Noelle's Kiss

by Cindy R. Williams

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning Zave visited Tatum’s school was amazing. He managed to enter the school building without being seen. The students gathered in the gym. I showed up since I wasn’t shooting my story until around noon and sat by Tatum on the bleachers.

  The principal entered dressed in navy-blue sweatpants and a sky-blue Denver Nuggets jersey over a bright yellow t-shirt. The kids laughed. The laughter turned to cheers and stomping feet when Zave came sprinting into the gym in his team warm-ups. He jogged around, shaking hands here and there, and then stopped in front of Tatum and me. He gave me one of his signature lopsided smiles, melting my heart, and then focused on Tatum.

  “Hello, Tatum.”

  “Hi, Tree.” She hopped up and jumped into his arms for a big bear hug.

  Zave set her back down and then asked, “Will you please introduce me to your friends?”

  Tatum proudly walked over to a boy wearing a Golden State Warriors t-shirt, and a little blonde-headed girl. “Tree, this is Hunter, and this is Cassidy. And guys, this is the Tree. See, I told you he’s a giant.”

  Both of the children had their heads tilted back and their mouths open. I filmed it with my phone camera, sure it would be jiggly because I was laughing so hard.

  After shaking their hands, Zave jogged over to a metal frame filled with basketballs and shot around. Every time he swished a basket, which was most of the time, the kids cheered.

  The principal chose five sixth graders to play him and Zave. It was hilarious. For the first few minutes Zave toyed with them, letting them get to the basket and pretending that they could guard him. Together he and the principal made an okay team. Then Zave became Triple X and put on a show. He dunked. He juked and dodged the boys. He stole the ball and made shots from half-court. Finally, the sixth graders gave up and group-attacked him each time the ball was in his possession. He dragged them down the court and continued to make baskets.

  The students hooted and hollered at all the crazy antics. After a while, Zave’s agent blew a whistle, putting a stop to the game.

  The principal left the floor huffing and puffing and returned with a microphone for Zave.

  The kids gave him their undivided attention. Zave thanked them for letting him visit and then told them a story.

  “Once there was a fourth grader who loved basketball, but he was shorter than all the other boys. They made fun of him and wouldn’t let him play, so he asked his dad to put up a hoop on the garage. Every day after school, he would eat some delicious cookies or pie his mother made, do his homework, then go outside and shoot baskets. Now notice that I said he did his homework before he shot baskets. That is the most important part of the story.”

  Zave paused and looked around the gym, then added slowly, pausing between each word, “Do—your—homework.”

  The kids groaned.

  Zave laughed and said, “The boy decided he’d be the best shooter at his school because it didn’t matter how tall you were if you could shoot the ball through the hoop.”

  “He chose to make one hundred baskets every day before he went to bed. Not just shoot one hundred shots but make one hundred shots. At first it took him about two hours because he missed so many and had to chase down the ball. Sometimes his mom, dad, brothers, or sisters shagged the balls for him, and he would finish in an hour and a half.”

  Zave walked around looking at the children as he talked.

  “After about a year, the boy’s shot improved and he could make his one hundred shots in twenty minutes—you know, more shots made and less time chasing the ball. He also played pick-up games with his brothers, sisters, and the neighborhood kids.

  “But the boy hadn’t grown much taller yet, so he didn’t feel ready to try out for the school team.” Zave rubbed his chin a moment, thinking, as he walked around.

  “His dad put up a light so he could shoot at night. The only time the boy missed shooting his one hundred shots was when his family took vacations. Even then he wadded up papers and shot them into a waste basket, not stopping until he reached one hundred. Sometimes the boy felt tired or discouraged, but he had made a promise to himself, and he chose to keep that promise.”

  I looked at the students. Few wiggled. They seemed mesmerized.

  Zave continued, “In high school, although still short, he felt good enough about his shooting ability that he decided to try out for the basketball team. Some of the boys laughed at him when he came into the gym.” Zave shook his head.

