by Mel Curtis
“Coach. Please.” Vivian hadn’t spoken that kindly to him since he’d visited Jack in the hospital.
Trent relented, left Archie in charge, and followed Vivian to Jack’s office.
A wisp of a middle-aged man sat in a guest chair. He stood when they came in. “Stu Stevens. Female & Lucky Magazine. So glad you agreed to the spread. Not everyone with a hot career like yours does.”
Trent’s foot didn’t quite clear the dark carpet on the floor.
Stu grabbed hold of his hand, shaking it. “We interview today. We’d like to shoot you on Friday.”
Wanting to shoot someone, Trent looked around for Vivian, but she’d closed the door behind him.
“Sit down. It’s not what you think.” Stu hadn’t let go of his hand. Probably he ambushed a lot of guys like this. Trent would look like a wuss if he ran at this point.
He sat, earning his hand back from Stu.
“I’m not going to ask you your most intimate fantasies about a woman.”
Cora. “I haven’t agreed to this interview – ”
“And I’m not going to ask you to give yourself an elbow injury creating a great photo opp on Friday.”
“I have a busy schedule and – ”
“Women are the fastest growing demographic for the NBA. They buy more merchandise than men. Mrs. Gordon tells me she’s creating a line of merchandise specifically for you.”
Trent opened his mouth and nothing came out, because a line of merchandise designed by Vivian couldn’t be good. She could have anything up her sleeve, from fly swatters to condoms.
Stu kept on pitching. “Any press you receive will positively impact your sales and your merchandise royalties.” His gaze drifted below Trent’s waist. “Regardless of how much our magazine shows.”
Trent crossed his legs. “I show nothing.”
“Do you have any tattoos? Colin Kaepernick increased his star power with tasteful photos in the body issue of ESPN magazine. Nobody complained that he held back his money shot.”
That was the only thing the young quarterback hadn’t shown. “No skin.” Trent started to stand.
“I can see you have concerns. To be fair, an article in our magazine will be polarizing. It might upset your ex-wife and her family.” Kudos to Stu for having done his homework. “Either way, it ups your media quotient. And a high Q-rating goes a long way when you’re looking for a new job.”
Trent hesitated. A feature in Female & Lucky was a firing offense when you were a coach at a religious college. Rachel’s father would be livid. Trent’s father would rant for days. No college would hire him. There’d be no going back if this job didn’t work out.
But Cora would applaud his courage.
“You have twenty minutes.” Trent settled in his seat and checked his phone. “And if you ask about my sex life, your clock expires.”
Stu grabbed his iPad from his bag. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do.”
~*~
Vivian didn’t know how long Coach Parker would play along with Stu. She re-entered the practice gym and chose her next victim.
Hugh Irving ambled off the court. His size intimidated her. It would be easier to pick on one of the babies that were assistant coaches. Easier, but not as potentially damaging.
She crooked her finger at Hugh.
He walked in her direction with a slow, deliberate pace and an intense stare that stole her breath. It was sexy and demanding at the same time. If she overlooked the hick beard.
“Yes, ma’am.” His deep voice rumbled in a nice way. He could have a career in broadcasting if playing didn’t work out. And if he shaved regularly. In college, he’d been an attractive young man. Shag-worthy.
If she had sex with someone like Hugh, could she squelch her love for Jack forever? Unlikely. “How’re you doing, Hugh?”
His lips worked beneath his beard before he answered. “I’m just doing my job. Learning the system and working hard.”
“Do you always do what you’re told?” She let a little sexual innuendo filter into her words.
“I’m here to play, ma’am.”
His ma’am was a mood-killer, a reminder of their nearly decade difference in age. She was getting older. Soon she’d be too old for babies. If she divorced Jack, the men she’d date would probably already have children and not want any more, not even adopted ones. Her arms felt weak and empty.
Damn you, Jack.
The big man stared down at her as if she was inconsequential. And why wouldn’t he? Jack had made her irrelevant.
