Taking a Shot at Love

by KC Richardson

  “Lisa, she is no chick. She is one hundred percent woman. She’s too much for you.”

  “Eff off, Chang,” Lisa said with a smile so Athena would know she was just joking.

  “And you were right. She does look a lot like that actress. Do you know anything about her?”

  Lisa shook her head.

  “You want me to find out?”

  Lisa laughed. “We’re not in elementary school. I’m quite capable of talking to a woman and asking her questions if I’m interested in knowing something. But I already told you, I’m not interested. I need to focus on this season and our team.”

  “There’s no reason why you couldn’t socialize with her just because you don’t want to date. Maybe the three of us could go get a beer or something at the pub down the street.”

  “Athena, you think she looks like a woman who would frequent a dive pub and drink a beer? I see her more of a wine bar type of woman who would eat fancy little appetizers. She’s definitely not a wings and beer woman like we are. We’re hot dogs and French fries and she’s champagne and caviar.” They walked out the door and to the group waiting near the fountain. “We’ll talk about this later.” Which meant Lisa hoped Athena would forget about it or just drop the subject. She knew better though. Athena was like a dog with a bone when she thought something was a good idea.

  Lisa called the group around and gave them instructions to walk around the square block, then follow the path through campus. She encouraged the group to try to raise their heart rate during the walk and maybe work up a bit of sweat.

  Lisa didn’t have much of an opportunity to appreciate the beauty of the campus or the history. She was usually in her office or the gym area. The college was formed in the late 1800s and moved to its current location in 1914. Memorial Hall was the oldest building standing on campus and was full of history. Lisa loved learning the history of every school she played or coached at. She’d had to admit that of all the universities she’d been affiliated with, Glassell University charmed her the most. Even though it was a small school, some famous people had walked through its hallowed halls—activists, Holocaust survivors, actors, musicians. Lisa was honored to be a part of the university.

  But she wanted more. More notoriety, more prestige, more money. She had her eye on the prize and she’d work hard to get there. The better the record she could get at GU, the better the opportunity she’d have to coach at a larger university.

  “Okay, people. I’ll lead the walk and Coach Chang will be in the back. If you have any questions or concerns just raise your hand and one of us will help.”

  Lisa started walking, and an older gentleman, a professor in the history department, moved to Lisa’s side and started asking her questions about the team, and where she’d coached before. He expressed interest in coming out to support the team, and it touched her. The team had decent attendance the previous season for their home games, but Lisa encouraged them to invite their friends and professors. She made it a point to introduce herself to the shop owners in Old Town, a charming area near the campus that provided an array of stores, coffee houses, and restaurants. It didn’t take long for some of the townspeople to recognize her and ask how she was.

  It helped that Lisa and Athena lived within walking distance of Old Town and the school. They would often eat dinner out or grab a beer at the pub. The nights at the pub were the ones she enjoyed the most. She and Athena would sit at the bar with some of the regulars and talk sports. She even got some of the old timers’ interest piqued in women’s basketball. She bribed them by telling them if they made it to one of her games, she’d buy them all a round after the game. Who didn’t want free beer?

  Lisa looked back and caught Athena’s thumbs-up to let her know everything was good and there hadn’t been any problems. They made their way along the cement walkway that was surrounded by grassy knolls and tall lecture halls. There were a couple of water features and multiple sculptures scattered throughout campus. Since it was early morning, there weren’t many students milling about just yet, and the smell of wet grass that was watered overnight was turning into a warm soil smell. The small Southern California town would continue to have high temperatures until mid-October, and it was already starting to warm up. She waved at a couple of maintenance workers who were raising the flags of the different countries represented by the student population.

  The walk was over all too quickly, but Lisa enjoyed getting to know a few of the professors and students. One of the professors who’d been at the school for over thirty years gave her a history lesson of some of the buildings so not only did she get people exercising but she also learned more about the campus.

  “That’s a wrap, people. Thank you for getting up so early and taking a walk with me. I hope you’ll return next week. Coach Mulligan from the men’s tennis team will be in charge of the next workout. I hope you’ll spread the word and get more of your friends to join us. Have a great week.”

  Everybody waved and went off in different directions. Lisa felt a little deflated when the stunning woman didn’t even give Lisa a second glance. Nothing she could do about it now. Lisa and Athena gave each other a high-five and headed back to their shared office to get ready for their conditioning session with the team later that afternoon.

  Chapter Four

  The squeaking and squealing of the rubber soles on the hardwood floor echoed throughout the gym. The slap of the ball on skin when a player caught a pass, another player cut to the basket, saying she was open, and the thud of the ball hitting the bleachers as it was knocked out of bounds. The pass was too late. The shrill of the whistle brought everything and everyone to a halt.

  “Brooks! You have to anticipate that cut. Evans could have had an easy layup, but because you were late getting the pass to her, we gave up two points.”

  “Sorry, Coach.”

  “Run it again.”

