"Deal," Ryan said. "My best medicine is to lie in your arms. You heal me."
Jamie woke relatively early, having gone to sleep at 7 o’clock Pacific time, making her very well rested by 8 a.m. Ryan was still deeply asleep, and after trying to just lie in bed and be close to her, Jamie finally had to get up. She used the facilities and then pulled in the paper and sat down at the small table to read. The national paper held little interest for her, since she wasn’t particularly mesmerized by colorful graphs and pie charts, and she quickly pushed it away. Idly looking at the items on the desk she found a copy of the bill for Ryan’s room in Winston/Salem. Attached to it was a note from the student manager.
Ryan, I’m not sure how I’m going to hide the extra charges, but I’ll do my best. Coach said not to bother you with this, but there’s a chance that someone in the accounting department at school will kick this back. So, if anyone says anything to you, just let me know and I’ll take care of it. Shelly
That was nice of her, Jamie thought. Looking at the bill, her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Neatly itemized were the following charges from the mini bar:
One Crown Royal $5.00
One Tullamore Dew $5.00
One Seagram’s $5.00
One Canadian Club $5.00
One Budweiser $4.00
Liquor total $24.00
The blonde dropped her head to the table and started to cry. My poor, poor, tortured baby.
Ryan had managed to sleep for nearly 10 hours, and when she woke she was in better spirits. They had breakfast together, but the taller woman was still not very vocal, seeming as if she was considering something. "You know, there’s a part of me that wants to have a press conference."
"What? I know that I told you I like your unpredictability, but this is too much!"
"I want to clear something up," Ryan said, nodding her head.
"Honey, what could you possible want to clear up?"
Ryan gazed at her for a moment, then reached out to grasp her hand, running her thumb across her palm. "It’s bugging the shit out of me that everyone seems so focused on what I did during the … thing. People act like it was just me and the bad guys, and that’s such a misrepresentation of the truth."
"Okay … that might be what’s happened, but why should that bother you?"
"Because it diminishes your contribution," she said, blinking at her. "The truth is that we’re both alive because of you, Jamie." She shook her head and said, "Well, all three of us are alive because of you. I guess we would have been fine if we’d let them take Caitlin."
Raising one blonde eyebrow, Jamie gave her a smirk and said, "I’d give my life 10 times over for that child. And so would you."
"I know that, sweetheart, I know that. But the general public doesn’t seem to get that, and it’s driving me nuts! People think I’m the big hero because I hung on to the roof of a car, but the heroic thing was you getting into the car in the first place. And I’m not sure how you did it, but I know you kept them from killing all of us, one by one."
"I’m not sure I can take credit for that," Jamie said. "Their own stupidity and lack of impulse control made them run out of ammo before they could do it."
"No way, babe. If you hadn’t warned me about the driver getting out to kill me – he would have. You risked your life to do that, Jamie. There was a very good chance that he would have been so pissed at you that you would have won the ‘who do I hate more’ contest."
She gave Ryan a soft smile and said, "That didn’t occur to me. All that mattered was your safety."
"That’s what makes you such a hero," Ryan said, squeezing her hand. "You did what you knew was right – ignoring the consequences. You lived your convictions." She looked away, muttering, "Most people don’t do that."
"Hey," Jamie said, troubled by the look in Ryan’s eyes. "What does that mean? Are you implying that you didn’t do that?"
Ryan merely shrugged, saying, "I could have done better."
"Sweetheart …" Jamie said, but Ryan hushed her.
"I don’t want to talk about me right now. I really would like to make it clear that I believe that you were the key to our survival. I think a press conference might be the way to do it."
"No thanks," Jamie said, shaking her head decisively. "I don’t need a bunch of strangers to think I’m a hero. That wouldn’t mean a thing to me." She got up and pushed Ryan’s chair back, climbing onto her lap. "It means a lot to me that you think so, though. You’re all that matters to me."
