Worth Saving

by W. S. Greer

  “He’s nervous,” Jordan chimes in. Jordan is six-foot tall, black, with a shiny bald head. He’s also eleven years older than Jason, so he’s the more mature and experienced of the two lawyers.

  “What makes you think I’m nervous? Maybe I like tapping my foot. Why can’t I just tap my foot without being hated for it?” I reply.

  “Damn, getting real emotional over a tapping foot, man,” Jason says, looking at me crazy again. “It’s okay if you’re nervous about your girl showing up. It just means you like her.”

  “I do like her, and I’m not nervous.”

  “Ugh, whatever man,” Jordan says.

  “This two versus one thing is kind of lame, you know that?” I jab.

  “Dude, just let it go,” says Jason. “Anyway, so how’d your little date go yesterday? Did you do the basketball thing you were talking about?”

  “I did. It was fun. She’s pretty good, too. I was surprised.”

  “Pretty good? Did she beat you?”

  “Well, I had to let her win. I’m not an asshole.”

  “First of all, you are an asshole,” Jason says. “Second of all, I doubt you let her win. She beat you, didn’t she? You suck, Austin. I can’t believe you let a girl beat you at basketball.”

  “Oh my god, I said I had to let her win. You’re always talking shit. Before you leave, me and you are gonna go out there and play. Then, we’ll see what’s up,” I snap back.

  Once I’m done with my rant, I finally see Layla come strutting into the building. She’s wearing thick, gray leggings and a long black sweater that nearly reaches her knees. She’s wearing black heels that make all kinds of noise when she steps, so there’s a bunch of people watching her walk through the lobby.

  She’s stunning. Her dark brown hair is long and swaying behind her as she steps, and I feel like my jaw is on the floor as I watch her. There’s other guys in the lobby staring at her too, some of them getting caught by their girlfriends and getting hit in the arm. There’s a small part of me that feels defensive when I see them gawking, but I don’t act on it. I just enjoy the fact that I’m the one she’s approaching.

  “Holy shit, Austin, is this her?” I hear Jason whisper.

  “Yeah,” I say, keeping my eyes fixated on Layla as I wave her over.

  “Job well done, sir,” he says under his breath, then he changes his tone once Layla’s within earshot. “Hi, you must be Layla!”

  I lean over and give Layla a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, then I make the introduction.

  “Layla, this is my good friend, Jason Adrien,” I say to her. “And this tall, dark, and handsome fellow over here is his business partner, Jordan Harper.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” she says with a smile.

  “So, I heard you beat Austin at basketball. He sucks,” Jason says, not wasting anytime being himself.

  Layla smiles and jumps right in the conversation, not intimidated by his energy at all.

  “He’s not so bad,” she replies, smiling at me. “How about you, do you play basketball?”

  “I do a little bit of balling, both on and off the court. My friends actually call me LeBron,” Jason quips. All of us laugh. He’s such an ass.

  “LeBron? Well, I hope you’re not as overrated as he is,” Layla comments, and I see the shift in Jason’s face.

  “Did you say overrated? You’ve gotta be kidding me. How’s he overrated?” Jason says.

  “Well, when you’re six-foot eight, two hundred sixty pounds, all you have to do is get a running start and sprint towards the basket just like LeBron does. I could do that too, if I was that size.”

  “Oh my gosh! I don’t believe what I’m hearing!” Jason snaps.

  Jordan and I can see where this is going, considering Jason is a ridiculous LeBron James fan and Layla loves the Bulls, so the two of us decide to lead by example and walk towards the theatre our movie is supposed to show in.

  “Umm, the movie is about to start, so we’ll have to continue this debate at a later time,” Jordan says as we start walking.

  We decide to skip concessions and head straight for the theater. It’s not too packed inside, which is great, because I prefer sitting in the back as opposed to being stuck up front getting a crick in my neck.

  We choose the back row, but we stay on the edge next to the aisle instead of scooting to the center. Jason and Jordan sit next to each other, and I sit on the other side of Jason with Layla on the opposite of me. I can tell Jason is about to lean over to try to keep the basketball conversation going with Layla, but the previews start up before he has the chance, and I couldn’t be more relieved.