  “This time, the boy ignored them. He knew he had worked hard and was ready. His years of practice paid off, and he made the team. The boy continued to complete one hundred shots each and every day and still does to this day. Anyone know who this boy is?” Zave paused and turned slowly around the room.

  Some students yelled, “You,” and pointed at Zave. Other’s yelled, “Triple X.”

  Zave nodded with a huge grin. When they quieted down, he asked, “What is the most important thing about this story?” He called on a boy with his hand raised.

  “To shoot one hundred baskets a day and never give up.”

  “Good answer, and true. Set a goal and never give up. But there is another point I also want you to remember from this story.” He waited and looked around the room.

  Finally, Tatum raised her hand.

  “Yes, Tatum?”

  “To grow up to be a giant and—” She was interrupted by laughter. “—and do your homework,” she shouted out over the laughter.

  “Exactly. Do your homework!” Zave gave Tatum a thumbs-up.

  The principal thanked Zave, and the kids cheered and clapped as he jogged backward out of the gym, waving.

  Later that night, Zave came to dinner. He told Tatum how proud he was that she understood his story.

  I set the spaghetti down and listened to them discuss how important it was to study, and always do your best, and keep your promises to yourself.

  I leaned over and gave Tatum a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, sweetie.” Then I walked behind Zave’s chair and placed my hands on his shoulders. “Thank you, Zave, for taking time to visit the school today. You were wonderful with the children.”

  Zave took my hands and pulled me closer. When my head was even with his, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, “You are very welcome. I had to meet Cassidy and Hunter. They had never met a giant, you know.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zave went on another road-trip. True to his word, he called me every night. If it was an early game, he visited with Tatum too; if not, we talked until it turned into a yawn fest. Talking like this definitely gave us a chance to get to know each other better. We asked each other all kinds of questions and got into some deep subjects.

  Much to my relief, we found that we shared the same values, along with many of the same likes and dislikes. We also shared things about our daily lives and laughed a lot. I had no idea there was anyone out there like him. Hope for a strong, healthy relationship with a good man burned brightly in my heart.

  It was Saturday once again, and almost time for work. Ready early, I took the extra time to do some research on my uncle, Simon. His name popped up connecting him to a number of businesses, but nothing shady came to light. I shrugged my shoulders. He must be okay. Maybe I should let it go. It seemed time for me to be more open to giving men a chance and that included Zave and Simon. Glancing at the clock, I closed my laptop, gathered my keys, and hurried out the door with Tatum.

  At Joy’s house, I gave Tatum a hug good-bye. “See you later this afternoon, sweetie.”

  “Joy, thanks once again for tending Saturdays. Love you, sis.”

  “Love you more. Now go to work already. We have the Vog to battle today.” Joy grinned as her caped and hooded Batman boys ran into the kitchen, grabbed Tatum’s arm, and escaped into the family room with her.

  I giggled as I climbed into the car. The warm Colorado sun and beautiful autumn leaves celebrated a lovely day with me. How lucky to have my sisters. The somet
imes strange hours my job required would be almost impossible without them. It really did take a village to raise a child, and I was so blessed to have my “Village Sisters.” I laughed at my own dorky humor. Life was certainly looking up.

  ****

  “This is Noelle Frost, CBS 4, Denver. Now back to you at the station, Jacob.” I continued to smile into the camera until the cameraman said, “That’s a wrap.”

  “Thanks, Freddy. See you back at work next week.”

  “Sure thing, Noelle,” he said as he packed up his equipment.

  We were outside Schmidt’s Jewelry for this last shot. A small crowd had gathered. A man at the side had a familiar stance. My heart jolted. He looked like Dad. Same height, same frame, same smile. Then I realized it was Simon.

  He maneuvered his way to me. “I saw the CBS 4 camera van and thought I might find you here working.” He sounded apologetic and a little sheepish.

  I clasped my hands behind my back.

  “May I buy you lunch?” Simon shoved his hands into his pockets like an unsure teenager.

