by Mel Curtis
“You do, too. My dad’s house. My dad’s room.” Evan peered at Amber intently. “Dooley’s not really dead. Confess. He’s hiding somewhere, right?”
“No.” Amber was horrified that Evan could suspect such a thing.
But Evan pressed on, his brow clouded with suspicion. “Dooley’s death was all just a publicity stunt and he’s hiding in the other wing. Is that why we ended up in this room?”
“No. My dad passed away” The reality of it hit Amber. Dooley was dead. He wasn’t waiting around the corner with a camera or a camera crew. He wasn’t going to pull into the drive with Chinese food from Xi’an. The laughter she heard in her head was pulled from her memories. And if Amber didn’t keep her big girl panties on the Dooley Foundation and her monthly electronic transfer from the same wasn’t going to happen, not for her, not for Blue, not for Cora.
Well, really, did she have to blow a beautifully tragic moment by thinking of Cora?
“Hey, what’s with the waterworks?” Evan pried the coffee mug from Amber’s stiff fingers and set it aside. He gathered her into his lap, covering her with the towel as best he could, doing a better job of enveloping her in his arms.
Amazed that she was finally crying over her father’s death, Amber wiped at her wet cheeks, but couldn’t stop the tears. In fact they got worse. “I never knew him,” Amber sobbed into Evan’s chest. “He was smart…and had high morals…and helped people. Really helped people.” Cal Lazarus. Zee Johnson. And Lyle…No, Lyle didn’t count. “He helped me.” Amber choked upon this admission. What a mess she would have been if left to her mother’s lonely mansion through her teen years. “And I spent most of my life thinking he was just some foolish, dumpy old man who was an embarrassment to everyone around him, most of all me.”
“He understood,” Evan said in a quiet voice she’d rarely heard him use.
“He didn’t.” Amber burrowed her face into Evan’s shoulder and shed more tears, knowing she’d carry guilt over her behavior for the rest of her life. The verdict was in. She didn’t deserve her father’s love.
“All dads love their kids. Dooley doesn’t sound like a traditional guy, so he probably had a different way of showing it.”
That gave Amber pause. Her sobs slowly dwindled. Her father wouldn’t have required her to stay in his house if he hadn’t meant her to find one of the keys to his secrets. That had to mean he loved her, didn’t it? Didn’t it? “How did your dad show he loved you? I know he could be awful, but there must have been something.”
For a long time Evan didn’t say a thing, until Amber suspected he wasn’t going to answer. But then he spoke in a gruff voice. “My dad yelled at me on the court. Coaches hated it. They didn’t want me to listen. But most of the time he was right. I played better because of it. And I…I miss that.”
It was an unexpected admission given Evan’s father had abused him. Amber kept quiet, thinking about how ambition warped love for the both of them. And then she realized she was more than half in love with Evan, which was a colossal mistake because Evan was one of the most ambitious men she knew. He was a fierce competitor that kept himself apart from everyone else. A man like Evan would take what he needed and never commit to anything. And the media coverage he attracted…She’d be heartbroken and humiliated all over again. She tensed, only now realizing that she sat on Evan’s erection.
Goodbye sex, anyone?
“Is this where you expected me to turn into a big orange pumpkin and disappear?” Evan’s perceptive gray eyes searched her face. His hand, which had been stroking her back, stilled.
“Yes.” Amber blew out a shaky breath, relieved that Evan understood.
He set Amber aside none too gently. “I’m sorry if I said too much about my dad.”
“It’s not that,” she blurted, not wanting to hurt Evan, still torn between what she wanted and what was good for her.
Evan stood and frowned down on her, leaving Amber no choice but to scramble to her feet, clutching the towel around herself, hoping that was enough to keep her from letting Evan love her one more time.
She stared at his bare feet, so long and elegant. “I can’t be seen with you in anything but a professional capacity.” And then she waited for the storm to break.
When Evan spoke, the controlled, proud tone he’d used when they first met at Panache was back. “I’m not going to sneak around with you.”
