Down On My Knees

by McGlothin, Victor

  “What? Simpleminded?” he objected.

  “Furthermore, it might be tolerated when you come up short on the basketball court, but there is one thing I will not stand for and that’s another black man being less than what his mother intended, a stand-up and stand-by-your-word role model she could be proud of,” Grace huffed. Without awaitinga response, she called Patrik on her cell phone. “Mr. Foray will be ready in twenty minutes.” After ending the call, Grace stared up at Allen in his splendidly tailored Hugo Boss suit and size-fifteen leather Gucci lace-ups. “Well what are you waiting for, lotion?” Grace snapped curtly.

  Wide eyed and intrigued, Allen began pacing back and forth while contemplating this scary woman’s threats. “Okay, hold on!” he grunted. “You might be used to gettingyour way wherever you come from, but let’s not forgetwho the star is around here.”

  Grace crossed her arms defiantly and then pursed her lips before replying to Allen’s idea of swaggering while on her turf. “I’ll concede that if you keep in mind who is willing and able to haul the star into a long and drawn out mud bath in the press,” she growled smartly.

  Allen grimaced, groping for a witty comeback that eluded him. “All right, Grace, I’ll admit you got me with the things you said about my mother, and I know you’re going off on me because that’s what they sent you in here to do. I can see how serious you’re taking this, and I’m not trying to let nobody down, but come on now, I can’t do the tights.” Allen was searching desperately for a way out, or at least a way to save face.

  “First thing, there is no they, I’m it. And on second thought, about the tights, you don’t have to wear them,” Grace said, compromising to meet Allen halfway. “Wardrobe!” she summoned.“We’re burning daylight!” Before Allen or the publicistknew what was going on, two seamstresses appeared with a selection of basketball shorts to complete the costume.Grace continued, “Please find something that Mr. Foray agrees to, and put five identical pieces together. We’re a go in fifteen minutes.” Grace exited the dressing room after walking on water, leading a stubborn horse to it, and subsequently getting him to lap it up.

  “Why do they always have to take the ‘make your mama proud’ route?” Allen remarked just above a whisper as he slid out of his dress slacks. Suddenly, a warm smile creased his lips. “Grace Hilliard, huh? She’s different. I’ll give her that.” After looking at his rusty knees, his frown chased that smile away. “And she was right, I do need some lotion.”

  Patrik was excited once the taping concluded. He had had no problems getting Allen to rehearse his lines, or shoot additionalfour-second promos and voice-overs for upcoming radio drops. Working with Allen Foray was an enjoyable experience,and working for Grace Hilliard was a pleasure. “Thank you, Miss Hilliard,” Patrik beamed with delight. “This was stupendous, and only because of you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she replied, with a sly wink. “Manipulatinga man’s ego is often the cost of doing business.”

  “Oh yeah, is that all it was?” Allen asked from the shadowsof a darkened studio. He’d been watching Grace, listeningand waiting. “I was thinking how nice it was to click with a grown woman for a change. I’d hate to imagine that I was wrong.”

  “You think we clicked?” Grace blushed. “I’d categorize it as more of a clank, but I’m flattered nonetheless, so let’s just leave it at that.” She pretended not to notice his youthful charm and creamy smooth everything else.

  “Since you’re holding all the cards, I have no choice but to roll with that for now.” Allen passed Grace a business card with his home phone number handwritten on the back of it. “Here are the digits at the house. If you change your mind, call me.” He looked Grace over, slowly, from head to toe. “Call me up for anything at all, even if you just want someoneto talk to.”

  “Thank you, Allen, but don’t hold your breath. I wouldn’t waste a call on a good-looking man like you for the sake of conversation. However, I will have Patrik’s people contact your people when the early edits are finished.” Grace tossed a harmless leer at the tower of late night motivation and held her breath. Allen was simply too young and too rough around the edges for her taste. “You did a great job today, Mister All-World Allen,” she offered, praising his work and his work ethic. Grace hushed the naughty thoughts suggestingthat she treat herself to a long night with the wealthy millionaireand his fat-free physique. Allen may have been young, but Grace knew he’d be ready, willing, and able if she ever decided to use the private number written on the flip-sideof that business card. In the meantime, she placed it insideher purse for safekeeping.

