Whisper Privileges (10 page)

“You okay?”

Surprised by the question he asked, “Sure,
why wouldn’t I be?”

“You had a faraway look there for a
minute.”

“Case of parental nerves, I guess.” He slid
the phone back in place.

“You’re nervous?”

It sounded odd coming from her. She was an
athlete—should be a pro. She probably never got nervous, but him?
He was just a dad trying to do right by his kid. Clay shrugged it
off with a laugh. “This is the first time he’s been on a plane
without me.” His humor faded. “Feels kinda strange.”

“Are you worried something’s going to
happen?”

“Nah.” Pulling his head up, he waved it off
with a toss of his chin. “It’s just new terrain for me. You spend
so much time doing for your child that when they don’t need you,
it’s sometimes hard to know what to do with yourself.”

“You can help me check on the bus schedule,”
she offered. “We had a few hiccups earlier and I need to make sure
everything has been fixed.”

He paused and held her in his gaze. “Would
you like to meet him?”

“Who?”

“Q. If you’re not doing anything when his
plane arrives, that is. I don’t want to interfere with your work.”
From what he gathered, her job was all she had outside volleyball.
And Q liked meeting fellow athletes. It made him feel more solid in
his accomplishments when they recognized him as the same.

“Sure,” she replied. “No problem. I’m here
all day and you see what I do.” She held her hands out as if to say
“not much.”

He’d take it for what it was worth. He and Q
were strangers to her.

“But right now, I have to go check the
schedule.”

Clay followed her to the terminal and held
the door open. It was a simple gesture but her nearness as she
passed held a particular allure for him. Walking shoulder to
shoulder with a woman was a new experience for him, one he found
definitely appealed to him. Hell, he enjoyed just watching her.
Strolling behind her, he marveled at the fluidity with which she
moved, the way her broad shoulders held steady as she walked, her
hips swaying ever so slightly as long muscular legs swept forward
and back. And then there was her butt. It was incredible, really,
how her backside could remain so full and luscious while the rest
of her was lean and mean. Rocking gently side to side, it was fast
becoming one of his favorite features.

Inside the hangar, card tables were lined
along the walls with volunteers posted at each. Signs taped to the
front indicated their purpose. Most folks sat in folding chairs
while others stood, directing athletes this way and that. Sydney
stopped at a table manned by several older women and asked them,
“Have we heard from the bus company?”

The woman in the center flooded with relief.
“Yes. In fact they just called.”

“What was the hold up?”

“Traffic.”

“Excuse me. Ms. Flores?”

Both heads turned at the sound of her name. A
woman dressed in a pale pink T-shirt, navy blue slacks and white
sneakers walked over to them. “I’m glad I found you,” she uttered
with exaggerated relief. The Mayor has been looking for you.”

“Mayor Cortez?”

“Yes. Told me to tell you to call his cell
when I found you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a
business card. She handed it to Sydney. “The number’s written on
the back.”

“Someone’s important,” Clay murmured at her
shoulder.

But Sydney ignored him. “Okay,” she said,
staring at the card as though it were poisonous to the touch.
Retrieving it, she mumbled, “Thank you.”

Clay noticed a marked distress in her voice.
“Trouble?”

She looked up at him. “Trouble? No, why would
you ask?”

“You don’t look very happy.”

“Mayor wants to have lunch... I need to call
him.”

“Any chance I can claim you first?”

She flipped him an unreadable gaze. “It’s a
bit more complicated than that.”

Had he crossed the line? Pushed too hard? But
if she left now, he might not get to see her again and he had yet
to secure a dinner date with her—the only reason he came to the
airport early. As she pulled the slim phone from her front pocket,
he asked, “Will I see you after lunch?”

Her expression clouded. “Don’t know.”

Clay thought he detected a hint of
disappointment on her end as well, but couldn’t be sure. “I’ll be
here until four.” She nodded and Clay watched her go, his mind
softly registering the sway of her hips. He wondered if the lunch
was business or pleasure. From her first reaction, it didn’t appear
she was looking forward to the date. But could that have been
because of him? Charlie’s caution came to mind.
If you can’t do
something to further her career, she ain’t interested
. His
spirits dipped. Lunch with the Mayor sure seemed like a primo
advancement opportunity for an event planner. An event planner he
was beginning to like.

