“Eighty-three. Three pointers sixty-two. If you kept your feet level instead of setting your right ahead, it would be higher.”
Score, major fan. One with opinions, but did she have control? She must because by now she should be on her knees servicing him in the corner of the exhibit. He wondered if she would earn the right to come to his condo with him for the night.
“Most players would be elated to have a sixty-two average.”
“Since when are you most players,” she replied, causing a shiver to shoot through Matthias.
Matthias released her and she vanished around the corner.
* * * *
Sylvia had never had a rush like that before. She knew Matthias was a benefactor at the museum, but had never expected to see him in person. Her skin was flush and her body quaking. By the time she had found the handicap stall in the woman’s restroom, she had to use the bars to brace herself to regain her composure. She was ready to throw up.
Being so close to Matthias in her section was almost too much for her. He looked shorter on TV, but she assumed it was because he was surrounded by six foot plus players so a guy who was six-seven and a quarter didn’t seem tall.
Breathing deep, she remembered there were still a few hours left in her shift. Running away from her post without being relieved no matter how few guests were in there was going to be frowned upon.
Confident her stomach was staying in place she left the stall, went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Coming back to the reality of her world she patted her face with a paper towel and tucked her hair behind each ear. One more cleansing breath and she calmly reached for the door.
Matthias was walking out of the area going back up the white ramp to the rest of the museum. His stride was flawless as ever with his milk chocolate skin and full lips. His black wool coat lay over his right arm allowing her to see his tight frame being hugged by a gorgeous blue sweater that covered the tattoos she knew he had on his neck, torso, and arms.
She knew every tattoo thanks to an In Their Own Skin addition of ESPN the Magazine. Old English writing spelled out Determination around his throat. Inside his right wrist was a date. Not his wedding date, and he refused to comment on it. A crown with a scepter across it was on his left shoulder for the Emperors. Across his back were four NBA championship trophies. Her favorite was at the bottom of his abs. She didn’t care that it was his ex-wife’s name, she just loved looking at it.
He wasn’t inked everywhere. There were still more spots to fill and she was sure he’d get at least one more trophy on his back.
“Your boyfriend was here,” DeShawn joked as Sylvia walked back to her post. “Got his autograph.” He beamed holding the advertisement that Matthias had a few moments ago in his hand. Sylvia sighed because Matthias’ fingers had been holding it. “Did you talk to him?”
“Not really.”
“You chickened out. He’s on the market you know?”
“Yes, and secretly he has a thing for girls in uniform. It was all I could do to keep him off me,” Sylvia droned. “Is anyone in there?”
“Nope,” Catrina replied, filing her nails and looking bored as usual.
Sylvia walked to the floor to ceiling windows away from peering eyes and started to come back down from cloud nine.
The rain was now mixing with snow. Sylvia knew the roads would be dangerous. This was Missouri, not Minnesota or Wisconsin where they knew how to salt the roads when it was icy. Swallowing hard, she cursed in her head for buying the cheapest car on the lot and not the tank she had looked at. Gas prices had been spiking and the idea of forty miles to the gallon seemed more important than the fact one patch of ice would send her car careening like a bowling ball tossed by a pissed off ten year old. No direction just sheer force.
“Don’t like the snow?” Matthias was back, but at this moment the flush of her body wasn’t about to return. His voice was deep and soothing. He kept it low but it wasn’t enough.
“The black ice that’s going to be underneath it. Snow I can handle.” Her lips drew in as the visions of spinouts on the ten-minute trip continued. As if on cue, a car that had been driving down the right hand side of the road spun to the left taking out four parked cars before coming to rest backwards. A shudder flew through her body as she turned back to the photography gallery.
“How far away do you live?”
“Not far. North KC.”
“That’s a dangerous part of town.”
“There are worse.”
“I walked here… I know we started off on the wrong foot earlier, but I’d like to make it up to you. Would you want to stay at my condo until the roads clear? No strings.”
Alone, in a condo, with Matthias Jessup. Did she want to? Hell yes. But Sylvia doubted she could trust herself.
“Plaza’s not much safer. At least after seven. I hear there are sometimes at night that the cops don’t stop at red lights.”
“It’s a nice penthouse type with two bedrooms,” Matthias continued avoiding her comment.
“Probably cost two million,” Sylvia mumbled.
“Whatever it cost,” Matthias answered and she knew he’d heard it. It made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She wasn’t one to be jealous of rich people. Especially when they’d worked for it, but the thought of wasting two million on a couple thousand square feet of space confounded her. “It’s warm, and walking is less dangerous than driving.”
“It’s not the walk I’m worried about.” Sylvia finally turned to look up at him. His eyes were being truthful. The deep whiskey colored eyes that if the light hit them right would reveal a few specks of gold warmed her. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d rather sleep in her car in the parking garage then drive home. What’s the worst that could happen? A one-night-stand with a hero of hers ruining all the fantasies she had had over the years? Or making them all come to fruition.
That was the problem with having a dream come to life.
“When do you get off?”
Sylvia coughed trying to clear her mind of the nasty thought she just had. “Five-thirty.”
