The Odd Ballerz (9 page)

“Yes, that’s true, and you
did
warn me,” he said, staring into her eyes. “You aren’t very coordinated, which surprises me, given your sister. But even allowing for that, it doesn’t explain the amount of falling that you do. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was better today than Monday, a small improvement, but still an improvement,” he said, using his thumb and pointer finger to show her just how small her improvement had been.

“And your speed is both equally good and confusing; maybe it could be great if we could somehow keep you upright. So yes to answer your question, I
am
wondering why? How? What? Maybe there is more to this than mere sucking, more than just clumsiness.”

“Wow, all that, huh,” she said, chuckling.

“Have you ever spoken to a professional?” he asked, ignoring her attempt to make light of all he’d said.

“I thought you were a professional,” she said. He was silent, wearing such a look of infinite patience at her answer—so like her dad and the looks he used to give her after she said something equally as smart-mouthed. She was thirteen all over again. “I was a clumsy child, who grew into the clumsy adult. Alex is the athlete in our family, took every athletic gene, except maybe two or three, and our middle sister took those,” she said, serious now too.

“That’s one theory,” he said, staring into her eyes, sensing extreme discomfort from her and that fear thing again
and
she hadn’t answered his question, which had not gone unnoticed. He smiled. “See you Friday, and don’t be late. You’re down to your last strike,” he said.

“I do have a business to run, you know.”

“No excuses, Jones,” he said, and then he was peeling away from her, leaving her alone with a few questions of her own.

# # #

Memphis was pulling into her driveway when her cell phone rang. It was Alex calling, of course.

“Are you going to call me after every camp session?” Memphis said by way of greeting.

“Are you going to be late to every session?”

“What? Who told you I was late? Coach Z? I wasn’t late.”

“No. He’s not the only person I know. I have other sources. You can’t keep showing up late, Memphis.”

“Coach D, he’s the one telling on me then. He’s your age. I don’t believe Coach Harris would tell on me. He likes me, or he’s encouraging, at least.”

“It might help if you weren’t late all the time.”

“What’s all the time? Two practices does not all the time make, and if I make the rest, my average will be about, what, 78 percent, which isn’t that bad, considering I have a business to run. I told you it would take me a minute to reorganize my schedule, to fit in my visits to the camp of the little boys. I’d like to point out that I did, in fact, make it in time to run my laps.”

“Barely?” Alex asked.

“Yes, but barely counts,” Memphis said, somewhat mollified. “I’ll be on time from here on out. I promise.”

“Thanks. So how was practice otherwise?” Alex asked.

“Okay, I guess. It’s going to take me a while to get used to running two laps. I’m really only running the first one, the second is a fast walk at best. I’m still tripping over my feet, still can’t catch a cold, let alone a football. I did warn you. Did your informant coach tell you that?” Memphis asked.

“Yes, I heard all of that. Your time in the forty is encouraging though, so the rest will take time perhaps. Do you think it might be nerves?”

“And what would I have to be nervous about?”

“Don’t know, maybe Z? I know you like him. You’re not the first, so don’t bother denying it. It affects your ability when he’s around.”

“No… it does not. Is that what he thinks?” she asked.

“I have no idea what he thinks and if that’s not it, then it’s not that important anyway, so moving on. Friday is assessment day. You know that, right? Campers will be divided into two groups, those that will play the line and those that could play the more skilled positions.”

“I’m not sure I’m strong on what the difference is between the two, but where do you think I fit?”

“Maybe skilled positions… your time in the forty puts you well into that group. We’ll see. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” Alex said.

“Yep, later,” Memphis said, disconnecting the call.

Thursday

A
ten o’clock appointment followed by a search for lunch put Memphis back at her office at about one in the afternoon. She removed her lunch, purse, and laptop from the passenger seat of her car before locking it. A quick trip across the parking lot would deliver her to the front door of her office. She was starving and eager to dive into the salad she’d picked up on the drive here.

She had been an insurance agent for the last ten years, and here at this location for the last five. A freestanding, small brick building was home to Foundation Insurance Agency. “The bedrock of your life” was its motto. The location was ideal, situated between two major car dealerships, both of which were great clients of hers. She had worked hard to make sure she was the first person they thought of for their insurance needs.