“No, you’re not.” Amber tried to keep the sadness from her voice, but was afraid she failed.
“And I don’t need a life coach.”
“So you’ve said.”
Dishes clinked in the kitchen.
“Amber, this is crazy.” Evan held her shoulders, shaking them lightly until Amber looked into his eyes. “What’s between us – ”
“Will ruin me. I’m trying to build a business and every time I’m seen with you the gossip columns put up links to Kent’s video.”
“It’s not the business you’re worried about. It’s some prudish idea that in order to be a success you have to be asexual.” His fingers dug into Amber’s bare skin. “You need to look around this room because your father knew how to be successful and how to be successfully fulfilled.” He thrust her away from him.
Anger forced Amber to follow him out of the bedroom. “It’d be different if there was a video of you counting down to one of your quick launches.”
“There’s an art to quick sex, both by yourself and with a partner.” He rounded the corner and barreled toward the front door. “Maybe I’ll mention that in my Playgirl interview, as well as some of my big turn-ons.” Flinging open the door, Evan crossed the threshold out to the front porch, raising his voice. “Big tits. Women who orgasm like an a cappella opera. Maybe I’ll even hint at who I’m dating.”
Shaking with fury, Amber grabbed a water balloon from last night’s ammo supply and heaved it at his retreating back.
Evan cringed as water dripped down his spine. A photographer lingering streetside began to snap pictures. Evan looked casually toward the clicking noise, making sure the photographer got his shot and wasn’t wearing a red baseball cap, before ambling to his car and driving away.
He’d known making love to Amber was a mistake, but he hadn’t expected he’d be the one who felt used afterward. So what? The quality of the sex was so earth moving Evan should have no complaints.
It was Amber’s lack of backbone that infuriated him, not regrets. If she wanted to be with him nothing else should matter. Evan’s anger was a surprising icy calm that still managed to burn its way through his gut as he drove home under the speed limit. He hadn’t been this angry since he’d woken up in the hospital after being shot by his father.
What are you afraid of? Go out there and kick his ass! Take it to the hole.
God damn. Evan hadn’t heard his father’s words in his head since the old man died. It was his father’s bravado, that force of will that pushed Evan beyond limits normal mortals respected. Evan cared for his body as if it was a well oiled performance machine. He pushed it beyond the red line. He’d spent much of his childhood without a mother, without anyone who coddled him when he was hurt. His father had made sure Evan picked himself up and carried on like a man who didn’t need anyone after every setback. And that day in the hospital when his father appeared at his bedside and asked Evan when they were leaving for Seattle, Evan hadn’t broken from his training. He told his father he never wanted to see him again. And he’d gone on. Apart. Aloof. Alone.
Until Amber dropped into his life and started inviting Evan’s teammates to lunch.
He’d have to unravel the mess she’d caused, the expectations players like Ren had for friendship. If Evan was going to make it in the NBA he’d need to refocus, to isolate. But he had something they didn’t have – his father’s anger.
The memory of Amber in his arms, soft and warm after they’d made love edged into his awareness.
Fuck that.
This was no pity party. Evan had a game to play tonight and four
chances left to solidify his career in the NBA. He had to get his head on straight.
His cell rang. Evan answered, half expecting it to be Amber with an apology he’d refuse.
“Just wanted to let you know I moved back in with Mandy.” It was Brock. “I left your keys on the counter.”
That Fuck got it right? Evan wanted to punch the accelerator to the floor. Instead he signaled for his exit.
“Oliver? Are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“I showed up with flowers and wine this morning, just like you told me.” Brock paused. “I just wanted to thank you.”
Evan hung up. He should be happy. He had his life back and was going to play the Lakers tonight on national television.
Chapter 34
“You ain’t got nothin’.” Bobby Mendes got in Evan’s face with two minutes and ten seconds left on the clock in the first half. “You ain’t nothin’.”
