Fast Baller

by Lulu Pratt

  “Wow,” I said. “That is brutal!” What kind of parent blames their kid – and then lets them know – for the breakup of a relationship?

  “Yeah,” he said. He seemed to really be in a daze. “The topic of my mother almost never comes up in conversation,” he said, smiling and looking down at his hands. “And what I am starting to realize is that I avoid talking about her, which means, I guess that I’m hiding something.”

  “Well, maybe. Not necessarily,” I said, although I knew I wasn’t making sense. What I wanted at that moment was him, in my bed, and I was almost willing to say anything to get that. He was in denial. So what?

  “I mean. This is a conversation for you to have with a therapist, I think, don’t you?”

  “I’m not really big on therapists,” he said. Then, he rose and looked at me. “You know something, Scarlet? I think I need to get going. It was an amazing night, and I am really glad we did this. It’s just that things are a little weird at the moment, and I need to figure some things out. Do you mind if I go home?”

  “I guess not,” I said, and in my mind, I was fighting a number of battles. My professional self was urging him out the door because all of what had happened was very dangerous to my career. The other side, the side that was satisfied and horny, wanted him to stay and get naked in my bedroom so I could ride him until I passed out. Fortunately, that side quit first. “I mean, I understand.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding,” he said. “I appreciate it.” Then he walked to the door, still in a bit of a daze. “Thank you for such a great evening, and I’ll see you in the morning for yoga.”

  I nodded. “Good night,” I said, turning away as he closed the apartment door. I didn’t hear his car start — it was electric, so I guess I wouldn’t — and I listened to my mother’s message again. I decided not to tell her that she had screwed up the best sex of my life.

  Chapter 24

  HARRISON

  DESPITE MY LACK of self-control, despite my risking her career and mine, despite the fact that I couldn’t keep my junk in my pants, I respected Scarlet a lot, and I wanted the best for her. I recognized this might be hard to understand, but this was the reason I couldn’t tell anyone about this. Not even Chris. Or, especially not Chris. Great guy, don’t get me wrong — but he needed a scoop, and I was well aware that he was hoping I will be a scoop someday.

  I was home before midnight. I was not drunk, because I was the designated driver, and I am never certain how much truth there was in a drunk person’s words. Her mother was my nanny. For a time. Now, I admit I did not remember her at all. In fact, I remembered very little before I was about four or five.

  I didn’t remember anything about my mom. I knew her first name was Oksana, but I have no idea what her maiden name was. What I did know was that the photos of her showed a beautiful woman — spectacularly beautiful — with a certain coldness. Maybe that was why I assumed she was from the Ukraine. That and the fact that her name is Oksana.

  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. I had a tendency to overthink things in times of stress, and this was one of those times.

  On the other hand, I knew my father was a night-owl, so I dialed his number.

  It went to voicemail, and as I heard his voice saying “I’m not able to answer your call. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back,” I debated whether I should leave a message. I decided against it.

  I went into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth when I heard my phone ring where I had left it on the bed. I ran and grabbed the phone, my mouth filled with toothpaste.

  “Hello?”

  “You called me? What’s wrong?” I could hear he was in some dance club or something.

  “Hey Dad.”

  “What happened? Why are you talking like that?”

  I had made my way back to the bathroom and spat out the rest of the toothpaste. “It’s okay, Dad. I was just wondering about something.”

  “Got your arm back? I need that arm back.”

  “Working on it. But that’s not why I am calling.”

  “Okay then. What’s on your mind?”

  “My mother.” There was a long pause.

  “I don’t like to talk about that issue,” I could hear him frowning over the phone.

  “Fair enough, but where is she?”

  “What do you mean? She went back home.”

  “To where?”

  “Wherever she’s from.” Perhaps I should have waited to call him.

  “Where is she from?”

  “The Ukraine.”

  “And she went back there?” I asked.

  “I assume.”

  “You mean you never found out?”

  “Nope. Never could in those days. She just vanished.”

  “Why did she leave us?”

  “It’s a long story. I don’t really feel like dredging up the past. Can we let it go?”

  “I guess. I just would have liked to know where my mother went and why? I mean, I grew up without a mother because of that.”

  “Listen, do you think it wasn’t bad for me having my wife just up and leave? You’re not the only one involved in this, you know.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “Okay then. Let’s move on. I gotta go.” The phone clicked, and I was left with no new information at all. Typical.

  There were a few things bothering me, though. This woman coming into my life just as my mother had been leaving it. There had to be a connection. Just what it was, I didn’t know. Did my father have an affair with Betty Ravenwood? If he did, was Scarlet my half-sister? I think I needed to know the answer to that horrifying question.

  The only person I could think of that might know, other than my dad, who refused to talk about it, was Chris Steen. And it was way too late to think of calling him. I decided to sleep on it and see if things calmed down. I mean, so far, I had a lot of unanswered questions, and I couldn’t move forward with this desire I had without more information. Not only was it forbidden to have a relationship with Scarlet according to the rules — and I had to wonder if what I did tonight was grounds for dismissal as it was — but I had sex with a person who is both very, very sexy and possibly related to me. The mixed feelings about that could not really be put into words. I closed my eyes and felt the weight of the world descend on me.