  The following morning, Grace was still pleased with herself,and excited over the potential revenues she hoped would result from the commercial shoot the day before. Since there weren’t any pressing issues to be handled at the office, she decided to work from home part of the day and spend the morning reflecting on a chance to steal a major accountfrom a competitor.

  Later, Grace wandered into the office after a lengthy shopping expedition to the mall proved unsuccessful. She was kicking herself for neglecting to stop by Nordstrom’s on her way in. Since scuffing the heel on her favorite pair of eggshell white slingbacks, she’d made random visits to variousdepartment stores looking for suitable replacements. Marcia stopped her at the reception area as soon as she enteredthe suite.

  “Miss Hilliard, some packages came for you earlier today.” Marcia glanced at her manager from the corner of her eye. “Any luck?” Marcia assumed that Grace’s leisurely morning had included a trip to at least one shoe store.

  “Nope, but I won’t give up without a fight.”

  “Neither will Allen Foray, if you ask me,” Marcia predicted,as if she’d given it a considerable amount of thought.

  Grace followed Marcia’s finger, which pointed to a beautifulflower arrangement resting on the opposite side of the reception area. Squinting at the small envelope taped to the glass vase, Grace turned her gaze back to Marcia. “What’s this?” she asked, clueless that a particular millionaire had his sites set on getting next to her.

  “Probably just what it looks like,” the assistant answered amiably. “I’m not sure what happened at that shoot yesterday,but if I had to guess, you made a lasting impression when you put Allen in his place. Rich pretty boys like him often come preassembled with an Oedipus complex. Don’t be surprised if he’s the type who doesn’t mind being spanked.”

  “And you gathered all that from him sending me one dozen yellow roses? Shows how much you know, junior psychologist,yellow roses are for friendship,” Grace replied.

  Marcia giggled, with her eyes on the computer screen. “Maybe so but there’s more. The persistent Mr. Foray had a courier deliver two big boxes of goodies after that.”

  Grace began to take more stock in Marcia’s attempt at psychoanalyzing people she hardly even knew. Funny thing was she often hit the nail right on the head, although this time she had help. Patrik had called earlier to shower additionalpraise on Grace’s efforts with Allen. Marcia had put two and two together, and oddly enough, it equaled twelve long-stemmed roses and a new admirer.

  On the way to her office, the scent of fresh flowers caused Grace to think of a simpler time, when she had worked summershelping in her mother’s floral shop. Her quiet moment reminiscing was interrupted by Marcia, who popped in with the vase Grace had purposely left behind. “In case you’re wondering, Allen is twenty-six, a North Carolina grad, a lifetimecard-carrying member of the NAACP, and unattached at the moment, although his last relationship ended with a batteryof arrests for stalking.”

  “Arrests?” Grace shrieked.

  “Oh, her, not him,” Marcia clarified, handing Grace a stack of articles about Allen she’d downloaded from the Internet.“I guess you could say that the one-hundred-million-dollar media darling cash-cow, aka Captain Dream Creams, is young, single, and free.”

  Tapping her finger against the collection of stories written about Allen, Grace winced. “I’m crazy for even entertaining
the idea of seeing that boy. We have nothing in common.”

  “That multimillion-dollar baby seems to be looking for a new mama to kiss him on his boo-boo,” Marcia joked.

  “Oh, is that what you young people are calling it these days?” Grace smirked, “gotcha” style, but Marcia had done her homework.

  “I’ve read several accounts of where a younger man clings to a slightly older woman when facing adverse circumstances,pain, or injury. You’ll note on page six there, at the bottom, that Allen’s contract is up at the end of this season,and the Mavericks might not be able to provide the best offer because of the league’s luxury tax.” When Grace failed to see the importance in Marcia’s inferences, she raised her brow, guessing that a conclusion was close at hand. “Miss Hilliard, that superstar is a southern boy. He loves Dallas, as noted on page two, and he doesn’t want to be traded to New Jersey. I think that’s highlighted on page four, if not on page five.”

