The Odd Ballerz

by Ruthie Robinson

  One, two three, four and it was another five minutes, give or take, of her walking up and back and counting and he was coming this way, wearing shorts and an Elite Football t-shirt and those shades of his, and no cap.

  She turned away, not wanting to be caught staring.

  “Jones,” he said when he reached her.

  “Coach,” she said, offering him a small smile and a nod of her head, running her eyes over him. He was dry mostly, except for his hair. “All this week it’s been me counting. I don’t know how I was able to walk before, but it seems like I will never be able to walk without counting again. It’s driving me insane. It does take my mind off my feet. Was that the point?”

  “It was, and you can talk, Jones. Really,” he said, smiling, and charmed again by her pretending she hadn’t seen him. He’d done it on purpose, specifically with her in mind. He’d wanted to see her reaction, a tiny test of sorts to see what she’d do. It was some kind of hot inside and out of his studio, so cooling off had been part of his reason, but not all of it. He swam often during the day as a way to cool off, and usually he would strip down to his skin. He’d watched her through the glass of his back door as he walked away from the pool and over to his home. She had so watched, had stopped mid-drill and stood there staring. She was so interested, and it was a battle not to be drawn into the desire shimmering in her eyes. But there hadn’t been disgust, and that was always nice to know.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? No ‘Great, Jones’ or a longer explanation perhaps?”

  “Keep it up, and I’ll be back to check on you. I expect to hear you counting when I return,” he said before walking away.

  She waited a second before she said, “I really like your pool,” while smiling. Couldn’t hold it back. She started laughing.

  He turned around and smiled. An arrow to her heart could not have been deadlier. “Thanks,” he said, before resuming his trek over to his studio and quietly laughing, too.

  THIRTEEN

  Thursday

  Insurance training in Houston, Texas was where Memphis found herself the following Thursday morning. Training given by one of the bigwigs that played a big role in selecting the new district manager, and all interested parties needed to attend. She hadn’t decided what she wanted to do beyond applying, but since she hadn’t ruled it out, here she stood, beside Aubrey who was all full steam ahead.

  They’d driven up to Houston separately. Aubrey’s parents had moved to Sugar Land, a suburb just outside of Houston, five years ago, so Aubrey had spent the night with them while Memphis had driven up that morning. Things were different between them, or it was more Memphis that was different. Hadn’t fully recovered from that last dust-up, not sure she could go back to trusting her friend so implicitly.

  They were standing out in the waiting area, just outside the room where the training would take place, drinking coffee, eating whatever was free, and taking stock of the competition, Aubrey more so than her.

  “I figured he would be here,” Aubrey said, staring at the door.

  “He who?” Memphis asked, turning her gaze to the entrance. “Oh, that he,” she said, after she located the who in Aubrey’s query. Yancy Yarborough, Z’s agent and friend, she now knew; another top performer in the state, and heading their way. “I’m not surprised either,” Memphis added.

  Tall and powerfully built was Z’s friend. Intimidating had nothing on him, with his bald head and sheer size. He was the competition as far as Memphis was concerned: second in the state, finishing behind her for the first time last year. He’d been in the business longer than she; her explanation for how long it had taken her to catch and then overtake him.

  “Memphis Jones,” he said, standing in front of her, taking her hand into his large one. He brought it to his lips, in that old school way she thought had died with the dinosaurs. “I don’t have to ask what brings you here,” he said.

  “Or you?” she said, watching as he continued to hold her hand in his. She loved the old school manners of days gone by. Her dad had been an old school manner-able man, too.

  “Have you met Aubrey White, a friend and fellow agent?” Memphis asked.

  “No, I’ve not had the pleasure,” he said, taking Aubrey’s hand, giving it the same courtly treatment as he’d done with hers. “Nice to meet you. Do you share an office with Memphis?”

  “No, I manage my own agency,” Aubrey said. A little short was her reply, Memphis thought of her friend’s answer. It was Aubrey being Aubrey, the old-school mean girl when she wanted to be, Memphis noticing again the many small things about her friend that she had previously brushed aside.

  “We worked together for a while before I opened my agency. I wasn’t always sure the insurance business was for me. Memphis was kind enough to train me while I explored.”

  “That was nice of her,” he said, his gaze on Memphis. “Are we to be competitors always?” he added.

  “It seems so,” she said and smiled. “How was your drive?” she asked, changing the subject, hoping to work her away around to the subject of Z. Aubrey had turned away, in conversation with some other dude, who’d come over to flirt with her. Aubrey did not suffer from a shortage of men; that had never been her problem.

  “Good, and with Houston’s traffic. It could go either way,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t mind moving here?” she asked.

  “No. My wife has family here. She’d be closer and happier, or she thinks she would,” he said, chuckling. “How about you?”

  “I don’t know. My sisters live in Austin, and we’re close. I would hate to leave them. I guess I don’t have to worry about that possibility, now that you’re here and interested in the position. You are the competition,” she said, smiling, and he laughed.