  Chapter 25

  SCARLET

  HARRISON WAS very curious about my mother. That was unexpected. But a lot of questions were posed, and few of them were answered. I was not sure exactly what it was all about, but I was pretty sure there was a massive connection between us, one that I would have to watch, given the situation and the rules. Funny thing was, everywhere I’d ever worked had the same rule, and it never bothered me in the past. I have never had the slightest issue with non-fraternization policies. Most places I had worked had an even stricter rule — even close family members were not hired, and it had never been a problem before. Why or how this evening’s wild thing happened was beyond me, and I had to keep it as quiet as possible.

  It was funny — I had the strongest urge to call Harrison and say good night, but suddenly I was a rule breaker, something I’d never been in my life. So, I restrained myself. And then I had the urge to call Heidi. My next thought was to call my mom, but it was midnight. So, I went to sleep, my head spinning, partly from the drink and partly from the intensity of the emotions.

  The next day, I woke with a raging headache, a little from the margaritas, and a little because I was emotionally tingling. I tried to eat something for breakfast, but nothing would work to take away the feeling. I drove to work and when I got there, I prayed I would be able to relax and maybe beat this headache. I prayed that the yoga class would help, and the three extra bottles of water I was drinking.

  At ten, I was starting to feel better, and I made my way over to the yoga class, hopeful Harrison would be there. In some ways, I felt pretty silly about last night, and quite embarrassed too, but I didn’t regret sleeping with him and
I wanted to see if our relationship could grow.

  And right at ten, there were the girls, including Heidi and all her friends, and of course Clay. I waited a few minutes to see if Harrison would show up, but eventually, it was too long, and it was clear he would not be there.

  The class was more excruciating than usual because Heidi knew about my interest in Harrison, and in fact, I think it was safe to say she was only here to see him too. As were all the ladies. And Clay seemed to revel in the attention he felt he deserved. I was not so sure. However, I did my best to correct his hopeless posture, and when I touched him, he responded with great enthusiasm, which, if it had been any other person, player, or man, I would probably have responded with happiness that he was so eager. But there was just something about Clay that rubbed me the wrong way. I simply couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

  “Hey, teach, is this right?” he asked, standing in what he thought was Tree Pose.

  “That’s good, Clay, but try to raise your leg a little higher — it should not be right at your knee.” His hands were above his head like some Thai goddess in a restaurant. I went over to him.

  “See, you can lift it or lower it, but never let it be at the knee joint. It is called Tree Pose because it imitates a tree, and a tree would never have a join at a weak point. These exercises are strengthening exercises, and that is a weakening position.” I adjusted his pose with my hands, and I got the distinct sense that he was looking down my top. “Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” he whined. “Can you fix it again?” He had a smirk on his face, like a guy asking for a blowjob. Again, my stomach turned. But I did correct him, just as he began to topple on top of me.

  “Now, can we do a flow from Tree Pose to Mountain Pose?” I asked.

  Everyone else knew what to do, and soon the whole class was in Mountain Pose. Except Clay. And it went on and on like this, through the flows and the poses, and the cool down afterward. It was a blessing when the class was over, and I read the explanation of Arjuna, the Pandava Prince in the Bhagavad-Gita, in one of his incarnations.

  “In closing,” I said, “I would like to liken your work today to the work of Arjuna, called Anagha, or the One purified by a positive quality called the Sattwa Guna. This positive quality is the one that binds one through attachment to worldly happiness and intellectual knowledge. This should lead to non-attachment, which in turn gives way to wisdom and the higher qualities of bliss and intuitive wisdom. Namaste.”

  “Have a nice day,” said Clay, and this time, I almost felt he thought that was the right response. I nodded, and tried to turn to Heidi for a reason not to talk to Clay, but he was persistent and I had a strong feeling he was about to ask me out, thinking he had a chance.

  “Thanks for the class, Scarlet,” said Heidi, but instead of stopping to talk, she made a bee-line for the showers.

  That left me standing by myself in the room, and Clay clearly saw his in. “Hey, teach,” he said. “I was wondering if I could meet with you sometime in the next few days to talk about my work here. We don’t have a game until Friday, so I’m pretty free. What about you?”

  “Gosh, I am pretty booked up for the next week or so, but you can call the office and book an appointment.”

  “I was thinking maybe I could buy you dinner or lunch or a drink, that is, if you drink.” He was smiling his chipped-tooth grin that reminded me, unkindly, of a jack-o-lantern.

  “I think that violates the rules of my job, Clay, but thank you just the same.”

  “I ain’t gonna tell nobody,” he persisted.

  “No, but there are things called ethics,” I said, feeling very uncomfortable and a little hypocritical. “I am not allowed to fraternize with my clients, and you are my client in this situation.”

