The Education of Giacomo Jones Ch. 05

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 FIVE - A Day at a Time

The doors to the balcony were left slightly open so the night sea breeze could waft into the fourth-story condo apartment off the surf softly rushing onto the sand in Myrtle Beach.

Rance wore his green, Generals football wind suit with a fleece top to keep warm as he watched Fulbright's next opponent, the mighty Georgia Bulldogs, pound Auburn. This wasn't a casual viewing. Rance was taking rudimentary notes in real time about the tendencies of Georgia's defensive front - its alignments and the stunts it would run from them and the circumstances in which they ran those stunts.

Gia had covered herself with a quilt that had been handed down in Rance's family through his mother's side for three generations and dozed off snuggling against Rance, her cheek on his chest and Rance's right arm draped over her. It made note-taking a bit awkward, but Rance found as much peace in her untroubled slumber as she did.

It was Gia, after all, who had pressed Rance to watch the game analytically to get a jump on his return to the Generals' offensive line. It was time, she said. The past week had been enormously healing for her, and she felt she had turned the corner in reclaiming her life, especially here in the clean salt air if Myrtle Beach in a condo well above the sand and surf.. And as her life went, so went Rance's.

"Rance, you know we've got to get back in the game, so to speak. In your case literally," she said in the afterglow of their lovemaking on the apartment veranda as they lay naked together on the chaise lounge that afternoon. "I feel almost completely like myself again. The mind and the human psyche are far less predictable than the molecular-chemical life science that is my field. Some people never pull out of a horrible ordeal like this has been. But those people haven't had a secure and loving environment and someone like you, Rance."

He remembered -- would never forget -- how Gia looked directly into his eyes and commanded his full reciprocal attention. She spoke slowly and with purpose: "I want you to call Coach Hemp and tell him you're back. It will help me to see you back out there. If we keep acting like victims, the longer we'll be victims. I want you to watch Georgia play Auburn on TV tonight to get your head back into things," she said.

A smile slowly tugged at the corners of Rance's mouth, and he nodded. "I will, baby."

They showered and strolled to a small seafood restaurant near the condo tower. Rance texted his coach with two words: I'm back. Seconds later, Perry Hemphill replied with a dozen thumbs-up emojis followed by: Gr8 news! Check in w/ your counselor Mon AM and let him/her know. We need you. How's Gia?

Stronger by the day. Was her idea (demand?) for me to return, Rance texted back. Wed afternoon was the turning point & you and our team made that possible. Thank U!

Now back in the apartment with bellies full of red snapper for Rance and shrimp scampi for Gia, they arranged themselves on the expansive sofa in front of the TV and tuned to ESPN just before the kickoff at Jordan-Hare Stadium at Auburn. Gia was asleep before the midpoint of the first quarter, comforted by Rance's focus on the game.

He had studied a lot of film in his two years of Power Five college football, but he had never seen a defensive front as big, powerful, quick and fundamentally sound as Georgia's. This looks more like an NFL defense than a collegiate one, he noted to himself, and it should be a serious contender to return the national championship game. But Rance and Fulbright intended to have something to say about that.

The game was not as close as the 34-10 final score made it seem. Auburn put the first points on the board, a chip shot field goal, and that just seemed to irritate Georgia. The Bulldogs proceeded to pour it on and led 24-3 by midway through the third quarter, sending the War Eagle fans for the exits. Georgia dominated every statistical category, but the one that caught Rance's attention: the Bulldogs held Auburn to just 46 yards rushing on 19 carries. Nobody can win with a ground game that weak because it makes an offense one-dimensional, utterly reliant on the pass. And if that's where you are, you're dead.

Rance had filled three legal pad pages with game notes. Gia was still asleep when it ended. Lacking the heart to jostle her awake, he carefully slid himself into position to pick her up and carry her like a child to the bed. With the game jersey Rance kept after Fulbright's season opening victory over Wake Forest serving as her sleep shirt, all Rance had to do was pull the covers over her, shut the balcony door and climb into bed next to her.

