Authors: Victor McGlothin
Down On My Knees (4 page)
Marcia giggled, with her eyes on the computer screen. “Maybe so but there's more. The persistent Mr. Foray had a courier deliver two big boxes of goodies after that.”
Grace began to take more stock in Marcia's attempt at psychoanalyzing people she hardly even knew. Funny thing was she often hit the nail right on the head, although this time she had help. Patrik had called earlier to shower additionalpraise on Grace's efforts with Allen. Marcia had put two and two together, and oddly enough, it equaled twelve long-stemmed roses and a new admirer.
On the way to her office, the scent of fresh flowers caused Grace to think of a simpler time, when she had worked summershelping in her mother's floral shop. Her quiet moment reminiscing was interrupted by Marcia, who popped in with the vase Grace had purposely left behind. “In case you're wondering, Allen is twenty-six, a North Carolina grad, a lifetimecard-carrying member of the NAACP, and unattached at the moment, although his last relationship ended with a batteryof arrests for stalking.”
“Arrests?” Grace shrieked.
“Oh, her, not him,” Marcia clarified, handing Grace a stack of articles about Allen she'd downloaded from the Internet.“I guess you could say that the one-hundred-million-dollar media darling cash-cow, aka Captain Dream Creams, is young, single, and free.”
Tapping her finger against the collection of stories written about Allen, Grace winced. “I'm crazy for even entertaining the idea of seeing that boy. We have nothing in common.”
“That multimillion-dollar baby seems to be looking for a new mama to kiss him on his boo-boo,” Marcia joked.
“Oh, is that what you young people are calling it these days?” Grace smirked, “gotcha” style, but Marcia had done her homework.
“I've read several accounts of where a younger man clings to a slightly older woman when facing adverse circumstances,pain, or injury. You'll note on page six there, at the bottom, that Allen's contract is up at the end of this season,and the Mavericks might not be able to provide the best offer because of the league's luxury tax.” When Grace failed to see the importance in Marcia's inferences, she raised her brow, guessing that a conclusion was close at hand. “Miss Hilliard, that superstar is a southern boy. He loves Dallas, as noted on page two, and he doesn't want to be traded to New Jersey. I think that's highlighted on page four, if not on page five.”
Grace didn't like the fact that her assistant was playing matchmaker on the clock, instead of working on Pinnacle's business, but she had to give her assistant major props for the extensive research she'd amassed in short order. “Marcia,I'm going to pretend that we've never had this discussionbut if we did I'd have to end it like this. I'm sure that your intensions were good, but I'm not accustomed to discussingmy personal affairs with employees, not even my favoriteone. Since there's nothing between me and Allen, it's all hypothetical. I'll say this and be done with it. Everything you've said about him may be true, but I don't mix business with pleasure, no matter how enticing. More importantly, I already have one son, and I'm not in the practice of raising some other woman's for her. Thank you, and do close the door on your way out.”
Grace held the stack of Internet articles above the wastepaper basket, working up the strength to chuck them. When she felt Marcia standing outside her door peeking through the blinds, the strength she needed prevailed. As the pages of Allen's exploits hit the bottom of the trash pail, so did his chances of having Grace play the Big-Sister-Mama-Lover-Friendrole in his or any other man's true-to-life after-dinnertheater. She was becoming more determined to land the starring role as The Only Woman in a deserving man's production of
Happily Ever After.
Anything else was unacceptable.
Happily Ever After.
Anything else was unacceptable.
5
Boys to Men
I
t was six-thirty when Grace arrived at John Quinn High School. Rain was falling like sifted flour. She collected a handful of reports from the leather satchel lying on the front passenger seat. When it didn't appear the storm would subsideanytime soon, she winced at the thought of getting drenched before making it to the back door of the gymnasium.While searching frantically for her umbrella, Grace ran across a plastic poncho stuffed under the backseat. She'd purchased it months before for just such an occasion, hoping that she'd never actually have to use it. But there it was, still folded neatly in its clear package. After wrestling the ponchoover her head, she opened the car door and set out to brave the elements. She felt like a wet dog striding over puddlesin the uneven parking lot. If she hadn't clutched the reportstightly against her chest, they would have taken flight in the gusting wind. Turning back never crossed her mind because her child was inside, preparing for his first high-schoolbasketball game. Getting caught in a downpour wasn't enough to deter her from being there, for it would have been catastrophic had she missed his shining moment.
