Fair Catch - A Football Romance (6 page)

“Buckle up, Pretty Dancer.”

Oh, my.

R
iver

Driving up the coast to dinner in a Bentley with a beautiful ballerina. Can it get any better than this? Well, yes. If she fell into bed with me and never left would be better, but I’ll settle for being trapped in my car with her for now. One thing at a time.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, this is some car.”

“You like? I just got it a couple of months ago. It’s my first new car.”

She chuckles and smiles. “Wow, a Bentley for a first new car. Nice. What did you drive before this?”

“A ‘96 Chevy Blazer.”

I glance over and find her head dipped and her brows tugged together between her eyes.

“I think you should have a talk with your agent. You’ve been getting jipped.”

I laugh, and for the first time, it’s easy to talk about money with a woman.

“I never wanted anything new until now. The Blazer ran fine, and it kept the gold diggers away.”

“I bet you get a lot of that, huh?”

“Unfortunately, it comes with the fame. Everybody knows your business, and nobody likes you for who you really are.”

“I do.”

This is surprising. I thought she was going to be a tough nut to crack, but she seems to be blooming like a flower instead. I reach out and take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers and resting them on the console between us. I feel her stiffen for a moment, so I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Her grip loosens, and every muscle in her body uncoils.

“I like you too,” I say.

“And I’m not even a gold digger.”

“Did you even know who I was before yesterday?”

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and looks away.

“I don’t have a lot of time for anything but dancing. My best friend knew who you were as soon as I mentioned your eyes, though.”

She’s been talking to her best friend about me. Interesting.

“Oh yeah? What did you say about my eyes?” I give her a sly sideways glance and see that she’s blushing. Her mocha cheeks are apple red, and she’s squirming in her seat.

“Just that they’re blue, and striking.”

“Striking? Why thank you, Pretty Dancer. I did do a modeling job for Acuvue once.”

“She mentioned that too.”

“Sounds like she’s quite a fan.”

“She loves football. Her brother plays for the Redkings.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s her brother?”

“Jesse Downing.”

“I know him. Wide receiver—pretty damn good one, too.”

“Yep, she’s proud of him.”

“How did you meet your friend?”

“We met in college. I was assigned to be her roommate—her third one, actually. Cat’s sort of hard to get along with.”

“But you get along with her?”

“Yes, for some reason, she doesn’t freak out on me like everybody else.”

“That’s because you’re special.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve got this calming glow about you, like an angel.”

It’s a cheesy play on words, but it doesn’t sound cheesy when I say them to her. “You put people at ease. I watch you with the guys, and you know how to handle them and make them want to learn at the same time. That’s a pretty rare talent with those guys, especially when you’re talking about ballet.”

She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating my comment with her elbow propped on the edge of the window and her head leaning against her knuckles. She’s so beautiful, I can hardly keep my eyes on the road. I’d rather she drive so I could stare at her flawless profile.

She drops her arm and scoots to her right to turn in her seat so that she can see me without craning her neck.

“They’re good guys, open to learning, and some of them are lighter on their feet than I ever imagined they’d be. I’m glad you think I’m a good teacher. I don’t always feel that way.”

“Why not? You teach other classes, don’t you?”

“Yeah, young kids and teenagers. It’s different with a bunch of grown men who crunch bones for a living.”

I tip my head back and laugh.

“Not all of us are out to crunch bones. I’m just trying to get the ball into the hand that can best deliver it to the end zone. No crunching involved.”

“True, you do have one of the less violent positions, don’t you?”

“I do. Aren’t there dangers in dancing? I’m sure not everyone in a production is smiling and playing fair.”

“Most people don’t think that way about dancing, but yes, it can be cutthroat. They do it in a different way. Dancers are sneaky about it. They aren’t allowed to body slam someone else in front of the audience the way football players do. A lot of dancers sleep around to get parts, or they will mix up times so someone shows up late to an audition. I even had a friend who had her costume destroyed on opening night to ruin her debut. If you’re good, people want to see you fail. You have to stay on top of all of your appointments, guard your belongings, and if you’re slutty, be willing to do anything to get to the top.”

