The Odd Ballerz (29 page)

“So you and Jones are both insurance agents?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes. She went into the business first. Her family’s lack of insurance was the main motivation, the reason she was attracted to the business in the first place, and after her dad’s death, her mother worked for a while, but eventually her depression left her unable to leave the bed, so really Memphis didn’t have much of a choice. Someone had to do something to bring money in. Her aunt, her mom’s sister came to live with them to keep Child Protective Services away, but really, they were better off without her.

“Memphis grew close to one of our neighbors, Billie. She was an insurance agent that gave M her first job. She worked part time, weekends, and in the summers. Then after her mom committed suicide, M dropped out of school, got her GED and went into the insurance business full time. As it turns out, she has a knack for it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life so eventually I tried it too.”

“So you’ve always been friends.”

“We have and that’s not easy. Memphis can be a little bit odd,” she said, continuing to eat while he watched her.

“Really. In what way?”

“First there was the thing with her falling all over the place, turning into the class clown to hide it, always making jokes. She went from class clown to acting like a grown-up after she left school. It wasn’t always easy being her friend, but I did and it’s as her friend that I can say this to you. You should be careful not to encourage her while you train her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she likes you.”

“She’s told you that?”

“No, but I know her enough to know, and that’s surprising, really. She’s usually only interested in African American men. You are the first non-African American male she’s shown an interest in, which is why I’m telling you this. I don’t want to see her hurt. She’s been hurt a lot in life, so I don’t have the heart to tell her that you’re not interested in her.”

“I’m not?”

“No, of course not, but you know, they think you might be.”

“Who are they?”

“You know,” she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

“Nope, sorry, I don’t,” he said, smiling and it was nice to see him smile, she thought.

“Don’t make me say it. You’ll think I’m racist or something.”

“Are you?”

“No, not at all, however I do think that men prefer those that look like them. I’ve see pictures of the women you date, on the Internet, and they don’t look anything like Memphis.”

“Right,” he said, which seemed to be the perfect response.

She smiled and leaned forward. “I knew you thought like me. Some of us, white people I mean, are married to them, and how is that possible? Some white men even prefer them exclusively, and what is that about?” she asked.

“No idea,” he said.

“I mean it’s okay to be friends, but marriage is something else. I’m glad you understand. I thought you would.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I don’t know why we don’t hang out together more,” she said, switching the subject, tired of discussing Memphis.

“You’re going to be on the Ballerz team, and we have that rule,” he said.

“No one has to know,” she said.

“They’d find out sooner or later.”

“I don’t have to play football then.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re too good not to. What kind of coach would I be if I put my needs above the team’s?” he said, smiling.

She returned it. Glad to see it, otherwise she’d have no clue to what he was thinking. He was a tough to read, with or without those shades.

“Maybe after the season then?”

“Maybe,” he said, and he smiled again. “I’d better get going or I’ll fall behind with work. You done here?”

“Yes. I could stay and help if you want.”

“No, I work better alone, but thanks,” he said.

“Oh, sure,” she said, standing up too. “Thanks for feeding me,” she said.

“No problem. I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, walking around to her side of the table. He pulled out her chair.

“A gentleman,” she said, smiling. “You can call if your schedule opens up or if you want to hang out. I’m open to that too,” she said. They’d reached her car and she was sliding behind the wheel.

“Thanks,” he said, closing her door. She lowered her window.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

He smiled, waved as she backed out and headed the short distance to the end of his drive. In a few more minutes she was gone.

# # #

Memphis knocked on the front door of Charlotte’s home later on that afternoon. She’d driven straight over from Marisa’s shop to apprise her sister of this latest Z development. It was her niece answering the door today, looking beautiful.

“Hey, Auntie Memphis.”

“Hey, sweetie. Where’s your mom?”

“In the back, talking to Auntie Alex. My dad is taking me to a birthday party,” she said, smiling and clearly dressed for it.

