Bring Her On

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Author bio:

  Bring Her On is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental. | No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. All rights reserved. | Copyright © 2020 Chelsea M. Cameron | Editing by Laura Helseth | Cover by Chelsea M. Cameron

  One

  “So, Coach Kiri, we’ve heard a lot about the rivalry between your squad and the Heartwood High School Bulldogs, who beat you at the New England Cheer Championships in March. What did you tell your squad after you got second place?”

  I had to literally bite my tongue to not say the first thing that came to my mind. I glanced at my athletic director, who had set up this whole thing, but she was busy watching my cheerleaders do their warm-up stretches. Fucking hell.

  I took a breath and tried not to get distracted by the journalist’s chest. She had a lot going on there, and her shirt was working hard to keep itself together.

  Focus, Kiri.

  I ran my hands through my short hair, pushing it back from my face, but it just flopped back.

  “What I tell them is this: it doesn’t matter if they win, as long as they did their best on that day. Sometimes things just don’t work out. Cheerleading is a subjective sport, and what a judge will like one day won’t be the same the next day. You can hit every single skill and still not come out on top. But that doesn’t mean I’m stepping off the gas. My squad is going to be ready for Nationals.”

  There, that wasn’t too bad. I didn’t sound like too much of a competitive bitch, even though I was a competitive bitch.

  The journalist made a few notes in her notebook in a swirling hand. “Do you think your team is ready for Nationals?”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was one of those times when I wished it were socially acceptable to carry around one of those stress balls in my hand to squeeze. I clenched and unclenched my hands instead and was grateful this wasn’t a video interview.

  “We are. We’ve upped our difficulty, we’ve polished the dance, and we are pumped and ready to win.” Right now my squad didn’t look anything like that. They were goofing on the mat and my assistant coach, Dom, was out today and he usually cracked the whip during the warm-up.

  “Do you have anything to say about your coaching rival, Echo Rosenthal?” It took everything in me not to cringe at the mention of her name. Why were they bringing her up? This interview was going to kill me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, trying for a laugh and making a sound that was more like someone imitating a laugh. This was a complication I hadn’t foreseen, but I should have. If only she knew the truth of our rivalry, she’d have a whole different set of questions for me.

  The journalist leaned forward, which made me blank out for a second. “What do you think of the way she coaches her squad?”

  I wanted to get up and leave right now, but then I’d have to explain why Echo’s name made me lose it, and there was no way I was explaining to this hot stranger my history with Echo Rosenthal.

  “I think she’s very talented, and I think she should be prepared. Because we’re coming for her, and her squad.” I had to add the last part so I didn’t seem like I had a personal vendetta, even though I had a personal vendetta.

  There was entirely too much chatter and not enough stretching happening on the mat. It was the perfect excuse to end this thing. “Are we almost done? I need to start practice.” I also needed another assistant coach, but that wasn’t going to happen. If we did well at Nationals, maybe. I got to my feet and stretched my arms above my head. I was twitchy and stressed.

  “Yeah, do you mind if we take some pictures?”

  I nodded. She’d brought a tall and silent photographer with her and I’d had all the kids sign release forms. The journalist and photographer duo were also coming to our dress rehearsal on Saturday to take more pictures when everyone would be in their uniforms.

  “Thank you so much, Kiri.” The journalist, Megan, got to her feet and turned off the recorder on her phone. I was still trying not to stare at her tits in the white button-up that was barely holding together under her blazer.

  “Thank you,” I said, shaking her hand. Her fingers were slim and soft and I couldn’t meet her eyes. I was such a sucker for pretty women, and all women were pretty. It was a dilemma.

  The minute I stepped away from Megan and put my coach hat on, I forgot about her boobs. It was time to work, and not think about boobs or Echo Rosenthal.

  At the thought of her name, a memory brushed a finger along my spine. I closed my eyes and took a breath and focused on what was in front of me. Clearing my throat, I projected my voice so anyone near the gym would hear me.

  “Okay, everyone, let’s get this started. We’re going to go through the first half, up until the pyramid, making little fixes and tweaks. I swear, if you don’t count your music, I am going to make you run laps and do push-ups. Full out, plus stunts. You drop anyone, you’re doing laps and push-ups. No flyers hit the ground, you hear me? Graham, are you good to tumble?”

  My senior co-captain with the floppy hair and goofy smile gave me a reluctant thumbs up. I needed his tumbling skills more than I would admit to anyone. Graham had busted one of his toes a few weeks ago and had been off it ever since, but I’d gotten a note from his doctor that he was good to go last week, so it was time to get back on the mat.

  “Okay, everyone in the opening formation.” I realized that since it was just me coaching today, I was in charge of the music. “Hold that thought.” I scrambled to hook my phone up to the portable speakers.

  “Ready!” I yelled, before I hit play. I stopped it after about three seconds.

