Chapter 25
I knew this day would one day come, my last professional game. I felt emotional and terrified that it wouldn’t be one of my better games. I didn’t want to go out like that ... I was scared my knee would give away. I desperately wanted to play well for the team, and because The Russian was going to be in the audience with his friends.
“I’m so nervous, it’s insane,” I said, trying to shake myself out. I was in the kitchen at The Russian’s place on Saturday morning, having another glass of water before I left.
He came up beside me, took the glass from my hand and turned me around.
“I understand, but let’s look at this. You’ve played games that have been more important,” he reminded me.
I nodded, feeling the security of his arms as he stood in front of me, looking delicious in his low slung jeans and a white t-shirt, which really set off his tan and muscles. I was in my Suns’ uniform, ready to go.
“You’re right, we’ve had semi-finals and finals that have been more important.”
“So,” he continued, “what’s the worst that could happen?” He pressed his body against mine, and I was temporarily distracted by his erection pressing against me.
I thought about his words. “The worst that could happen is that I have a really dud game and it’s my last game ever,” I said, breathing out.
“You’ve got enough medals and tin on your shelf not to need this game to prove your worth,” The Russian reminded me. “Just go out there, look flashy and confident, give it your best, remember what you’ve loved about playing and take a bow at the end,” he said, and kissed me on the top of my head. “Besides, you look very hot in your uniform.”
I smiled and moved closer to hug him.
“You’re right, thank you. I’ll focus on the moment and the competition, rivalry, fun ...” I said.
“That’s my girl.”
I pulled away. “You’ll bring my ...”
“…bag. I’ll bring your bag and change of clothes,” he said, assuring me again.
“And you’ve got your tickets and ...”
“VIP passes, I’ve got them,” he assured me.
“And you know our sign?” I asked.
The Russian took my hand and kissed it, placing it on his heart ... very old fashioned and sexy.
“I know it,” he said, and smiled at me.
“What?” I asked.
“So this is what you’re like before a game. I get it,” he said. “Now go, see you there and don’t forget to enjoy it.” He saw me down to my car and gave me another kiss.
I drove off full of butterflies – excitement, nerves, and a tinge of sadness as I’d never get to play with my Suns’ teammates again. But at least I’d be at most matches reporting the game from the commentary box ... that was almost as good. I also knew that at the end of the season, some would be retiring or traded or be dropped ... nothing stayed the same for long in professional sport – the Suns I knew wouldn’t be next season’s Suns.
I wondered which ten friends the Russian would be bringing ... well, nine plus himself. He wouldn’t tell me. Maybe his family? Maybe some Saints, maybe some friends I hadn’t met yet? Then I pulled into the Suns’ home ground for the last time as a player, and into the players’ parking lot. I looked at the car that pulled up beside me, and Steffi was at the wheel. She waved enthusiastically and we walked in together.
“So good to play together again,” she said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. We could easily reach each other.
We entered the very familiar dressing rooms and got into our usual routines. Our opposing team, the Seattle Sky, were already there and milling around their area as well.
Coach entered and we all quietened down for her update.
“Carla, if you can do a media interview on court fifteen minutes before the game, Latoya at half-time, and Lia and I will do post-match,” she said.
I nodded my understanding and Coach went on to give us a briefing and updates on player changes for the opposition. I was pumped, so were the other girls, and in the stadium you could hear the fans arriving. It was going to be big; the noise was already drifting into our changing rooms. When Coach finished, Aimee and I snuck out to have a quick look, and the place was pumping. The merchandise booth had a huge queue, membership sales for next year had a few people signing up and there were stacks of fans in our colors and those of the opposition, getting food and drinks, or photos with our mascots.
I heard some cheers and a lot of noise from the entranceway – what was going on? Then I saw them ... The Russian had brought his big gun mates from the Saints and they were heading to the VIP area.
Aimee nudged me. “Friends in high places, huh?” she teased. “Now we know who The Russian invited to share his VIP box with.”
“Great, like I wasn’t nervous enough,” I said. “So much easier playing in front of fans and strangers!”
“While being broadcast around the nation,” Aimee reminded me.
“And there’s that,” I agreed, “but you forget about the cameras when you’re in the heat of the moment.”
