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Authors: Diane Nelson
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the tone.
With trembling hands, wishing I had Kathy Bates’ big brass ones, I undressed and climbed into the glorious heat, taking a seat as far away as I could from a completely naked, gorgeous man.
He was humming again.
…forty-five bottles of beer…
Chapter 7: Turnabout
Hisses and gurgles aside, the advancing dusk painted the deck and the woods in shades of mellow and a welcome hush. It was as if I’d been, up to that point in time, living with a brass band, all discordant notes, bleating and blaring in that necessary warm-up before the concert began.
That was me. Stretching. Licking my lips. Palming the ball, a quick dribble. Gauging distance. Getting on my game face.
It used to be nothing but net. Now it was ‘poised to launch’. The problem was … launch where?
The man sitting across from me, the man staring at me with questions and no small amount of curiosity, offered a way to begin my own personal symphony of one.
I didn’t know why. Perhaps I should have cared. Worried even.
He, and a woman who’d never, ever, had my best interests at heart, held purse strings and paperwork that gave me leave to jump off the cliff. Or to make the slam dunk.
Tonia I got, I really did. There was nothing that couldn’t be bought and paid for, including me … and my daughter. She’d bought Robert’s partnership, backed his run during the election, financed Loretta’s education, made judicial—and wasn’t that just the most appropriate term—contributions to smooth the way for everyone and everything that mattered to her and her precious reputation.
Robert’s coming election? Snap. A messy divorce? Snap. No problem too big, no person too small.
I smiled. I’d like to think I’d graduated out of the ‘small’ to ‘major thorn in the side of’ category.
When it came to Tonia, I lived to irritate.
Coach Ryan raised an eyebrow and scooted one seat closer.
I am the iceberg, see me bob.
With the light slanting through the trees my floating parts weren’t quite so obvious in the dimming light. I crouched further down into the foam and bubbles, stretching my legs to brace against the opposite platform, my chin kissed with effervescent heat.
It was glorious.
He touched my shoulder and said, “Your turn.”
“Why? You already have a complete dossier on me, don’t you?” There was resentment there I forgot to mask. Looking away quickly just emphasized my discomfort.
The hand caressed my upper arm, squeezing gently. Assuring me.
But of what?
What’s in it for you? Other than your job and a chance to make head coach somewhere down the line. Or snag a better offer at a bigger University, a bigger stage. Maybe get to the Big Dance, maybe go pro.
Tonia’s checkbook held so many possibilities it staggered the imagination.
But there was no need to go the extra step. No reason for the fifty large and fuck her routine he seemed bent on pursuing.
The bubbles weren’t the only thing hissing.
“Come here.”
He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, hips and thighs slipping sweetly skin-to-skin and away as the turbulence bobbled us apart and together. A waltz in three four time.
Wanting to cross my fingers and hex him away was juvenile … and prudent. Even if I’d been free, and the damn rings made sure I remembered my vows, there was the little matter of haste and dangerous flirting in one-night-stand territory.
Physically my body screamed full speed ahead. Mentally I was fifteen years old, eager and unprepared. The forty-two year old said ‘yeah right, when pigs fly.’ Two out of three said ‘go for it.’
He whispered in my ear, “I like those odds.”
Shit shit shit!
Why me?
Of all the gin joints, in all the world, why did you walk into mine?
Because she paid him to.
Simple.
“Mr. Ryan…”
He chuckled. “That’s not going to work.”
“Wha—?”
“Pulling the boss card, darlin’.”
My toes lost their footing on the opposite
With trembling hands, wishing I had Kathy Bates’ big brass ones, I undressed and climbed into the glorious heat, taking a seat as far away as I could from a completely naked, gorgeous man.
He was humming again.
…forty-five bottles of beer…
Chapter 7: Turnabout
Hisses and gurgles aside, the advancing dusk painted the deck and the woods in shades of mellow and a welcome hush. It was as if I’d been, up to that point in time, living with a brass band, all discordant notes, bleating and blaring in that necessary warm-up before the concert began.
That was me. Stretching. Licking my lips. Palming the ball, a quick dribble. Gauging distance. Getting on my game face.
It used to be nothing but net. Now it was ‘poised to launch’. The problem was … launch where?
The man sitting across from me, the man staring at me with questions and no small amount of curiosity, offered a way to begin my own personal symphony of one.
I didn’t know why. Perhaps I should have cared. Worried even.
He, and a woman who’d never, ever, had my best interests at heart, held purse strings and paperwork that gave me leave to jump off the cliff. Or to make the slam dunk.
Tonia I got, I really did. There was nothing that couldn’t be bought and paid for, including me … and my daughter. She’d bought Robert’s partnership, backed his run during the election, financed Loretta’s education, made judicial—and wasn’t that just the most appropriate term—contributions to smooth the way for everyone and everything that mattered to her and her precious reputation.
Robert’s coming election? Snap. A messy divorce? Snap. No problem too big, no person too small.
I smiled. I’d like to think I’d graduated out of the ‘small’ to ‘major thorn in the side of’ category.
When it came to Tonia, I lived to irritate.
Coach Ryan raised an eyebrow and scooted one seat closer.
I am the iceberg, see me bob.
With the light slanting through the trees my floating parts weren’t quite so obvious in the dimming light. I crouched further down into the foam and bubbles, stretching my legs to brace against the opposite platform, my chin kissed with effervescent heat.
It was glorious.
He touched my shoulder and said, “Your turn.”
“Why? You already have a complete dossier on me, don’t you?” There was resentment there I forgot to mask. Looking away quickly just emphasized my discomfort.
The hand caressed my upper arm, squeezing gently. Assuring me.
But of what?
What’s in it for you? Other than your job and a chance to make head coach somewhere down the line. Or snag a better offer at a bigger University, a bigger stage. Maybe get to the Big Dance, maybe go pro.
Tonia’s checkbook held so many possibilities it staggered the imagination.
But there was no need to go the extra step. No reason for the fifty large and fuck her routine he seemed bent on pursuing.
The bubbles weren’t the only thing hissing.
“Come here.”
He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, hips and thighs slipping sweetly skin-to-skin and away as the turbulence bobbled us apart and together. A waltz in three four time.
Wanting to cross my fingers and hex him away was juvenile … and prudent. Even if I’d been free, and the damn rings made sure I remembered my vows, there was the little matter of haste and dangerous flirting in one-night-stand territory.
Physically my body screamed full speed ahead. Mentally I was fifteen years old, eager and unprepared. The forty-two year old said ‘yeah right, when pigs fly.’ Two out of three said ‘go for it.’
He whispered in my ear, “I like those odds.”
Shit shit shit!
Why me?
Of all the gin joints, in all the world, why did you walk into mine?
Because she paid him to.
Simple.
“Mr. Ryan…”
He chuckled. “That’s not going to work.”
“Wha—?”
“Pulling the boss card, darlin’.”
My toes lost their footing on the opposite
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