"You’re my hero," Ryan sighed as she rested her head against Jamie’s chest, meaning the sentiment with every bit of her heart.
Just knowing that Jamie was close by improved Ryan’s mood dramatically, and she was whistling a happy tune when the bus pulled up to the arena that afternoon. Her tune stopped abruptly when she saw a couple of college-aged men trying to keep a band of reporters from the door of the bus. "Fuck me," she mumbled under her breath, preparing for another onslaught.
Jaleesa, the back-up center, gave Ryan a determined look and said, "Follow me."
As they filed out of the bus, the cameras came dangerously close to their heads, and Ryan saw Jaleesa’s elbows start flying. The young woman looked like a female version of Shaquille O’Neal as she started pushing people from their path, and in a few minutes they were safely inside the players’ entrance. Mary Hayes turned to Jaleesa and said, "Let’s see those elbows during the game, huh?"
The large woman just gave her the usual lazy smile she seemed to reserve for the coach alone. Ryan guessed it meant, "Screw you," but it was impossible for the casual observer to know what was on the quiet woman’s mind.
As soon as they hit the locker room, Coach Hayes was on the phone, angrily demanding to see the athletic director. The players stood around in uncomfortable silence, never having seen the woman lose her temper. A few minutes later a man in a rumpled gray suit arrived, and the coach pulled him right into the locker room, away from any prying reporters.
"Listen," she growled, poking him in the chest with her index finger, "I spoke to the NCAA today, and I told them that if we were subjected to the kind of disturbing scene that we got at Wake Forest, I was pulling my team off the court! There were flashes popping all night – and sports photographers know not to do that. They did a crappy job of policing the media, and if you do the same – we’re out of here! Usually, I know you wouldn’t care if Cal walked out on you, but tonight it will be the top story nationwide. Is that what you want the country to see?"
"No, no, of course not," he said, trying to smooth her feathers. "I’ll personally see to it that no one uses a flash. The sports photographers are all hooked up to our electronic synching system. The problem comes from a few independents who are looking for a fast buck. They’re obviously not trying to take shots of the game," he said, not mentioning who they were taking shots of.
"Handle it," Mary said, glaring at him menacingly.
"I will, I most certainly will," he said. "Now, when can you have Ms. O’Flaherty ready for a post-game interview? We’ve had requests from everybody in the South to get in on this."
"She’ll be ready …" she paused for effect, "when hell freezes over. Nobody on earth is going to force me to subject her to that kind of torture again."
"But Coach, it’s in the contract! Your players must be made available for post-game interviews."
"Sue me," she growled, turning her back and stalking away.
The game was tight, with the lead switching back and forth between the teams for the first three quarters. Cal was hanging tough against a much better opponent, and late in the fourth quarter Ryan had finally figured out a move to lose her defender. For the fifth time in a row she head faked her, once, twice, then executed a neat little dribble-drive, leaving the other woman’s feet planted firmly on the floor. As Ryan elevated, someone right behind the basket shot off a powerful flash, temporarily blinding her just as the ball left her fingertips. The shot was good, but the flash prevented her from s
eeing the center, who rushed to cover for the forward that Ryan had ditched. Ryan had no idea the large woman was underneath her, and she started to drop, only to have the defender push her roughly as she started to descend upon her. Unable to see, Ryan could not protect herself, and she fell to the floor from her elevated position … dropping like a rock to land flat on her back.
It was impossible to tell if she hit her head or not, but there was a very loud crack when she landed … sending the gym into stunned silence. The only sound for several seconds was the soft whirring of cameras as their auto-winders took hundreds of photos of the prone woman; then the frantic clicking of Mary and Lynette’s heels as they rushed across the hardwood to tend to her, and the determined footsteps of one terrified blonde woman, who was rushing down the steep concrete steps of the arena at an astonishing pace.
Jamie reached an impasse when she arrived at the lowest level. The section was reserved for VIP’s, and the entrance was guarded by several security people. "That’s my partner on the floor," she shouted, trying to make the guards let her go without having to resort to bloodshed, which she was perfectly willing to commit if need be.