t was six-thirty when Grace arrived at John Quinn High School. Rain was falling like sifted flour. She collected a handful of reports from the leather satchel lying on the front passenger seat. When it didn't appear the storm would subsideanytime soon, she winced at the thought of getting drenched before making it to the back door of the gymnasium.While searching frantically for her umbrella, Grace ran across a plastic poncho stuffed under the backseat. She'd purchased it months before for just such an occasion, hoping that she'd never actually have to use it. But there it was, still folded neatly in its clear package. After wrestling the ponchoover her head, she opened the car door and set out to brave the elements. She felt like a wet dog striding over puddlesin the uneven parking lot. If she hadn't clutched the reportstightly against her chest, they would have taken flight in the gusting wind. Turning back never crossed her mind because her child was inside, preparing for his first high-schoolbasketball game. Getting caught in a downpour wasn't enough to deter her from being there, for it would have been catastrophic had she missed his shining moment.
Once inside, Grace shed her plastic shawl, then shook droplets of water from her hands and hair. A short jaunt to the ladies' room served as a rest haven, as she patted herself dry as best she could with a pile of paper towels. Since no one really attended freshmen ball games, she took comfort in knowing the crowd would be sparse. Parents who dared to fight the traffic and flash flooding wouldn't give a rat's behindabout her tattered appearance, she reasoned, while exitingthe gloomy little room where graffiti detailed the names and sexual prowess of boys who rated far too experienced for their age, according to the girls eager to share it. Grace smiled when she didn't see André's name scribbled among others. There were far too many Kwans and Shuns mixed in to tell them apart.
A heftily built white man with oily skin and thick, dark hair smiled cordially at Grace as she passed through the gym doors. “That'll be three dollars, ma'am,” he informed her. “Gotta charge something if the refs are gonna get paid.” His full belly pressed against the open cash box, which rested on a rickety card table, and his breath smelled like a pack of menthol cigarettes.
“Can't have a sporting event without officials,” Grace agreed, digging through her purse for small bills. “Can you break a twenty?”
“Yep, but I'll have to wait until halftime when the snack bar opens,” the man huffed, nearly out of breath.
“Tell you what, keep the whole thing. My son's playing tonight, and it'll be worth every penny.” The stubby doorkeeperdidn't respond to Grace's comment. Instead, he noddedhis thick head back and forth like nothing she would ever say or do mattered to him, then he went back to droolingover the group of cheerleaders jogging off from center court. “You're welcome,” Grace mumbled softly, knowing that it fell on deaf ears.
Pervert!
Pervert!
Grace's previous speculations proved correct. The stands were littered with slightly more fans than players, so it wasn't difficult finding a seat. She spotted André in the team's huddlejust before the game started. Her chest swelled with pride. She couldn't have been more delighted if the bleacherswere filled with people chanting her child's name. With the stack of damp reports sitting next to her, Grace decided to review them during intermittent breaks in the action and make the most of her time.
“Hey, Miss Hilliard, I thought that was you,” Skyler Barnes yelled as he climbed down two rows to greet her. Despitebeing a senior, a celebrated talent, and touted as one of the top recruits in the country, he always found time to talk hoops with André and map out maneuvers explaining how to break down an opposing team's defense with a deadly crossover.
“Skyler, I'm surprised to see you,” Grace said evenly. “I know you've got to be very busy, with college scouts beating down your grandmother's door.”
“Yes, ma'am, that's why I'm here,” he confessed. “The phone won't stop ringing. Plus it's Dré's first time to shine. Wouldn't miss that for the world, Miss Hilliard. He's gonna be good before long, you'll see. The boy's got heart.” Grace smiled at the baby-faced man-child, with his six-five frame and basketball sneakers long enough to cross the Atlantic. Skyler was a thoughtful young man and thought a lot of his protégé. It was obvious his grandmother had raised him right.
As soon as the game began, André streaked down the court. He sprinted faster than Grace knew he could, and then he caught a deep pass and laid the ball in for the first basket. “Yeah!” Skyler cheered. “I told you he got game, Miss H, told you.” Grace blushed over the next three quarters until the coach pulled André out for the remainder of the game. His players were ahead by twenty-five points, and there was no sense in embarrassing the visiting team. When Dré pulled on his sweats, Skyler nodded his head approvingly. “Eighteenpoints, seven assists, and five rebounds,” he rattled off, from memory. “He'll be fight'n them off with a stick.”
