Hidden in Lies (13 page)

Alex laughs quietly beside me. “You’re probably right about that. But don’t let it hurt your feelings.” Suddenly, I feel his breath hit my ear. “I think you’re way cooler than this shitty bus.” When I look over at him, he’s already pulled away. He winks before walking to the front of the bus to help escort me off. After days of no real interaction, having him that close sends butterflies racing to my stomach. I didn’t realize how much I had missed that feeling. My brain is telling me to get up and off the bus, but my legs just won’t work. And it’s all Alex’s damn fault.

Stupid wink.

“You coming, sweetheart? You got a lot of excited kids waiting.” He flashes his sexy smirk, and if I wasn’t melting on the spot before, I definitely am now. While my hormones begin to fire on all cylinders, the inner tension I had been feeling for days starts to dissipate. There’s just something about him that brings about a calmness within me. Smiling warmly at Alex, I stand and make my way toward him where he’s standing by the door. “Let’s go make some kids happy, shall we?” He opens the door and we’re greeted by an enormous amount of clapping, cheering, and screaming.

“Wow! Hello, everyone!” I shout above the noise. The team leaders work at getting the kids to settle down so I can speak to them. Once most of the chatter has died down, I say, “Thank you all so much for having me here today. I look forward to learning from each of you and taking away something from this that I know I’ll always remember and cherish. So let’s have some fun!” I recite my lines perfectly. I was given a short speech to memorize, since I obviously can’t be trusted to talk to a bunch of children. No, Cal and Aaron thought it was necessary to write out my opening statement.

We’re all herded into the building, the kids led to the gymnasium, and I’m taken on a tour. The director, Ellie Stephens, explains their mission and goals at the Boys and Girls Club. She tells stories of troubled kids coming here to find a place to focus their energy and turn their lives around. The passion and love she has for these kids is inspiring and quite evident in the reverent way she speaks of them. After she’s finished showing me around, we head back to the gymnasium to watch the kids play basketball.

When we walk in, the bleachers on one side are filled with the kids who aren’t playing, while ten little boys run back and forth on the court. “How old are these kids?” I ask Ellie, gesturing to the children playing.

“These are our ten year olds. We drew straws on who got to play while you were visiting,” she explains. We continue walking until we reach the end of the bleachers and take a seat, Alex and Ellie sitting on either side of me. I’m totally engrossed in watching them play. They’re giving it their all, doing the best they can to score each point. When the game is over, I’m a little sad because I was really enjoying myself.

One of the little boys runs up to me with the ball in his hand and says, “Ma’am, would you like to play?”

My eyebrows rise up my forehead. “That’s very sweet of you, but I’m not in the proper attire to play basketball.” I look down at my pencil skirt, silk blouse, and pointy toed stilettos. Nope, definitely not basketball attire.

“Oh, come on. Just one free throw.” The puppy dog eyes do me in. How do parents say no to their children when they give them looks like that? The hospital must teach them defense mechanisms before they take the babies home or something. I’d do whatever that little boy asked if he gave me that look every time.

“Alright, alright.” I stand and hold my hand out for the ball. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Jerome,” he responds, looking down shyly after handing me the basketball.

“It seems Jerome here has challenged me to a free throw,” I say to everyone. “Now, I’m not nearly as good as the players we just saw, but I will give it my best shot . . . pun intended.” I get a few snickers realizing that most of the kids probably don’t know what a pun is. Turning around, I start to make my way to the court, but look over my shoulder before I do. I catch Alex staring at my ass. His eyes snap up to mine when he realizes I’ve caught him. I’m expecting him to display guilt or embarrassment, but instead I get that cocky, unapologetic smirk with amusement dancing across his features.

Jerk.

As I walk to the middle of the court, I try to think way back to the little training and coaching I had in basketball. I played a little in the sixth grade before giving it up for “girly” things like cheerleading. Actually, my mother made me give it up for cheerleading. Looking back, I realize even then she was setting me up to be who I am today. Standing at the free throw line, I study the goal. I dribble the ball a couple times before getting into a shooting stance. With ball in hand, I bounce slightly preparing to shoot, but it feels awkward. I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve played, but I just feel off. That’s when it hits me, my shoes. Bringing my leg up behind me, I carefully slip off each stiletto and place them on the floor next to me. I hunch back down into my stance and feel much better. After a couple more dribbles I lift up the ball and shoot it. It’s just a simple free throw, nothing life altering, but that doesn’t stop me from holding my breath the whole time the ball is in the air. After what seems like a full minute, the ball finally makes it to the net, bounces around the rim before just barely tipping in through the net. My arms fly up in victory as the kids cheer me on. I look at the bleachers and see the biggest smile of all coming from the gorgeous man that’s been put in my life recently.

I slip my heels back on and leave the court to resume my place between Alex and Ellie. Before I can wedge myself between them, Alex whispers in my ear, “You’re amazing. And you definitely need to show the world that real smile of yours. It’s absolutely breathtaking.” My mouth turns up in the corners on its own accord, his compliment sending waves of happiness all over my body. I receive compliments on my appearance often, so that’s not what’s causing this foreign feeling to travel through me. But, like everything else in my life, it’s only superficial. With Alex, the rawness in his eyes tells me his meaning is deeper than just the surface. I’m just not sure how to react or feel about it. On one hand, I’m elated to finally be seen as more, but on the other hand I’m scared to death that I’ll want the little bit he’s giving me more. If I’m being truly honest with myself, I do want more, but can’t have it. I’ll crave the attention and affectionate words, but with my life as Mrs. Callahan Fitzgerald, that just can’t happen. It has disaster written all over it.

