Relapse

By Q. Kelly

Andi Zappa is in uncharted waters as head coach of a men's college basketball team. However, her greatest challenge is her former player and lover, Melissa MacKenzie. They're no longer in a relationship and know they're not good for each other. Yet, love and attraction keep them colliding. Will this time be the one that sticks?

* Previous books in the series are "Coach Z" and "Coach M."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Kelly
• Release date: May 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005564841

Q. Kelly

I live in Washington state, where I am a writer and an editor. I also have a master's degree in deaf education. In my free time, I hike and savor frappuccinos.Fact One: I like corny jokes. If you have any good ones, send them my way!Fact Two: My favorite color is purple, but my writing is gray. Life is not black and white. I often write about issues and characters where there is no "right" answer.Fact Three: I'm weird. I like being weird.Email me at [e-mail]. I'd love to hear from you.Check out my blogs at qkelly.wordpress.com and qkelly.blogspot.com.

Book preview

RELAPSE

Q. Kelly

© 2022 Smashwords

Relapse is the third book in the Coach Z series. Each book can be enjoyed individually, but you may prefer to read the whole series for a fuller understanding of everything going on. Coach Z and Coach M are the first two books.

Ride the Rainbow Books

Previously published as Relapse [Episodes 1-Epilogue] on Kindle Vella.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.

The University of Myrtle Beach, Richmond College, and several other schools listed in this book are fictional.

Relapse by Q. Kelly ©2022

Email Q. Kelly

[e-mail]

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One of The Young and the Lesbian

Other Works by Q. Kelly

Chapter One

There was no time for Melissa to sober up, but she must try. Otherwise, Boss Man would kick her ass to the unemployment curb. Melissa had to keep this job. So much for her intentions to have just one or two drinks.

Through gritty eyes, she took a second look at the nightstand clock in case noon had magically transformed into eight a.m. No such luck.

She wobbled into the bathroom she shared with Monique and Deja. A sumo wrestler headache squatted on her brain, and Melissa grabbed some pills. She washed them down with water from the faucet.

In the kitchen, Melissa tore into a package of peanut butter crackers. After eating, she fumbled with her phone to text Boss Man. B-O-S-S M-A-N. Seven letters. Simple. And…ah! There the number was.

Poof. The phone went black. Melissa stabbed various buttons, but the device remained unresponsive. Dead.

No! No, come on! Melissa dug through her nightstand for the phone charger, but it remained elusive. She searched the bedroom and fumbled through her dresser. Nope.

She toddled into the living room. No charger revealed itself. Monique? Deja? she called, but they should not be home. They had gone away for the weekend, a little vacation for the two of them. Still, water pipes burst. Cabins got double-booked. They could have returned early.

Melissa rapped on their bedroom door. Monique! Deja! I need your phone! She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Figures. They did not trust her alone in the apartment. Okay. Sure. Whatever.

Melissa headed to her closet and found her favorite pantsuit, a sleek navy-blue number perfect for an office administrator. She sucked her stomach in and struggled into it. She bent down to find her shoes, and the suit went rip-rip-rip-rip! Quite gleefully, too.

*

Davey Villanueva was forced to sign with the Myrtle Beach Raptors. No other Division I school would have him. Since the age of six, he had poured everything he had into basketball. His efforts never translated into a decent Division I offer. Disheartening.

Who rose to the top? The players with natural abilities who never had to work hard. The showboating stars, the lazy dudes who cheated on their women, the jerks who grabbed multimillion-dollar NBA contracts.

At least Davey never had to deal with that type at Myrtle Beach. The guys here were like him, disillusioned and slacking off after years of giving one hundred percent to basketball.

The Raptors sucked. Barely anyone attended their home games. Coaches prowled for better work and never lasted more than two years. Even the name, Raptors, signaled how crap the school was. The campus did not actually overlook the ocean, but so what? It was in a beach town. Give it a nickname such as, Sharks, or Stingrays, not Raptors.

Only the freshmen tried hard. Each thought he and he alone possessed the magic to turn the team around. Ha. No. By midseason, all wised up, although some accepted reality better than others.

This, though, this personnel move was different. Davey had been shell-shocked since the beginning of May, a good five months ago.

In May, Athletic Director Archie Davis called the team minus the graduating seniors to the gym. He said, Gentlemen, we hired a new coach.

Yawns from the players. Myrtle Beach men’s basketball recruited its coaches from a cardboard-cutout factory. No one halfway decent wanted to coach there.

We got a special coach this time, guys, AD Davis went on. His eyes gleamed. Your new coach has won several national championships.

