Chapter 4
Wednesday night was club dinner night with my Suns’ team—my soon-to-be old team—and even though I had to stop playing mid-season for the Santa Ana Suns, I was still included in club night. My two besties—Steffi who played shooting guard and Aimee who played center—always kept a space for me next to them. I missed them; I missed playing, the discipline, the excitement, the routine ... the only thing I didn’t miss were the injuries.
Aimee was an Amazon, one of the tallest in the team; I swear she could look The Russian in the eye. You expected her to be tough with her size, but she was a big sook; she cried over sad commercials! She was exotically beautiful – her mother was originally from Jamaica and her father from Sweden! Steffi, on the other hand, was a shorty, the shortest on the team at five-foot-eleven and she was thin like me. But unlike me—I seemed to sport a tan easily—Steffi was almost translucent ... I secretly thought she was a vampire, and she was a little too keen on that idea for my liking. I hadn’t started wearing neck scarves around her yet, but I was considering it. Me, I was somewhere between the two of them. One thing we had in common was that we could all pack away a fair quantity of pasta, particularly during the season.
“What are you wearing to the Ball?” Aimee asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve bought an off-the-shelf, slinky red number ... I won’t be able to eat on the night, or I’ll bust out of it.”
“I’m going nude,” Steffi said, and Aimee and I gasped. She rolled her eyes. “Not nude with nothing on, nude in color. It’s in, apparently. I have a fitted bodice and flowing skirt ... it’s very romantic.”
“Is Wilson coming?” I asked after her boyfriend.
“He wouldn’t miss it. He says my cooking is so bad that at least at the Ball he can get a decent feed,” she said, with a smirk.
“I’m bringing my cousin Roy,” Aimee rolled her eyes. “He’s visiting from Jersey City but I reckon he’s come knowing the Gala Ball is on and he wants to meet girls ... he’s been checking everyone out online. I think he’s a bit keen on you,” she said with a look in my direction. “Anyway, saves me finding a date, he’s not bad on the eye and he’s worth a fortune ... could be worse.”
“I’m bringing someone,” I said. I took a deep breath and smiled.
“Hold up, girlfriend,” Aimee said, “is this big news?”
I nodded. “This is huge news.”
A couple of the girls stopped talking around us and tuned in. I held the floor.
“It’s not a date,” I said, “so no one rush out and buy a hat for a wedding, we’re just friends. I’m bringing ...”
Steffi drummed on the table, preparing for my announcement.
“The Russian!” I said.
“Fuck me, no!” Aimee said.
“The Russian as in the gorgeous, huge, Saints player, the guy on the Timex billboard?” Steffi’s mouth dropped open.
I nodded enthusiastically. “That Russian.”
“How did you meet him?” Lia—six seats away from me—leaned over and asked. She must have bionic hearing.
“Are any other members of the team free? I need a date,” Karley asked. “Can you ask?”
I put up my hand to silence the pack. “I met him through work and then again at the gym ... we had a bet and I won ... so he has to come with me. Yes, that’s him wearing the beautiful sports watch on the Timex billboard,” I said, licking my lower lip like the cat that got the cream.
We got interrupted by a request from the other end of the table to pass the salt and to stop hogging the water jug, and I could hear the news working its way down the table. Eventually the buzz The Russian had created died down.
“So, what are you going to wear?” Aimee said, refocussing.
“I’m getting a dress made.”
“Ooh, I should think so,” Aimee gushed. “Last week you were wearing the green dress from your closet.”
“Time to retire that dress,” Steffi said.
“Really? I’m clearly clueless then because I thought it had plenty of life in it yet,” I sighed. “Josh said it and all my outfits sucked,” I said, whirling pasta on my fork.
“Josh would know, the man’s a style king,” Steffi said. “Besides, you want to look your best if you’re with The Russian. You two will be the ‘IT’ couple for the night.”
I imagined myself walking in on his arm – one of the hottest players in the league, with me! My whole body was tingling and in some places more than others.
“Lucky bitch,” Aimee said, hitting my arm.
I grinned. “Yeah, but he’s just a handbag for the night. I’d love to move him to the next stage ... body warmer.”
We giggled like schoolgirls; some things never changed, thank goodness.
*****
I know I shouldn’t have done it, but who can resist? Josh was spending the night at his boyfriend’s place, so after showering and making a cup of tea, I sat in front of my laptop and searched for The Russian and Leesa. If I searched for myself there were years and years of sports reports, action photos, team shots, trophy awards, national team photos, glamorous season launch shots, interviews and fan pages, you name it, but you wouldn’t find many of me with past boyfriends.
I’d had a few relationships including one that had lasted for two years—my longest—but never with fellow athletes. The guys didn’t have a profile and no one was really interested in who I was dating. I thought back to the last guy I took to the Suns’ Ball with me – Sam. I had been pretty wild for Sam; Sam had been pretty wild for Sam too and every other female in the room, so humiliating. Turns out he really just wanted to hang with me to help his prospects for getting a basketball coaching job with his college team, like it would make any difference.
I wondered if the girls were right; if The Russian and I going to the Ball together would fuel a few rumors.
I wished I hadn’t looked because there were hundreds of photos of The Russian and Leesa, and bummer, she was gorgeous. She had this long, wavy blonde hair and was petite and cute. She was a mixture of fashion plate and bohemian, and she looked gorgeous on the arm of the tall, handsome Russian. She was so not me.
There were plenty of stories, too, about her father, Harry Hart, one of the country’s most successful and rich film directors. It looked like Leesa had spent her life in the lap of luxury around studios and film stars. She was Hollywood, which begged the questions, how had she met and ended up with The Russian?
She had more followers than my entire basketball team on Facebook and Twitter. There were hundreds of shots of her with The Russian in a hundred poses – none of which he looked really comfortable in considering he wasn’t a stranger to getting his photo taken. There were shots of her driving her Mercedes, at openings with gal pals, cutting ribbons, modeling, partying, with her father, with famous actors ... crap. The Russian was not going to be interested in me after partying with a wild child, rich girl like Leesa. I was the gym locker type, she was a socialite.
I closed my laptop and began to coach myself. I didn’t need a man to make me feel complete, I was a successful, attractive, and intelligent woman. Friends have told me I have great legs and a good butt, my hair is one of my assets and God knows, I’m funny! Ha, yep ... I was going to enjoy a night out with another successful athlete and then ... move on.