by Rita Ewing
“What’s up, Coach? You trying a new coaching method or something?” Paul asked, just as Brent opened his mouth.
“Listen, fellas,” Coach began. “All I’m trying to avoid is you guys getting so riled up that you psych yourselves out of winning like you’ve done in the past. I just want you guys to play as hard as you normally do without choking.”
Mitchell removed his golf glove and started rubbing his left hand before he continued. “We finished the regular season with the best record in the NBA, and I don’t want you to start doing things differently now or you’ll build these guys up to be larger than they were during the regular season.”
“No disrespect, Coach, but during the play-offs, the Chicago Bulls are larger than life. We all know it’s a whole different ball game when guys are playing for the ring. It’s on a whole different level, or at least it should be for the real winners,” Brent said, a bit taken aback by Coach’s faulty logic.
“Here’s your ball, Mr. Thomas,” Paul’s caddie hollered from behind a large oak tree.
Paul and Coach moved toward Paul’s ball to discuss the strategy for Paul’s upcoming shot with the caddie. Brent was glad for the break in the conversation. He hoped that Coach wasn’t slipping and losing his competitive edge as he got older. Next to Brent’s marriage and children, winning a championship was the most important goal in the world to him. He wanted it badly and he planned on getting it with the New York City Flyers.
Chapter 29
There was no place on earth that Dawn would rather be than sitting in between Michael’;s legs on their king-size bed. Vivian Green was playing softly in the background, and the smell of apricot candles floated through the air. It was a rare lazy afternoon that she and Michael were able to spend together, but it could have been any time of the day for all Dawn knew or cared. She had lost track.
Dawn leaned her head back so Michael could gently massage her scalp and neck with his large, skillful hands. A shiver shot down Dawn’;s spine as he peeled off her robe, exposing her bare shoulders and back. Dawn stopped breathing as Michael moved her hair aside and began lightly stroking her neck. Then he placed his lips against her skin, and she yearned to taste him. But when Dawn tried to turn around and meet his lips, Michael would not allow it. He was torturing her.
Michael continued to caress her shoulders with kisses that felt like butterflies fluttering against her bare skin. She didn’t want the moment to end. His touch, his passion: they were something she relished beyond comprehension. To call it love seemed insufficient. With him, she felt enraptured.
A moan escaped Dawn’s mouth as Michael completely removed her robe and carefully turned her over on her stomach.
“You cold baby?” he asked, as goose bumps rose on Dawn’s back.
“Just a little,” she whispered, keeping her face pressed against the silky sheets.
“I’ll warm you up,” Michael said, opening his robe.
Dawn watched him reach into the drawer on the side of their bed and remove a bottle of almond massage oil. He poured out a handful of the liquid and began quickly rubbing it between his hands, generating heat in the process. Dawn stared at him, and he stared back, smiling. Her heart skipped a beat at this simple reciprocation. Michael could light up a room with his charm and movie-star good looks. He was so intense with all of his endeavors, especially the art of making love. Every time they shared themselves with one another, Dawn felt transported.
As Michael continued to warm his hands with the oil, Dawn let her eyes rove over his Adonis-like physique. Although Michael was lean, he was perfectly proportioned. He reeked of manliness, with his muscular pectorals and washboard stomach. He had very little hair on his chest, arms, or legs. And he possessed the smoothest skin Dawn had ever touched in her life.
The instant Michael placed his hot hands on Dawn’s cool back, she closed her eyes in deep appreciation for his tenderness. He began to massage her back in slow, circular motions.
“I’m still cold, Michael,” Dawn purred.
“Not for long,” Michael said as he covered her body with his own and began sliding his chest up and down her back.
The sensations caused by the touch of his body against hers sent electric jolts down to the tips of her toes. He continued to meld with her before he began to feverishly suck at her neck. Michael had not even entered her yet and she felt close to exploding. She vacillated between wanting him to make slow, passionate love to her and needing him to screw her brains out.
