be talking to. Even with her hit movie Unlocked, she rarely got recognized in the city. She looked like any other girl, as far as she was concerned. Any other dancer trying to make it on Broadway.
“We don’t mind,” Bob Keller was the first to speak up.
“Not at all.” Bailey took the pad of paper and signed her name. “Did you like the movie?”
“I love it! I’ll be the first to buy it when it comes out on DVD.” She chatted on for another minute about how she’d spotted Bailey and how she’d told her husband, “That’s Bailey Flanigan … I swear it is.”
The woman hung around their table long enough that others in the restaurant caught on to what was happening, the fact that Brandon Paul’s co-star from Unlocked was eating dinner among them. It was the first time anything like this had happened, and Bailey felt a little funny about the attention.
When they were back at the apartment, Betty asked her if she was alright. “You looked a little flustered.”
“I’m okay …” She couldn’t put her feelings into exact words. “I was happy to sign autographs and take pictures … I guess I kept thinking what if my life was always like that. The way it is for Brandon.”
She was right to think about it, and as she made her way to her room around eight that night, she realized something for the first time. If she and Brandon became a couple, if she committed her heart to him, then that would become her life. She would move to LA so he could keep making movies, and their ability to hide from the paparazzi would eventually become impossible.
A sigh drifted from between her lips as she sat at her desk and opened her laptop. Brandon had been busy with meetings and reshoots this past week, finishing up his film with Eva Gentry. He hadn’t texted as often as usual and Bailey missed him. She went to Yahoo.com, looking for any news on his new movie or what he might be up to next. It was crazy how she could find out more information from the Internet than she could in a conversation with him.
She was about to type Brandon’s name in the search bar when something caught her eyes: An article featured in the top ten stories listed on the Yahoo home page. The headline read, “Small-Town Football Coach Changing Lives.” A funny feeling ran through her, and without hesitating she clicked the words. Immediately the story appeared on her screen.
As it did, she gasped. A quarter of her screen was filled with a picture of Cody Coleman … and beneath it a shot of the Lyle High football field. She knew about Cody’s success with Lyle. She kept up with his Facebook — even when she wasn’t sure it was wise to do so. A few weeks ago her mom told her the media was all over what Cody was doing with the Buckaroos. She had sent Bailey a link to an online version of the feature story that had run in the Indianapolis paper.
But to see the story featured on Yahoo?
She read it, fighting back an onslaught of emotions. A part of her was hurt by the article, sad once again that in this amazing time in Cody’s life, she wasn’t there to share it. His Facebook page was still mostly about the Lyle football team. But there were occasional photos of Cody and Cheyenne, and references to her in the comments his players left on his wall.
But as Bailey read the Yahoo story, her sadness was overshadowed by a pride in Cody she’d never really felt this strongly before. Sure, she looked up to him. He was the first guy to tell her not to settle for any reason, the first boy to assure her that what her parents had always said was true — she was one-in-a-million, and she should treat herself that way. And she’d been proud of him when he went to serve the country at war.
But this? The idea that he had taken a losing football program and not only breathed winning life into it, but that he’d rallied the guys to reach out to their teammates and their town? And the fact that he’d done all of this for God’s glory … “His way” … as the article mentioned?
Bailey smiled at the image of Cody on her screen, and the impact he was making. “Way to go, Cody … I’m