Ellie, Alex, and I are standing outside watching the kids play while Ellie gives me another run down on their daily operations and the needs of the facility. “The building needs some repairs, but there’s just not enough money in the budget.”

“I’ll give you my email address and I want you to email me a list of things that you can’t afford to fix as well as an estimate for each repair. I’ll see what I can do.” I’m not sure why I told her that. It’s not like I’ve been authorized to make promises like this, but I’m hoping if Cal knows I told her this he’ll see it through. After all, it would be bad publicity if he didn’t.

“Oh, that would be amazing. Thank you,” she says, excitement and appreciation clear in her voice. I nod and smile in return.

“What do you say we give these kids a tour of the bus before I go?”

“They would love that.” Ellie puts a whistle to her lips and blows. The kids come running toward us, getting in what I assume is their assigned spot in each row. Once they’re all in their places, Ellie says, “Would you guys like to take a tour of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s bus?” Our ears are met with loud screams of approval while they jump up and down. Again, their excitement and happiness is contagious and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face even if I tried. “Alright then! We’ll take you row by row. You behave while on that bus, and don’t touch anything unless you ask for permission. Understood?” she asks the boys and girls.

“Yes, Miss Ellie,” they respond in unison.

We take the first two rows with us. These are the six-year-old boys and girls. I thought it would be best to take the youngest ones first since I’m sure they’re the most impatient. I’m just about to step on to the bus to lead them up when I hear, “Excuse me, Mister.” Turning around, I see the cutest little boy pulling on Alex’s jacket looking way up at him. He has curly brown hair, and the biggest brown eyes.

“Whatcha need, buddy?” Alex asks, bending down until his hands are on his knees and he’s closer to the little boy’s level.

“Can I ask you a question?” Now he’s looking up at Alex through his thick eyelashes, seeming nervous and shy suddenly.

“Sure, anything.”

The little boy looks to his left and then to his right, as if checking to see if anyone is listening. Finally, he waves his hand for Alex to come closer. Alex complies and waits for the child to ask his question. “Are you part of the Men in Black?” he asks in a loud whisper. I have to put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. By the twitching of Alex’s lips, I would guess he’s trying to do the same.

“Can you keep a secret?” Alex asks in the same hushed whisper. The boy nods enthusiastically, eyes wide with anticipation. Alex mimicks the boy’s earlier movements by looking to his left and then to his right before saying, “Yes.” He nods his head to the side, motioning for the kid to come even closer. Once he does, Alex pulls a pen from his pocket, careful to hide it from the view of the other kids. “This is my memory eraser. Now, I won’t use it on you to wipe away our little conversation if I can trust that you’ll keep that just between us. Can I trust you not to tell anyone?”

“I swear, I won’t tell a soul. I pinkie promise on it.” He holds his pinkie out to Alex who reciprocates the gesture and pinkie promises on their secret. I think my ovaries just exploded watching their exchange.

Alex stands up and ruffles the little boy’s head before looking up at me. “What?” he asks me.

I simply press my lips together and shake my head. “Nothing. Let’s go.” We lead the kids onto the bus where they ooh and aah, their eyes as wide as saucers. My cheeks hurt from the permanent smile attached to my face, but being able to make someone happy, even if it’s for something as simple as touring my home on wheels, feels amazing.

THE BUS SLOWLY
pulls away from the clubhouse to make our way back to Cal. His interview should be wrapping up, then we’ll be on the road headed for our next stop. I’m not thinking about what’s next though because right now I’m on cloud nine. Today was actually an amazing day. It’s been a long time since I was able to let loose a little. Plus, the kids seemed to have fun and that makes me happy. Lounging back on the plush couch that runs down one side of the bus, I turn my head to look over at Alex who’s sitting in a reclining chair with his phone in his hand. He looks up from it when he notices me staring at him.

“What?” he asks hesitantly.

I shake my head slightly. “Nothing, just thinking about how good you were with those kids.”

“Right back atcha, LeBron.” I notice his mouth pull up into a half grin before I throw my head back and laugh.

“My basket was hardly LeBron status. Just a lucky shot, that’s all,” I say through the last bit of giggles.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Not everyone could make that shot with no warm up. Nice form by the way. Did you used to play?”

“For about a year in middle school.” Thinking about that year in school is a fond memory. It resembles a time where I could just be me. I didn’t have anyone expecting things from me. I didn’t have to worry about the way I looked. It was okay to be sweaty and dirty and to run around like crazy. It was okay to just be a kid. Not often, but every now and then I’ll think back to that time of my life and wish I could go back and start over. I’d savor what it’s like to be happy and enjoy life, and I wouldn’t let anyone or anything deter me from chasing that one simple thing.

Happiness.

Money doesn’t bring happiness. I’ve found that out the hard way. In fact, I was happiest when I was at my poorest. The poor-me was comfortable in her skin and confident in her abilities and self-worth. Wealthy-me . . . not so much. I’m not self-conscious or lack confidence, but hate the skin I’m in. I’ve created this fake exterior that lets people think so little of me, and along the way I’ve lost pieces of myself because of it. And the only person I have to blame for any of it, is myself.