Forward Chase Brannigan snorted. In what? Hockey?

Chase was an odd-looking guy, albeit the rough, good-looking kind of odd. It was like a kindergartener tore his face up and clumsily glued it back together. Nothing lined up correctly, but it gave Chase character.

Basketball. Division I basketball, AD Davis said.

Chase scoffed. Yeah, right.

Guys, AD Davis persisted. He was a former college and WWE wrestler gone to pot. AD Flab, some players called him. She’ll be here in a few minutes, he cautioned. Treat her properly and with respect. Be decent young men.

Chase’s mouth dropped open. "She?"

Our new coach is Andi Zappa, Coach Z to you. She’s the best basketball coach working today, bar none. We scored a major coup, guys. Let’s give her the respect she deserves.

Five minutes later, she surveyed the players. Her lips curved up in a confident, warm smile. This woman, Andi Zappa—Coach Z—she wore black pinstripe pants and a black shirt that hugged her breasts. Davey’s mouth went dry. His girlfriend, Jenna, would hate this development. Coach Z looked a heckuva lot better than puffy Jackson and perspiration champ Stollerman ever did. She wore her hair up in a loose bun. Silver studs twinkled from her ears.

Hello, Coach Z said with a gorgeous smile. I’m happy to be here, gentlemen.

Rumbles of laughter from Chase.

Coach Z narrowed her eyes. He kept laughing.

What’s so funny, Brannigan? she asked.

Nothing.

Yeah, I’m a woman, Coach Z said. "So what? Whoop-dee-do. You will play harder for me than you ever have. You will play smarter and tougher. You will win."

Poor Andi Zappa, Davey thought. As deluded as the freshmen before they smarted up. Well, she would learn. Everyone did, eventually.

During the next half-hour, Coach Z introduced herself in more depth and answered questions. She explained that the players needed to follow a strict conditioning regimen in the vein of Virginia’s Tony Bennett. Early in his tenure, Bennett, the Cavaliers’ head coach, hired strength and conditioning specialist Mike Curtis to whip the Cavs into even better shape. The Cavs now had their own 4,000-square-foot weight room. They focused as much on strength and conditioning as on basketball. They spent the offseason, including summers, building muscle, speed, and stamina.

We lack a 4,000-square-foot weight room, Coach Z said. That’s okay. We don’t need one. Assistant coach Vassallo will ramp up your strength and conditioning.

On cue, Vinny Vassallo, the only coach left from the previous season, shuffled up to them. The first time Davey heard his name, he imagined slicked-back dark hair, cigarettes dangling from lips, and Italian mobsters. The real Vinny Vassallo was a pale, blond-haired, blue-eyed ghost of a man. It was easy to forget he existed. Rumor was, he got the job only because his mega-millionaire grandfather wrote a big check for a new football field.

Hey, guys, Coach Vassallo said in his reedy voice. It’ll be a fun season with Coach Z.

That time, it was Davey who snorted.

Anyway, all that happened back in May, and the offseason went as Davey expected. The players mostly ignored Coach Vassallo’s strength and conditioning plans. Davey did try at first, but Vassallo’s demands (probably Coach Z’s, really) were too out there. Overly harsh and unrealistic. They took too much time. Davey deserved to have a life.

When Davey returned to campus in the summer for school and workouts, Coach Z made the occasional appearance. Overall, she stayed hands-off due to NCAA rules. When she did appear, Coach Z kept her smile bright and poised, although she must see that the players did not try, did not care. Perhaps she didn’t either, but something about her smile, about the way she carried herself, made Davey think she did care. She was simply biding her time. Maybe she’d decided to focus on the eager, unspoiled freshmen—four of them this upcoming season. She would wait for official practice to start. Then she finally could dive into the players’ lives, into their business.

Now the time, the end of September, had come. For his first official practice under Coach Z, Davey suited up in the abnormally quiet locker room. A woman at the helm? Heck. It was embarrassing, unheard of. Having to play for the Raptors was demeaning enough already. The players preferred to pretend that Coach Z did not exist.

*

Andi forced herself out of bed on the morning of the first official practice. Men’s basketball. Men’s basketball! What in the world? This time last year, she had been coaching the number-two UConn women’s team.

Myrtle Beach Athletic Director Archie Davis called her in April, coincidentally after she did way too many shots. A lengthy, lively conversation ensued. Vodka Andi clicked with him instantly. She confided that while coaching UConn was great in its own way, the rewards proved minimal. The Huskies were immensely talented and powerful. Life at UConn was too easy. Archie understood, and Andi agreed on the freaking phone to take the job at Myrtle Beach.

