Whisper Privileges

by Dianne Venetta

  “Count your strokes,” Sydney repeated, but had no idea what he was talking about. She cast a glance toward Clay for clarification.

  Clay smiled. “Q counts his strokes. It’s how he keeps track of his time in the water.”

  “Good thinking,” she said to him, and meant it. Very clever on his part. “Find your rhythm and focus on making each and every one the best it can be, Q. Every stroke, every breath…it’s all about you. You swim your heart out for you and no one else. You swim like there’s no tomorrow, no other events, only this lap, this race. That’s how you win. You make the connection here.” She tapped her head followed by her chest, “and you’ll be the winner.”

  When Q nodded, he held her gaze for a few seconds, and in his smile she saw more than pleasure, more than excitement. She saw gratitude, appreciation, as though her words of encouragement meant everything in the world to him.

  Her heart tugged. You’re already the winner.

  “Rutledge! Greenville!”

  Q flashed a glance toward his coach and exclaimed, “Gotta go!”

  Sydney watched him rush to his coach’s side, his teammate hot on his heels. She turned, surprised to find Clay’s eyes brimming with affection. “Damn, I could kiss you right now.”

  Caught between the heat of competition and the heat of his gaze, Sydney started, “Excuse me?”

  “You just hit a home run.”

  Embarrassed by his audacity, Sydney ear tips tinged. “Well, I don’t know about all that. I just gave him some friendly advice.”

  “You made him feel like the athlete that he is. His nerves are still running high, I can tell, but he heard every word you said.”

  She looked at Clay, a surge of satisfaction colliding with nerves. “We all get nervous. As a volleyball player, you’re only as good as your last bump. I imagine it’s the same for a swimmer.”

  “It was more than that. He liked talking to you, athlete to athlete. Most of the time when someone he doesn’t know talks to him for more than a minute or two, he drifts, dodges. But he hung with you until his coach called him away.”

  She glanced toward Q and murmured, “Well, we were speaking athlete to athlete, weren’t we?”

  “That you were.” Clay grasped her by the elbow and steered her away from the bench of swimmers. “Now listen, can I have a minute with you? Not in here,” Clay said, cautious of those within earshot. “Outside.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  As in private? Sydney’s pulse quickened as she reflexively checked for onlookers. After Javier’s little chat, she began to fear people were watching them, taking notes. Were the Special Olympics staff casting a disapproving eye her way? Were they scrutinizing her interaction with the team from South Carolina? But scanning the pool deck, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Kids, coaches, families, volunteers—everyone was involved in their own affairs, paying no heed her way. She was being ridiculous. Still, the instinct to keep her guard up remained. “I guess,” she replied, uncertain as to where this was going. She remembered their last outdoor chat all too well.

  Clay led her to the exit, briefly stopping to let Q know they’d be gone for a few minutes. “I won’t miss your race, buddy,” he said with a reassuring tone. “Promise.”

  Q nodded and the two headed out. As they pushed through a side door, her senses were flooded by a sky full of sunshine, the glare radiated off of the long line of parked cars. Clay led the way to a nearby palm tree and stopped beneath its shade. He turned, and she detected a hint of agitation in his demeanor. An urgency. Her pulse quickened. Was there a problem?

  “I talked to Charlie.” He planted hands to his hips, setting his weight square center. “He told me that your boss asked about me. Wanted to know if we were an item. Said he pressed him on the issue.”

  “He did?”

  He furrowed his brow. “You didn’t know?”

  “Well, I knew he asked about you.” She took a step back and crossed her arms. “But I didn’t know he pressed.”

  He nodded. “The way Charlie tells it, the guy seemed jealous.”

  She looked at him. Did Charlie tell Clay about her and Javier? “Yes, well...” she evaded. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “It’s okay, Sydney. Charlie told me you two were once involved.”

  She glared. Remind me to punch him in the mouth, will you?

  “It doesn’t matter to me. The past is the past. We all have one. But I’m concerned if his asking has anything to do with you declining my invitation to dinner last night.”