  “No, thank you. I have plans,” I answered with reserve. I still wasn’t sure what he was doing here in Colorado Springs…or who he really was. Although I was working on the trust factor, I wasn’t quite ready to give him a giant welcome back to the family yet.

  “Another time, perhaps.” He clenched his jaw, turned, and strolled away.

  Watching him, I realized my gut instinct told me to keep an eye on him. He may turn out to be the best uncle in the world, and if he did, great, especially for sweet Chrissy. She already looked up to him as kind of a surrogate father figure. But I needed to give it a little more time.

  Then it hit me. I was beginning to listen to myself, even stand up for myself and trust my own judgement once again. It had been a long time coming. Blake had been so emotionally abusive that it had twisted my thinking and reasoning so that I didn’t know who I was anymore.

  With a little “proud of myself” nod, I walked back into the jewelry store.

  “Mr. Schmidt, thanks for letting me cover the theft and return of that incredible tiara. You came across well on the camera, and it’s great to cover a story with a happy ending.”

  “You’re most welcome, Ms. Frost. I’m pleased to have it back.” The elderly gentleman smiled warmly.

  “I’ve never seen a real diamond tiara. It’s so incredibly beautiful. That thief certainly has great taste.”

  Mr. Schmidt leaned against the counter with a twinkle in his eye and asked, “Would you like to try it on?”

  “Really? May I?” I hardly dared to even touch it.

  He held it out to me.

  I accepted it with both hands. The white gold frame felt sturdy, but light. The two hundred half-carat diamonds glittered like their own galaxy. I moved in front of the antique oval mirror on the glass counter and carefully set the tiara on my head.

  A wave of sheer pleasure rushed through me as I stared at my reflection. I’d always wanted to grow up to be a princess, a mermaid, or a fairy. This was beyond fun, to see this elegant five-million-dollar diamond-laden masterpiece on my head.

  I admired the tiara from a few different angles, then took several deep breaths and let out a sigh as I carefully removed it and handed it back to the owner.

  “Thank you. That was a thrill of a lifetime. Maybe a bucket list item that I never would have hoped was possible.” Being a reporter could be so much fun. I flashed my TV smile at him, dimples and all.

  “You’re welcome. It’s nice to see it on such a pretty young lady. It’s often rented by celebrities for special events, but it has never looked so lovely.”

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” I did a little curtsy and we both laughed.

  The door chimed. A tall, ginger-haired young woman dressed in tight clothing and high heels sashayed across the room toward us.

  I recognized her as the daughter of the owner of the Denver Nuggets, Rhonda Santori, the one who’d hung all over Zave not too long ago. My stomach tightened, and I found my arms crossing involuntarily.

  “Hello.” Mr. Schmidt turned toward her. “May I help you?”

  “I was driving by and saw the TV news truck outside. Is there a big sale I should know about?” She gave me a sideways glance.

  I stepped away to let the owner do his thing. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her.

  Mr. Schmidt smiled. “No particular sale other than the usual great value on our jewelry, madam. Is there something in particular you’d like…a new set of earrings or a lovely necklace?”

  “Maybe, but I think I’ll just look around. I’ll let you know if I need some help.” She waved him off with her hand and then looked into the nearest glass cabinet.

  I decided this was a good time to leave. She looked up as I tried to walk around her. “Oh, it’s you, the reporter lady—funny running into you here. I believe you know my boyfriend, the basketball player, Triple X.”

  “I know Zave.” My lips tightened.

  “He’s coming home Wednesday night. We’re having a special private dinner. I thought I would look around this place.” She waved her hand in the air. “I mean, it’s as good as any other jewelry store to look at engagement rings, don’t you think?”

  The look in her squinting eyes was sheer spite.

  “Well…” I cleared my throat. “Yes, this is a lovely store.” I cringed as my word skills once again failed me.

  She stuck out her hand. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Rhonda Santori.”

  I guess I looked at her hand for a moment too long. She shoved her hand closer to me. I reached out and took it. She shook like a limp fish.