Just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, he ran his tongue down her spine until he reached the base of her back. As he slowly turned her over, she opened her eyes to see Michael gazing intently while he eased his way over her navel, down her abdomen. The last she saw of his intense eyes was right before he dove his head in between her legs.
Dawn lost track of how many times Michael brought her body and soul to climax, but by the time they finished devouring each other, it was completely dark outside. The only light in their bedroom came from the candles around the bed. The Vivian Green CD had ended hours before, leaving them in silence.
Lying on her side, Dawn looked at Michael as he quietly breathed next to her. She wished it were possible to freeze time.
“Hey, you,” Michael said as Dawn leaned in and kissed his shut eyelids.
His mere touch caused a surge of raw emotions to surface. She was suddenly consumed with a yearning to have this man’s children and grow old with him. Dawn inched closer to Michael and pressed her body against his.
“I love you,” Dawn whispered in his ear.
“I love you,” Michael said, smiling with his eyes still shut.
“I love you more,” Dawn said.
“No, I love you more, damn it,” Michael playfully said, rubbing Dawn’s thigh.
“Oh, you do? Prove it, then,” Dawn said.
“I don’t have the energy to prove anything else tonight. You wore me out, girl. I got to save some for the Bulls.”
“I have another way you can prove it,” Dawn said, running her fingers up and down his chest.
“Like what?”
Dawn took a deep breath before she answered. “Marry me when the play-offs are over. We don’t have to have a big wedding. I wouldn’t even mind eloping.”
Dawn felt Michael’s whole body stiffen.
“Dawn; I am going to marry you, but right now I’m trying to concentrate on winning an NBA championship, not plan a wedding. You know what I’m saying, baby?”
“You don’t have to plan anything. I’ll take care of it all,” Dawn quickly countered.
“I don’t even know when the season’s gonna be over. It all depends on how far we go. Let’s just wait and see what happens,” Michael said evasively.
“I can plan it for after the last possible date the play-offs could go until.”
“But then I may have appearances to do and commercials to shoot. I need to talk to Jake and see what he has planned for me,” Michael said, sitting up as Dawn’s hand fell off his chest.
“Well, what about your own plans?”
Dawn watched Michael stand up and sit on the edge of the sofa next to the bed and run his hands over his head in exasperation.
“Dawn, what I have planned is to concentrate on beating the Bulls tomorrow night. We’ve already won the first game, and with Scottie Pippen out now, we have an even better chance of winning the whole series. If we can beat them tomorrow, we’ll go to Chicago two up on them, heading into their arena. We need every advantage we can get. After that, it should be smooth sailing.”
Dawn looked at him, unconvinced. “Michael, what does that have to do with us getting married when the season is over?”
“Dawn, the Flyers have never won a championship before, and if we don’t win it this year, we’re gonna be sold and moved to Albany. Do you realize the pressure we’re under? That I’m under? I don’t have the mental energy to think about us getting married right now. Why can’t you ever just leave well enough alone?�
� Michael walked to the dresser and snatched it open.
“Why do you always have to blow me off when I bring up marriage?” Dawn said, jumping out of bed.
“Damn, Dawn! You had to ruin a perfectly enjoyable day bringing up this shit again! Does every discussion of ours have to come back to marriage?” Michael said as he pulled on his Flyers sweatpants and grabbed a sweatshirt out of the same drawer.
“You know, Michael, sometimes I wish you never even proposed to me. What the hell was the point?” Dawn said, getting off the bed and leaving the bedroom.
She heard Michael running up behind her. “You know what, Dawn? I feel the same way. Thanks for fucking up the one day I had to relax. If my head is too screwed to practice tomorrow, I’ll tell Coach who he has to thank for it.” Michael pulled a baseball cap onto his head and walked toward the front door. Dawn was sure he’d go back to the arena to shoot some balls until he cooled off.
“Your day? Yeah, well, thanks for fucking up my life!” Dawn shouted after Michael as he stormed out of their apartment.