She received a blank look, so she pulled out her trump card. "We’re the ones from TV," she said. "She was on the roof of the car … I was inside with the nuts with the guns …"
"Oh! I did see your picture," the head guard said. "Is that uhm … Ryan on the floor now? I wasn’t really watching the game," he said. "Is she hurt?"
"How can I know that when I’m talking to you?" she asked, trying to be patient enough so he would allow her in, but determined enough so that he didn’t try to wave her off.
"Let me take you down to the locker room," he said. "To get to her from here you’d have to climb over the press table. I can’t imagine you want to do that, do ya, ma’am?"
"No, of course not," she said. "Just get me there in a hurry. She has a history of head trauma."
"Don’t doubt it, ma’am," he said in his lazy drawl, thinking of the antics he had seen her perform to stay attached to the car. "Don’t doubt it at all."
When Coach Hayes and Lynette slid up to Ryan, they were both relieved to see that her eyes were open and focused. She was holding her gut and gasping for breath, but as Mary leaned over her, the groaning woman wheezed out, "Air!" and the coach was confident that her center would be fine.
The trainer was now part of the huddle, and as Mary leaned over again she whispered, "Stay down until you feel totally fine, Ryan. We need you in the game, and if they hustle you off the court until you get your breath back, the game will be over."
Even with the pain that radiated in waves from her midsection, Ryan managed to nod, showing she understood. Lynette stood a few feet from Ryan, trying to block the view of the assembled photographers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde tornado burst through the doors of the locker room, and she ran to head her off, catching her just a few feet past the door. "She’s fine," the large woman said immediately. "Just got the wind knocked out of her."
"But her head!"
"Didn’t hit it. I’m sure, Jamie. I saw her fall. She curled up like a possum on the way down. Weirdest thing I ever saw. That’s why she’s so out of breath. Her entire body weight landed on just the flat of her back."
"Are you sure?" the smaller woman demanded, her green eyes sparking fire.
"Yes. I’m positive. Coach wants her to stay down until she feels fine. Look," she said, pointing in Ryan’s direction. "She’s got her knees up so she can catch her breath, and they wouldn’t let her do that if they were worried about her spine or her head." She tried to urge Jamie back into the locker room, but found that the much smaller woman was hard to move against her will. "Come on, Jamie. If the press sees you, it’s gonna be a zoo."
She nodded, finally reassured when she saw Ryan’s left foot tapping on the floor, indicating that she was tired of lying down. "Tell her I love her," Jamie demanded, scowling at Lynette until the older woman promised that she would.
By the time Lynette got back to the huddle, Ryan was up, shaking off attempts to assist her to the bench. The North Carolina team doctor came over and insisted on looking at her pupils and making sure she was aware of her surroundings. "What’s your name?" he asked as he leaned over and shone a bright penlight in each eye.
"On the verge of kicking North Carolina’s ass," Ryan grumbled, "if their team doctor gets out of my damned way."
"She’s fine," he said, as he stood and nodded to Coach Hayes.
The cameras had not stopped during this entire interlude, but Ryan barely noticed them any longer. With unerring accuracy, she let her senses speak to her, and somehow felt Jamie’s eyes boring into her. She lifted her head the second the doctor left, and immediately fell into the warm regard of her partner, who was standing against the partially hidden wall that led to the locker room. She kissed her hand, closed her eyes and blew the kiss, not pointing it in Jamie’s direction, due to fear that the press would spot her little hiding place. Even though the kiss wasn’t delivered to the exact address, it was very welcome, and Jamie blew several in return that Ryan noticed out of the corner of her eye.
She had obviously been fouled on the shot, and the referee came over to see if she was able to continue. "Hell, yes," she said, scowling as she brushed by him.