●●●

They awoke at 9 and were on the road by 10 the next morning, looking to make it back to campus in time to resolve questions about their residency before the team's 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon film study that was always the first official team preparatory function of game week. Usually, they would watch film of the previous day's game, but since they were coming off a bye weekend, this meeting would be focused solely on Georgia.

They passed a highway sign that informed them Fallstrom was 22 miles away.

"Where do you want to go when we get there, Gia," Rance said. It was a question that had hung over them throughout the weekend. She had cleaned out the Marriott Courtyard room, beyond done with the cold and impersonal life of a hotel dweller, and everything that had been taken from her Honors College studio was in the bags in the SUV. She was deliberately leaving her options open until the last minute: she could return to her studio in the Honors College, she could check back in to the Courtyard or the Holiday Inn Express, or she could stay for a while in Rance's apartment.

The lattFer was appealing, but awkward because Rance and Hurley were accustomed to sometimes walking around naked or barely clothed. The introduction of not just a woman but Rance's significant other would complicate things, as Hurley had learned the Sunday afternoon when Rance had returned to the apartment unexpectedly and gotten an eyeful of bush, tush and tits when Hurley's girl, Michelle, emerged from their one bathroom, unaware that Rance had returned while she showered 12 hours of sex funk off of herself.

For Gia, the idea of going back to the hotel was depressing, but it provided a measure of anonymity, security and independence. It all depended on one factor she could not know in advance.

"Take me to the studio," she said, not fully certain how she would react re-entering the building for the first time since that terrible day. "I have to see if I can handle it."

Rance nodded. He silently extended his right hand across the center console and she took it and held it tightly.

It was shortly before 1 when they pulled into the parking lot and up to the awning leading to the front Honors College Residence Hall entrance. At least the media horde had finally given up and departed. Gia stared at the glass doors for a long moment, swallowed hard, pursed her lips resolutely, turned to Rance and nodded.

Rance didn't bother grabbing her bags. Not yet. If the place was still intolerable to her, then there would be no need to have them inside the lobby. Indeed, their very presence might suggest to her an expectation that she return. They approached the door with Gia clutching Rance's hand. They paused at the front door and she breathed deeply.

"Let's do this," she said, her resolve steeled.

Rance opened the door for her. The lobby was empty except for a bored student who was absorbed reading something from her Kindle who sat at the reception desk. She glanced up absently and went back to her reading for a second before she realized who was entering the building, put down her device and sat bolt upright.

"Gia?" she said.

She recognized the attendant as Sarah, a music major from Kentucky.

"Hi Sarah," Gia said nervously. "Please, keep your seat and just let me... I need to..."

"I understand. But it's great to see you," Sarah said.

Gia could only nod, her lips stretched in a nervous, apprehensive smile as Rance put his arm around her.

"Thanks, Sarah," Rance said as they walked through the lobby and through the portal beyond which lay the vending area where it had happened.

He could feel Gia's breathing quicken. Her heart pounded as they entered the hallway and saw that the entryway to the vending area sealed off with plyboard and signs that said "KEEP OUT." Gia stiffened at the sight and shuddered, but then forced herself to breathe deeply in and out. She did not look away. She stared at it. She was grateful not to have to see the area that became a horrific charnel chamber for her. Strangely, Gia felt herself drawing strength as she stood there, just steps from it the portal from her own person hell, feeling her constitution wrestle with her fear and prevail over the fear. Her tight grip on Rance's meaty hand at last began to relax.

After probably a minute, maybe two, she looked up at Rance. "Let's go to my room," she said.

They walked the opposite direction down the hallway and took the stairwell rather than the elevator on the chance that they would encounter fewer people. They climbed one flight of stairs and walked four doors down until they reached her door on the left: room 218. She slid her key into the lock, turned it to release the bolt and walked inside for the first time in three weeks. Except for the items that were in her bags in Rance's SUV outside, all was exactly as she left it. The room was musty and a bit warm, its air conditioning having been off for most of that time.

Gia walked around slowly, almost as though she was in a museum, touching the counter in the kitchenette, the love seat at the foot of her bed, the sink and shower in the bathroom. She opened the fridge, grateful that her mom had removed milk, eggs, meat, anything perishable. Only a few sports drinks and condiments remained.