  Staring into earnest blue eyes, the question so direct and unambiguous, Sydney felt cornered. She could lie. Tell him the two things had nothing to do with each other, or she could tell him the truth. Admit she wanted to have dinner with him, but decided the consequences were too hefty. Until she actually left JL Conventions, Javier was still her boss. And as her boss, he had the power to fire her, or at the very least, send her off with a horrible recommendation. No matter what she thought of the man personally, his company was well respected in the convention world. A positive word from Javier would practically guarantee her a job elsewhere. Or prevent it.

  Besides, she mused soberly, the fact remained; Clay wasn’t here to stay. “For appearance’s sake, he did indicate it might give the wrong impression.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I’ve never mixed my professional world with my personal—except that once,” she added, a touch embarrassed. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “What if it meant finding the right person?”

  “Clay,” she said, but stopped. Was he serious? Her pulse took flight. How did he make that leap?

  “I mean it, Sydney. I’ve known a lot a women and none of them have affected me the way you have. I’d like to give it a shot. I’d like to at least see if it goes somewhere, wouldn’t you?” He stepped back, as though struck by the sudden thought that he may be alone in this sentiment. He dropped arms to his sides. “Unless you don’t feel the same way about me.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about him—except of course that she was one-hundred-percent attracted to him. But in reality, did she really know him? Though what she did know, she liked. A lot. Bothered by the sudden clamber in her chest, the influx of doubt she said, “Clay, I—”

  Then dumped her gaze to the ground. She did know what she felt about his kiss, about wanting more.

  “Well, do you?” He tipped her chin up to face him and fixed her in his gaze. “Is this something you want to pursue?”

  Pursue? She didn’t know what she wanted to do! It had been so long since she’d been part of a “couple,” though she liked the idea of it including him. She definitely enjoyed being around him, spending time with him...

  “Have dinner with me tonight. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll leave you alone. Promise.”

  What if it went great?

  “We’ll eat, we’ll talk, that’s it.”

  Would dinner really kill her? Would it risk her job?

  The intrusion of work thoughts annoyed her. Javier was a hypocrite. He was bullying her and she didn’t like it. Having dinner with Clay may risk her job, but it was a job she was willing to give up. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it was time to move on. Now the important question remained: Would it risk her heart?

  Clay stood before, waiting. Was this something she wanted to try? “I don’t know...” Desire gurgled up inside her. “Maybe dinner won’t hurt.”

  He smiled, relief loosening the knots from his expression. “There you go again, acting like you’re afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

  The pinprick to her heart was faint but noticeable. Would he? Would she fall for him and he not fall for her? Would he break her heart? She wasn’t so sure. “But I can’t tonight. Alana and I are supposed to meet with some sponsors regarding uniforms and the like.”

  He lightly returned hands to hips. “Sponsors, huh?”

  “Everybody wants their name out there and with
our recent win, we’re the current choice.”

  He shook his head with a laugh. “I know I’d sure as hell want you wearing my company logo.”

  “It’s about money and visibility,” she rebuffed with a smile, thankful for the lighter terrain. “I’m nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to female athletes.”

  “You are to me.”

  Delight twittered about her breast. The man could be so infuriating with his constant flattery. But it was an annoyance she secretly coveted. It was nice to be admired, complimented. Did that make her a bad person?

  “So how about Saturday?”

  Seized by sudden uncertainty, she swept the parking lot with a glance. “You don’t have plans with your family?”

  “Nope. Q is finished racing until Monday. We’ll be here in the morning, but then my folks are taking him to the Seaquarium in the afternoon.”

  “Shouldn’t you go with them?”

  “Trust me.” He passed her a sly smile, shadows from the swaying palm fronds above them drifting across his face. “Trying to use my family as an excuse won’t work. They’ll be fine without me.”