“Mm,” she nodded. “I bet you’ll forget The Russian and his friends are watching the moment that whistle blows to start play.”
I watched as Lucas and Mia entered, along with Eddie and Tiffany, and moments later Nik and Sasha entered with Harry, the youngest Saints’ team member, and another guy whom I didn’t recognize, but he must have been a friend of Harry’s. I was sure Sasha was looking forward to going to a sports game and not having to work for a change.
The media cameras went from our court over to the Saints, and kids swarmed them for autographs. Security held the kids back from the VIP area, but Lucas and Nik went out to sign some shirts and caps for the kids, and a few other body parts for female fans. There was no sign of The Russian ... I hoped he was okay, I hoped he was still coming. Of course he’d be coming, why wouldn’t he? I was getting as bad as he was.
“There’s your boy,” Aimee said, and I looked in the direction she was looking.
There was my beautiful Russian – dressed for the VIP area in a black button down shirt, with gray pants and black shoes. His short back and sides haircut highlighted those high cheek bones, accentuating his strong chiseled jaw.
“Gorgeous,” Aimee muttered. “Who’s that with him?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s Tia, his little sister, she’s ten.”
So cute the two of them together, and he was so protective of her with his hand on her shoulder. They were in the merchandise line and she was picking out what Suns items she wanted, The Russian was listening patiently. He looked up and his eyes scoped the area, seeing Lucas over in the stands and giving him a wave. Then he looked towards our dressing room, and his eyes finally landed on Aimee and me hiding against the wall; his eyes locked on me. He smiled and I think I orgasmed.
I smiled back and both Aimee and I gave him this starstruck wave. The Russian leaned down and whispered something to Tia and she looked in our direction, trying to find us. When she saw me, I got a huge grin and exaggerated wave as she jumped on the spot with excitement. The Russian shook his head and I laughed. It had taken only a few minutes before the crowd realized who he was and he started getting mobbed in the line. He moved Tia in front of him and again glanced in my direction. I waved and, grabbing Aimee’s arm, we disappeared back into our Suns’ allocated rooms. As we walked down the hallway, Maria from marketing passed me and stopped, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Carla, you’re a legend,” she gushed.
“I haven’t played yet,” I said, confused.
She waved her phone at me. “Social media is going berserk! Our game is trending everywhere ... there are pictures of you girls arriving and the Saints arriving, and it’s all over everything. We’ve had a huge jump in membership sales ... like this is the place to be.”
“That’s great,” I brightened. “Good for the club.”
“Good for the club,” she repeated, rolling her eyes as though I had discovered gold and thought it was tin. “It’s huge. We’ve never sold this many packages before the start of a new season ... you’re making my job easy. Promise me when you’re commentating Suns games next year, you’ll bring your friends,” she said, cocking her head in the direction of the VIP area.
“Ah, I’ll do my best,” I said. Then I remembered I had to do the media interview and raced back out to the entrance of our run, with a few minutes to spare. The TV crew were there waiting. It was funny being interviewed by Catherine, who was one of my new commentary team buddies in my new job.
“A big day for you and it looks like you’ve brought the crowd with you,” Catherine said, holding the microphone over to me.
“A very exciting day,” I agreed, “and the Suns are wrapped to have this turnout, thanks to all our fans, followers and other local teams that are supporting us,” I said without blatantly mentioning the hunky row of Saints and their partners sitting opposite, or that The Russian had paid some obscene amount to purchase those seats.
“The Suns and Sky are no strangers on the basketball court,” Catherine continued. “Last time you played them, the Suns lost 53 to 55. Got some tricks up your sleeve today?”
I grinned at Catherine. “It was a tough match and the time before we beat them by an equally slim margin ... so I think that today the fans will see two well-matched teams, both trying desperately to win. And yes, always a few tricks up our sleeves.”
“Well, enjoy your last Suns’ game and congratulations on a stellar career. Ladies and gentlemen, Carla Brooker,” Catherine said to the camera and the audience.
I nodded my thanks, gave a wave to all, and jogged back into the run, but not without a quick glance to my heartbeat in the VIP area. Our eyes locked for those few moments and I recharged. I returned to the changing rooms for my final rah-rah, psyche up, pre-match session with my girls. Game on.