Whisper Privileges (11 page)

The packed arena, the loaded anticipation,
she could almost see Rocky Balboa traipsing in alongside them, his
fat boxing gloves pumping in the air. Overhead, the announcer
singled them out, “Team Florida will be competing in softball,
tennis, swimming, basketball and soccer and are being escorted by
the Governor of this great state, John Simmons and his wife, First
Lady Claire Simmons.” Each was called out by name, as though
alerting the crowd to the importance of those in attendance for the
events. “Florida’s Senator to the United States Congress, the
honorable Michael Woodley!” A few whistles pierced through the
applause. “And the Mayor of our host city, Manuel Cortez!”

Spotlights swept over him. Looking tanned and
relaxed, he greeted the audience with a gleaming mouthful of teeth
and open-palm wave, as though he were a member of royalty
addressing his subjects.

“World renowned Latina pop star, Gloria
Jimenez.” The crowd exploded at the mention of her name. Several
feet ahead of Sydney on the opposite side of their group, the
singer smiled and waved to her fans, appearing as comfortable as if
she were walking into of a party of her closest friends.

“Miami’s own resident athlete and two-time
volleyball champion, Sydney Flores!” Sydney’s hand automatically
shot into the air and waved. People responded with cheer as though
she, too were some sort of celebrity which was silly. She was here
for one reason and one reason only: the Mayor wanted a young woman
by his side. Cursing the shake to her arm, she pulled it down to
her side.

“Three thousand athletes are in attendance
for the games, along with four hundred and thirty-one coaches.
These athletes will compete in fifty-nine competitions, including
track and field, basketball, swimming...” the speaker ran through
the entire list of events.

As streams of light swung across the crowd,
Sydney could make out blocks of state colors through the haze,
special effects smoke dotted by the flash of cameras. To their
left, a woman strolled around center stage, microphone in hand,
waving and blowing kisses as people passed by. Sydney didn’t
recognize her, but assumed she must be some local performer.
Announcements continued with facts about the events while music
competed in the background.

Following the team as they filed up the
stairs and down the rows to their respective seats, Sydney saw the
Mayor pat the back of the chair next to his.
This one’s for
you
. They were sitting on the floor, right next to the stage.
Cymbals crashed and the orchestra increased its tempo, music
sweeping the arena with grand flourish, escalating the angst
flooding her midsection. As directed, she stopped next to the Mayor
as the team continued up the stairs behind them.

“Sydney, this seat is yours,” he said with an
eager smile.
Next to me, Mayor of host city to the prestigious
Special Olympics National Games
.

But rather than a position of honor, she felt
trapped within his claws. Over lunch yesterday, the man did
everything short of make a pass at her.
I’m looking forward to
our time together tomorrow. This is a wonderful chance for us to
get to know one another. I’ve heard so many good things about
you
. She lowered into the seat.
This event will really set
your career on fire
. “Thank you,” she replied, her chest tight,
her mind on guard.

Hurling her gaze around the indoor stadium,
the enormity of opening ceremonies suddenly hit her. Giant screens
hung from each corner of the arena, magnifying the stage and its
participants, dignitaries, athletes, the top brass of the Special
Olympics. Big names were scheduled to perform this evening, not to
mention the arrival of the torch. She looked around and noticed the
arena staff was clearing the corridors below the seating signaling
the events were about to get underway.

Mayor Cortez took his seat and belted her
with a smile. “Very exciting, no?” His gaze darted to her legs and
she swore he was about to pat her thigh. She gritted her teeth.
Don’t even think about it
. All she needed was an excuse and
she’d be out of here. Embarrassing both herself and the Mayor, yes,
but she’d be damned if she’d let him take advantage of her like
that. It was bad enough she had to sit here with him. She didn’t
have to let him touch her.

She wondered where Clay and Q were sitting,
Sam and the kids. At the moment, lost in a sea of sound and sights,
seats slanting up toward the ceiling, a blur of color and flash,
her mind was too numb to recall where the visitors section was
located, where South Carolina was to be situated. Then the lights
went black, leaving only the flicker of cameras. Heavy spotlights
cut through the darkness and lit up a dozen or so men as they
entered the stage from one of the underground hallways. Held above
their heads, they carried the American flag in a grand procession,
walked it up onto the stage, hooked it in place, and then hoisted
it high above. From here, despite their uniforms, they didn’t
appear to be officers. They looked like they were athletes. The
audience rose to their feet and the woman with the microphone began
to sing an utterly soulful rendition of the National Anthem. Sydney
placed her right hand over her heart—beating hard beneath her
fingertips—and sang along quietly.