  Grace didn’t like the fact that her assistant was playing matchmaker on the clock, instead of working on Pinnacle’s business, but she had to give her assistant major props for the extensive research she’d amassed in short order. “Marcia,I’m going to pretend that we’ve never had this discussionbut if we did I’d have to end it like this. I’m sure that your intensions were good, but I’m not accustomed to discussingmy personal affairs with employees, not even my favoriteone. Since there’s nothing between me and Allen, it’s all hypothetical. I’ll say this and be done with it. Everything you’ve said about him may be true, but I don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter how enticing. More importantly, I already have one son, and I’m not in the practice of raising some other woman’s for her. Thank you, and do close the door on your way out.”

  Grace held the stack of Internet articles above the wastepaper basket, working up the strength to chuck them. When she felt Marcia standing outside her door peeking through the blinds, the strength she needed prevailed. As the pages of Allen’s exploits hit the bottom of the trash pail, so did his chances of having Grace play the Big-Sister-Mama-Lover-Friendrole in his or any other man’s true-to-life after-dinnertheater. She was becoming more determined to land the starring role as The Only Woman in a deserving man’s production of Happily Ever After. Anything else was unacceptable.

  5

  Boys to Men

  It was six-thirty when Grace arrived at John Quinn High School. Rain was falling like sifted flour. She collected a handful of reports from the leather satchel lying on the front passenger seat. When it didn’t appear the storm would subsideanytime soon, she winced at the thought of getting drenched before making it to the back door of the gymnasium.While searching frantically for her umbrella, Grace ran across a plastic poncho stuffed under the backseat. She’d purchased it months before for just such an occasion, hoping that she’d never actually have to use it. But there it was, still folded neatly in its clear package. After wrestling the ponchoover her head, she opened the car door and set out to brave the elements. She felt like a wet dog striding over puddlesin the uneven parking lot. If she hadn’t clutched the reportstightly against her chest, they would have taken flight in the gusting wind. Turning back never crossed her mind because her child was inside, preparing for his first high-schoolbasketball game. Getting caught in a downpour wasn’t enough to deter her from being there, for it would have been catastrophic had she missed his shining moment.

  Once inside, Grace shed her plastic shawl, then shook droplets of water from her hands and hair. A short jaunt to the ladies’ room served as a rest haven, as she patted herself dry as best she could with a pile of paper towels. Since no one really attended freshmen ball games, she took comfort in knowing the crowd would be sparse. Parents who dared to fight the traffic and flash flooding wouldn’t give a rat’s behindabout her tattered appearance, she reasoned, while exitingthe gloomy little room where graffiti detailed the names and sexual prowess of boys who rated far too experienced for their age, according to the girls eager to share it. Grace smiled when she didn’t see André’s name scribbled among others. There were far too many Kwans and Shuns mixed in to tell them apart.

  A heftily built white man with oily skin and thick, dark hair smiled cordially at Grace as she passed through the gym doors. “That’ll be three dollars, ma’am,” he informed her. “Gotta charge something if the refs are gonna get paid.” His full belly pressed against the open cash box, which rested on a rickety card table, and his breath smelled like a pack of menthol cigarettes.

  “Can’t have a sporting event without officials,” Grace agreed, digging through her purse for small bills. “Can you break a twenty?”

  “Yep, but I’ll have to wait until halftime when the snack bar opens,” the man huffed, nearly out of breath.

  “Tell you what, keep the whole thing. My son’s playing tonight, and it’ll be worth every penny.” The stubby doorkeeperdidn’t respond to Grace’s comment. Instead, he noddedhis thick head back and forth like nothing she would ever say or do mattered to him, then he went back to droolingover the group of cheerleaders jogging off from center court. “You’re welcome,” Grace mumbled softly, knowing that it fell on deaf ears. Pervert!

  Grace’s previous speculations proved correct. The stands were littered with slightly more fans than players, so it wasn’t difficult finding a seat. She spotted André in the team’s huddlejust before the game started. Her chest swelled with pride. She couldn’t have been more delighted if the bleacherswere filled with people chanting her child’s name. With the stack of damp reports sitting next to her, Grace decided to review them during intermittent breaks in the action and make the most of her time.