  “What was that?” I stood at the front of the mat. No one wanted to make eye contact with me. “That was like a two out of ten on the energy scale. I know you’re tired, but suck it up.” In the corner of my eye, I saw the photographer taking pictures of me. I definitely looked like a bitch now. Oops? I glanced at Camille, the athletic director, but she was busy on her phone and wasn’t paying attention. As long as she didn’t give me a look to shut up, I figured I could go about my normal coaching business. If they thought this was bad, they should check out the wrestling team. Those coaches were on a whole other level, and our wrestling team still sucked.

  “Can we try that again with a bit more enthusiasm?” I stepped in front of MacKynzie, my tiny little flyer and tumbler. “Show me energy eleven.” That was our code phrase to give me the brightest smile she could possibly find with the most energy, lighting up from the inside. It was a phrase to flip that switch and turn it on.

  Mack delivered and I moved on to Ciana, Graham, Kevin, Elizabeth, and then to each member of the squad until they gave it to me.

  “Okay, everyone at the same time. Energy eleven.” I clapped my hands and they all smiled as if they’d been shot in the ass with a sunshine dart.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” I said. “That’s what I want to see, every time. I want you to perform at eleven every time. Go all out, every time. Because if you’re used to being at eleven? It feels easy, and then you can push it even more when you’re ready. So let’s go.”<
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  The photographer snapped and snapped and I hoped I looked good. Megan stood watching me and making more notes.

  I started the music again and let them go beyond the first few seconds of the routine. We got all the way to the second stunt sequence before one flyer came down and I had to stop them and talk through what had gone wrong and how to fix it for next time.

  I’d recently made a change and jacked up the difficulty of the second stunt, adding in a tick tock, where the flyers are being held in the air switched from one standing foot to another and back. They also did a heel stretch in between, pulling one foot up into their hand, which was the newer part.

  I missed Dom so much right now. Running practice by myself was kind of like corralling a bunch of overgrown, sassy toddlers, many of whom were taller than me.

  We got through the rest of practice without any major mishaps, and I ended up calling it early. Nationals were still a month away, so we hadn’t started two-a-day practices yet. That would come soon and then they were really going to hate me. I also had more plans to tweak the pyramid, but I needed to run it by Dom first and see what he thought, or if it would be too much for them.

  “Be good, don’t hesitate to call me if you get stuck anywhere,” I said, making eye contact with each and every one of them. I was a coach, but my job could be much more than that, and I wanted them to know that they could trust me with anything, whether they were drunk and needed a ride home, or they had a problem with a teacher, or they had a problem with a friend. I was here for all of it.

  Megan and the photographer left, letting me know that they’d see me at the dress rehearsal on Saturday. I waved goodbye and breathed a sigh of relief that I wasn’t under the spotlight anymore. Camille had disappeared, probably to her office to deal with some athletic crisis (there was always one), so it was on me to make sure the gym was clean and to lock up.

  I waited until every single one of the kid’s cars had pulled out, or they had been picked up, before I locked the gym, got in my own car, and blasted the radio. On came an old pop song that I knew all the words to and I sang along at the top of my lungs as I drove back to my place, just a few minutes from the school.

  “I’m home,” I said, walking through the door and bracing myself. Three cats came running and meowing to greet me, as they did every day. Well, two came running. The third took her sweet time, as if she was in no rush. I was lucky to be graced with her presence.

  “Hello my babies,” I said, leaning down to pet them. Spaghetti, my Maine Coon cat rubbed his head into my leg; Meatball, his sister, leaped up on her hind legs to bump my hand; and Cupcake, my pure white princess, sat and waited for the others to calm down before she pranced over and sat at my feet.

  “Oh, am I allowed to pet you?” She blinked at me and I scratched her behind her left ear, her favorite place.

  “Come on, my darlings, let’s eat.” They followed me into the kitchen, all screaming at my feet for their bowls, as if they hadn’t been fed in a thousand years. I set their bowls down and they chomped down on the wet food like tiny wolves.

  I sighed and turned on the television, putting on a movie I’d seen a million times as some background noise as I made myself a dinner of steak and broccoli and a microwaved potato that I ate while I sat on the couch and kept the plate out of the reach of kitty paws. I flipped through my movie options, but dealing with the cats was entertainment enough.

  After dinner, I put the dishes in the dishwasher and rubbed my tired eyes. I should probably start diagraming the changes to the pyramid and work out the counts, but my brain was completely overloaded.

  I should also do some more work for my full-time job, but that wasn’t going to happen either. Coaching couldn’t pay all my bills, so I did work as a freelance writer for different websites, some cheer-related, some not, and I also did some social media management, graphic design, and marketing. My mortgage was cheap, and my only indulgences were travel in the off-season, and collecting scary vintage jewelry that looked like it was probably cursed.

  I lay my head back on the couch and closed my eyes. It was way too early for me to go to bed, but way too late to think of starting anything but a book that I’d already read before.