# # #

Standing alone, anticipation mixed with
nerves as Clay watched for his son’s plane. With a hand held to
shade his eyes, he searched the horizon and wondered if Q was
nervous about landing in such a small plane. Not that these jets
were anything to sneeze at, but his boy had only flown twice in his
life and commercial planes were three times the size of these. In
fact, he could barely make them out against the glare of the
sun.

“There he is, coming in on final.” Clay
turned at the sound of her voice, a surge of pleasure coursing
through him. Sydney pointed toward the sky. “I think that’s
him.”

“You have good eyes.”

She shrugged it off. “I’ve been watching for
specs in the sky all day.” She tipped a smile his way. “You start
to get the hang of it after a while.”

He knew she did a lot more than watch for
planes, but one thing he had learned about Sydney, the woman didn’t
take compliments very well. “You’re too modest.”

She swiped him with a sideways glance.
“Hardly.”

“How was lunch?”

“It was food.”

“That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good—it just
was
,” she emphasized the last word as though signaling it
was time to end the conversation.

“Unexciting,” he defined and hoped she’d
agree.

“Business.”

“Ah...” Clay bet it meant more to the Mayor
than business. Usually did when lunch involved a beautiful young
woman. But considering she seemed a bit uptight about the whole
thing, he decided to let it go, content with the fact she had
returned to stand watch with him. Within a few minutes, his son’s
plane hit the runway, tires spinning smoke as they hit
pavement.

“Touch down,” he said quietly and forced
himself to relax. The closer the games came to becoming reality,
the more looming the sensation he felt over what they meant. Q was
a natural for the gold. His times were unbeatable which meant after
winning the nationals, he moved onto eligibility for the World
Games, scheduled for Brazil. There were no guarantees he’d get in,
what with the quota system in place. Hundreds of athletes were
interested in going, but the Special Olympics only had so many
spots. It was a random draw, but one he wanted Q to partake in.

“Safe and sound,” she commented.

Clay expelled a sigh. “Safe and sound.”

She smiled at his concern. “I bet you’re a
good dad.”

“I try to be.” And he liked it when others
noticed his effort. After Trish left, he wasn’t sure how he would
fare in
life
much less the whole parenting thing. He had a
full-time job, a business to manage, but when she walked out he
lost his position. It had to happen. He accepted the fact.
Resentment rolled through his gut. But one thing became stone-cold
certain after the divorce. He wouldn’t stroll out of Q’s life just
because it was uncomfortable. Unlike his mother.

“Can’t be easy being a single parent.”

“Q makes it easy,” he said, his heart pumping
harder as his son’s plane drew near.

“What colors does South Carolina wear?”

“Red and white.” He pulled at his shirt, eyes
fixed on the sleek, white jet as it taxied to a stop.

Sydney didn’t say anything else, content to
wait with him while the plane door opened and the first team
members filed out.

“There.” He pointed, angst turning to thrill.
“That’s Q.”

Poised at the top of the stairs, the boy
spotted Clay immediately and waved.

Clay waved back, pride spilling from his
seams. Q was here and looked good.

“He’s tall, isn’t he?”

“My father’s six three,” Clay told her, but
his gaze remained fixed on his son. Q handled the stairs with ease
and raced through the welcoming line, straight for his dad. Clay
absorbed the hit as he lunged. He pulled his boy into a powerful
hug, his gangly body warm and angled within his embrace. “Hey,
buddy!”

“We’re in Miami!” he exclaimed, his voice
exuding a sluggish texture.

“That we are, ace.” He released his son. “You
ready to rock?”

The boy grinned and nodded vigorously. “Ready
to rock...”

“Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Clay turned to Sydney and felt an uncharacteristic zip of nerves as
he said, “This is my friend Sydney. Sydney Flores.”

Q nodded to her, but didn’t face her.

“She’s an athlete,” Clay prodded. “She plays
volleyball and she’s pretty good.”