  “So is Harrison Brett,” said Clay, with a snide and slightly bitter sneer.

  “Correct, but I’m not sure where you’re going with that,” I said, but I could feel my cheeks burning with a blush.

  “Hey, it’s all good,” he said. “I was just makin’ a friendly offer. No big whoop.”

  “Thanks for your understanding, Clay,” I said. That was disingenuous! I had a feeling I was going to have to watch that guy.

  Standing in the sweltering room with nobody in it seemed to point out my existential loneliness. I was a sad person, a lonely person surrounded by other people who might or might not be lonely, but, above all, they had no connection to me. I had a minute to think, and so I decided to sit in Padmasana, or Lotus Position, to think. I closed my eyes and began an internal monologue.

  “Scarlet, you are a friendly person, a kind person, an open-minded person, a smart person. You recently moved, which means your roots are hurting. They are trying to develop permanent places for their growth. You have a potential for friendship, you have some family, you have the potential for love. The problem for you is that your professional life is getting in the way of the possibility of love. So, ask yourself this question, Scarlet, are you more interested in the career, or the love?”

  I thought about that for a minute. I needed to break it down. Heidi was a woman I thought I could be friends with. She was smart and fun and kind, and I thought she liked me. So, I planned to call her and try to confide in her. Mission one, accomplished.

  As for family, I had my mother, and that was something that has recently been under some sort of stress. I had taken care of my mother for a long time, and when the possibility of love arose, I was forced to do two things — to question my mother’s role in my life, and to question my commitment to my job. So, the question was, how much did I want this love?

  Most sane people want love, but they want it on their terms. They do not want a lover who will make them question their core values. Like family. Like work. And Harrison Brett, as handsome as he was — and he was gorgeous, believe me — just thinking about him gave me goosebumps — could not be everything to me, without causing disruption of at least one of my principles. So, the question was this — was he important enough? And I truly did not know the answer to that.

  He was very romantic and very kind, and very sexual last night. He was spontaneous, and he excited me to my core. But then he began to ask me about things that I was in no position to answer about my mother and his family. He had been kind of demanding, and he and I were both party to that understanding that we must remain platonic friends. And the sexual activity. Admittedly, I was into it, but he was definitely into it too. I thought so, at least. Or maybe not be in retrospect. Note, he did not come to yoga class today. I still wondered if he would show up for the appointment. There were frequently reasons why he could not come, but I wondered if it was from embarrassment. Which was fine. Or it might be simply due diligence to dispel the rumor that we were having a relationship.

  I thanked myself for a well-executed meditation, and rose to go to the showers.

  “Hey Scarlet,” said Heidi, who was now showered and dressed, drying her hair. “That was a swell class. We ought to go out again this week. You in?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d ask. Maybe we could see a movie or something. I’m not a huge drinker and these margarita nights almost put me under.”

  Heidi laughed. “Okay, girl. I get it. Movie night it is. I’ll email you!”

  She was as much saying it for the other girls as for me, I noticed. Which meant one of two things, she was proud to be my friend, or she was corroborating something she had been talking to the other girls about me. I prayed it was the former.

  Chapter 26

  HARRISON

  “CHRIS!” I SAID. “I need some info. My dad won’t say a word and there is a certain relationship — or potential relationship hanging in the balance.”

  “Do tell!” said Chris in his best reporter tone.

  “Look, this is off the record. I need to know if that Betty Ravenwood fucked my dad. I need to know if this woman I am falling for is my half-sister!”

  “That is a hell of a quandary!” he said, and it wa
s obvious he was laughing at me.

  “Chris! This is serious. I had a talk with my dad, but he won’t say a word, and I tried to get it out of Scarlet, but she doesn’t know.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “I skipped the yoga class today. I am trying still, but this complication is freaking me out. I need closure. Is she related to me or not, because I can’t have that hanging over my head.”

  “Well, I can tell you what I know. Your father married what amounted to a mail-order bride named Oksana Timoshenko. Now, mind you, I am not totally sure I am right about it, so take it with a grain of salt.”

  “Dang! I’ll take it with a pillar of salt. So, Dad married a mail-order bride from Russia.”

  “Well, the USSR, the Ukraine. She was going to be on the Soviet Olympic team in 1984, and you remember what happened then. The USSR boycotted the Olympics, but Oksana was good friends with an American businessman, Josef Haner, who had connections and managed to get her to compete for the United States that year, and because of that, she was not allowed to return. So, your father, who had seen her and realized she was stunning, even if she was only eighteen, married her. Well, they had a child pretty soon after that, and that child is you.”

  “Does that explain my athletic abilities, which I definitely did not get from my father?” I said as much to Chris as to myself.

  “Yes. I think so. It also explains your looks, which you also did not get from your father.”

  “Thank God for that. Tell me more.”

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “Okay. Well, apparently, Oksana was unhappy in America and managed to work out some deal to return a few years into Gorbachev’s time in power.”

  “Jesus! This is like a history lesson.”