  “I’m Noelle Frost,” I said as I rubbed my right hand on my skirt.

  “Of course you are. I’m glad I ran into you today. There’s this rumor going around that you have taken an interest in my man.” Her smiling mouth looked more like a sneer.

  Wow, the woman wasted no time attacking. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t surprised by rumors. I had heard plenty about Zave before and now that we were dating. Most of it had no basis or was so far off the mark it was laughable. I stood still, staring at her.

  “Caught, are you? Well, listen to me, and listen good. Triple X belongs to me. My father owns him, and soon I will, too. He’s quite scrumptious, isn’t he? Like I said, I’ll pick him up from the airport Wednesday, and we’ll be having a private dinner—extremely private. I bought the most slinky, red dress—fits me perfectly.” She giggled and looked down at her skimpily dressed body.

  Her attire left little to the imagination. I had to admit she looked pretty darn perfect. My stomach now ached as the tension buzzed around us.

  “I’m sure he won’t be able to take his eyes off of me.” Rhonda smirked. “I expect to be engaged by the end of the evening.” She pinned me with her cold eyes.

  Alarm shot through me. I had to get out of there, now. I turned away and wanted to run, but I forced myself to walk to maintain some dignity, although I walked fast.

  I jumped into my car and looked back at the store. “Good, she didn’t follow me,” I spoke to the windshield.

  I grabbed the steering wheel and squeezed it hard for a minute until I felt calm enough to drive. I figured I might run into her someday but was surprised how much venom she’d spewed. Zave was right. She was one determined lady.

  A knock on my window made me jump. Rhonda peered in. She couldn’t possibly have any more poison to shoot at me. I rolled down the window.

  She had a cell phone to her ear and spoke in a syrupy voice, “Yeah, X, dinner is going to be so nice—just you and me, baby, all alone. Wait ’till you see my red dress I told you about,” she oozed. “Uh huh, me too. I’m so glad you dumped that clinging little fan girl from the TV. Yeah, I know, I know. She was nothing but a passing fling.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to pick you up from the airport, lover boy.” She turned away for a moment, holding the phone with both hands and talking softly.

  I clamped my eyes closed. I as
sumed she was saying a few choice things that weren’t appropriate. I took what I hoped was a calming breath, then opened my eyes to see that she had turned back around and looked directly at me with a wicked grin. She lowered her phone and pushed something. She must have put it on speaker phone.

  “X, baby, I have someone who wants to talk to you.”

  I didn’t think I could stomach much more.

  I pressed the window button but stopped halfway when I heard Zave’s unmistakable voice say, “Hold on, Rhonda, I want to talk to you.”

  Rhonda laughed then said, “I know, baby. I want to talk to you some more, too. Let me call you right back. Bye.” Then she let out the most ridiculous, shrill, disgusting giggle.

  I stared at her in shock.

  She stuffed her phone inside the top of her skin-tight blouse. “See? I told you. Stay away, Noelle. He’s taken. He’s been playing you. You see, he’s a player like me, but at least he’s my player.” She snarled at me.

  Stunned, almost unable to breathe, I rolled the window up and started the car. She stepped aside as I backed out and drove away.

  This made no sense. Why was she saying those things to Zave on the phone? Zave getting engaged on Wednesday—no way. I knew he was flying in late Wednesday, but he’d told me he had a dinner with the owner of the team, so he would see me Thursday.

  “Oh, my gosh. He had dinner with the owner of the team which could easily include his daughter—or was it in reality dinner with just his daughter? It’s true,” I voiced out loud. A sword cut through my heart. The pain was deep and real.

  Then anger flared. I squeezed the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles turned white. He said he wasn’t interested in her. He said he wanted to stick around and spend time with me…and Tatum. He said we grounded him and were a breath of fresh air in his crazy life. We made him happy.

  It was Blake all over again. I thought Zave was different. He didn’t have any signs of being abusive like Blake, but the past image of Blake and his mistress together in the hot tub flashed through my mind. My stomach and eyes burned.