  The door to the gym opened and the team’s starting point guard, and league’s assist leader, jogged onto the court, tucking her jersey into her shorts. Lisa looked at her watch and blew her whistle again.

  “Everybody on the baseline.”

  “Coach, I’m sorry I’m late, but I was waiting to talk to my professor.”

  “You know the rules, Logan. If anyone is late, the whole team runs. On the baseline.”

  The groans coming from the players irritated Lisa, but she understood. She did the same thing when she was a player, but she’d been in a foul mood from the time she woke up and she was just feeling a little off. “Down to the end of the court and back under fifteen seconds. Anyone over, the team runs again.” The pounding of feet on the floor was almost in sync, and it made an awesome thundering sound like a herd of elephants running through the African plains. She didn’t want to take too much time from practice, but it was important that she upheld the rules, even if it was for a good reason. She didn’t want to give her team an inch for fear of them trying to take a mile. She blew her whistle and the ladies took off. When they reached the far end of the court, Athena yelled for them to hustle. The last player crossed the baseline and used the wall to stop herself. Lisa looked at her watch. Fourteen seconds. Just made it. The team ran four more down and backs then Lisa gave them a short break to get a sip of water.

  “Okay, ladies. Let’s resume the play.” The five defenders matched up as the starting offense ran through the plays. The familiar sounds of a college basketball practice soothed Lisa’s insides as she inhaled the smell of leather, sweat, and wood. The sound of the ball hitting the floor, the swish of the net as the ball dropped through the basket, the yelling of players to guide or congratulate their teammates. The gym was her home. It was her heaven. Even with the stress of recruiting, planning practices, and preparing for games, nothing else came remotely close to fulfilling the satisfaction Lisa got from seeing a play executed perfectly, all the hard work the players and coaches put in to become one team. They won together, they lost together.

  Two hours later, Lisa sent her
team to the showers and/or training room for treatment. She and Athena walked into their office and hung up their whistles. Athena sat at her desk, already prepping for the next day’s practice. She placed her pen down, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her ankle over her knee.

  “How do you think practice went?”

  Lisa mirrored Athena’s sitting posture and added her hands placed behind her head, fingers interlaced. She looked up at the ceiling and let out a deep breath. “Not bad for just the third organized practice of the season. The ladies really started playing well toward the end of the last season and have worked really hard during conditioning the past six weeks. I think we’re going to have a pretty good season, especially if we can get everyone’s timing down so they play as a cohesive unit. I want them to be able to anticipate what their teammates are going to do. The more they play together, the sooner that will come.”

  The knock on the door brought their attention to Emily Logan, their star point guard, standing in the doorway. Her brown hair was still wet from her shower, and she was wearing her gray, thick cotton post-practice sweats.

  “What’s up, Logan?”

  Emily stood in the doorway and fiddled with her drawstring from her sweat pants. “I wanted to apologize again for being late, Coach. I’m having some trouble in my English class and I wanted to talk to my professor about it, but there were other students before me and they were taking too long. I’ll try to catch her in her office hours to talk about it, but I just wanted you to know I wasn’t goofing off or brushing off practice.”

  Lisa waved her in and pointed to the chair in front of her desk. She always emphasized an open-door policy with her players and would do anything she could to help them if they were having any kind of trouble. Sometimes it had to do with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but mostly their troubles came from classes. Lisa’s college coach always made academics come first because the odds of becoming a professional player were a long shot so her players needed an education and their degree. Lisa beat those odds by becoming a professional player overseas, but she’d had just enough serious injuries to cut her career short. Because she took her studies seriously when she was going to school, she was able to make a good living as a college coach.

  “What are you having trouble with?”

  “Everything, Coach. I just can’t seem to do anything right. I’ve failed a couple of quizzes, and my paper I just turned in got red-inked. I get what she’s lecturing on, but when it comes to the assignments, I’m not understanding the questions, or I think I’m answering them correctly but they turn out to be wrong. She’s a tough professor, but I shouldn’t be doing this bad. I’m putting in my time to study so I don’t get it.”

  “How are your other classes going? You having trouble with them too?”

  “Nah. I’m doing okay. At least I’m passing them all.”

  “All right, Logan. I’ll see what I can do to get you some help. Keep working hard in class and it will all work out, okay?”

  “’K. Thanks, Coach.”

  “One more thing, Logan. As captain of this team, your teammates are looking to you as their leader, which means you have to set a good example, including getting to practice on time, or even early, and being ready to play. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

  “All right then. Have a good night and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Once Emily left, Lisa asked Athena to pull up Emily’s class schedule. Her English class had been scheduled right before practice started, and her professor’s name was Celeste Bouchard.

  “I need you to start practice without me tomorrow, Athena. I need to go talk to Professor Bouchard.”