He was right. Evan sucked. The Lakers defense had come down on Evan hard, denying him the ball and double-teaming him when he did have the ball so that he couldn’t move and was forced to pass. Forget trying to run the Chaos offense. Evan had known it was a losing battle before they stepped out on the court and had never called it into play. The Flash struggled to get shots off. There must be a new league record for shot blocks and passes stolen because the Lakers were making the Flash look like a middle school team. They were trailing thirty-five to fifty-five in a packed Staples Center in front of the usual celebrity fans, including Jack Nicholson.
Spinks called a timeout. Evan returned to their bench and heard Brock at the media table speak into his mic. “Oliver just hasn’t shown up tonight. Consistency. This is what keeps him from being a superstar.”
Evan sat on the bench and wiped his face with a towel. If his father were alive he’d be in the stands bellowing instructions at Evan.
What are you afraid of? Take it to the hole!
Evan glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see some crazed fan yelling, but no one was near reciting his father’s favorite mantra. Evan didn’t miss the old man. The beatings had stopped when he was a junior in high school and they were knee-deep in college scholarship offers. Now that his dad was dead and buried, drunken tirades directed at referees and coaches were no longer an issue. Neither was there someone waiting for him outside the locker room with backslapping praise. Evan played for no one but himself now.
Evan rubbed his tight chest. He’d reassured Amber this morning that her father had loved her, despite Dooley’s being a rather looney jerk by all accounts, someone who used his daughter to make his fortune.
Like Evan was the expert on forgiving bad fathers.
He glanced over his shoulder to the empty seat behind him that Amber had been assigned. It was a good thing she hadn’t shown up.
“Dude,” Cy leaned over to speak to Evan. “I’ve got scouts here from the Boston Celtics and the Miami Heat. Step up your game.”
“Oliver!” Spinks tore through the huddle. “This ain’t no bar night with your pansy boyfriend. Pay attention.”
Cy held up his hands and backed away.
There were legitimate NBA scouts in the audience and Evan couldn’t find his game.
What are you afraid of? Take it to the hole!
His father would be screaming in his ear louder than Spinks right now, riling up the team, the coach and Evan.
What are you afraid of?
Evan stood, pushing his way out of the huddle.
Kobe Bryant tossed a pass in Bobby Mendes’ direction and Evan came alive, darting in to steal the ball and make a lay-up.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Mendes said.
“Most likely,” Evan said, but he didn’t have much time to make small talk.
What are you afraid of?
Nothing!
“You’re all just a bunch of pussies,” Spinks sputtered. “You’re playin’ scared. The only one out there with any balls is Oliver and he only sprouted them at the end of that half. Every one of you better reach down in your shorts and see if you still have a pair. And if you don’t, you’ll be auditioning for the cheerleaders tomorrow.” Spinks turned to the white board, the squeak of his felt pen sharp on the ears.
Ren fiddled with the waistband of his shorts, as if he was taking Coach Spinks’ admonishing seriously.
“Now, in the second half,” Spinks began. “I want you to set some screens for Oliver. Here.” Squeaky X. “And here.” Squeaky X.
A door opened and closed. Jack Gordon appeared. “You’ll have to play without Oliver in the second half. We’re benching him.”
Spinks looked from Jack to Evan and then back to Jack.
Evan stood. “Why?”
“You know why.”
Yes, Evan did. He’d scored ten points in two minutes at the end of the half and two NBA teams were watching him play.
Jack left. The locker room was eerily silent.
“Change in plan.” Spinks wiped the board clean. “Everyone’s going to screen for Antoine.”
Chapter 35
“Why aren’t you at the game?” Trina asked testily when Amber climbed onto a bar stool at Tingle.
“Because.” Amber was strung as tight as a trip wire. She hadn’t worked up the nerve to go to the game. Amber had started to watch it on television. And then she’d seen Mimi Sorbet run out on the court before the game and steal a kiss from Evan. To make matters worse, Blue had been a no show all day, so Amber had rehung her father’s pictures on the walls.