  The breeze blew feathers of hair across her eyes. It wasn’t an excuse. Not really. Sydney felt bad about stealing him away. Clay should be spending time with them, not cavorting around with some strange new woman he met, no matter how much that woman may want to spend time with him.

  “Listen,” he continued earnestly, as though he fully understood her hesitation, “it’s like I told you before. These events are a welcome break for Q and me. Spending so much time together, he’s glad for a taste of freedom from his old man, believe me. He won’t even know I’m gone.”

  She wanted to believe him, but it just didn’t feel right. High on her back, the sun seared a veneer of heat shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t know...”

  “He’s in good hands with my parents. If he needs me for anything, they have my cell number. Remember, I’m at Disney right now.”

  “What?”

  He hushed his voice. “These games are a break for me. Q and I spend a lot of time together, used to be twenty-four seven. But now that he’s older, it’s different. Especially now that he has swimming.”

  “How does swimming change anything?”

  “It’s given him a sense of independence, achievement. For a while there it was like having an extra appendage. In the beginning it was weird. I never had a moment to myself, always worried about Q and what he was doing. I didn’t want to keep him cooped up in the house, but I couldn’t just let him run free outside, either. Our house has a pool and I was always so scared he would fall in and accidentally drown, you know?”

  “It’s a real threat,” Sydney said. “Especially here in Florida.”

  He nodded. “We had a baby gate, alarms on the door, but still... You never know. I heard a story on the news one night that a kid managed to climb over the gate and get into the pool. His ball had gone in...” Clay shook his head and she could tell the memory was vivid for him, as though he were seeing it replayed before his very eyes. “That’s all it took for me. I found an instructor willing to come to the house for private lessons and the rest is history.” The smile pulling on his mouth turned into a half-chuckle. “At first, he wanted no part of the pool. Screamed like a madman. It was so bad, I almost called the lesson off.”

  Imagining Q’s first days in the pool, Sydney sat spellbound. It must have been some ordeal. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have done the same thing—yanked the boy out and called it quits.

  “But then, something amazing happened. The instructor was finally able to coax Q in. The guy swam back and forth, real methodical like, each time getting closer and closer to Q. I was in the water, watching, talking him through it until he agreed to let go of me.” Clay chuckled. “Took nearly two hours but by the end of the first lesson, I swear he was a changed kid.”

  “Wow...”

  “Took to the water like a fish from then on that some days, it was all I could do to convince him to get out!”

  “That must have been a relief.” And she meant it. Stories of children drowning were much too common.

  “Absolutely. Here was a kid who would sit and spend hours flushing the toilet just to watch the water spin, or set up his Legos in a straight line only to smack them down and do it over again. Now, he had another interest to occupy his mind. All he wanted to do was swim.”

  “What a switch,” she remarked, struck by the toilet story. As usual, when Clay talked about Q, she found herself curiously intrigued. Did autistic children really spend their time doing such mindless tasks?

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Clay beamed, oblivious to the disbelief streaming through her. “He was getting so good in the pool, his therapist suggested we attend a Special Olympics event to see how Q reacted.” He paused, as though calling forth that day in his mind’s eye. “He was fascinated, mesmerized. From the minute the swimmers dove into the water until the last whistle blew, he couldn’t get enough of the action. So I asked some of the parents at the swim meet how their kids got involved and well, suffice it to say, the kid’s never been the same since.”

  She looked over his shoulder. In the parking lot, a group of teenagers popped open the back of an Explorer and started tossing in towels, folding chairs. “That sure must make you feel better,” she said wistfully.

  “It does more than make me feel better. You know, it wasn’t that long ago kids like Q were shipped off to institutions. No one thought they could ever assimilate into society, could communicate with others and live a normal life. But it’s not true. The progress he’s made both in the pool and out, emotionally, mentally... You can’t imagine the sense of accomplishment it’s given him, one that he can fully claim as his own. He’s even developed relationships with some of the other kids on his team. While that may not seem like a big deal for most, it’s huge for a kid like Q.”