“Two hours. How ‘bout this, I’ll come back in an hour and you let me know your decision. If nothing else, I’ll need you to walk me home to make sure I don’t slip and tear my ACL.”
“Don’t even joke about that!”
Sharp stabbing pain tore through her chest at the thought she wouldn’t have five more years to watch him dribble up the court or stand at the free throw line when the camera zoomed in so she could see the concentration and focus on his face. His jaw would clench and his bottom lip brought in on the right side with a small nip right before he lifted his hand to release the ball.
“You said you weren’t a fan.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh, that’s right, you prefer aged soccer players. You could have just admitted you liked Becks. Everyone does.”
“His voice is a little high for me, but I suppose with a body like his talking’s not important. I’m just not sure I’d like his scream to be higher than mine.”
“Why would he scream?” He whispered leaning in close.
Sylvia blushed and pulled back in on herself while holding her arms tight to her chest.
“Maybe you’ll tell me later,” he stated standing up and looking at her. His red tongue glided across his dark lips and she drew in her breath. “You know this place is a ghost town, why don’t you see if you can get off early?” He suggested but the past due notice for Sylvia’s one credit card made her shake her head.
The lousy twenty bucks after taxes would be enough to cover her minimum balance; even the slightest dip in pay cost her more in NSF fees than she could make in a week.
“Well I’m going to walk up this hallway to see what prints I can buy. I heard most of them are up there,” he teased and Sylvia couldn’t help smiling. “And I’ll be back.”
Part of her wished he was lying, but if his reputation—the stuff besides him being a man whore—
was true, he never went back on his word. Once promised, he always followed through. The few promises he made had resulted in those tattoos.
Chapter Two
Walking back toward the café Matthias tried to understand why cutting out early on a day like today wasn’t possible. But then again this was his one day off and he had still woken up at four-thirty, lifted weights for an hour and a half, then went to the gym. He was the only player with a key to the facility so he could practice whenever he felt like it.
At his “estate” in the suburbs he had a barn built with a basketball court in it so he could keep practicing when the team wasn’t. Now he lived about fifteen minutes from the practice facility and was known to frequent it at all hours of the day. Today, he’d been there for three hours before he went to the office to snag the recruiting tapes.
So whatever Sylvia’s reasons to keep working, he had to respect because telling him to take a day off was tantamount to blasphemy.
“Caleb.” Matthias knew all of the chefs at the café. Many times he’d have them make him a quick meal on his way home.
“Yes Mr. Jessup.”
“Could I get a couple pounds of that chicken salad? And maybe some of that Ahi tuna you grilled today if there’s any left?” Most museums had high-end cafeteria food, but the Nelson seemed to pride itself on being the Spago of museum crowds.
“How many pieces did you want?”
They were larger steak cuts and Sylvia was a waif of a girl. He was sure she’d only eat one, if he could talk her into coming over. If? When the hell did getting a woman in his bed become an if? More importantly why did he want her there so bad?
“Three with the sides.”
“Certainly sir.” Caleb turned to prepare freshly cooked dinners when Matthias remembered the cheesecake. Sylvia couldn’t be on a diet, but that cheesecake had her entranced.
“Could I get a whole cheesecake with the strawberries on the side?”
“I’ll have to check if we have a whole one left.”
Satisfied, Matthias sat at the edge of the courtyard and listened to the pelting of the ice on the glass roof above. Sylvia’s face kept returning to his mind, and he raised his right hand to his nose and inhaled her sweet vanilla and cinnamon perfume lingering on his palm.
She must use a scented lotion, he thought, remembering her touch and how somehow it had reached farther than his hand, into his chest—something that had never been opened before. Maybe that’s what Sharee had meant about feelings.
The only time he’d ever cried was when he was twelve and the local bully stole his basketball. It felt as if part of him had been ripped out of his chest and at that moment he knew he’d never allow anyone to take away something so precious. That’s why he had the most steals four years in a row.
But the emptiness he had felt that day reminded him of Sylvia. When he touched her hand it felt as if his chest was going to explode. A fullness was there that he had never felt. Which was strange because he hadn’t thought anything was missing until that moment.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he slid his finger across the screen to unlock and answer.
“Speak.”
“I think it’s your sunny disposition I miss the most,” Kendrick Walker’s deep voice joked through the phone. “That time of the month?”
“Bite my left ball…” Matthias started his favorite comeback but Kendrick knew him too well and cut him off before he said ‘Cause I save my right one for my friends.
“But I’m your friend.”
“Not anymore,” Matthias kept going. “Do you see what I have to work with?”
“Don’t blame me that you can’t get open.”
“It’s a fucking zone and they’ve got us acting like a bunch of middle schoolers out there.”
“Was it pizza or ice cream after the last game?”
“Clevon sent me a care package from a Unicef box.” Matthias’ finger traced the stone mosaic on the table.
“He’s still with that girl from Turkey?”
“I got your sloppy seconds,” Matthias groaned, becoming more disgusted with himself.