  “Hey, Miss Hilliard, I thought that was you,” Skyler Barnes yelled as he climbed down two rows to greet her. Despitebeing a senior, a celebrated talent, and touted as one of the top recruits in the country, he always found time to talk hoops with André and map out maneuvers explaining how to break down an opposing team’s defense with a deadly crossover.

  “Skyler, I’m surprised to see you,” Grace said evenly. “I know you’ve got to be very busy, with college scouts beating down your grandmother’s door.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s why I’m here,” he confessed. “The phone won’t stop ringing. Plus it’s Dré’s first time to shine. Wouldn’t miss that for the world, Miss Hilliard. He’s gonna be good before long, you’ll see. The boy’s got heart.” Grace smiled at the baby-faced man-child, with his six-five frame and basketball sneakers long enough to cross the Atlantic. Skyler was a thoughtful young man and thought a lot of his protégé. It was obvious his grandmother had raised him right.

  As soon as the game began, André streaked down the court. He sprinted faster than Grace knew he could, and then he caught a deep pass and laid the ball in for the first basket. “Yeah!” Skyler cheered. “I told you he got game, Miss H, told you.” Grace blushed over the next three quarters until the coach pulled André out for the remainder of the game. His players were ahead by twenty-five points, and there was no sense in embarrassing the visiting team. When Dré pulled on his sweats, Skyler nodded his head approvingly. “Eighteenpoints, seven assists, and five rebounds,” he rattled off, from memory. “He’ll be fight’n them off with a stick.”

  Before Grace opened her mouth to question the young man’s idea of a compliment, he’d picked up and made it halfway to the snack bar. Fighting them off, she thought, not sure how to take it. Fighting who off? I know he wasn’t talkingabout those fast-tail little girls writing their business on the restroom walls. André isn’t ready to deal with these overexposed,overdeveloped high school hoochies. Better not be anything on his mind but hitting the books. No sooner than the game ended, two of the cheerleaders were all up in André’s face, batting their eyes and shaking their pom-poms at him.

  “Oh God,” Grace huffed. “I know she didn’t just slide him her phone number on the sneak tip. That used to be one of my best moves.” Before her very eyes, her baby was growing up, too fast for her taste, and those young h
ussies were acting too grown for their own good.

  “Hey Ma,” André hailed gleefully, walking up in a cool, slow, bobbing manner. “I’m glad you made it.”

  “Uh-huh, I made it all right.” She was looking at him sideways.

  “What? I hit eighteen.”

  “I saw, and the seven assists with five rebounds.”

  “Dang, you caught all that?” André was noticeably impressedthat she’d paid attention. “I didn’t know you’d be keeping stats, or I would have gone for thirty.”

  “I was enjoying the game too much to keep up,” she admitted,“but Skyler didn’t miss a single thing.”

  “He never does, Ma.”

  Grace contemplated telling André that she’d peeped the cheerleader’s well-devised sleight-of-hand phone-number pass, but thought better of it. Perhaps it was more prudent to let him enjoy the moment and think he’d put one over on her. Lord knows, she’d gotten away with her share of mischief when she was his age. Besides, there wasn’t much Grace could do but watch him spread his wings and pray that severalyears passed before he became consumed with girls in short skirts and getting at what was underneath them.

  Skyler spotted André in the parking lot from the confines of an old rusted-out Chevrolet Impala. The skies were so clear that it seemed improbable a storm had blown through a couple of hours before, except for the pools of puddles here and there. “Dré,” Skyler yelled out, approaching with long, nimble strides. “Hey man, good game today. Next time, keep the ball a little closer to your hip. A better guard would have locked down and come away with a few gimmies.”

  “Thanks Sky, I’ll watch that. It’s too bad Central didn’t bring a better guard with them.” The boys slapped high-fives as Grace fiddled in her purse for car keys. André peered through the windows of the SUV to see if she’d locked them inside, but two large boxes caught his attention instead. “Ma, what are those?”