Viv’s limbs felt hot. She clenched her fists. “Hugh, this team has always thrived on rule breakers. Just look at Evan Oliver. He took over the Flash last season. If he were gone, we’d need a leader on the court. Someone with the balls – ” She let her gaze drop to the crotch zone. “ – to take control of the team.”
“Coach Parker hasn’t asked me to – ”
“Forget Coach Parker,” she snapped, drawing stares from the rest of the team. She lowered her voice. “Coach Parker is nothing. I’m asking you. I paid for you. You’ll do as I say.”
“All due respect, ma’am, but I do as the coach tells me.”
“Then you’d best lay off those Twinkies, because you’ll want to be in good shape when I release you.”
~*~
Twenty minutes later, Trent found Vivian standing in a gym doorway watching the team with an unhappy glare. He couldn’t decide if she deserved his anger or his pity. “That was low.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sniffed. “We need exposure to sell tickets.”
“I’m not posing nude.” He had a very hard time understanding what Jack Gordon saw in Viv. On the surface, she and Cora were similar – both standoffish to strangers, real lookers, fashionable dressers. But they were worlds apart in personality. Cora was cuddly and trustworthy. Viv was about as cuddly and trustworthy as a boa constrictor on speed.
“I didn’t expect you to go for the full monty.” But her smile indicated she wouldn’t have minded.
Trent needed to return to practice, but he needed answers, too. “What’s all this about merchandise? Coaches don’t have merchandise.”
Her smile was calculated to get under his skin. “Of course, they do, Reverend. Bobbleheads, T-shirts with your inspirational sayings, and the like.”
It felt like she was selling his soul. “I didn’t agree to any of that.”
“Check your contract.” She left him.
Lunch came in. It wasn’t the usual assortment of grilled meat and chicken, fresh vegetables, or healthy sandwiches. The office staff carried in bags of McDonald’s. The smell of grease and French Fries permeated the air.
“What the hell is this?” Trent glared at them.
“Mrs. Gordon had us change the menu.”
The team stopped shooting. A few ventured closer. Hugh Irving was the boldest. He reached for a bag.
“Touch that food and you’re out,” Trent snarled like a dog defending his backyard from the pool man.
Irving drew his hand back. “It’s lunch, Coach.”
“It’s not lunch for you.” Trent turned to Zach and Nina. “Take this to the nearest homeless shelter.”
The office staff gathered up the bags and left, but the smell of junk food remained.
“That’s it,” Trent said. “We’re going to lunch as a team. I’m buying.”
“I know just the place.” Evan grinned.
The team’s captain led them to a healthy sub shop. A couple of the guys posted their location on Twitter or something. Soon their lunch was a fan-fest.
Irving seemed a bit overwhelmed and kept to himself. The rest posed for pictures with fans and had their egos stroked.
It put them off-schedule for the rest of the afternoon, but it was worth it. And he wished Cora had been there to share it with the guys.
~*~
“So you’re dating him.” Mimi applied eyeliner to one of Gemma’s closed eyelids
.
“I haven’t decided,” Cora said. “Maybe he’ll just be a practice date.”
“What’s the difference between real dating and practice dating?” Clutching her glasses, Gemma wished she could open her eyes and see the expression on Cora’s face. Practice dating? What a stupid idea? It was something Dooley would laugh about for days. It made Gemma want to laugh. But that wouldn’t help Cora or help Gemma prove to Amber she had life coaching skills. She carefully kept humor out of her voice when she asked, “How is practice dating different from the arrangements you had before?”
“Excellent question, padawan.” The sound of Mimi rummaging in her make-up case had Gemma opening her eyes. “I’m not sure I know myself.”
“Of course, you know, Mimi.” In the mirror, Gemma saw a blurred image of Cora sitting on the bed.
Mimi’s bedroom was white as a cloud. The perfect retreat for an angel or a wedding night.