  I picked a book off my shelves that called to me and sat on the couch with a blanket and all three kitties. I was sweating within moments, but I wouldn’t dare move them.

  The words on the page weren’t making an impact in my brain. I was still thinking about the interview earlier and the fact that Echo had been mentioned. Why couldn’t I get away from her? When I went away to college I thought I would never hear from her again, except maybe on social media every now and then, but never to actually interact with. I didn’t know that she was going to end up back in Maine and coaching the team that would beat mine at a competition.

  I swear, when I’d found out she was coaching the Bulldogs, I almost choked and fell off a chair at the same time. I’d been out having a drink with Dom and a few other friends, and it had come through the cheer whisper network.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I’d screamed in the bar, but I’d been drowned out by the sound of the Patriots scoring a touchdown on the TV, so I hadn’t completely embarrassed myself.

  The former Heartwood High School cheer coach had retired after twelve years. She’d built the program from the ground up, much like my squad. I’d stepped in three years ago to an already-winning program, which had been to Nationals before. We hadn’t qualified for the past two years, and I would do anything to get them back to that level. I knew what I was up against in our division, and I knew that cheer teams from Maine were at a disadvantage, but I wanted it for my squad. I wanted to show the cheer world that teams from places other than the south could win big. Echo’s team had also been racking up the championships and going to Nationals forever as well, so we were the underdogs.

  Ugh, why was I still thinking about Echo? I hated it. I hated the memories that bubbled up and consumed my attention. I hated that we had a history.

  No, I couldn’t let anyone know that when I was baby lesbian at cheer camp I’d hooked up with the hot tumbler with the long red hair and the freckles all over her back.

  Why had I let my lust take over my brain? Just because I’d been sixteen and horny and she’d hung out at my room too late because my roommate had ended up going home early with an injury and I had the place to myself.

  It really was my own fault: I’d kissed her first.

  I slammed the book shut and startled all three kitties and was rewarded by several sets of claws digging into my flesh.

  Yup, time for bed.

  “YOU’RE NEVER ALLOWED to leave me again,” I said, walking into Dom’s office and putting my arms around him. He was so broad that my arms only reached the middle of his chest.

  “Okay, okay. I get it,” he said, laughing. I was an only child, but if I could have a brother, I would have chosen Dom. He was a few years younger than me and we’d graduated from the same high school, about a half hour away from Corsica. We hadn’t known each other, but had gone through the same cheer program, and he’d been an assistant coach and gym teacher at Corsica for five years.

  Sometimes I wondered if he was angry that he didn’t get the head coaching job, but he told me that he didn’t want it. Too much pressure, and he had a cute husband that he adored and wanted to spend time with. I just had the cats, so I was happy to be the one sitting up at night and working out choreo in my head, or dealing with the teen drama, or meeting with the athletic director to beg for new mats, or volunteer for the booster club. I’d do it all.

  “That’ll do, K.” Dom patted my head. He always called me K, or Coach K. The squad had picked up on it and I was trying to get used to it. “What is that look on your face? I know that look.” He stared down from his height into my eyes.

  “I want to tweak the pyramid?” I said, but it sounded like a question.

  Dom ran his hands through his dark curls, making them spring and stand up all ov
er the place. Dom was painfully handsome, and he knew it. He sat down behind his desk and I took one of the spare chairs that creaked whenever I so much as breathed. He needed new furniture in here. Most of the stuff in here was older than both of us combined.

  “Are you serious? Do you think they can handle that?” I didn’t really know, which was why I wanted to ask him. I handed him a coffee from the good coffee place down the street.

  “Tell me what you think.”

  I went through the changes, and he shook his head at me.

  “Look, if they can pull it off, it’s going to be spectacular. If not? It’s going to be a disaster.”

  I gave him a look. “That’s our entire sport, Dom.”

  He pointed at me. “That’s true. Okay, I say let them try it. And if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, hopefully without any breakdowns.”

  I wanted to avoid those at all costs. I sincerely loved every one of those kids and I wouldn’t push them further than I thought they could go.

  “Sounds like a plan.” I sat back and sipped my coffee, trying not to be envious at the adorable pictures Dom had on his desk of him and Heath on their wedding day. Ninety percent of the time, I was absolutely fine with being single, but every now and then, a cold knife of loneliness would stab itself in my chest and it was hard to breathe.

  I looked back up at Dom’s face.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  I plastered a fake cheer smile on my face. “Yeah, just thinking too much.”

  “Thinking about anything or anyone fun?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows up and down and his brown eyes twinkled. I knew that if I let him press hard enough, I’d spill everything. Dom was one of the only people in the world that I was almost completely nakedly honest with. It was one of the reasons we worked so well together. No bullshit, no games.

  “Not really,” I said, and pressed my lips together to keep my tongue from telling him that I had been thinking about Echo. Dom knew that Echo and I had a history, but he didn't know any of the dirty details, although he was smart and probably had figured it out and just chose not to bring it up because he was a good friend.