Dawn felt like throwing something, but the first thing that came to hand was a small statue she had bought during her senior year at the San Jose Flea Market. This did not help to assuage her anger. She was so damn tired of begging him to marry her. He made her feel like a pest.
When he had proposed to her the previous summer, marriage had been the furthest thing from her mind. Now that she was taking his proposal seriously, he was treating her as if she were a gnat that he wanted out of his hair.
She was not due back at the hospital until tomorrow, but Dawn was too upset to sit around the apartment all day. She desperately needed a distraction. She went back into their bedroom and turned on the lights. She began to walk around the room and blow out all the candles. It was hard to believe that only moments ago, they were basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, and now she was so mad she could strangle him. Dawn sat on the edge of the bed and blew out the last candle. She did not want to move.
He had so much nerve. Dawn rested her elbow on the bedside table and contemplated their relationship and what she wanted to do about his reluctance to fully commit. As she sat in that position staring out the window at the New York City skyline, she began fiddling with the book of matches that Michael had used to light the candles.
She felt powerless. He was the one setting the limits of their relationship, and there seemed to be nothing she could do to get him to take it to the next level.
Dawn opened up the matches and lit one and then another in frustration, allowing them to burn down almost to nothing before she threw them into the metal garbage can next to the bed. She looked at the cover of the matches, which read SCORES GENTLEMAN’S CLUB.
Dawn began inspecting the matches more carefully and noticed the name ‘Sandi’ with a telephone number written inside the book. She could not believe that Michael had taken another woman’s number, and at a strip club of all places! What the hell was wrong with him! She’d told him so many times of the anguish her father’s cheating had caused, the havoc it had wreaked on her mother’s life—and hers. She could be patient with his career, but she wouldn’t allow unfaithfulness.
Before today, between her schedule at the hospital and his with basketball, they hadn’t shared any real quality time alone. They needed more of that. He was probably feeling lonely with her working so much. That was why he had taken another girl’s number. It had to be. Michael was her man. And no matter how much they argued, she knew that he genuinely loved her. They just needed some time away from New Jersey, from their apartment. They needed a change of scenery—something to snazz up their relationship, to put the fire back into it.
Dawn knew with her long hours at the hospital, she often neglected her appearance when they were at home together. Maybe she would take a trip to Victoria’s Secret. Michael had so many young, beautiful women throwing themselves at him, she should have known that it was only a matter of time before he took one of their numbers. Hopefully that was all he had done. Dawn needed to give more attention to her looks and their relationship. She thought about the days off from work she had coming up and how the two of them could use them. Suddenly she knew what she had to do to get their relationship back on track. She wasn’t losing her man.
chapter 30
“We all indeed have a choice!” Reverend Lewis said as his deep, rich voice reverberated throughout the church, capturing the attention of even the most skeptical members of the congregation. He had that effect on people.
Reverend Lewis was not about mere rhetoric.
“You can either ask the Lord to help you steer clear of sin and temptation or let the devil guide you to its doorstep. Ask the Lord, ask Him, ‘cause He’s there, He’s here, He’s in all of you. Are you open to Him? Settle up! Settle up with God today.” Reverend Lewis’s voice rang out among the pews.
“As long as there’s a good, there’s going to be an evil, and we have to make a conscious decision in our lives right now as to which side we want to be walking come Judgment Day. And don’t nobody in this world know when that day gonna be. That’s right. Though the light of God illuminates from within us—we are all walkin’ in the shadow of death. Settle up with the Lord today! I am tellin’ you, He’s waitin'.” The reverend slammed one hand down on the podium as he stood there preaching.
Paul turned to look at Lorraine as he heard her say, “Amen” in response to the sermon. He placed one arm around his diminutive wife’s shoulders as she glanced up at him smiling.