“Really? Dancers sleep their way to the top?”

“Some do. I’d rather work my toes to the bone than have sex for a part. I want to know I deserved it because I’m talented on stage, not in bed.”

Oh, I could say so many things right now, like I’m sure she’s more than talented in either area, or that she could teach me a few things on stage or in bed if she wants to. But I am honestly a gentleman at heart, and I’d never embarrass her like that. I’m extremely relieved to hear she’s not a dancing whore, although I never thought she was.

“Beautiful, sweet, and good morals. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

I slip my fingers from hers and place my hand on her knee. I know it’s forward of me, but I can’t help myself. She’s addictive. One touch, and I crave more.

She sighs and dips her head.

“Lots of things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as . . . I wasn’t the best student in school. I’m a
B
average kid, and my sister was always on the honor roll. I am a driven person, but my interests are singular. I dance. That’s it.”

“You’re not dancing now,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

“You took me off guard. I haven’t been on a date for years.”

“Years? I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it. I was busy with college, and when I graduated, I started working on my audition for a place in the San Francisco Dance Company.”

“You didn’t date at all in college?”

“Nope. I went to a couple of parties, but never with a date.”

“That’s admirable. I was busy with football, but I can’t say I didn’t date.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, since your interests are singular, let’s talk about dance. How did you get into it?”

“I can’t remember a time I didn’t dance. My mom put me in ballet when I was two or three, and I’ve been dancing ever since.”

“I can’t believe your dad wanted you to become a doctor when you’re so obviously gifted with dance. It would be a sin to deny the world the opportunity to see you perform.”

“Yeah, well, my dad doesn’t see it that way yet.”

“You’re planning on changing his mind by getting into the San Francisco Ballet Company?”

“Yeah. I’m hoping that if he sees that I can earn a living dancing, he’ll see it’s not a total waste of time. He sees dance as a form of play. He has no idea how much work I put into a performance or teaching a class.”

“He should be proud of you for following your dreams. Making money isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“What, you don’t like being filthy rich?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just don’t like what money does to people. I want to know my friends like me for who I am, not what I can give them. It’s tough to find genuine people.”

“I can’t relate to being rich, but I’ve had plenty of dancers who want to be my friend so I’ll put in a good word with my instructor. She’s a world-renowned prima ballerina who took an interest in me when I was a teenager. She only mentors one or two other people, and no one gets as much one-on-one attention as I do.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

She tilts her head and looks at me. “So how do you know I’m not just dating you for your money?” she asks.

“That’s a good question. I guess it’s because you didn’t give me the time of day when I entered your class. You didn’t even know who I was, did you?”

She shifts in her seat, stretching out her legs in front of her.

“No. I mean yes, I knew you were on the team, obviously, but I don’t follow football. I had no idea what position you played or if you were famous or not.”

“You thought my eyes were pretty though, right?”

Still facing forward, she shakes her head and the corners of her mouth lift in the smallest smile.

“Yes. You’d have to be dead not to notice your eyes.”

“Do you want to know what I noticed first about you?”

She looks at me sideways out of one eye, with her head tilted.

“I’m not sure. Do I?”

I squeeze her soft, silky knee reassuringly.

“Yes, you do. My first thought when I saw you was, ‘Damn, she’d make a great placekicker.’ You’ve got better calf muscles than most of the guys on my team.”

“That’s because most of the guys are overweight. Don’t you have a diet you’re supposed to stick to?”

I chuckle. My team is made up of two kinds of people. There are the guys like me, who work out every day and eat a diet high in protein, low in fat, and drink occasionally. And then there are the guys who live on fast food, alcohol, drugs, and a healthy dose of Pepto every morning.

“No, there’s nothing formal, but now that you say it, there should be. Some of our guys are Dunkin’ Donuts out of control.”

