The hourlong tour ended in the legendary Studio A, where so many Motown hits had been recorded. The studio boasted all the original microphones, instruments and music stands that still had the old sheet music on them. After demonstrating how the echo chamber worked, the tour guide led the group in a lively rendition of “My Girl.” When Reid kissed Nadia at the end of the song, everyone clapped and cheered, and the grinning tour guide serenaded them with “Ebony and Ivory” by Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder.
Afterward several people asked Reid for his autograph and took pictures with him. Then he and Nadia stopped in the gift shop, where he bought her a ton of souvenirs to share with her family.
After they left the museum, Reid took a circuitous route to his childhood home in Allen Park, a blue-collar middle class suburb of Detroit. When they passed the giant Uniroyal tire along the interstate, he slowed down so that Nadia could take a picture of the iconic landmark.
Allen Park was located in an area known as Downriver. It was home to many corporate offices and testing facilities for Ford Motor Company, where Reid’s father had spent his career. The Detroit Lions’ headquarters and practice facility were also located in the small city.
As they drove along, Reid pointed out various places of interest such as the Fairlane Green Shopping Center and Allen Park High School, his alma mater. He took Nadia to the outdoor ice rink where he’d learned to skate. As they sat in the parking lot staring out the window, warm nostalgia softened his expression.
“Seeing this place always brings back memories of the day I laced up my first pair of Bauers and stepped onto that ice to play in my first hockey game,” he reminisced. “I remember how nervous and excited I was. And my dad was so damn proud he couldn’t stop grinning.”
Nadia smiled softly, watching Reid’s face as he stared at the deserted ice rink. Sitting there beside him while he took a nostalgic stroll down memory lane, she couldn’t help feeling even closer to him.
“Did your team win?” she asked.
He grinned. “Nah. We got destroyed.”
She laughed. “Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s all good.” He winked, shifting the car into drive. “Sometimes in sports, a good ass kicking can be the best motivation.”
They left the ice rink and continued on to his old neighborhood. The streets were lined with trees, bare in winter, and most of the homes they passed were made of brick. Before long Reid turned onto a quiet residential side street and parked at the curb in front of a modest brick rambler.
“Here we are,” he announced.
Nadia smiled, staring out the window in fascination. “So this is where you grew up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He fondly rattled off the address.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is home.” Nadia’s face was pressed so close to the glass that her breath formed a perfect circle of fog. “Can we get out and take a closer look?”
“Sure.” Reid chuckled. “Just don’t go peeping through windows. I’m not trying to get arrested before tomorrow’s game.”
Nadia laughed as they climbed out of the car, then stood at the end of the driveway staring up at the old brick house. A faded Red Wings banner flapped on a pole bracket mounted on the front of the house. The large front yard was decorated with an inflatable Santa, snowman, candy canes, a sleigh with reindeer and a Nativity scene. The homeowner had also hung Christmas lights and placed a large wreath on the front door.
Nadia grinned. “No one can accuse this family of not getting into the holiday spirit.”
Reid chuckled. “It looked even more, ah, festive when we lived here.”
“Really?”
He laughed at her incredulous tone. “Dad was competitive and wanted our house to be the best in the neighborhood. So he went all out on holiday decorations. Everything would be strung with lights—the roof, windows, trees, shrubs, all the decorations in the yard, you name it. He always came up with the most elaborate light displays that had people coming from miles away to look at our house.” Reid grinned. “Aria absolutely loved it, but Avery was embarrassed. Ryder and I didn’t care one way or the other; we just dreaded having to help Dad take down the decorations. It was a pain in the ass and usually took half a day.”
“I’ll bet.” Nadia grinned, snuggling against Reid as he curved an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. She sighed contentedly. “I like your old house. I can totally picture you growing up here.”
He smiled softly. “It was a good place. I have nothing but fond memories of living here.”
An elderly white couple walking by suddenly stopped and stared at Reid. As their eyes widened in recognition, he smiled and called out a warm greeting, identifying the man and woman as Mr. and Mrs. Walcott. The couple’s faces lit up with smiles as they hurried over to exchange exuberant hugs with Reid. When he introduced Nadia as his girlfriend, she thought she detected a hint of surprise and disapproval on the couple’s faces before they smiled and shook her hand.
They asked Reid about his family, and he asked about theirs. As they all stood around laughing and chatting, Mr. and Mrs. Walcott regaled Nadia with funny stories from Reid’s childhood. Her friendly laughter and demeanor apparently put them at ease. Before they parted ways, the elderly couple urged Reid to bring Nadia to dinner the next time he came home.
After leaving Allen Park, Reid and Nadia headed to the community center he’d founded on the East Side. As they drove along, it was hard to ignore the signs of urban decay that marred the landscape. Staring out the window at the passing scenery, Nadia was struck by the abundance of vacant houses and lots. There were gaping holes where empty auto factories once stood, communities overrun by decrepit buildings and weed-choked land.