It was some kind of hot outside today, she thought, glad to have worn a light summer dress. She dressed to impress and she loved clothes designed specifically with her taste and figure, all courtesy of Frankie of the Frankie’s House of Fashion fame; a young local seamstress Memphis had met long ago while taking classes at the local junior college. Frankie had opened a shop of her own, and Memphis had become a walking billboard for her designs.

“Aubrey’s on her way in,” Amanda, her assistant, said, greeting her at the front door. “She called ten minutes ago, so there is still time for you to turn around and leave,” she said, glancing out the window. “Nope, too late, she’s parking. You’ll have to sneak out the back if you have any hope of missing her now,” Amanda said, staring out of the front window. Memphis turned to look, and yes, Aubrey was parking her cute little Mini Cooper in the empty spot besides her Xterra.

“I don’t understand what you have against her,” Memphis said.

“It’s a feeling and I’m out—lunch—be back in an hour.”

“Perfect timing for you.”

“Exactly,” Amanda said, and winked, reaching for her purse. Amanda was another clothes horse. It wasn’t worth wearing if it wasn’t designer label, although high-end-store, cost-a-fortune designer clothes were Amanda’s preference.

“See you later,” Memphis said, scanning the room on the way to her office in the back. She wanted to put her purse and laptop away before she took over manning the front desk.

She liked her office. She was leasing it and the owner had recently renovated, giving it a more modern look. The large floor to ceiling windows at the front of the building allowed plenty sun to shine into the main room of a three-room office space. A big sofa—wheat colored, sat immediately to the right of the front door. Mahogany and green throw pillows lay against the sofa, matching the color of the faux-treated walls. All of it worked together perfectly with the oak wood floors to create a warm, and hospitable space.

The receptionist counter, a.k.a. Amanda’s corner, was to the left of the door. It had been raised a foot above the rest of the room. A large wraparound counter that reminded Memphis of an airplane’s cockpit sat between Amanda and their customers. A hallway led away from the main room to a small kitchen and then to her office.

Memphis was standing beside the desk in her office now, stuffing her purse into a drawer. She had to bend to do it, and the screaming from her muscles reminded her of her recent athletic activities. She ached everywhere, it seemed.

She walked back to the front room, carrying her salad. She usually sat at Amanda’s desk when she was filling in for her. Today it was a detour over to the front door, where Amanda stood outside on the sidewalk, engaged in conversations with her friend. She hadn’t escaped after all.

“Hey,” Memphis said, holding the door open for Aubrey. They had been friends since grade school, had lived next door to each other growing up, but really it wasn’t until Memphis’s dad passed and her mother sort of gave up on life that she and Aubrey had become close. Aubrey had followed her into the insurance business.

“Guess what?” Aubrey said.

“What?”

“Somebody’s leaving.”

“Really? Do I know them?”

“Yes. It’s your mentor, Billie. I heard from a reliable source that she is planning to retire soon.”

“Really?” Memphis asked, taking a seat on the couch. She had learned never to discount her friend’s news sources. Aubrey was well connected, worked at it, way more than Memphis did.

I’m surprised you didn’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if she picked you to take her place,” Aubrey said.

Billie was the current district manager of their region and an old friend of Memphis’s, one who had helped her when she needed it badly. She tried not to lean or misuse her friendships, which in her opinion included asking for job-related favors. She wanted to make her own way and she had. From meager beginnings and low expectations to successful. It was intoxicating to learn your worth and power. No way did she want that diluted by accepting favors.

“Yes, really. It’s only a consideration for now, a serious one, I’m told. I bet if you called her she’d tell you. But you won’t, will you? Even though you’re interested, as am I.”

“Call her? Nope. And what’s this? I thought you were happy with the life of an agent,” Memphis said, smiling.

“I thought I was too, but I’ve realized that I can take on more responsibility. I think it was more that I didn’t want to interfere or ruin your chances. I have contacts too. People who look out for me,” Aubrey said.

“I know you do, and you really shouldn’t worry about ruining my chances,” Memphis said, smiling.

“Touché,” Aubrey said, chuckling. “You’re right. You can more than hold your own in this business.”