  “You don’t fool me. I know what you’re capable of, too.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “How’s Alex?” he said, smiling at her look of surprise. “We play flag football on Sundays, once a month at Z’s place. She’s a good player, and is going to make a great coach one day,” he said.

  “She’s fine. It’s a mission of hers… this coaching,” Memphis said, chuckling.

  “I know,” Yancy said, smiling. “So I hear you’re helping my buddy Z get organized. I wanted to say thanks for saving me. He usually waits until it’s unbearable, his filing system, then it’s calling in favors, and me and my bad back have to go over and help him clean and clear out,” he said, putting his hand to his back to prove his point. “So thanks for that, helping out this brother,” he added, smiling to himself. He’d hoped he’d have this chance to talk about his buddy and to gauge her interest. Z was interested and this was different than it had been with Brittany last year. He hadn’t understood what his friend had seen in that one anyway, but sometimes that happened. Everyone but Z had seen that Brittany wasn’t the one.

  “I am. You and he are good friends and partners. He told me,” Memphis said.

  “We played our college ball together,” he said, smiling. “He’s a good guy, takes his art and most things he does seriously. You’re in very capable hands.”

  “That’s good to know,” Memphis said, smiling, not sure they were only talking training anymore. They talked for a few more minutes about others they’d run into before Yancy was gone, saying goodbye to both her and Aubrey, who had come to attention at the mention of Z’s name.

  “He’s a really big man,” she said, watching him move away from them

  “He is,” Memphis said, turning her gaze to her friend. She had forgotten Aubrey stood beside her still; too caught up in her interest in Z. Gaining information had pushed all other thoughts aside, which meant another talk to herself was in order. There was nothing to read into Yancy’s inquiry, she told herself, wanting to quickly shut her brain and its glee down at this new development. Her desire for Z was a mouse hovering over a piece of cheese, waiting for any opportunity to pounce.

  “You didn’t mention you were training wi
th Z,” Aubrey said.

  “I didn’t? Huh. I must have forgotten,” she said, looking around. “Oh. I haven’t seen her in forever. Excuse me for a minute,” Memphis said, wanting to get away. She had no interest in answering questions she knew Aubrey was lining up to ask her about Z. Nope, she was not doing that again.

  #

  Thursday

  Field 3 was the assigned practice field for the Orange Stars. Going through the Optimist Club had its benefits, and chief among them was the use of fields to practice on. Aarik stood smiling and filled with good cheer. His happy countenance was partly from the joy that went with observing his son Anson doing his young boy thing of running over the fields with two other boys that had arrived early. The other part of it, and the main reason really, was the arrival of none other than Alex, his new assistant coach.

  He’d received an email confirmation that she’d completed the application as well as passed the requisite background check. She was good to go and of course she hadn’t said a word to him about it. Not her way, he guessed. Who knew coaching football would be the right bait?

  “Coach,” Alex said, coming to a stop in front of him. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and there was nothing even remotely sexy about it, but it was the way he viewed her. Always.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” he said.

  “I’m here because I want to coach one day. Not for anything else, not a relationship, or a friend with benefits, none of that. I’m here because this is an opportunity to experience and learn another facet of the game, all to make me a better coach. It’s why I play, to experience firsthand what it takes to play the game. I’d like to coach high school football, that’s my long-term goal. So that’s why I’m helping you with this,” she said, and if he thought her speech or her dream to coach high school boys was crazy, he didn’t let it show.

  “I understand and appreciate the help,” he said, turning to greet the man who walked up in the middle of Alex’s spiel. Charles was the other man, the grandfather of one of the boys, who’d signed up to volunteer coach.

  “Hello, Charles. Thank you for coming out and offering to help me. Let me introduce you to Alex. We work at the hospital together. She’s going to be the first assistant coach this season and you will be the second.”

  “Oh, you? Hello,” Charles said, chuckling, his eyebrows up near his hairline in surprise. “You’re the first female coach for the sport I’ve ever encountered,” he said, sticking out his hand to Alex.

  She smiled and shook his hand. He was old was the first thing that popped into her mind, and not throwback old, but old as in those closing in on the century mark. Aarik really did need her help. This wasn’t some scheme, as she’d thought.

  “Alex is a quarterback for the Austin Ballerz. Austin has its very own women’s tackle football team.”

  “You don’t say. Women playing football, well, well, that’s something, isn’t it?” he said, smiling back at her, and she couldn’t tell if he meant it to be a good thing or a bad one.

  #

  Friday

  Right on schedule was serious and punctual Jones, pulling into his parking lot on time, as she’d been all week. True to her word, it was equipment in place, doing what he asked, all eager to improve. Serious Jones started into her exercises and didn’t stop until her time was up.

  He smiled at the image in his mind of her, of her lips moving all the time now, counting. She was parking and he was waiting for her to emerge from her car. It was a habit that was slowly morphing into a vital part of his day, a little bit of a highlight to the end of it, really.