  As the show starts up, I use my peripheral vision to steal glances at Layla. She’s looking straight ahead at the screen, laughing at some preview for a comedy, but even in the low light, she’s unbelievably beautiful. I find myself admiring her every feature: her full lips, her long hair her laugh, her sexy little ears. She’s gorgeous, and I almost have to snap myself out of it when I see the previews are over and the movie is beginning.

  “I’m glad you came,” I whisper to her as I settle in, and the movie opens up with a fight scene.

  She looks over at me and smiles. “I’m glad you invited me.”

  About fifteen minutes into the movie, the emotion of the film goes up dramatically. All four of us are on the edges of our seats when a fight breaks out on screen and the wife of the lead character is shot and killed. Even though we all knew it was coming from what we saw in the preview, it still hits like a ton of bricks when we find out she’s dead and the remnants of her family are struggling with it. The father and daughter or both crying, and even I’m emotional over it. I feel my body temperature going up when I think about how the wife was shot in the stomach because it reminds me of what happened to Lieutenant Weston. I have to fight to block out the thoughts of his death, so I turn to look at Layla. When I glance at her, I see that she’s crying. The emotion on the screen has gotten the best of her, and she has small tears trying to stream down her face. She wipes them away a couple times, and something in me sees this as an opportunity. I watch her dab at her eye one last time, then I make my move. I don’t know if it’s too soon or too much for her, but I reach over and grab ahold of her hand. I interlock my fingers with hers and lightly rub her skin, hoping it comforts her, and praying she doesn’t snatch her hand away in disgust. To my pleasant surprise, she looks over at me and smiles, then tightens her grip. I smile back, and we both go back to watching the movie.

  As the movie goes on, I know both of us are trying to act like holding hands isn’t a big deal, but I feel like it is for both of us. It’s a sign that Layla is starting to let her guard down with me, at least a little. I mean, we still haven’t had sex, and we haven’t really defined what this is, but it’s starting to look and feel like something that’s for real. Holding hands isn’t a life-altering thing. Hell, every teenager in the world holds hands when they go to the movies with their boyfriend and girlfriend, but for the two of us, it means much more. So, even though I sit there silently as Jake Gyllenhaal kicks ass on the screen, I’m smiling inside.

  “So, that was badass,” Layla comments as the four of us walk down the stairs and out of the theatre when the movie is finished.

  “Sure as hell was,” I reply. “Is it just me, or is Jake Gyllenhaal underrated?”

  “Yeah, he’s a beast,” Jordan says as we push through the crowd and find our way out into the parking lot. “I think he’s right up there with the best of them.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” says Layla.

  “Oh, you agree, do you?” Jason jumps in. “You think Jake what’s-his-face is underrated, but you think LeBron is overrated?”

  “Damn man, you’re still on that shit,” Jordan remarks. “Dude, you’ve gotta let it go.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Jason replies to Jordan before quickly turning back to Layla. “Look, I know we just met, and I know I’m a little vocal sometimes, but how could you make a statement like th
at? I mean, what do you even know about basketball that you can make that kind of an assessment about the great LeBron? Just because you beat sucky Austin doesn’t mean you’re a basketball purist like me.”

  “Wow, I’m not sure just how offended by that I’m supposed to be,” Layla snaps back. “I know we just met too, but I don’t know why you’re so caught up on this when I bet you’re not even good at basketball.”

  “Really?” Jason says, stopping in the middle of the parking lot to have this discussion. Jordan and I just stand there hoping it ends soon and without any bloodshed.

  “Yeah, really. When are you gonna put your money where your mouth is? Or, do you just talk a big game like all lawyers do?” Layla says.

  “Oh, wow! That’s it, we’re gonna play. I have to work on my case tomorrow, but as soon as I get some time, we’re gonna settle this. And I’m not gonna let you win like Austin did, either.”

  “Hey, what the fuck?” I snap. “That’s how you’re gonna pull me into this craziness?”