“I plead the fifth on that one sir. You found anyone yet?” Kendrick asked and Sylvia’s face popped in Matthias’ head.
“No man. I have a stack as long as my dick of Euro films I’m gonna review tonight.”
“So what, three games. Doesn’t seem that bad.”
“Check with yo momma on that measurement playa.”
“Matthias, I gotta be serious with you man. We’re too damn old to do yo momma jokes. Especially with me. My mom’s hitting eighty.”
“That does take the fun out of it. Why’da really call? It couldn’t be that your old ass realized he retired three years too soon.”
“My back feels I retired three years too late. TNT offered me a deal to commentate on the early games for March Madness.”
“That’s cool.”
“It could be, but you know me, I always gotta ask my wingman what to do.”
“Ya got that twisted playa. You were mine.”
“Whatever man. They ain’t payin’ shit, but it could lead to something greater later, ya know.”
“Yeah. I know. Do it. What else you doin’?” Kendrick was always afraid to put himself out there. He’d missed out on a lot because of it, but Matthias knew Kendrick was also hurting for cash due to bad investments and the family that disappeared the second he retired. “If nothing else, maybe you could score me some seats to the Final Four and I can find your damn replacement.”
“Hell, now I’m gonna say no. I ain’t helpin’ you do shit.” With that comment Matthias knew that Kendrick would take the job.
“Hey I gotta go my food’s comin’.”
“Peace out, brother,” Kendrick said in his normal fashion as Matthias hit end on the cell phone.
The next call Matthias received was not as positive.
“Matthias, it’s Dr. Barnes.” The gravely voice of the team doctor sent a chill down Matthias’ spine.
He knew this call would be coming today. Maybe he should have told Kendrick to skip the job and he’d take it.
Sighing, Matthias prepared himself the best he could. “What’s the verdict?”
“The good news is there’s no tear.”
“And the bad?”
“You’re practically bone on bone. The cartilage is almost non-existent.”
“How much longer can I play?”
“It depends on how you rest. You know what rest is right?”
“I’ve heard about it. I’ve found it’s frowned upon in my profession.”
“Well, during the playoffs maybe. Look, I can give you cortisone shots. Those should help your knees.”
As if on cue Matthias’ right knee began to ache so he extended his leg and began to rub where his thigh connected to his knee.
“And my ankles?”
“You’ve hyper-extended them to their limits. I’m ordering braces to help support in addition to taping. We need to find a way to strengthen the muscles around your knees in order to take the pressure off the joints. You’ll need to increase your workouts with the leg press.”
“First you tell me to rest, then you tell me to workout, seriously next you’ll be telling me to take a vacation on a chain gang.”
“You know the difference between pounding your legs up and down the court to strength and endurance training, smart ass.”
“Fine you large animal vet dropout, send me the breakdown of what and how many.”
“You’ve got life left in your legs.”
“Even the bunny eventually had to stop beating that damn drum.”
“Not for a while. This shouldn’t affect your contract negotiations.”
“Really?”
“We can keep you up and moving, especially if you get to rest on a few lighter games.”
“You heard anything from the front office?” Doc Barnes had been covering for Matthias for the last few years. Matthias knew he’d bailed him
out more than once when trade negotiations were on the table.
“Don’t think about that right now. Let’s focus on your recovery.”
“So, they are thinking about getting rid of me.”
“Win the championship and this discussion is moot.”
“Is that all, shoot, I can do that in my sleep. I lose so the other guys can get a chance.”
“I knew it. Did you send an eighty year old man to take your x-rays too?”
“You wish you had my sexy legs.”
“In all seriousness, I’m going to have to find a way to extend the life of your joints or you will have to consider retirement.”
Matthias’ initial thought was no, you have to consider retiring you washed up pill pusher. But Doc Barnes wasn’t like other team doctors, only looking out for the team and not the players, at least with him. The only way Matthias knew to survive was ninety-four feet of maple, a ten-foot rim, and leather ball.
“Good man, all right now to see if I can make it home in one piece.”
“Drive slow Doc, it’s bad out there.”
Matthias put down his phone and was about to leave when Caleb returned.
“Here you go, sir. And good luck on that stretch you have next week. Must be hard to not be home for Christmas,” Caleb pointed out.
“Lakers wouldn’t have it any other way,” he joked and grabbed the bags Caleb packed. Walking slowly towards the far side of the museum, he marveled at the way it was laid out.
The historic side showed its early twentieth century architecture with its classical stonework and squared design. Sconces had intricate detailing, but the addition was modern. That was where the photography section and modern art was held. Matthias rarely went there. But something told him he’d be hanging out more in this area from now on.
Matthias probably should just leave, but he had given his word to Sylvia if she wanted a safe place to stay for the night he’d provide it. Why did he say that? He must have been on autopilot. It was not like she was…
Sylvia was standing by the window again with her arms crossed looking out. The lights that lined the walkway outside the window highlighted her brown hair, a deep chestnut he decided. Again she was focusing on something. He admired people who could focus on a task at hand. They knew what they wanted and went for it.
Silly Girl Page 3