“Because why?” Trina poured rum and tequila into a tall glass without spilling a drop of either one. “It’s not as if you’ve been around all week. Or last week.”
Guilt added a sour note to Amber’s tension symphony. Before her father’s death she and Trina spent most afternoons shopping or checking out potential business investments for Amber, capping off their evenings with dinner together before Trina opened Tingle. Such was the life of single women resigned to their single fate. “I’m sorry. I’m a crappy Chief Empathy Officer, as evidenced by the clients I’ve managed to alienate. I didn’t mean to be a crappy friend, too.”
“You could have done more than text.” Trina blinked rapidly and scanned the length of the bar as she handed the tall drink she’d been making to another customer. “Not that I care.”
“I’ll make it up to you. Let’s grab dinner at Panache.”
Trina’s chin jutted out. “I’m not leaving. We’re busy.”
Amber surveyed the crowded dance floor. Business had picked up at both Panache and Tingle since the Lyle Lincoln column had outed her and Evan here. Amber noted more than a few stares upon her. Her business ventures had once been a haven, a place where Amber could blend in, but no longer.
The world closed in on Amber. The Foundation’s financial woes and shaky reputation. Blue’s short-cut philosophy toward learning the Rules. Jack Gordon’s win-at-all-costs expectations. There were too many people relying on Amber, too many people waiting for her to stumble. Amber hung her head. She couldn’t carry the load. Look how she’d messed everything up with Evan.
“Hey,” Trina reached out and gripped Amber’s hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” But Amber couldn’t lift her head and face the world. Not when she expected to be crushed again.
“Look, I’m a whiny bitch.” Trina bent until she was in Amber’s line of vision. “Ignore me, I – ”
“Hey, can I get a Jack and Coke?”
Amber raised her head and studied the back of the man next to her. He wasn’t skyscraper tall. His dark hair was cropped short and didn’t curl in unruly waves at his collar. He didn’t have broad shoulders. He…
He wasn’t Evan.
“Give me a Cosmo,” Amber demanded.
Trina looked at her funny and finished up Not-Evan’s order. Then she grabbed a bar towel and started wiping down the bar. Amber’s drink was nowhere on the horizon.
“Nice dress,” Trina said, looking happy to redirect attention
on Amber’s shortcomings when she’d finished. “From what I can see beneath your granny poncho.”
Amber had put on a royal blue Betsy Johnson halter dress, but then chickened out on displaying her wares so openly when she noticed the paparazzi outside her door. “It’s cold outside. That’s why I need a drink.”
“Freezing,” Trina agreed, poker faced. “And like ice in here.”
It was hot in the club and hotter under her navy crocheted poncho. Martha Stewart would be so proud. What did it matter? “Look. The Flash is getting pounded by the Lakers and someone’s leaking secrets about my life to the gossip columns. I need a drink. You do know how to make a Cosmo…”
“Why aren’t you at the game?” Trina demanded.
“I…I…” Amber blinked rapidly.
“You slept with the Candy Man and he broke your heart,” Trina said, tossing down her bar towel. “I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re going to give me a drink. I’ll make it easy for you – gin and juice, no ice.”
“No.” Trina’s eyebrows crashed together and she crossed her arms, leaving Amber no choice but to bargain.
“Fine. I’ll give you my poncho.”
“We’re still trying to get word from the Flash’s bench as to what’s keeping Evan Oliver out of the game.” Brock said for the third time in the first five minutes of the second half.
“This doesn’t look good for the Flash,” Pablo added. “They came out of the locker room really flat.”
“Oliver was in those last two minutes of the first half. He’s got to be really hurting to be sitting on the bench.”
“He looks unhappy, Brock.”
“Trade me,” Evan burst into Jack Gordon’s sky box suite after the game. Evan hadn’t showered, hadn’t bothered going into the locker room with the rest of the team at the end of the game.
As if he’d been expecting him, Jack didn’t waver as he poured a glass of whiskey on the rocks. “You’re worth nothing to me the way you played tonight.”