  “Oh, you’re in it. We’re gonna play.”

  “Well, just let me know when, and I’ll be there,” Layla says.

  “Great. I can’t wait,” Jason says as Jordan pulls his arm.

  “Alright, asshole, that’s enough. Let’s go,” Jordan snips. “Talk to you later, Austin. Bye, Layla.”

  The two of them finally walk away, and Layla and I are left standing in the parking lot together. It’s still kind of cold out since it’s early March, and I can see she’s shivering and crossing her arms to cover her chest from the cold. So, I step forward and wrap my arms around her. She lays her head on my chest and I get a whiff of the smell of her hair. I have no idea what kind of shampoo she uses, but it smells amazing. I breathe it in a few time before I finally speak.

  “So, that’s Jason,” I joke. The two of us laugh together for the millionth time.

  “Yeah, he’s a trip, but I like him. I like you more, though.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Definitely.”

  I look down at her and her beautiful brown eyes lock me in. Unlike so many other times before, I don’t hesitate to move in. I press my mouth to hers and enjoy the warmth of her tongue caressing mine. It’s suddenly not even cold at all anymore, and I forget we’re standing in the parking lot of a movie theatre with a bunch of people walking around us. We just forget everything and act as if we’re the only two people in the world. It feels like ten minutes goes by before we finally separate, still staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Ugh, I hate that I have to go,” Layla says, scrunching her forehead. “I have to go meet back up with Amanda. She’s gonna meet me at my house so we can work on some stuff.”

  “Some stuff?”

  “Yeah. It’s just some personal stuff for me. Nothing to get too excited about.”

  “Okay,” I say. I want to ask what she’s talking about, but I still think it’s not the right time to ask about something that’s not really my business. If she wanted me to know, she’d divulge the information on her own. “Well, can I call you tomorrow?”

  Layla smiles at me, then kisses me softly on the lips. “You better,” she says. Then she turns on her heel and walks to her car.

  As I open the door to my own ride, I find comfort in the fact that I’m obviously making progress with Layla. We held hands during the movie, she met a couple of my friends, and we’ve kissed the last two times we’ve been together.

  However, I can also tell she still has some walls up. By now, it’s probably habit to have walls up because she’s had them there for so long. It’s gonna take work to bring them down so I can get to her heart, but I’m ready for the work. I welcome it. I’m rolling up my sleeves and ready for the long haul, because every time I’m with her, it’s better than the last time. As long as she’ll have me, I plan to keep chipping away at those walls, and I won’t stop until she either says I have to, or they’re rubble underneath my feet.

  Austin

  “You sure she’s coming?”

  “Yeah, of course I’m sure,” I reply, feeling a little anxious.

  “I don’t know, man. She seemed a little hesitant, and I know you two are starting to act like you’re a couple, even though neither of you is willing to admit it, but maybe you guys aren’t ready for this. This is a big step.”

  “Yeah, man. Are you sure you want to do this now?” Jordan chimes in, making me feel even worse.

  The three of us sit on a bench outside in the hot Nevada sun, waiting for Layla to show up. Jason and Jordan have been sitting next to me, trying their best to talk me out of this, but my mind’s made up. Layla and I talked about it, and we’re ready.

  “Yes, I’m sure I want to do it now,” I fire back. “You guys were all for this a few days ago, so don’t start getting cold feet now that we’re here. Just man up, stretch out, or whatever the hell you have to do, and get ready. This is happening. Now.”

  Right on cue, I see Layla’s maroon Maxima pull into the parking lot. I feel butterflies the size of bats in my stomach as she walks towards us. It’s partly because she’s so damn beautiful and I love watching her stride her way over to me, and partially because of what we’re about to do.

  When she makes her way down the stairs, I greet her at the bottom and give her a short kiss.

  “Hi,” I say, feeling stupid for smiling from ear to ear.

  “Hey,” she replies.

  Jason gets up and walks over to the two of us.

