by Pamela Yaye
Swiveling around, Sage offered the teen a gracious smile. Making a mental note to thank him privately later, she turned back to Marshall. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you. I don’t know anyone else here and I’d feel silly sitting alone.”
His smile returned. “Are you here to solicit business for World Mission?”
“No, not today, but I’m always on the lookout for generous donors. Do you have any rich friends in the parent association that you’d like to introduce me to?”
Marshall curved an arm around her waist and stared deep into her eyes. “No, Ms. Collins. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.”
The roar of the crowd drowned out Sage’s girlish laughter.
During the game, they talked about their respective jobs and their mutual love of sports. And when Marshall went down to the canteen to buy her a cup of hot chocolate, Sage couldn’t help thinking he was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Though the at-risk-community youth director wasn’t her usual type, she found herself attracted to him. His quiet, calm demeanor was a great compliment to her assertive personality. There was an air of humility about him, but he didn’t put up with any crap, either. He struck a fine balance of being cool and firm, and if he wasn’t from small-town Indiana, she’d be all over him.
“You like my dad, huh?”
Sage looked over at Khari. The teen was watching her, an amused expression on his slim face. “Your father’s a very nice man.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“He’s all right, I guess.”
Khari grinned. “Yeah, okay. You definitely like him.”
“No, I don’t.” Despite her better judgment, she asked the questions circling her mind. “Is he dating anyone right now?”
“No, never, but since I—” he corrected himself. “I mean, since the team started playing better, more women have been pushing up on Dad.”
Shame wedged in her throat, preventing her from speaking.
“I was the one interviewed on ESPN, but my pop’s the one getting crazy play!” Khari confessed with a chuckle.
“You don’t say?” Now Sage understood why Khari was attracting nation-wide attention. Every sports agent in the country had seen him on TV and had descended on the city like a pack of vultures. “You’ve become a celebrity overnight and now everyone feels like they know you, huh?”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “I just hope no one’s trying to play my dad.”
Sage gulped. “Me too, Khari. Me too.”
Sage bit into her Meat Lover’s pizza, her gaze fixed on Marshall and the woman in the tight baby-blue sweater. Gulping down a mouthful of Cherry Coke, she wondered if everything Khari told her about his dad was true. Marshall might not be dating anyone, but he sure liked to flirt.
“More soda?” The sound of the waiter’s voice drew her attention.
Nodding, she raised her glass. “Thanks.”
After Westchester Academy won in double overtime, the football team and their fans had crammed into Dominos to celebrate the hard-fought win. But with teachers, parents and students all talking at once, it was hard for Sage to spend more than a minute with Marshall.
Taking another bite of pizza, she took notes on her competition. The blonde had delicate features and long flowing hair that kissed her shoulders. There was no denying her beauty, and when Marshall refilled her water glass, Sage felt a stab of envy.
Disappointed that a man as intuitive as Marshall Grant could fall for such a plastic-looking woman, she sighed inwardly. Sitting back in her chair, she allowed her gaze to wander. Sage was surrounded by people, amid laughter, smiles and jokes, but she felt oddly alone.
“Want me to go over there and tell my dad you want to talk to him?”
Sage didn’t bother to look at Khari. “No. I already told you, I don’t like him that way.”
“Then why are you eyeballing him so hard?”
Stuffing a meatball into her mouth, she avoided the teen’s intense gaze. He was an engaging kid, but his constant queries were more irritating than nails on a chalkboard.
“You’re feeling my dad. I can tell.”
Sage choked on her Italian sausage. Rubbing the ache in her chest, she shot a look at Khari, who was slumped back in his seat, chuckling. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Admit you like pops and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Your dad’s too serious for me,” she argued, cleaning her hands on a napkin. “I bet he color codes his socks, irons his boxer shorts and listens to Mozart.”
“That’s cold, Sage! Pops isn’t that bad.”
“I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
His smile was answer enough, but he said, “See, you guys just met and you already know him so well! I’m telling you, Sage, y’all were meant to be together.”
“Drop it, Khari.”
“I’m not a kid. I see the way you guys look at each other. I know what’s up.”
Sage bit back a smile. She’d caught Marshall staring at her a few times, but thought nothing of it. Besides, if he was interested in her, why had he spent all night flirting with Malibu Barbie? “Why are you sitting here with me?” she asked, turning the tables on him. “You should be eating with your friends.”
“I invited you, remember? I can’t leave you alone. You’re my personal guest.” Khari folded his pizza in half and took a bite. “Besides, it’s fun giving you a hard time.”
“I can see that.” Sage sipped her drink, the cold, sweet liquid alleviating the sudden tightness in her throat. Anxious to change the subject, she maneuvered the conversation away from Marshall and asked Khari about school. “What are your plans after graduation?”
His face brightened. “I’m going pro.”
“But your dad wants you to study medicine.”
“That’s his dream, not mine. I’m entering the NBA draft and nothing’s going to stop me.”
Sage was surprised, but kept her tone even. “Does your father know?”