  It was a few minutes before she stepped out and he allowed his eyes to do what his hands could not. They so wanted to skim over every single inch of her in whatever dress or skirt she wore. Today it was a black and gold colored dress and, with the exception of a few things, it was nothing but form-fitting for Jones. It was so worth it, this waiting for her, the punch he got to his system. He released a breath before he stepped away from the door.

  He was going to ask her to help with the planning of his opening, the organizing part of it. A decision again that was driven partly by instinct, but also by the not-so-sexy but equally admirable traits of dependability and commitment. Both were attributes he valued and he needed to know if they could be ascribed to the woman that was Jones.

  #

  Alex stepped clear of the elevator doors, moving quickly to the sliding glass doors that would take her out of the hospital and into the afternoon sun. The parking lot and her truck was her destination. It was home for a quick shower and a long run around Town Lake. She stopped a few feet outside of the doors, the hairs on her arms rising, followed by a sense of foreboding that something wasn’t right, feelings she’d learned the hard way to trust.

  She scanned the parking lot, searching for something, the same something that had worried her so earlier this week. It had started to fade from memory after a steady stream of checking in mirrors and finding nothing.

  Something felt off, and even though she had no clue what, she turned around and headed back inside. She wasn’t sure what to do now. She should call Memphis or Charlotte, and tell them what? She stood there, staring outside, scanning the parking lot as people came and went about their business. Her attention was so focused on figuring out what to do next that she about jumped out of her skin when Aarik touched her moments later.

  “Hey,” he asked, watching fear, and it was fear, swim across her face. Not sure of its source, but he recognized it when he saw it. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, offering a fake smile. All cover, he thought.

  “You leaving?” he asked.

  “I’m leaving,” she said.

  “Want to walk out with me?” he asked, watching her continue to stare out into the parking lot.

  “Sure,” she said, as relief flooded her body.

  “Let’s go to your car first,” he said, smiling. “Is there something else I can help you with?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, chuckling, her laughter sounding tense to her ears.

  “I’m ready if you are,” he said and led the way, the glare from the sun blinding them a bit as they stepped outside. He reached for his shades and waited until she dug hers from her purse. “Where are you parked?” he asked.

  “Two rows over,” she said, falling into step beside him. He found her truck and walked around it, looking around the parking lot and at her as she had continued to search for something too.

  “You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked after she was safely inside her truck.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said.

  “Hey, before I forget, let me call you, that way you’ll have my telephone number. I meant to give it to you the other day, in case I’m running late for practice or an emergency pops up and I need to get in touch with you,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said, and rattled off her number.

  “I’m going to call you now, so you’ll have my number as well. You can call me if you need to, or want to, for anything, at any time,” he said, smiling.

  “Thanks,” she said, smiling too and meeting his eyes. She didn’t know how he knew but she knew he wasn’t fooled, could tell something was up with her.

  Aarik watched her truck disappear around the corner before scanning the parking lot for any signs as to what had spooked her. He stood there for a good fifteen minutes and sat in his car for another ten before he felt satisfied enough to leave.

  #

  Z stood beside Jones and her ladders, attired in his usual shorts and t-shirt; no baseball cap today, watching as she finished the last of her squats. “We’re going to speed things up a bit today with your count. We are moving on to jogging. Up and back. Watch me,” he said, and she did, admiring the smoothness of his movements as he made his way down and then back to her, counting aloud as he made short work of the ladder drill.

  “That’s the tempo and the speed I want you to maintain going forward,” he s
aid, coming to a stop in front of her.

  “Your turn,” he said. She started in with her counting, one, two three, four, as he done a few minutes before, and then back, totally having to concentrate on the backpedaling or else she’d topple over with the increase in speed, concentrating—changes were always a challenge for her. Always.

  “Backpedaling is what we’re doing and now that we’ve adding speed, let’s discuss your body’s positioning,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said, watching as he moved closer to her side.

  “Chest over your knees, hands moving with your feet, pumping,” he said, demonstrating as he talked. “Your speed isn’t that important at this point, so don’t overthink it. It’s only one, two, three, and four,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her. “Now you try,” he said and watched as she did it. “Good,” he said, watching her move. Not bad on the backpedaling, although not as fast as she’d been on the forward jog, he noted.

  “Okay, you can keep the slower speed backpedaling for now, since I can see it’s harder for you, but not any slower,” he said, demonstrating again. “Now forward again,” he said, brushing his hand and shooing her forward. She was jogging now as he walked beside her, counting out the pace. It was backward slowly, and then forward fast, and then back slowly; and it went on and on like that until her thighs were burning.

  “Two minutes, take a break, grab some water, and then we start again,” he said.

  She walked over to her water bottle, not enough energy to even reply. And what she wouldn’t give to go back to the ease of mere walking.

  “Let’s go, Jones,” he said, probably two minutes later, watching her drag herself back over to him. “It takes a while to get into shape,” he said. She nodded and took off at his command of “Set, go,” and it was that up and back, jogging until she thought she would fall over. He allowed her to switch to walking eventually, the same up and back, which she did, thoughts of a hot soak when she got home filling her head.