“Hello, Memphis,” Joshua said, standing behind his daughter now, holding a gift wrapped in sparkling pink paper.

“Hey, brother-in-law,” Memphis said.

“Sorry I can’t stay, but as you can see I’m in charge of getting this one to a party, so I’ll see you later,” he said, smiling and skirting around Memphis.

She watched them until they were in the car and pulling out of the driveway. She found everyone else in the family room. Alex sat on the couch, beside the two boys, watching them play a video game, while Charlotte sat off to the side, in another chair, feeding Simone.

“Hey,” Memphis said, smiling as they looked up.

“Hey yourself,” Alex said.

“Am I glad to see you. Usually Alex and her talk of football would be driving me crazy by now, but she’s quiet today. I didn’t know she could be quiet,” Charlotte said, turning her gaze to Memphis, concern in her eyes. “So, what’s up with you, how are things going with our Coach Z?” Charlotte asked.

“Good, I think. He’s giving me this new assignment,” she said, sliding into the spot on the other side of the boys, before she detailed her trip to Bastrop and her meeting with Marisa. “It was my idea to do more, I asked actually. One more Saturday and I’ll be finished organizing his office. Helping with the opening was his idea. I’ll be working with a friend of his, sort of like her assistant.”

“He does know you’re not anyone’s assistant, right, that you run an insurance agency all by your lonesome,” Charlotte said.

“He knows and I don’t always have to be in charge. She also knows him better than I do, so that’s helpful.”

“He must think you’re trustworthy, right. A man doesn’t turn over something so important to just anybody. You have time for this and training?” Charlotte asked.

“I do,” Memphis said.

“He doesn’t want to stop,” Charlotte said.

“What?”

“He wants you around,” Charlotte said, smiling now like she knew some secret. Not that she did; Charlotte just had this way of being, like she knew all the secrets of the universe or something. As the mother of four, maybe she thought she knew all things motherly.

“I was hopeful like you once, but those thoughts are so gone now. His friend is still around. I heard them this morning, bright and early in the shower,” she said, chuckling at the expressions on her sisters’ faces, identical visages of shock.

“I never said he was a saint, just that the women on the Ballerz team were off-limits,” Alex said, breaking her silence. She’d been listening in apparently.

“She speaks,” Charlotte said, shooting a glance at Alex.

“You stayed to listen?” Alex asked, ignoring Charlotte’s teasing.

“No,” Memphis said, laying her outrage on thick. “I mean I heard some of it, took me a minute to figure out what was going on, but as soon as I did, I put on my music and went to work.”

“You can give up, but I haven’t. He has you around for a reason. You mean more than you think,” Charlotte said.

“Sure, that’s it,” Memphis said, eyeing Alex again. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Alex said.

“You don’t seem fine. You’re too quiet. You sure you’re okay?” Memphis asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure, just tired,” she said, rolling her eyes. The conversation between them shifted to other topics, and it was another relaxing Saturday evening spent in the company of her sisters.

# # #

Sunday

Z stood outside his side deck, soaking up the sun as he waited for Alex to arrive. Once a week she made her way out to his place to train, all to become the best QB possible. Today it was weight room training, strength training, and a little bit of foot work.

There she was now, her small truck driving past. She waved, which he returned, deciding to stay put for a bit longer and finish his cup of coffee before heading back to join her. No need to rush. She still had warm-ups to do before he was needed.

The sound of another auto approaching captured his attention, pulling it back to the entrance to his drive. Another truck, blue with a silver stripe on the side, and unfamiliar to him, pulled in and stopped. He walked around to the end of the deck to get a better look. Whoever it was continued to sit, idling. He started down the steps toward it.

He was at the beginning of the path that would take him to the front parking area, when the truck backed out. Male, maybe; slim, slight in stature, hat pulled low was all he could make of the driver’s features. Curious it was. He’d made note of the license plate to run by his buddy over in the sheriff’s department if it turned into something.