Before Grace opened her mouth to question the young man's idea of a compliment, he'd picked up and made it halfway to the snack bar.
Fighting them off,
she thought, not sure how to take it.
Fighting who off? I know he wasn't talkingabout those fast-tail little girls writing their business on the restroom walls. André isn't ready to deal with these overexposed,overdeveloped high school hoochies. Better not be anything on his mind but hitting the books.
No sooner than the game ended, two of the cheerleaders were all up in André's face, batting their eyes and shaking their pom-poms at him.
Fighting them off,
she thought, not sure how to take it.
Fighting who off? I know he wasn't talkingabout those fast-tail little girls writing their business on the restroom walls. André isn't ready to deal with these overexposed,overdeveloped high school hoochies. Better not be anything on his mind but hitting the books.
No sooner than the game ended, two of the cheerleaders were all up in André's face, batting their eyes and shaking their pom-poms at him.
“Oh God,” Grace huffed. “I know she didn't just slide him her phone number on the sneak tip. That used to be one of my best moves.” Before her very eyes, her baby was growing up, too fast for her taste, and those young hussies were acting too grown for their own good.
“Hey Ma,” André hailed gleefully, walking up in a cool, slow, bobbing manner. “I'm glad you made it.”
“Uh-huh, I made it all right.” She was looking at him sideways.
“What? I hit eighteen.”
“I saw, and the seven assists with five rebounds.”
“Dang, you caught all that?” André was noticeably impressedthat she'd paid attention. “I didn't know you'd be keeping stats, or I would have gone for thirty.”
“I was enjoying the game too much to keep up,” she admitted,“but Skyler didn't miss a single thing.”
“He never does, Ma.”
Grace contemplated telling André that she'd peeped the cheerleader's well-devised sleight-of-hand phone-number pass, but thought better of it. Perhaps it was more prudent to let him enjoy the moment and think he'd put one over on her. Lord knows, she'd gotten away with her share of mischief when she was his age. Besides, there wasn't much Grace could do but watch him spread his wings and pray that severalyears passed before he became consumed with girls in short skirts and getting at what was underneath them.
Skyler spotted André in the parking lot from the confines of an old rusted-out Chevrolet Impala. The skies were so clear that it seemed improbable a storm had blown through a couple of hours before, except for the pools of puddles here and there. “Dré,” Skyler yelled out, approaching with long, nimble strides. “Hey man, good game today. Next time, keep the ball a little closer to your hip. A better guard would have locked down and come away with a few gimmies.”
“Thanks Sky, I'll watch that. It's too bad Central didn't bring a better guard with them.” The boys slapped high-fives as Grace fiddled in her purse for car keys. André peered through the windows of the SUV to see if she'd locked them inside, but two large boxes caught his attention instead. “Ma, what are those?”
Grace glanced up with her keyless remote in hand. “Oh, just a little something for a hotshot freshman point guard and his personal statistician.” She unlocked the rear doors with a steady eye on the fellows, noting their curiosity. “It appearsthat a very famous Dallas Maverick wanted to say thanks to a couple of deserving fans.”
André's eyes grew wide as he tore into the first box. “Ahh, Ma, basketballs signed by All-World Allen Foray!” He shoved the second box into Skyler's waiting arms, then dove back into the other goodies at the bottom of the one he'd claimed for his own. Grace stood back, out of the way, as both boys rifled through professional basketball marketingapparel and NBA-approved knickknacks.
“Miss H!” Skyler cheered. “Ah, man, this is old-school hype. Can I keep the throwback jersey?”
“Yes, of course,” Grace shrugged, feeling like a mother with two sons. She understood the marketing ploy behind old-school nostalgic jerseys, but failed to understand why it was so fashionable to wear something brand new that was carefully manufactured to look twenty years old. “I met with Allen yesterday for a bit of business and told him how much of a role model he was,” she recounted. “Then he had this stuff sent over afterward. No big deal.”
“No big deal!” the boys chuckled in unison. “Women just don't know.”