  Digesting the enormity of what Clay said, she no longer felt tense, prickled with guilt. Instead she was charmed by the story of a “boy who could” and the organization that helped make it come true.

  “Let me tell you,” Clay said. “When he attends these events, he feels totally on his own, like he doesn’t need me anymore.” He paused. “So believe me when I tell you this is a welcome break for both of us.”

  Sydney thought she detected a hint of melancholy at the admission, but Clay’s point remained. “So what you’re saying, is that spending time away from him is sort of a win-win?”

  Clay smiled, his eyes glittered with sunshine. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “I guess I could swing by here tomorrow, and we could grab a bite to eat for lunch.”

  “Let’s say we start with lunch.”

  The man was certainly persistent. “Will noon work?”

  “If I have to wait until noon, then noon it is.”

  The two smiled, the current between them pulling strong. Maybe a little flirtatious fun would be good for her, she mused. It was about time. Since Javier and she broke up, there had been no one special, no one fun. The sun warm on her face, her spirits lifted as she considered the prospects of their upcoming date. Date. The squiggle of excitement scurried right up her spine.

  “C’mon, I’ll walk you back inside.”

  He stepped forward and held out his elbow. Slipping her arm through his, the underside of her forearm slid over the smooth, supple skin of his and the contact elicited a desire deep in her belly. She liked the feel of his muscular arm as it held her close, the intimate feel of his bare skin against hers. She liked the strong wall of his shoulder as he took the lead. It was a chivalry that was new to her. A gallant, traditional mindset she had not experienced before. When he reached over and lightly stroked the top of her hand, her insides nearly unraveled. Polite, courteous, but he remained all man at the same time, constantly reminding her of his attraction for her. The caress of his fingers was gentle, yet bold, his touch soft yet intense. Clay had no qualms about taking liberty in small ways.
Would he feel as comfortable tomorrow?

  # # #

  Clay stood outside the pool and waited for Sydney. Closing in on noon, heat radiated from the pavement around him but it wasn’t unbearable. Located near the water, Miami was cooler than he expected, the sea breeze keeping temperatures tolerable, much like it did in Charleston. A hot, humid day could easily translate into ninety degrees but with the offshore breezes at work, you’d never know it. Glancing from side to side, he scanned the street for sight of her hot rod Mustang.

  Clay chuckled to himself. Not the first car he would have pegged her for, but after some thought, he decided it fit. Muscle car for muscle babe, it made sense. But hot rod red? She didn’t strike him as the fast and easy type. She seemed cool and reserved when it came to men. Unless you counted her boss. Good girls didn’t usually have sex with their employer. But considering she was only twenty-six, he could have been her first. He could have seduced her. He could have taken advantage of her.

  Shaking the supposition from his mind, Clay didn’t care. The past was the past. If she were easy, Charlie would have scored. But he didn’t, that much was certain. And if anyone had a past to explain, it was him. Lovers were easy to come by in his world and he’d had his fair share. But Sydney had the potential to become more, something meaningful. A cause he’d lose if he didn’t convince her they had something worth pursuing before he left. There was damn sure no way he’d be able to pull it off with a thousand miles between them!

  No. The time was now. Clay surveyed the traffic stopped further up the street. Sydney Flores was not like any of the women back home. She was strong and beautiful, smart and sassy, yet he sensed a powerful vulnerability in her. She took her imperfections hard. They ate at her. No one was perfect, yet he sensed that’s exactly what she sought: perfection.

  Part of which bothered him. He’d seen what the fight for perfection could do to a person. He’d seen how it undermined everything else turned sweet and sincere to sour and superficial. Values were replaced by victories and no cost became too great when it came to winning the envy of others. Trish had made that clear. Sensitive to what everyone thought about her, she spent all her time seeking to be admired for her looks, but in doing so, she forgot to fill her insides with anything other than fluff. Her parents didn’t help matters. They pushed her into contest after contest, club after club. It wasn’t “what you knew” it was “who you knew.”