“Cora, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mimi turned to Gemma. “Close your eyes.”
Reluctantly, Gemma did as asked.
Mimi stroked her lids lightly. “How is it different? Are you going out to dinner?”
“Maybe. He shies away from the press.”
“Are you gonna hang out?” Mimi asked.
“I suppose.”
“Have sex?”
“Yes.” The way Cora said, “Yes,” sounded more like “Duh.”
“It’s no different.” Gemma couldn’t resist jumping in, opening her eyes.
Mimi chuckled, digging into her case again. “I have to agree with our prodigy.”
“It’s different,” Cora grumbled.
Again, Gemma resisted smiling. Dooley used to say it was easier to ask for an explanation of your opponent’s position than to argue. It made them face the holes in their beliefs. She wished she’d paid more attention to her god-father when he was alive. “Make your case. Pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Give us an example.” Mimi pumped the mascara brush. “Is it something I should do with Kent?”
“Hell, no.” Gemma could hear the frown in Cora’s voice. “Do not practice date with Kent Decklin. He’s the kind of guy you share benefits with.”
Gemma fought that smile for all she was worth. “Did Amber and Evan practice date?”
“No. And neither did Blue and Maddy. They were falling in love.” Cora suddenly sounded small.
Unaccountably, Gemma wanted to hug her. How screwed up was that?
Mimi applied mascara on Gemma’s lashes with delicate strokes. “So there are guys you screw around with, and guys you marry. And the guys in-between are practice dates?”
Cora seemed to be nodding.
“I don’t get it,” Gemma said. “Dating is supposed to be a fun evaluation of a guy to see if you want to spend the rest of your life with him. Practice dating seems more like friends with benefits who you hang out with.”
“That’s it exactly.” Cora nodded.
Gemma decided it was time to bring the point home. “But does a guy you practice date know he’s in limbo? Or does he think you’re evaluating each other for marriage? What would Coach Parker say if you told him he was your practice date?”
Cora’s shoulders drooped. Drooped!
~*~
“I need a favor.” Trent rolled over and kissed Cora’s bare shoulder.
They were in his hotel room bed. Brutus was curled on the comforter on the floor.
“On top of keeping me up all night every night, you want a favor. I don’t think so.” But Cora smiled. For the past few days, they’d left game film night separately and met at his hotel. She didn’t put labels on what they were doing. But when they were together, Cora couldn’t stop smiling.
“Media day is Saturday. I need help picking out a suit.”
She turned in his arms. “You are truly a wise man. One, for realizing that jacket you wore to Jack’s party was hideous. And two, for asking me. I have exquisite taste.”
He kissed her in that delicious Southern way of his, long and slow, as if he could kiss her forever. When he finished, he whispered, “And there’s a photo shoot on Friday. I need something to wear.”
“What’s the photo shoot for?”
“Vivian arranged a spread for Female & Lucky Magazine.” His fingers dawdled along her spine. “I haven’t gone all L.A. on you. I told them I was keeping all my clothes on. But I don’t think they’d like me to show up in a T-shirt and basketball shorts.”
“All those women staring at you. That edition of the magazine could become a classic.” She nipped his lip. “I’ll help you find some clothes that make me want to rip them off you.”
“Perfect.” He stroked the length of her spine. “And I need another favor.”
She reached for a condom on the nightstand.
He stilled her hand. “Not that kind of favor.”
She rolled on top of him, laughing as she slid down to give him an intimate kiss. “All you have to do is ask.”
He drew her back up. The light from the pool illuminated his frown. “Don’t assume every question is a request to be serviced.”
She froze. They’d avoided discussions about her friends with benefits. He hadn’t asked to come to her place. They hadn’t been seen anywhere together past the hotel lobby. Please don’t ruin this.
“We’re dating,” Trent said softly, tucking her hair behind her ears. “You never turn me down. It’s weird. Don’t get me wrong. Making love with you is great.”
Making love. She felt hot and cold.