As Reid navigated the familiar streets, he spoke frankly about the economic hardships that had ravaged the Motor City. He told Nadia about various planning initiatives and proposals to salvage Detroit, and he expressed both frustration and optimism about the city’s future. But no matter how grim his words, there was no mistaking the deep pride and affection in his voice. For better or worse, Detroit was, and always would be, his beloved hometown. And that made Nadia love and appreciate him even more.
To lighten the somber mood, she asked casually, “So where did Eminem grow up?”
Reid shot her a narrow glance. “Seriously?”
“What?” She blinked, fighting the urge to laugh. “I’m just curious.”
“He grew up on the East Side,” Reid grumbled. “His childhood home was demolished two years ago. Just in case you were thinking about asking me to show you where he lived.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Good,” Reid grunted.
Nadia slanted him a teasing grin. “Why, Mr. Holden, I do believe you’re jealous of Mr. Mathers.”
“Please,” Reid said with a snort. “Why the hell would I be jealous of him?”
“Because I’m a big fan of his music, and you can’t stand the thought of me liking any white boy but you.”
Reid grumbled something under his breath that made her throw back her head with a peal of laughter.
Soon they arrived at the community center, a modern two-story redbrick building with large multi-paned windows. A crowd of reporters and cameramen was camped out near the front entrance.
Reid glared out the window, his jaw tightening with displeasure. “Shit,” he muttered darkly. “I told Kyle to leak to the media that I was coming here tomorrow, not today.”
Nadia grimaced, surveying the large crowd. “Guess they didn’t take the bait.”
Reid scowled. She knew he’d been hoping to avoid the press and TV cameras, not wanting his visit to be turned into a three-ring media circus.
With a sigh of resignation, he pulled into a reserved parking space in front of the building, then got out and came around to open Nadia’s door. As she stepped out of the car, he grasped her hand and instructed, “Don’t let go.”
They’d barely taken three steps toward the building before the media
hounds began running toward them, cameras flashing rapidly.
Nadia felt overwhelmed by the flurry and motion of the reporters shoving microphones into their faces and shouting questions at Reid. She ducked her head, clutching his hand as he pushed his way through the crowd.
Undeterred, the reporters continued firing their questions:
“How does it feel to be home again, Reid?”
“How’re you feeling about tomorrow night’s game against the Red Wings?”
“How do you feel about scoring your three hundredth goal in enemy territory? How do you think the crowd will react if that happens?”
“How long have you and Miss Warner been dating?”
“Any truth to the rumors that you’re getting engaged?”
“Will your wedding take place here or in Denver?”
At the entrance to the building, Reid turned to face the buzzing crowd, protectively shielding Nadia behind him. “Look, folks, I just came here to visit the kids and see how everything’s going. I’m not looking for a photo op. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to see any of you here. But since you showed up, you’re welcome to stick around as long as you don’t get in the way.”
With that, he turned his back on the reporters and opened the main door for Nadia. She stepped inside, entering a soaring atrium flooded with natural light from the large windows. Beneath her booted feet, the gray marble floor was so polished it looked icy.
A banner suspended from the vaulted roof of the lobby showed a picture of Reid with hockey legend Bobby Orr. The two defensemen were wearing skates and holding hockey sticks as they posed together on the ice. Their bodies were bent forward in an attack position, poised and ready to seize control of the puck lying between them.
“Wow,” Nadia breathed, looking around in amazement. “This place is awesome, Reid.”
“Thanks,” he murmured distractedly, glowering at the reporters that had followed them inside the building.
“Hey! You’re here!” An attractive fortysomething black woman with short natural hair emerged from the front office and strode toward them with a welcoming smile. She bore a strong resemblance to the singer Jill Scott, but Nadia recognized her from the picture on the community center’s website. Her name was Dawn Legette, and she was the director.
When Reid saw her approaching, his face relaxed into an easy smile. “Hey, Dawn, how’re you doing?”
“I’m doing just great, Reid.” She greeted him with effusive warmth, giving him a hug as she welcomed him back home.
When he introduced her to Nadia, she beamed and eagerly shook Nadia’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Detroit.”
Nadia smiled, instantly warming to her. “Thank you very much.”
Dawn grinned at Reid. “The kids were so excited when they heard you’d be coming by today. That’s all they’ve been talking about for days.”
“Yeah?” Reid smiled fondly. “I’ve been looking forward to this visit too. It worked out great that today’s a school holiday.”
“Absolutely,” Dawn agreed, her brown eyes twinkling. “Many of the kids have been here since we opened the doors this morning.”
“Awesome.” Reid’s smile softened. “Listen, Dawn, I just want to thank you for all your hard work and dedication. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about the job you’re doing here. You know how important the center is to me. Since I can’t be here all the time, it means a lot to know that the place is in such good hands.”
Dawn beamed, visibly touched by his praise. “Thank you so much for saying that, Reid. I appreciate your confidence in me. When you interviewed me for this position, I promised to carry out your vision for the community center. I love working here, and I’m honored to be part of what you started.”
When Reid bowed gallantly and kissed the back of Dawn’s hand, she laughed and placed her other hand over her heart. The whole exchange had Nadia smiling from ear to ear, filled with warm fuzzies.