  * * *

  Celeste walked into her empty classroom ten minutes before class was set to start. The silence was blissful, and she knew it would be short-lived. Her students in her Critical Thinking class would begin filtering in—some talking, others thumbing the keyboard on their smartphone to get in one last text before class started. Today’s students were a lot different from when she did her undergraduate studies. They all looked so…young. Hardly any of her students took notes with a pen and paper. They were all done on voice recorders or small laptops. They seemed to be more preoccupied as well. Of course, there were a lot more electronics available now. Celeste never had to worry about texting or social media or cyber bullying or cyber anything. Computers were barely a thing when she went to college. She didn’t have her own. She had to go to the computer lab with her floppy disc and do her assignments with thirty other people in the lab. Or it would be done on a typewriter. Did they even make those anymore? She was pretty sure they were probably in one of the Smithsonian museums. She chuckled to herself as she woke her computer and loaded up her PowerPoint for that day’s lesson.

  This was her only lower level class, and it was made up primarily of eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds. Rowdy eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds. She wasn’t sure if it was the excitement of being on their own or the responsibility resting on their young shoulders, but every manner their parents had probably taught them stayed outside that door once they walked through. They weren’t even a third of the way through the semester and she already knew who the troublemakers were. She stood behind the podium in the corner and watched her students arrive. She looked at the clock, and at one, she began.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please put your phones on silent and put them away. We have a lot of material to cover today before you take your quiz. Before you leave class, make sure you turn in the one-page summary of the film we watched last week. Does anyone have any questions? I want to remind you that your final paper is due the week before your finals, and it’s worth forty percent of your grade. It needs to be between twenty and thirty pages, and it can be on any subject you like, but it needs to be well thought out and have correct punctuation.”

  Celeste began her lecture from behind the podium, but it didn’t take her long to start making her way through the aisles and rows of desks. She stopped occasionally next to a student to make sure they were taking notes and not just doodling. One of the things she loved most about teaching at a smaller university was the smaller class size. She was able to learn the students’ names instead of just seeing them as numbers. It was all more personal, and she felt she could connect with her students better. It was also more conducive to having the students interact in class.

  She noticed one of her student-athletes furiously writing in her notebook. One of the few she’d seen actually write. The young lady, Emily Logan Celeste believed to be her name, always showed up to class in her team-appointed practice gear, her hair up in a ponytail, and her duffel bag intruding on the aisle next to her desk. Judging by the grades she’d received so far, she appeared to be a subpar student. She was probably using college as a way to continue playing her sport. She wouldn’t be the first and most likely wouldn’t be the last. It was difficult for Celeste to drum up any kind of sympathy for the student-athletes who thought just because they played a sport that their professors would automatically give them a passing grade. I saw that too many times at my previous university. I just want them to get something out of my class, something that might benefit them later in life.

  Celeste nudged Emily’s gym bag with the pointy toe of her black pumps, and Celeste felt a little thrill at the chagrined look on Emily’s face as she bent down and moved it completely under her desk. Participating in class was something Celeste had always felt was important for the student’s learning and grasping the subject of discussion. So important, in fact, that it went toward part of the grade, but Emily never raised her hand, and Celeste never put her on the spot. If a student wasn’t going to put forth the effort, why should she?

  Once class ended, a handful of students congregated around her wanting to discuss something or another. She saw Emily standing behind the group, but after a few minutes, she hiked her gym bag over her shoulder and left the room. Celeste had wondered what Emily had wanted to talk to her abo
ut. It must not have been that important since she didn’t stay. Emily hadn’t taken advantage of Celeste’s office hours either. Truthfully, not many students did. They’d bombard her after class rather than see her in her office. Celeste didn’t mind though. As long as she didn’t have another pressing commitment or another class didn’t need the room, she would stay as long as there were students who needed help. She appreciated students who wanted to do well.

  Twenty minutes later, she walked across the campus quad, passing by the library and gymnasium, until she reached the building that held her office. Her Critical Thinking class was the only one of hers that wasn’t in that building so it wasn’t much of an inconvenience, and she enjoyed being able to get out of the building and enjoy the fresh air. She occasionally saw friends walking and talking animatedly, a boyfriend and girlfriend holding hands on their way to a class, and in the beautiful Southern California sunshine, there were always more than a few students doing their homework while sitting under a tree or near a fountain. She unlocked her door and turned on the lights before she sat at her desk to start grading the quizzes.

  Chapter Five

  Celeste looked up in time to see a dark figure on the other side of the tempered glass of her office door. She told the figure to come in after they tapped on the glass. She gasped when Coach Tobias opened the door. The look of surprise on the coach’s face quickly turned to one of pleasure, which gave Celeste a tiny flutter to see the handsome coach standing in her doorway.

  “Professor Bouchard?”

  “Yes, Coach Tobias, how may I help you?”

  Lisa stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a look of delight on her face and her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants. Lord, she was a good-looking woman. She was tall with a trim, athletic build that was evident despite being dressed in sweats. And if she recalled correctly, Lisa wore a more fitted outfit the night of the mixer. Initial lust flickered in the pit of her belly being in such close proximity to Lisa. Celeste quickly tamped down those feelings and assumed her professional demeanor.