for you - players, coaches, staff - because you're quiet, smart, you do your job and you do it well. Matt was shocked when I told him about us, said we don't leave any clues around the team, and he respects that," Rance said. "Now, I am ready for people to know. I love you, I am proud of you, and consider you the better part of me."

Gia smiled at him, caressed his chin, then whispered, "Take me home. I need some alone time with you."

●●●

No sooner had the door to Gia's apartment closed behind them than she turned to Rance and their open mouths joined. She pressed herself into him and Rance stumbled backward into the closed door.

As Rance wrapped his arms around her, her nimble fingers unbuckled and unzipped his cargo shorts, and they dropped onto his docksiders. He stepped out of them as Gia slid her fingers inside his boxer briefs, first grasping his meaty buttocks before bringing both her hands around to clasp his hardening dick.

"Here, wait a second," Rance said. He picked her up, walked over to her kitchen counter and lifted her up so that she was sitting on the chilly, travertine countertop. He pulled up the green Generals t-shirt she wore and freed her tits from the bra underneath it. He took her right nipple into his mouth as Gia moaned.

Gia unbuttoned her shorts and slid the elastic waistband over her ass, and Rance pulled it past her knees and off of her, discarding her flip-flops in the process. That left her naked except for a pair of pink, cotton bikini panties with a growing damp spot in crotch panel.

"You get me so drenched," she said as he continued to ravage her swollen nipples with his mouth as his hands roamed the length of her body, from her neck and her breasts down the curve of her flanks and her hips, then to her knees and back up her inner thighs before brushing over the panties covering her mound, causing Gia to reflexively jerk.

She pulled Rance's polo shirt over his head and flung it to the side, leaving him clad only in his deck shoes and his boxer briefs with the tip of his now-raging boner just peeking over the waistband. Rance had suckled Gia's nipples to the point where they jutted from the perfect globes of her breasts like cocoa-covered 55-caliber bullets. His kisses began trailing southward, licking the underside of her tits, sliding down the median of her torso to her taut navel, then swirling his tongue into it over and over.

The wetness in crotch of Gia's panties was spreading. A feral desperation set in as she widened her legs, attempting to hook her heels behind Rance's back and feed his face and his ravening mouth into her. Her breathing became labored, and her moans became louder.

Rance relented, seeing the extent of his lover's need, and trailed his hands down to her panty-covered hips, which immediately began to buck toward him, demanding his attention. He slipped his right hand beneath her front waistband and immediately immersed his fingers in her arousal, bracketing her clitoral hood between his first two fingers and began stroking it back and forth. With his left hand, he slid the crotch panel to one side and teased her gleaming folds, dipping his middle finger into her vagina and then running it the length of her slit. He knew this wouldn't take long.

"Ohhhh, fuuuck, Raaance," Gia said as her movements became ragged, primal. Rance rested the palm of his right hand on her downy black vee and began fanning the slippery digits of his right hand back and forth across her yearning button.

Gia stiffened and moaned loudly. Girl-cum oozed from her, covering Rance's invading fingers. Her fingernails dug into Rance's shoulders.