“I’ll be eighteen soon. I don’t need his approval.” Squaring his shoulders, he thumped a hand to his chest. “I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”
“Khari, it’s not that simple,” she told him. “You’re going to need a manager, an agent, a publicist and a damn good lawyer to make it happen.”
“I am?”
Sage nodded. “And the sooner you find representation the better. The draft is still months away, but your first order of business will be to set up a meeting with the NBA’s Board of Directors. The committee will determine whether or not you can handle the pressure of playing in the league. If they think you can cut it, they’ll give you the go-ahead and you can write an official letter declaring your eligibility.”
“Really?” Eyes wide, Khari scratched the top of his head. “I—I thought I just entered the draft and waited for the offers to roll in.”
“The NBA is the most lucrative sports organization in the world,” she explained. “Commissioner Stern isn’t going to let money-hungry, high school players destroy the league, no matter how high they can jump.”
“Shoot! What am I going to do now?”
Sage patted his shoulder. “You can start by calming down,” she joked, laughing. “It’ll be fine, just do your research and—”
“Hey, you’re from Las Vegas. I know you work in the nonprofit world, but you must know someone I can talk to. Someone who might be interested in taking me on as a client. I only have five hundred dollars in my bank account, but I’m good for it. I swear.”
Sage wrestled with her conscience. She was supposed to be having this conversation with Marshall, not Khari. Sure, he was almost an adult, but in this situation, almost didn’t count. Unsure of what to do, she slipped a hand into her purse, pulled out a pen and notepad and wrote down her contact information. Sage didn’t know if Khari was ready for the NBA, but she didn’t want him to be taken advantage of by the wrong person. “All my information’s on here,” she said, sliding him the piece of paper. “If
you need anything, or just want to talk, call me.”
Khari pocketed the sheet, a look of relief on his face. “Thanks, Sage. I won’t forget this. When I turn pro, I’m compin’ you a car!”
His declaration compounded her guilt. “Khari, I don’t need you to buy me anything.” Sage studied him closely for a few seconds, then wondered why he wanted to turn pro. “You’re entering the draft because of your love of the game, not because of the money, right?”
“It’s a bit of both,” he admitted. “It would be nice to make my own decisions and not have to ask anyone for money.”
“Khari, you don’t have to enter the NBA to exert your independence. Move out, get your own place, and buy your own car.”
“How am I gonna do that? I get two hundred bucks a month in allowance, and I don’t have a social insurance number or a license.”
Bug-eyed, her mouth fell open wordlessly. Sage knew Marshall was strict, but this was ridiculous. Khari still got an allowance? He didn’t have a driver’s permit? And even more shocking, he’d never had a part-time job? “But you’re almost eighteen. I’d been working for three years by the time I was your age!”
“Tell him that,” he said, motioning with his head toward his dad. “I want to work at Footlocker, but Dad won’t let me. He’s scared my grades will slip. I’m the only one in my group who doesn’t have a job. You know how that makes me feel?”
“Would it help if I tried to talk to your dad?”
“You’d do that for me?” he asked excitedly. “Thank, Sage. You’re the best!”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I am, aren’t I?”
Chapter 6
Beer in hand, Marshall strolled into the living room, sat down on the couch and waited for Prison Break to return from commercial. As he tasted his beer, his thoughts returned to the football game. It was a riveting, action-packed match, but it was the plays off the field that left his mind reeling.
He’d lost his head when Sage slipped onto the bench, wearing her wide, camera-ready smile. Seeing her again made him realize just how unique she was. There was a sense of governance about her, but she was fun and spontaneous and ridiculously sexy. Personable, engaging, interested in everything he had to say.
Raising Khari to be a smart, responsible young man had been his focus for years, but he was intrigued by the attractive World Mission executive.
An image of Sage decked out in a baseball cap, sweater and blue jeans surfaced. Every time she looked at him he felt like he lost his cool a little bit. He was unflappable when it came to the opposite sex. Nothing fazed him. But that belief went straight out the window the night he ran into Sage at Champions Sports Bar.
Stretching out on the couch, Marshall wondered if he’d see Sage again before she left town. He wanted to, even if it was just for a cup of coffee. Being with a woman who enjoyed talking about cars and sports was a welcome change.
He’d overheard Khari tell Sage about the cheerleader he wanted to ask to the prom. Listening to them made Marshall realize how much Khari appreciated having a woman to talk to. He spent a lot of time with his grandmother, but she didn’t understand the challenges and pressures he faced. But Sage did. And she obviously had a soft spot for teens.
“Dad?”
Marshall turned at the sound of his son’s voice. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was, ah, wondering if I could go to Oakley’s.”
“Now?” he asked, glancing at the clock. “It’s nine-fifteen.”
“I know, but some of the guys are hanging out over there.”
“Hanging out? What are they doing?”
Khari shrugged. “I don’t know. Watching movies and stuff.”
“Are Oakley’s parents home?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?” Marshall put down his beer. “Forget it. It’s late, they’re probably over there drinking and his folks aren’t home.”
“Come on, Dad. The guys will think I’m—”
“I don’t care what those clowns think. You’re staying home and that’s final. Besides, don’t you have an essay due on Monday?”