“Hi Q.”

“Hi,” he returned shyly, but still refused to
look at her.

“Nice to meet you.”

Q nodded, indicating that he heard, and Clay
hugged him to his side and released. While his son wasn’t overly
sensitive to touch, he did have his limits.

“I hear you’re a great swimmer,” Sydney
offered.

His cheeks flushed bright red and he kicked
at the ground. “Thanks.”

“I’m looking forward to watching you swim
this week.”

“I’m pretty fast,” he said, tapping his gaze
to hers before quickly shoving it back toward the ground.

She laughed. “That’s what I understand!”

“I can swim fifty meters in thirty-eight
point two seconds,” he stated plainly.

She let out a low whistle and glanced at
Clay. He nodded it was true. “That’s impressive.”

Though Q wouldn’t make eye contact with
Sydney, Clay knew his son was pleased by the recognition of his
abilities. As a father, it was one of the things he liked best
about swimming competitively with the Special Olympics. It had
really drawn Q out of his shell. He’d developed friendships with
some of his teammates and where he used to avoid talking to
strangers altogether, they could at least engage him in talk of
swimming. Not shy in the least when it came to discussing his
times, either. Clay hugged him again. The boy was a true Rutledge,
through and through. Racing was in their blood. “Listen, she’s
working at the events, so you’ll probably see her around a lot,
okay?”

He nodded again.

“Q!” The coach waved him over for
pictures.

Clay patted him on the back. “Better get
going, big guy. They’re waiting for you.”

The prospect of his teammates waiting for him
for a photo shoot electrified him. “See you later, Dad!” He dashed
off to be with his fellow athletes, pulling a tiny bit of Clay with
him.

“He’s great, Clay.”

“Thanks.”

“I can see why you’re so proud of him.”

Clay felt a pride so full it was near
impossible to explain. It was hard for anyone to understand how
deeply he felt about his son’s swimming and the progress he’d made,
unless they went through it themselves. The trauma, the triumph,
the whole new world that now belonged to him. It was hard to
quantify. Hard to put into words where she could fully understand.
“I am,” he replied and left it at that.

After the brief stint with pictures, the
group headed for the terminal, Clay and Sydney more tagalongs than
members of the South Carolina delegation. But he didn’t mind. He
liked hanging with Sydney. She was a nice blend of casual and
competence, innocence and sass. She didn’t miss a beat when it came
to business, but she also knew when to take it easy. Made his time
in Miami all the sweeter. He stole a glance of her backside and
corrected himself. Sweeter?
Make that hotter
. He leaned
toward her and hushed his tone, “So how about that dinner?”

She angled her head toward him, but kept her
eyes on the team. “What about Q?”

“We’re about to send him off to the dorms,
then I’m free as a bird.”

She looked at him and the dark flutter of her
lashes nearly unleashed him. “Doesn’t he want you to ride with
him?”

“Look at him,” he said, wanting nothing more
than to reach for her hand, her arm, lay a wet kiss on her lips.
“You tell me. What do you think?”

Sydney peered at the boy surrounded by his
friends and fellow athletes.

“What do you say?”

She stopped and Clay stopped with her.
“Clay—”

“Do you have a boyfriend you’re not telling
me about?”

She practically scoffed at the notion. “I
don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Do you have time for dinner? Around
seven?”

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude. I’d like to
but I’m going to be an escort for Team Florida tomorrow and I
really think it’s best if I get some sleep.”

“Sleep to walk into the stadium?”

Sydney left the question hanging between
them. With a lackluster wave, she bid him goodbye. “I’ll see you
around?”

Chapter Eight

“Please welcome, from right here in the
Sunshine State, Team Florida!”

Sydney’s pulse thumped between her ears as
she trailed alongside the athletes, their arrival heralded by
lively trumpets blasting through the sound system. Decked out in
orange T-shirts and white shorts, waving aqua flags overhead,
Sydney could feel the kids’ excitement as they bounded in to
thunderous applause, the theme song to
Rocky
pulsating in
the background.
Da
da-da da da-da da da-da daaaa
...