“Yes, they certainly are. I can’t believe there is a professional sport where the athletes are allowed to be so unhealthy. Miss Valentina can smell the extra calories I’ve consumed from a mile away. She’d have me in the studio for extra workouts if I weren’t eating right. And drugs and alcohol? Forget it. She’d toss me aside and consider me just another entitled dancer who couldn’t live up to her expectations.”

“She sounds tough.”

“The toughest, but that’s the only kind of mentor to have when you want to be the best.”

“What does dancing with a company entail?” I know about as much about a dancer’s schedule as she knows about a pro football player’s.

“Well, if they offer me a position, I will spend most days practicing for whatever production they are preparing for and afternoons and evenings teaching at the San Francisco Dance Academy. The teaching isn’t part of being in the company, but I love to teach kids, so I won’t give it up.”

She loves kids. One more reason for me to fall for this woman.

“Will you travel a lot?”

“The company tours in California during the summer and occasionally around the US, but most of the performances are here at home.”

“That’s good. Being on the road all the time is hard, especially on your family.”

“My family won’t even notice. We don’t get together often. They are all busy doing their own thing. All three of them are in healthcare, and hospitals don’t close on holidays and weekends, so we don’t even celebrate together.”

“That's a shame. I’m close to my family, and holidays are a huge deal for us.”

“Yeah? Like how?” she asks with a far-off, wistful tone. I’ll bet she’s never experienced a Christmas or Thanksgiving like ours.

“My mother lives to cook, so for starters, we always have a sit-down meal.”

“That’s a lot of people to cook for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, there are seven of us, six brothers- and sisters-in-law, and seventeen nieces and nephews. Number eighteen is on the way. We have four aunts and uncles and their families, and then Mom and Dad and Grandpa Kelly. Not everyone can make it every time, though, so it’s not that bad.”

She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.

“I can’t imagine having that much family. It must be nice . . . and chaotic.”

“Yeah, I love it. We have our moments, but for the most part, we get along pretty well. That reminds me. I wanted to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Mom has a family dinner every week, and I wondered if you’d like to come tomorrow night?”

I hold my breath and wait for her to answer. It’s a little ballsy to assume there will be a second date, but I’m ballsy.

“If you’re worried about meeting all of my family, don’t be. Only a couple can come this week.”

“I have to practice. My audition is next week. I’m sorry.”

“How about after your audition? We can celebrate your new job.” I’m not giving up that easily.

“You’re assuming I’ll get the spot.”

“Do you deserve it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the best?”

“Yes.”

“Have you practiced enough?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. The spot is yours. Why don’t you want to accept that?”

“It’s not that easy. There are politics involved, and the other people auditioning are amazing.”

“Not as amazing as you. I can guarantee it.”

“You haven’t seen me dance. How do you know I don’t suck?”

“Because an old prima ballerina wouldn’t be mentoring you if you sucked. I’ve watched you move in class. You’re the epitome of grace. You have to be amazing.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I wish you were one of the judges.”

“You’re welcome, and me too. I’d love to watch you dance.”

“If I make it, I’ll get you tickets to our first performance. They’re doing
Frankenstein
this summer.”

“
Frankenstein
? Seriously?”

“You’ve never heard of it?”

“Well yes, I’ve heard of
Frankenstein
, just not in the ballet. Sounds interesting, though. Count me in. I don’t want to wait that long to see you dance, though.”

“You could come and watch me practice tomorrow, but not until Miss Valentina is gone. She’d freak.”

“What time?”

“She usually leaves at six, and I’m there until nine.”

“I’m there.”

We sit for a while and listen to Mike Posner sing about taking a pill at Ibiza until I break the silence.

“Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“I lied. It wasn’t your eyes I noticed first. It was your smile. You have a beautiful mouth.” I take my eyes off the road for a second and watch her bow her head and curl her lips up in the exact smile I’m talking about.