“Thanks for the compliment. Not in everything can I hold my own, but in this, yes. You’ve always been upfront with me. I also know you have this idea that you have to look out for me. You don’t. So if you want to apply, then apply. I think our friendship can survive a little competition. I’ll either get the position because I’m the best candidate or I won’t. I’m sure I won’t be the only one applying, you know,” Memphis said, smiling.

“Old habits. And I’ve been watching out for you since grade school. Good, then. Are you free tomorrow for dinner? I think I’ve found a new someone for you to meet.”

“I don’t know. Your picks and I don’t seem to mesh well, but even if I was interested, I can’t. I have camp. I’m a camper now,” Memphis said, smiling.

“A what?” Aubrey asked, taking a seat on the couch.

“A camper at Elite Training Camp. Remember that bet I made with Alex?”

“The one where you have to play for her football team. What’s their name again?”

“The Austin Ballerz, and yes, that one. Alex signed me up to take part in this two-week camp as a prequel to the tryouts. They will assess you and teach you the fundamentals of the game. I’ve attended two sessions already, on Monday and Wednesday,” Memphis said, laughing. “I have four more. Friday and then three days next week and I’m done. Yes!!” she added.

“You!” Aubrey said, laughing too, and it took her awhile to stop. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Better than I thought,” Memphis said, and grinned. Which was sort of the truth. She was terrible still, but not as terrible as she used to be.

“Okay, let’s see, how can I ask this delicately so your feelings won’t be hurt?”

“What? Just say it. Am I still the same clumsy?”

“I was going to say it nicer than that.”

“A little. I’ve gotten better. Really,” she said to her friend’s expression of doubt. “It’s totally not a problem anymore.”

“Good for you. So you’re taking this football thing seriously?”

“No, not that it matters. I lost a bet so in that way, I’m committed.”

“Well, good for you for showing up and trying,” Aubrey said.

“It’s not all me, the coach that’s training us is another reason to stick around if I’m ever able to get my feet to cooperate.”

“Cute?”

“Is too mild a word, fine is more like it. I looked him up. There are lots and lots of pics of him on the Internet. I could sit and stare at him all day. Come. Look. See,” Memphis said, chuckling, happy to change the conversation to something other than her athletic limitations. She walked over to Amanda’s desk. Aubrey followed her, looked over her shoulder as she typed in Zachary Sloan.

“See,” Memphis said, turning the computer screen to give Aubrey a better view. Z covered the screen, decked out in his Seattle Seahawks uniform, eyes steely and visibly determined above the bar of his helmet.

“
He’s
the coach of the Austin Ballerz?”

“Assistant coach, in charge of offense.”

“Nice, and what’s this? He’s not African American. I thought that was a hard and fast rule with you,” Aubrey said, hitting a key, moving to a few of the other images of Z in his football gear. “What happened to only men of African descent?”

Memphis shrugged, staring at the computer screen.

“So you think he’s interested?” Aubrey asked.

“In me? Not even. Do I look like the women in those pictures?” Memphis asked, pointing to the female images on the screen.

“So that’s a no, you’re not interested in him?” Aubrey asked, in lieu of answering.

Memphis shrugged again. “No… but even if I were, you’re more like the women in the pictures than I am,” Memphis said, taking a seat in Amanda’s chair, pretending to give Aubrey the once over.

She was well aware of Aubrey’s looks, as was Aubrey. She made the most of her slim, athletic build, dressed her body differently than Memphis, but it was all about accentuating her thinner, lankier frame. “You two are the same tall. You’re, what? Six feet?” Memphis asked, examining her friend.

“Yes.”

“He’s a little bit taller. You’re super fit, like they appear to be,” Memphis said, pointing to the screen again. “I’d be interested in you if I were him.”

“Maybe I should come out and try out with you then,” Aubrey said, chuckling.

“Tryouts don’t happen until later in the year. Sometime in the fall I think. Alex signed me up for this camp so I’d have time to learn some of the football basics,” she said, chuckling. “And this camp is filled with nothing but boys. Middle school aged boys mostly, and a few early high school,” Memphis said, reading the expression of horror on her friend’s face. She laughed.