Soon after, she met her players. Their horrified expressions. Their halfhearted efforts. She had to constantly lean forward to hear Vinny Vassallo’s quiet voice. It would be a long, losing season.

Andi curled her hands into fists. Sometimes, she loathed herself with an intensity she never thought possible. Men’s basketball!

She could have backed out, true. A phone agreement did not equal a contract. Still, Andi visited Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, downed a few stiff drinks, and signed her name on the bottom line. She’d reached the pinnacle in women’s college ball. Why not see what happened with men’s ball?

Myrtle Beach’s permissive culture around alcohol provoked mixed feelings in Andi. Some of the coaches kept decanters out in the open. The men’s water polo coach, whose office was across the hall from Andi’s in the athletic department building, started drinking about ten a.m. on Fridays. By three p.m., visitors would find him snoring on his couch. He received lots of ribbing but no punishments. Happy hours were frequent. Andi went occasionally, ordering a club soda. She put up the facade that she remained sober. It was pointless, but she did it.

Her cellphone rang. It was Deron Washington, her primary assistant coach. Good morning, Coach! Deron’s voice, as always, was cheerful. The man never knew a bad day. You ready for practice?

Yep! I’m on my way. See you soon.

Chapter Two

Hi, Davey! assistant coach Deron Washington called as Davey ran onto the court.

Davey gulped. The man’s smile was perfect at a level that should not exist, it was that alluring.

Davey responded with a tough-guy nod. Inside, his heart fluttered. Deron Washington, oooh la la. The guy was a former Georgia Tech star who was hit by a car his senior season. The injuries ended his NBA dreams. He then served as a Division II assistant coach before showing up one day next to Coach Z during summer workouts.

Davey longed for a less charming and handsome assistant coach. It was painful enough to be attracted to some of his teammates. They constantly reminded him that he failed to love Jenna, smart, capable, and horsey Jenna, in the way he should.

Occasionally, he whispered the truth at night when he was alone. I’m gay, he would say. A few times, he forced himself to say it to his reflection. He stared at his mirror-self and saw what others liked about him: the Latino lover vibe, the swarthy and brooding looks, and the generous pink lips. He possessed the type of mouth that girls fantasized about kissing. Beautiful on the outside, but inside, he felt ugly. He yearned to transform into a swan.

To that end, he planned to explore his sexuality in college, but Jenna latched onto him quickly. His parents came for a visit, and she bowled them over. It was what it was.

In any case, all three coaches wore white T-shirts and green shorts bearing the Raptors logo. Coach Z and Coach Washington displayed muscular legs and shapely butts blessed by the good Lord himself. Coach Vassallo…well. He was Coach Vassallo.

The team gathered around Coach Z. Gentlemen, she said, her expression serious with the hint of a smile. We start official practices today. In little more than a month, Coastal Carolina roars into town. I chatted with the box office today for a preview of ticket sales. Guess how many have been sold?

Chase shrugged. None.

All of them, piped up Hank Weidner, a freshman guard from Portland, Maine. His most visible attribute was a mop of dark hair that Davey would love to play with in bed.

Coach Z grinned. "Bingo. All of them, and in one day flat. Every last one of these nine thousand five hundred seats. They sold like hotcakes, and ESPN is televising the game."

Davey’s stomach lurched. ESPN for a home game? The heck?

ESPN and nine thousand five hundred people, Coach Z repeated, her voice rising. Will we flop in front of the entire nation? Will we play half-assed?

No! the four freshmen cried.

Guys, Coach Washington jumped in. Let’s hear from the rest of you.

No, Davey whispered. Then a louder, No! It earned him a smile from Coach Washington.

Vegas has Coastal Carolina down to win by fifteen, Chase countered.

Coach Z shook her head. Not gonna happen. Not on our home court. Not on our watch. We will win.

Bookies can’t make predictions this early, Hank said to Chase. How would they have enough data to make an informed guess?

Chase scowled. I heard it from—

Coastal Carolina is supposed to be really good this year. Like close to top-25 good, interrupted senior Claudius Elm from Alabama.

Triumph flared in Chase’s eyes. Vegas knows what it’s talking about.

Davey stifled a groan. Why did his team have to be this level of dysfunctional?

Coach Z stared the players down. This kind of talk stops today. Right now. Leave if you refuse to give one hundred percent. Get out of here! No hard feelings.

Chase swallowed and looked away. His feet stayed put. So did Davey’s.

*

After an hour, Andi put Deron and Vinny in charge of practice for a few minutes. The apathy of most of the players was seriously disturbing. She