  “What’s up, Layla?” he greets with a light hug. “Okay, now I’ve already asked Austin about this, but I feel obligated as a lawyer to ask you, too. Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Layla smiles a confident smile, showing all of her perfectly white teeth.

  “Oh please, Jason,” she replies. “You started talking shit within the first minute I met you. There’s no backing out of it now. Let’s do this.”

  Jason and Jordan both start doing little stretches.

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jason replies, then he bounces the basketball to me, and the four of us walk onto the court.

  It’s been a couple of days since the movies, but the day has finally come. It’s hilarious seeing the two lawyers dressed in basketball shorts after having only seen them in fancy suits for the most part. Of course, Jason had to wear a LeBron jersey, but it’s one from when he played with the Heat, so he looks stupid. Layla is rocking a red Jordan jersey with red basketball shorts, and her long hair is tied into a tight ponytail. Jordan almost looks like Michael Jordan with that glistening bald head, and he looks fit and athletic, so I expect him to be pretty good. As for me, Jason should know I’ve been playing ball my whole life. I was on the varsity all through high school, but I put the ball down when I went to college, but they have no idea how good Layla is. These boys don’t know what they’re in for.

  “Alright, it’s first to ten. Make it, take it,” Jordan says as he steps up to the top of the key. “Since you’ve got the girl on your team, you guys can have the ball first.”

  “Oh, we don’t need your charity,” Layla snaps. “We’ll shoot for ball.”

  Jason shrugs and then shoots. The ball clangs off the side of the rim and bounces away. Layla looks like she’s ready to crack a joke, but she decides against it. I bring her the ball and let her be the one to take the shot, and it barely even touches the net when it goes in. I see the confidence in Jason’s face shrink away, but he tries to hide it.

  “One shot. One lucky shot means nothing,” he says, but the arrogance is gone from his voice.

  Layla takes the ball from the top of the key.

  “Alright, let’s go,” she says with a smile.

  Layla checks the ball to Jason, who’s guarding her, and then passes it in to me. To my surprise, just because Jordan has a famous last name for a first name, it doesn’t mean he’s anything like the real guy. I pump fake the shot and Jordan jumps in the air and flies past me like a bat out of hell, giving m
e an easy lane to the basket as I go in for the layup. Layla cheers and runs over to me when I score and we flaunt with a flamboyant high five.

  “Well, that was easy,” she mocks as she walks past the two of them and gets the ball back from Jordan. “One, nothing.”

  This time, when Layla passes me the ball, Jordan doesn’t fall for the pump fake, he stays on his feet and guards me closely as I dribble, so I pass it back to Layla. Jordan and I stand there and watch in awe as Layla puts on some sort of dribbling exhibition like she’s a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter, and then does a great crossover. Jason can’t keep up with the barrage of moves, and when Layla shoots her jump shot, he can’t even attempt to block it and has to watch in agony as it swishes through the net.

  “Holy shit!” Jordan exclaims. “Dude, she just torched you. She just set you on fire.”

  “Shut up!” Jason barks. “You better not say anything to anybody when we get back to Seattle. This does not make its way into the firm.”

  “What? Fuck that, I’m telling everybody in the office,” Jordan replies as Layla and I embrace and laugh at the two of them.

  “You can’t say shit,” Jason bites back. “You’re on my team, so if I lose, you lose, too.”

  “Whatever, I’m not the one guarding the girl!”

  “Alright, you sexist little men, can we finish this game or what? Two, nothing.” Layla chimes in. “I wouldn’t get so bent out of shape yet. This ass whooping is just getting started.”

  The rest of the game goes about the same as the beginning. Layla and I proceed to kick the shit out of Jason and Jordan for two games in a row. They put up a few points of their own, but in the end, Layla and I win both games pretty handily. By the time we’re done, Jason is bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to suck up all the air he can. His LeBron jersey is soaked through with sweat. I’d put money down that he never plays basketball ever again.

  Once we’re done, Jason, Jordan, and I take a seat on the bench, while Layla stays on the court practicing her jump shot. The three of us watch her for a minute or two, wondering if she’ll ever miss. She goes a while before she finally does.