He had been thrilled when Lorraine told him last night that she didn’t have to work in the morning. It had been weeks since they had gone to Sunday morning service together. Instead, Paul had been relying lately on his own daily Word readings and the infrequent Bible studies he held during the Flyers’ road trips for answers to his own inner turmoil. It bothered him that more of his teammates didn’t join in on his sessions. Some of them outright ignored him whenever they thought he was in his preaching mode. In actuality, he was just trying to help spread the Word.
Thinking about meaningful coincidences, Paul was astounded how much Reverend Lewis’s words touched directly upon his own life. He’s trying to tell me something, Paul thought as he envisioned God using the reverend as a medium. Paul just wasn’t quite sure how to make sense of all that was going on in his life right now.
“Even with all the sinister things you may see happening around you,” Paul heard the reverend continue, “it’s up to you to stay clear of the negativity. Don’t let yourself be drawn into the fire, not even for a second. I know it can look bright and pretty with hot, dancing flames that seem to beckon you, but as God is my witness, you’ll walk away scarred.”
Giving Lorraine’s shoulder a light squeeze, Paul turned to look at her. She was staring at the reverend as if she were in a trance. Paul briefly wondered what Reverend Lewis’s sermon meant to her.
As he reflected on the reverend’s words, it became clear to Paul that there were definitely some negative external forces at play in his life. Not that Paul expected the answers to everything, but he could not deny that there seemed to be a number of unexplained occurrences lately—at home and at work. It dawned on Paul that if he didn’t bow his head and ask the Lord for assistance in walking a clear path, he would be caught in the eye of the New York Flyers hurricane. Thatwas the last thing he needed right now, especially when he knew something had been troubling Lorraine recently
Paul heard the reverend draw to a close. “Let’s not forget to pray for our elderly and infirm brothers and sisters who couldn’t be with us here today. Open up your heart to the Lord and those around you.” Paul felt Lorraine press his hand as the offering basket was pushed in front of them. He dropped a hundred-dollar bill into the container and reminded himself to write a hefty check for the church as soon as he got home.
“And for Brother Paul Thomas …;”
Paul lifted his head at the mention of his name.
“We pray for you and your teamma
tes as you go after that championship title. Go, Flyers!”
Paul lifted one hand in thanks as various “amens” resounded throughout the church.
Giving a parting thought to Reverend Lewis’s sermon, Paul could not shake the feeling that time was running out. He didn’t know if it was anxiety over having to play the Chicago Bulls on their own turf or the look he saw in Lorraine’s eyes throughout the service.
Chapter 31
It should be a sin for a woman to be that fine, thought Michael, grinning. As Sandi Cole sashayed across the hotel’s splendid lobby, Michael saw people stop to stare and gawk at the supermodel famous for her exotic looks and Copper Tan commercials.
Chicago’s Bellevue Hotel was well known on Michigan Avenue for its rich and famous celebrity clientele. The various sports teams that traveled to Chicago often resided at the Bellevue the night before meeting their opponents. For years the New York Flyers had made the hotel’s luxurious accommodations their home away from home.
Doormen dressed in royal blue attire and adorned with gold tassels and high black top hats opened the massive polished gold lobby doors twenty-four hours a day for actors, athletes, politicians, and models. It was a private and impressive place, perfect for what the Flyers’ star rookie, Michael Brown, had in mind.
From where Michael sat perched on a shiny chrome and leather barstool, he signaled the bartender for another Amstel Light. He turned around as he heard a subtle clicking sound. He saw Sandi standing on the other side of the etched window, tapping her carefully manicured fire-engine red nails on the glass, trying to get his attention.
Smiling broadly, Michael motioned for Sandi to walk around and join him in the lobby bar. This was the perfect opportunity for him to show off Sandi’s fine ass to two of his teammates who were sitting at a nearby cocktail table with their own “on-the-road booty.” But Michael’s piece blew theirs away. She was a perfect physical specimen. Michael quickly glanced at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. Giving himself one of his infamous I’m so cool looks, he turned around just in time to see Sandi stop and strike a perfect model’s pose in front of him.