A tall, dark-skinned black man walked up to greet Reid, shaking his hand and clapping him congenially on the shoulder. While Reid’s attention was diverted, Dawn leaned toward Nadia in a confiding manner and whispered, “He’s a keeper.”
Nadia grinned. “I know.”
Reid paused his conversation to introduce her to the community center’s athletic director, who greeted her with a friendly, “Good to meet you, sister.”
When he and Reid resumed their spirited conversation about some upcoming tournament, Nadia wandered across the atrium to study the contents of a large glass-fronted display case built into the wall. There were dozens of framed autographed photos of Reid with other NHL players who’d visited the center over the years, most notably Wayne Gretzky, Bobby Orr and Mario Lemieux. He was photographed with current superstars such as Sidney Crosby, Alex Ovechkin, Henrik Lundqvist and P.K. Subban. He also appeared in pictures with practically every player—past and present—who’d ever worn a Red Wings uniform.
Nadia marveled at the collection of photos and beamed proudly at the NHL Player Foundation Award that Reid had won for his volunteer work throughout Detroit.
When he came up behind her and put an arm around her waist, she smiled and gestured to the display case. “Very impressive.”
He smiled, nuzzling her ear. “Let’s go see the kids, then I’ll give you a tour.”
As they started across the atrium, they encountered a horde of children who had been eagerly anticipating Reid’s arrival. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. Ranging in age from about four to twelve, they converged on Reid, darting around, jostling one another, chattering animatedly and vying for his attention.
Wearing a broad grin, Reid moved through the crowd, slapping high fives, palming small heads and ruffling unruly mops of hair while the children’s parents looked on with smiles. Several older kids waved bottles of Gatorade Ice, eager to show their hero that they, too, could drink like a champion.
Although there were plenty of white children, Nadia noticed that the majority were black or Latino.
When Reid introduced her around, she smiled warmly and shook hands, squatting to ask questions and tweak little noses. The children giggled when she did that, and one adorable black girl impulsively wrapped her arms around Nadia’s neck and hugged her, melting her heart.
She’d nearly forgotten about the presence of the media until the cameras started flashing and the microphones started waving.
While Dawn obligingly answered questions, Reid ignored the reporters and steered Nadia and the children through the atrium to the Olympic-size ice rink. Several young hockey players were skating laps or running through practice drills on the ice. Nadia was surprised and pleased to see more than a few girls out there doing their thing. She wanted to walk over and give them high fives, but no way was she stepping foot on that ice in her spike-heeled ankle boots.
When the young players saw Reid, they stopped what they were doing and stared at him, their eyes wide with awe. When he grinned and waved, they broke into excited smiles and started heading off the ice. Puzzled by the sudden mass exodus, the youth coaches looked over their shoulders. Spotting Reid, they grinned broadly and waved him over.
Reid reached for Nadia’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s go say hello.”
“You go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll just find a seat and watch you play for a while.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and winked, then moved off to greet the coaches and players. Nadia absently noted that while the hockey coaches were white, the director and athletic director—who ran the community center—were both black.
At that moment Dawn sidled up to Nadia, her eyes twinkling with the sisterly familiarity often shared between black women upon meeting for the first time.
“Forgive me for being nosy, but how long have you and Reid been dating?”
Nadia smiled. “We met in October,” she answered, watching as the kids gathered excitedly around Reid. “We’ve been together about two months.”
“Really?” Dawn so
unded surprised. “I assumed it had been much longer than that. The way you two look at each other, anyone can see you’re deeply in love.”
Nadia’s cheeks warmed. “I guess we are,” she said shyly.
Dawn gave her a pleased smile. “Both of you have good taste.”
Nadia returned her smile. “Thank you.”
A companionable silence fell between them as they watched Reid address the kids. The young hockey hopefuls were staring up at him with awed expressions, hanging on his every word.
“Most of these children come from low-income homes,” Dawn explained to Nadia, casually folding her arms across her chest. “The community center was established not only to provide free skating and hockey lessons, but also to give these kids a safe haven after school and on the weekends. Thanks to generous financial contributions from Reid and several private donors, we have a large annual budget that enables us to pay for each child’s hockey equipment, skates, uniforms and any other supplies needed. Our summer hockey camp is free for all children who qualify—which are the majority of them that come through these doors. We also provide free breakfast, lunch and snacks for camp participants, and Reid secured corporate sponsors to donate sports drinks and hockey gear. Whenever we need anything, all I have to do is pick up the phone and call him, and it’s taken care of.”
“That’s wonderful,” Nadia said warmly, her heart swelling with pride and gratitude for Reid’s generosity and commitment to the community.
“People often ask me why hockey isn’t as popular in America as the other major league sports,” Dawn continued in a philosophical tone. “I always explain to them that hockey isn’t as accessible as basketball, football or baseball. The equipment is more expensive, for starters. And you need an ice rink to play hockey. Most of these kids can play pickup games at their neighborhood basketball court, or they can walk down the street to a park or an empty lot to toss around a football with other kids. But not everyone lives near an ice rink, and not everyone can afford ice skating lessons.”
Wicked Games (Denver Rebels) Page 41