Allen had scored major points with Grace's son, so his conning strategy to get in through the back door was in full tilt. She figured he'd show up again, merely by chance of course, and then lay on the charm with her the best way he knew how. The sad thing was, at Allen's age, he didn't know nearly enough about grown women to pull it off.
“You're the greatest, Miss Hilliard,” Skyler thanked her with big, round, adoring eyes.
“Yeah Ma, the greatest,” added André, without taking his eyes off his new toys.
He was still a boy after all,
she thought, like a small child on Christmas morning after she had been taken to the cleaners by department store advertisements promoting good tidings and bad credit.
He was still a boy after all,
she thought, like a small child on Christmas morning after she had been taken to the cleaners by department store advertisements promoting good tidings and bad credit.
Suddenly Grace remembered another thing: she'd forgottenher marketing reports in the bleachers. “Hey guys, I'll be right back. Keep an eye on the car.”
Without hesitation, she marched back toward the metal gymnasium doors, where the sweaty pervert was turning the locks. “Could you wait a second? I need to get something!” she yelled, when it was obvious he'd seen Grace approaching but couldn't have cared less. “I know you're not trying to close that door while I'm standing here!” She couldn't believe his utter disregard and rudeness.
“Too late,” the stumpy cash-box handler fired back. “I'm locking up.”
“How long do you think they'll lock you up when I tell the school board about your high-school-girls-gone-wild cheerleader fantasies?” The sweaty doorkeeper smirked sheer displeasure at being called out. “Uh-huh, I saw you looking real hard at those underaged girls, and I'm sure their parents would take offense to that,” Grace added, stepping past him while his mouth hung open.
Freak!
Freak!
Relieved that her important files were still where she'd left them, Grace sorted through the stack to ensure none had fallen through to the floor beneath the stands. Her smile dissolvedas she descended the bleacher steps. There was a man, a fine one, discussing the game with André's coach. Grace assumed he was one of the other player's parents, a married parent at that, so she tried not to stare too hard.
“Oh my goodness,” someone whispered. Grace was mortifiedwhen both men turned toward her after hearing the whispers as well, indicating that those words had not only come out of her mouth, but also had come out much louder than she'd thought.
“Excuse me,” said the handsome gentleman with caramel-coloredskin and flawless features.
“Nothing, just almost slipped,” she lied, avoiding eye contact.
Don't look back
, she thought to herself.
Grace, don't you dare look back at him.
And wouldn't you know, when she did glance over her shoulder, he was still there wearing the same curious expression and gazing in her direction.She thought,
Some sistah is a very lucky woman, Grace, just keep right on moving.
She assumed that Mr. Oh-My-Goodnesshad to be attached because he was so well groomed and looked too adorable in his navy sports coat and khaki slacks to be unattached.
Don't look back
, she thought to herself.
Grace, don't you dare look back at him.
And wouldn't you know, when she did glance over her shoulder, he was still there wearing the same curious expression and gazing in her direction.She thought,
Some sistah is a very lucky woman, Grace, just keep right on moving.
She assumed that Mr. Oh-My-Goodnesshad to be attached because he was so well groomed and looked too adorable in his navy sports coat and khaki slacks to be unattached.
“You want to unlock that chain!” Grace barked at the doorkeeper standing too close for comfort. He glared at her briefly and then unlocked the chains he'd placed around the door handles. “Like you didn't know I'd be coming back the same way,” she hissed. The man stepped aside as she strutted down the steps to the parking lot, and out of his life.
As Grace approached the boys, still ogling the sportswear she'd given them, she opened her car door, then stole a glance back at the gym, wondering if the well-dressed man inside was thinking about her, too. She shrugged and shook it off when it occurred to her that it probably didn't matter. He
had
to belong to someone. He had to.
had
to belong to someone. He had to.
“Good night, Skyler. Take care. André, let's roll,” Grace announced hurriedly after noticing that neither of the boys were eager to relinquish their moment of enjoyment. “We've got to get home,” she added when her son frowned. Grace rolled her eyes in return and sentenced him to silence. “Don't ask, Dré. Don't ask.” She didn't know exactly what she was running from, but something about that man had made her nervous, nervous and foolish. That's why she couldn't wait to see him again, even if it was for just a hot minute to investigate those striking features of his one more time. There was no harm in just looking at another woman's man, Grace reasoned all the way home, unless he was the kind of man who made her feel nervous and foolish.
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