"Well," she said, almost offhandedly, "looks like I need to make a grocery run."

Rance smiled.

"You're coming back here? You're sure."

"Yes," she nodded confidently. "I am. Let's go get my stuff."

Rance wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, lifting her off the floor as he did.

He put her down when they heard muffled voices and rushed footsteps out in the hallway. Someone had seen them enter the room and the word had spread fast from room to room. Now her neighbors were making their way to the doorway. Rance and Gia could hear the whispered chatter on the other side. And finally a knock.

"Shall I," Rance asked.

"No. Let me," Gia said. She walked to the door and opened it. Four girls who stood outside squealed with delight at the sight of her, drawing other students from their rooms. They swarmed her, hugging her, kisses on her cheeks, and more than a few tears. They moved into the room as more residents gathered at the door.

Rance receded into a corner, enjoying the scene before him. Finally, he felt the need to speak.

"Um everybody. It's great to see y'all again and to see Gia back among you, but I have to ask you one thing please! Keep this among yourselves, OK? Soon as this gets out, those media rats who made your lives miserable will swarm this place again, and none of us want that," he said.

Everyone was adamant in agreement, and they seemed like they meant it. But, as he knew well from the past few weeks, it's not malice as much as carelessness that spreads the word to ears of people who see Gia and him as a commodity to be monetized rather than college kids looking to get their lives back.

For probably 15 minutes, Gia's extemporaneous homecoming continued there in her room. Both she and Rance were amazed at the genuine emotion her presence again in the building unleashed. He came to reckon that her being back was not just another major turning point for her but a signal to all of them that they can finally put the hellish events of that moment behind them and move forward - with Gia among them.

By the time she and Rance brought her belongings back into room 218 and the crowd of well-wishers dissipated, it was nearly 2:30 and Rance still had to unload his belongings at his apartment and make his way to the practice facility where he would probably experience a homecoming of his own.

"How you doing, angel," he asked Gia. The fatigue of the emotionally intense afternoon was beginning to register on her. She was reclined on the love seat and flipped the TV onto the SciFi channel for just something mindless.

"I'm OK, baby. I am. Of course I've yet to spend a whole day or a whole week back here and time will tell, but I think I can handle this. It feels good, in a way. I look around and don't feel like a visitor or a guest anymore," she said.

"You know that the press is going to sniff this out eventually, particularly when the sports media find out I am returning to the lineup. We've got to find a way to defang this beast and there's a strategy in place that Mitch Glazer told me about a couple of weeks ago," he said.

He had her attention.

"OK. Tell me," she said.

"Glazer was in media for a long time before he started doing PR work here and he has some insights into how the beast works. It's going to keep clawing at us until we find a way to own the narrative. Everyone wants to get to us first, and this is going to continue until someone beats all the rest and they sort of slink off in search of their next blood meal," Rance said.

"Glazer recommends that we go on camera for an interview that we have some control over the ground rules, a serious journalism organization with real cred that will essentially shut to door on everything else, and he has a guy that fits the bill," he said.

"Who's that," Gia asked.

"It's '60 Minutes' and the guy is Bill Whitaker. He and Whitaker go way back to their early news days together in New York. They were pals and he used to take Washington to Jets and Giants games that he had access to through his work at Sports Illustrated. He said Washington agreed to abide by ground rules, to do the interview confidentially in a place no one knows about that we choose and we get to say when," Rance said.

Gia was quiet. Her analytical mind was breaking down such a scenario and exploiting its weaknesses and strengths. But she found media frustrating. Her mind is drawn to science and mathematical certainty. Media involves too much art and not enough tangibles for precise outcomes and answers.

"How does Glazer know? What makes him sure that they'll leave us alone after?" she said.

"He says it's because we're no longer a potential exclusive. Once '60 Minutes' does a story, it's pretty much done. And I don't want to be gross here, but Glazer says that in the media world, nobody wants to be second," he said.

"Assuming I agree, when does he want to do this interview," Gia asked.

"That's up to us, but Glazer said that drawing it out only means we put up with the paparazzi and the rest of the pack that much longer. But nobody's going to push you - push us. I made that clear to Glazer as a precondition to even presenting this idea to you," Rance said.