He closed and locked the gate, his instinct driving him. And better safe than sorry anyway, he thought, and then it was over to his home and out back to Alex. He found her running around the track. “Hey,” he said, coming to a stop beside her.

“Hey,” she said, slowing to a stop.

“You notice anything on your way in, anybody driving behind you?”

“Why?” she said, her face a mask of fear and quickly shuttered.

“Wait, what’s up? You alright?”

“A white truck?” she asked.

“No, blue with a silver stripe on the side. I haven’t seen it before and people get lost out here all the time, so maybe it was nothing. You know this truck?”

“No.”

“But you know something. And it’s important.”

She looked away, lost in her thoughts for a second, as if deciding something. “I used to live with this guy, back in Houston, and he didn’t want me to leave,” Alex said, meeting his gaze. The need to tell someone other than her sisters was overwhelming. She should tell them, she knew, just as she also knew they’d worry, and they’d want her to move in with them, which she wouldn’t do under any circumstances. She loved her freedom too much, had worked too hard to gain it. She could trust Z. She felt it in her gut. Everything he did pointed to this really good guy, and so she continued. “It’s been a year and a half, and I’ve started a new life.”

“Does Jones know?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’ll try to fix it. It’s what she does and I want to do this on my own. For once.”

“Do what?”

“Leave and stay away from a man that hurt me,” she said, her voice clear and strong, and where had that come from? Guess she’d grown up more than she thought.

“He sounds dangerous, so maybe this isn’t the best time to go it alone,” he said.

“What color was the truck again?” she asked, ignoring him.

“Blue, silver stripe down the side.”

“It’s probably not him; he used to drive this white truck.”

“People do change trucks,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I think you should tell Jones. The police, someone other than me.”

“I don’t want to and I’m asking you not to tell either. What do we really know? It’s all feelings.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her for a while. “All of which you shouldn’t discount. What if something happened to you and I kept quiet about it? I’d be responsible too.”

“I know,” she said.

“I’ll think about it. I have the license number. I’ll ask a friend of mine in the sheriff’s office to check it out. That will help ease my mind a little and I’m sure yours, too. Write down the name of your old boyfriend,” he said, handing her his smart phone. “If it comes back and it’s not your guy, then I won’t tell Jones, but I still think you should. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“I’m going to call my friend now. You can get started in the weight room after you finish your run. Or you could come with me?”

“I’ll come with you.”

# # #

Later on that night, Memphis sat in her bed, debating if she should call Z. It was closing on nine-thirty and she imagined him out on his deck, feet up, after eating one of his gourmet meals. It’s what she would do if she were there. Recline against his reclining body. She leaned back against her headboard and touched the numbers that would put her in touch with him. She had questions that needed answering.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi, Z. This is Jones… Memphis,” she said, nervous all of a sudden; nothing to do with the way his voice sounded so smooth into the phone. “Can you talk?” she asked.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” he said, chuckling.

“Very funny. Are you busy is what I meant. Are you free to talk? Am I interrupting something?”

“I know what you meant, and no, you’re not interrupting anything. Now is good. Is this about Alex?”

“No, what’s up with Alex?”

“Nothing, so what’s up?”

“Well, I have a few questions that Marisa didn’t answer. They have to do with your taste in things. What do you like? I need to know in order to figure out catering and music and then decor. So if you have time.”

“I have time.
Again
,” he said, chuckling.

“Let’s start with the music then. I’d say you were a country and western type. Most Texans are, but then I wasn’t sure if you grew up here, not that it matters, but anyway. What kind of music do you like?”

“Country is good and I grew up in Colorado,” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. What part?”

“Pagosa Springs.”

“Never heard of it,” she said.

“Most people haven’t. Reminds me of Austin in some ways,” he said.

“In what way?”

“It’s relaxed, easy.”

“That’s good. So what kind of atmosphere do you wish to create for your opening? Downtown elegant or homespun country?”