“I have the entire weekend to get it done.”
“Get started on it now.”
“Everyone will be at Oakley’s house but me.” Face pinched, lips tight, he pleaded his case. “Destiny will think I’m a baby and go with someone else to the prom. Is that what you want? For me to lose all my friends?”
Marshall picked up the remote control, signaling the end of the discussion. “It’s your turn to walk the boys.”
Khari stood in place. His arms hung stiffly at his sides and the veins in his neck were popping.
“What are you waiting for? I said get going. You want your allowance next week, don’t you?”
The doorbell chimed. Before Marshall could tell Khari to get the door, he stomped out of the room and upstairs. Shaking his head, Marshall got up from the couch. He hoped it wasn’t one of Khari’s friends. He didn’t want to argue with his son, but he wasn’t going anywhere tonight. At nine-thirty at night, the only place he should be was at home, working on his essay.
“Who is it?” Marshall called.
“Open up and you’ll see.”
Marshall frowned. It sounded like Sage. He pulled open the door, and when he saw her standing there, broke out into a smile. “You’re not selling Girl Scout cookies this time, are you?”
“What if I was? Would you buy some?”
“I sure would.”
“Prove it,” she challenged, sticking out her hand. “Put your money where your mouth is, Big Guy.”
Feeling benevolent, he reached into his back pocket. When he didn’t find his wallet, he patted the front of his shirt. Nothing. Eyes blinking with fear, he rubbed a hand over his jeans. His mouth fell open, but the cold air drifting inside didn’t squelch the burning sensation in his throat.
“Looking for this?” Sage waved the brown leather wallet under his nose. “I thought this might be yours.”
Face awash with relief, he said, “What are you, Houdini?”
“Something like that. You should see what I can do with a blindfold!”
Marshall chuckled. “How did you get my wallet?”
“I crawled through the window, crept upstairs and plucked it out of your top drawer.” She laughed easily. “You left it back at the restaurant.”
“I did?”
Sage nodded. What she didn’t tell him was that she swiped it off the table when he wasn’t looking. In the commotion of squaring the bill, seeing to it that everybody had a ride home and carrying a box of leftover pizza, Marshall didn’t even notice he’d left his wallet behind. “You must have been distracted, again, by my Vegas beauty,” she quipped.
“It sounds like maybe you were the one who was distracted. By me.”
“Perhaps. Or maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move.”
“I did. You turned me down.” His voice was thick with insinuation.
“We keep running into each other. I’m surprised you’re not sick of me.”
“Sick of you? I’d never get tired of having you around. You’re great company.” He added, “Why would I call, if I didn’t want to see you?”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Too bad I don’t believe you!”
They laughed.
“Thanks for bringing this by,” Marshall said, slipping his wallet into his back pocket. “I owe you.”
“When I called and didn’t get an answer, I decided to swing by.” Seduced by his smile and scared the wind had stolen her once-tight curls, she ran a hand through her hair. “I hope that was okay.”
“Not a problem. Khari must have been on the phone when you called. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him to answer the line when it beeps. Or better yet, to make his calls on his cell phone. That’s why I got one for him in the first place.”
“That’s okay. You got your wallet. That’s all that matters.” Waving goodbye, she turned and took a step off the porch. “Anywa
ys, I have to run. See you later!”
“Don’t go. I was just about to—” he paused “—make some popcorn. Set It Off is on TBS tonight, ever seen it?”
“Only a million times! I love that movie, especially the part where Jada Pinkett Smith and Blair Underwood get it on.” Sage fanned a hand in front of her face, soliciting a chuckle from Marshall. “Talk about hot!”
“That’s your favorite part, huh? The part where they get busy?”
“Pretty much.” Sage and Marshall were so busy flirting with each other, they didn’t notice Khari until he was in the foyer.
“Hey, Sage. What are you doing here? I thought you were going home to watch Dancing With the Stars.”
“And I thought you were going to Oakley’s.” Sage stepped inside, relieved to escape the ice-cold weather. The warmth of the house quickly thawed her fingers and toes. “Did you change your mind?”
“Dad said I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
Khari stared down at his shoes.
Sensing the friction between father and son, her gaze bounced from Khari to Marshall. “Why can’t he hang out with his friends?”
“Khari has an essay to write.”
“No, seriously. Why can’t he go?”
“I just told you,” Marshall explained, a hard edge in his voice. “Khari got a C minus on his last assignment and did poorly on his midyear exam. If he’s going to get into Harvard, he needs to get his mind off his friends and focus on his studies, starting with that Hamlet essay that’s due on Monday.”
He was about to tell her to mind her own business when it came to his son, but he remembered how glad Khari seemed to be whenever the teenager talked to Sage.
Sage turned to Khari. “I aced English, and Hamlet was my favorite play. If it’s all right with your dad, I can come over on Sunday to help you with your essay.”
His face brightened. “You will? I suck at writing. Even my e-mails sound like something a third-grader wrote!”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“Aren’t you leaving tomorrow?” Marshall asked, touching her forearm. His eyes were riveted on her lips, and for a moment he almost forgot Khari was in the room.