"You know I don't like the spotlight, Rance. Never have. And a national or even worldwide spotlight? That's frightening. I am not sure I can do this, but I won't rule it out. Let me think about it for a while."

"Fair enough, baby. I want what you want," he said.

He told her he'd return to check on her after Sunday film session and kissed her before he hopped in his Wagoneer and drove to his apartment where he found Gene Hurley freshly showered and just dressed and the bathroom door closed with the water running.

"Showering for film study?" Rance said with a chuckle.

"Just getting presentable," Hurley said, glancing toward the bathroom. "That's Michelle. We sorta slept in today. Late night with no curfew."

Rance nodded and gave his roommate a thumbs up as he dropped his backpack onto his bed and hung up a dress shirt and khakis he had taken with him to Myrtle Beach.

Hurley had turned on the game between the Tennessee Titans and the Pittsburgh Steelers - and Rance grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and joined him.

"Can I hitch a ride with you to the IPF with you for film," Rance asked Hurley offhandedly.

"Sure," Hurley responded reflexively before realizing a beat later what the question implied. "You're going to film? That means... you're back?"

"Yeah. Texted Hemp from the beach last night and told him I'm good to go. Just got to stop by the shrink tomorrow and get his greenlight."

"Excellent! We need you. Korman has done OK, but the 38 read option just hasn't been the weapon it was. Bookie's going to be walking on air when he finds out you're back," Hurley said.

"It's time," was all the elaboration Rance felt like giving for the moment. He sipped his Diet Coke and used the remote to turn up the volume of the TV. Just as he did he heard the bathroom door open and saw Michelle bounce through it, merrily toweling her nakedness dry. She didn't hear Rance enter and talk to Gene over the sound of the running shower. She shrieked, crouched and covered herself with the towel when she saw Rance sitting on the sofa beside her boyfriend.

"Hi Michelle," he said only briefly glancing her way, returning his focus instantly to the TV as the Titans were going for it on fourth and goal from the two yard line late in the third quarter at Pittsburgh.

"Guess I should have gone into the bathroom and given her a heads-up," Hurley muttered as he munched a slice of pizza. "My bad. Care for some Pizza Don's?"

"Yessssss! Touchdown Titans," Rance roared in support of his home-state NFL franchise as the Titans' quarterback faked the ball to his fullback, kept the ball and scored on a bootleg. Then Rance reached over to the Pizza Don's box on the coffee table in front of them, took out a slice and chomped it nearly in half in one bite.

In Hurley's bedroom, Michelle shook her head in amazement as she picked through the garments on the floor for the panties Gene had peeled off of her and discarded a dozen hours earlier. Rance Martin had just gotten an eyeful of her bush, tush and tits - or so she thought - and all he and Hurley could think about was a pro football game on TV? Men. She was torn between being relieved and insulted.

●●●

"Guys, as I am sure most of you have noticed by now, Rance Martin is back with us," Perry Hemphill said from the lectern in front of his team sitting in the reclining rows of seats in the football meeting room that was designed like a stadium-style luxury cinema.

The team whooped and whistled its approval. Seeing Rance enter with Hurley quickly spread through the players inside the facility.

"Rance, you and particularly Gia have been in our prayers every day since... well, you know. We all hoped that you and Gia would heal sufficiently that you might be able to rejoin us sometime this season. I think I speak for everyone in saying that we're relieved to see you back and pray that Gia will rejoin the staff again very soon. We love you both and you're part of this family," Hemphill said.

"And if there is anything any of us can do to help either of you as you return, I expect you to let us know," he said.

"OK, defense y'all stay in here with your coaches, offense and special teams follow Coach Middleton into the classroom. Let's get serious about Georgia."

What Rance saw over the next hour - the Georgia defensive reel - sobered him. He had never seen this much talent on one collegiate defense. Not only were the Bulldogs by far the most physically talented and dominant defensive team he had ever seen in college football, they were fundamentally sound. It would take a lot more film study for Rance to find chinks in the armor of the defensive linemen and linebackers.