Walking calmly towards the free throw line, she concentrated for a long moment, letting the photographers have their fun, then she made the little X over her heart that she used to show Jamie she was thinking of her, and let the ball fly, scoring another much needed point.
She didn’t score for the remainder of the game, but that was good news indeed. North Carolina smothered her with two defenders at all times, and that left someone open on every possession. Drizslava canned a couple of jumpers, Franny launched a three that went to the heart of the basket, and just like that – it was over. Cal had prevailed 81-79, and every player on the team knew that they had stepped up a level in class by beating one of the premier squads in the nation – on their home court.
Jamie was inside the locker room waiting for her, and even though Ryan knew that was an act that would probably merit the death penalty, she had to spend just a moment reassuring the frantic-looking woman. "Did you hit your head?" Jamie asked before Ryan could utter a word.
"Nope. I promise. I barely ruffled my hair. I landed full on my back."
"Is your back all right?"
"Yeah. I feel fine, really. Just got the wind knocked out of me."
Jamie placed both hands on Ryan’s sweaty chest and looked up into her eyes. "Swear?"
"I swear. I’m fine."
The look of pure worry gave way to an equally bright smile. "Great game!" the smaller woman cried, giving her a big hug. "You kicked butt, baby!"
"Thanks, honey," Ryan said. "Now scoot! Grab a cab and meet me back at the hotel. I’ll let you kiss all of my bruises for me."
"That’s the best offer I’ve had all day."
Ryan walked into the room and tossed her key on the dresser. Jamie was lying on the bed, watching television, and when Ryan saw what was on, she flopped onto the bed next to her. "This is so weird," she said, watching the image of her own body lying on the floor of the gym. "I don’t know how famous people ever get used to this."
"At first, they seek it," Jamie said.
Ryan shivered as she said, "That’s beyond my ken. Why anyone would want to see their private lives served up for the world’s enjoyment is beyond my ability to understand."
"Oh!" Jamie jumped from the bed and grabbed a piece of paper. "Call this number!"
Ryan took the offered cell phone, and the paper, and started to dial. "You gonna tell me who I’m calling?"
"Nope. It’ll be obvious."
Smiling at her partner, the number connected and Ryan waited until an ecstatic sounding woman said, "Hello?"
"Uhm … hello?"
"Ryan?"
"Yeah."
"I made it! I made it! I made it! I made it! I made
it!" Jordan cried.
"Wee ha!" Ryan shouted, enormously happy for her friend. "When did you find out?"
"About two hours ago," she said. "I called Mia first, and then you. You don’t mind being second, do you?"
"As it should be," Ryan said. "I am so tremendously happy for you, Jordan," she said in a serious tone of voice. "To work so hard for something, and finally have it happen is something that few people get to experience. I’m thrilled that you’re one of them."
"Thanks, Ryan. I spoke to Jamie earlier, so I know you’re okay, but I was pretty freaked out when I turned on the news tonight."
"News? Don’t tell me they still have us on the news in Colorado! Jesus, the incident was a week ago!"
"No, no, they had a long teaser at the start of the newscast, showing you on the floor, looking like you were dead! The announcer said, ‘You know her as a hero. Tonight Ryan O’Flaherty, the reluctant hero, lies on a gymnasium floor, fighting for her life once again.’ Freaked me out, pal."
There was a momentary pause, before Ryan could gather herself enough to shout, "They said that?"
"Yep. They didn’t tell the whole story until fifteen minutes into the newscast. They just try to jerk the viewer around."
"Jordan, I’ve gotta go," Ryan said. "It’s almost eight o’clock at home, and my father always watches the eight o’clock early news. If they show that footage, he’ll freak!"
"Okay, Ryan. See you guys tomorrow."
"We love you, Jordan, and congratulations again, pal."
Ryan rolled her eyes, saying to Jamie, "Did Jordan tell you about the news in Colorado?"
"No, what happened?"
"What happened is that Da’s gonna have a heart attack if I don’t get him before the news starts."
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