Trent never called what they did together sex. His hand glided over her breast, paused, pressed. “I was going to ask you to work with Hugh Irving. His attitude is a pain in my ass.”
Cora squealed and bussed his lips. “Really? You’d trust me with him?”
“I’m to the point where I’d bring in a monkey with palm reading skills if I thought it’d help.”
Some of Cora’s enthusiasm waned. “I’m a monkey now, am I?”
“You’re my last resort before the monkey. Hugh nearly brought Ren to tears yesterday.” Trent slid his hand between her legs, slid his fingers into her heat, mopping her channel with her juices. His touch was gentle.
Her response wasn’t. Cora rolled her hips, begging for more. “Then yes. Yes.” He made her wanton.
Trent continued working magic with his fingers, until she reached for a condom again.
“Wait,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Before we get to the main course, how about doing me a favor? I have some moves I’ve never tried, like the one in that book in your bedroom.”
Despite her blood thrumming faster as that particular image of entwined limbs resurfaced, she hesitated. He’d said people who dated turned their lovers down. “I don’t know,” she tried to sound bored. “I might have a headache.”
“Really?” He wasn’t falling for it. His fingers found her nipple, rolling it into a tight bud.
“Or be too tired.”
He suckled her other nipple.
Her limbs began to tremble. “Or not be in the mood.” Her voice shook.
Trent swatted her butt, trapping a lungful of air in her throat. “I might not be in the mood anymore, sugar. Maybe you should be asking me for a favor. You should beg.” A dare. A challenge. A risk.
Cora didn’t ask in bed. She directed.
Cora didn’t beg. She took.
But Trent was a giving lover. He made her laugh and sigh and cry out in pleasure. They had fun together whether they were watching basketball film or exploring each other’s bodies. Why not play along?
“Please...” Was that needy voice hers? She swallowed her pride and nestled her cheek against his so she could whisper in his ear, “I want you to be creative. I want you to make me shout your name. I want…you.”
~*~
Trent’s smile stretched across his face, into his chest, and down to his toes.
He walked into the photo studio, dressed like a wealthy, successf
ul NBA coach, with a beautiful woman on his arm – Cora.
And then he saw all the lights, the people, and a red velvet couch against a white backdrop.
I’m keeping my clothes on.
“You look hot.” Cora must have sensed his urge to flee. “Every woman’s going to be undressing you, but the most skin she’ll see is here.” She stretched to kiss his chin.
“Cora, I didn’t know you’d be here.” A lanky man with a camera hanging around his neck came over to hug her. “What are you doing later? We should get together. It’s been too long.” The man’s hands lingered on her waist.
Jealousy coiled in every muscle, prepared to strike. But Cora wouldn’t appreciate such a display. Trent maneuvered her farther back and extended his hand, introducing himself. “And you are…” So not touching her again.
“Mikey Millar.” He took in Trent’s attire. “Killer shoes. Is Cora your stylist? I need to put her back in my rotation. She always could pick the photogenic ones.” Mikey’s smile was of the let’s-get-naked variety, an invitation he didn’t limit to Cora.
Holy Crikey!
While Trent’s jealousy morphed into panic, Cora’s eyes grew wide. “I’m not his stylist, I’m his…we’re…”
“We’re dating,” Trent growled, sounding like it was the fourth quarter and he was on zone defense against a cocky rookie in need of a put-down.
Mikey’s smile turned sly. “Dating? That’s new.” He waved at an assistant. “Let’s get you in make-up, Coach.”
For the love of God.
Trent knew this had been a mistake.
Cora squeezed his hand. If she didn’t run when he told someone for the first time they were dating, he could submit himself to an hour-long photo shoot.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not wearing any eye-liner.”
~*~
Hugh Irving was still a big dude with an entitled attitude.
Cora approached him during the late morning’s three-point practice. “Hey, Irving. I brought you a coffee.” She set his cup next to her on the bleachers.