Another group paraded in, their expressions
solemn as they marched up onto the stage, now lit up by magnificent
sparkle and color and did the same with the Special Olympics flag.
The singer immediately launched into another tune, this one more
country and homeland and celebratory of the events and she heard
the excited whispers of the athletes behind her as the VIPs were
escorted on stage and took their given seats. Camera flashes became
a sheet of glittering crystals across the crowd. She knew one of
the Shrivers was on hand to give final remarks before the arrival
of the torch.

“Amazing presentation, no?” the Mayor
commented, leaning close so that his shoulder connected with hers.
The ensuing whiff of his cologne smelled like he dumped the entire
bottle on his chest.

Sydney merely nodded. She could barely hear
him over the noise of the crowd and preferred to keep it that way.
Her gaze traveled up the elevated stage that swallowed one end of
the arena, the podium placed front and center before a line of
chairs arranged for guests—for speakers. She gulped. A sick knot
formed in her stomach. They would be expected to perform their part
in a few minutes.

Short and sweet
, she reminded herself.
Keep it simple stupid
.

Waiting for her cue from the Mayor, Sydney
sat with her legs locked crossed together. She rehearsed her few
words and was ready for it to be over. Peering at the steps leading
up to the stage, she had the horrible thought she might fall. The
muscles in her legs already felt weak and shuddery.
Could she
make it up the steps without making a fool of herself
?

Mayor Cortez leaned over and whispered,
“We’ll go on after the Governor.”

Nerves tore her stomach to shreds.
Breathe
in, breathe out
. She breathed in deeply and felt her mouth go
dry. Water. She glanced around.
Why didn’t she think to bring
water
!

On second thought, probably better she didn’t
have a bottle of water. By the tremble in her hands, lifting a
drink to her lips would reveal her for the coward she was. Sydney
squeezed her hands together and forced them into her lap. Ten
minutes passed like a lifetime as she suffered through music and
announcements, mentally running through her appearance, her
presentation—

Presentation—hell! The Mayor didn’t need her
to say a few words to the crowd. He could boast about his city just
fine. She was here for eye candy. Through her peripheral vision,
she considered the man beside her. She hated that he seemed so
content, so easy and confident. She resented being put into this
position. She resented him for his presumptuous behavior in
demanding she be here. She resented Javier for going along, but
worst of all; she hated herself for caving to the pressure.

She could have said no.

Frozen in place like a jagged rock, unable to
move, unable to rise, she fantasized about refusing,
right this
very minute
. What if she didn’t go up? She hardened. Would he
force her? Make a scene? She released her focus from him and sank
further inward. No, he wouldn’t. But neither would she. Sydney
would endure the event and do as she was asked. Do as she was told.
Because she wasn’t a scene-maker. She was a job-doer. The Florida
pilot from yesterday breezed past and gave her a wink before he
sailed up onto the stage. Did he recognize her from the
airport?

Or was he simply flirting with a young woman?
Her spirits lurched. It was all about her looks. Everything. From
exploiting those with them to defending those without them,
appearance lay at the core of everything. Within minutes he had the
audience silenced as he shared how blessed he felt being a part of
the airlift, how his family was intimately familiar with the
challenge of living with special needs children and finally how
important this event was to not only him and his family, but people
he spoke with around the world in the course of his travels.

But Sydney could barely hear him. With each
approaching minute, pressure built in her chest, in her ears. The
Governor approached the podium, which meant they were next.
They
were next
. Out of nowhere, her heart began to pound painfully
against her ribs—so hard—she swore the Mayor could see it!

As the Governor hailed the marvelous benefits
of hosting the Special Olympics in the Sunshine State, Sydney
realized she could hardly hear, like a vacuum had sucked up every
cell in her brain. She could see, but she couldn’t hear. The
Governor’s image was projected on the screen behind him and she
knew every person here tonight could see him plain as if he were
feet away from them. When he glanced toward her and the Mayor,
Sydney froze.

It was their turn
. All eyes were on
them now.

The Mayor stood and held a hand. She placed a
trembling hand in his and rose, embarrassed by the sweat on her
palms. The Mayor gave no indication that he noticed and instead,
led her over to the stairs. Anxiety pummeled the muscles in her
thighs and she prayed her legs wouldn’t give way. They climbed up
the stage and walked to the podium and Sydney forgot everything she
was supposed to say. The folded note in her pocket held a few
points to hit, but nothing she could read. Nothing that would sound
coherent!

Beneath the flood of white light, the smoke
thick within its beam, she couldn’t see past the stage. But they
could see her. She dared not look at the screen behind them. She
didn’t want to know just how well, how large an image she
presented. The Mayor assumed the podium first and introduced the
two of them before he expounded upon the virtues of the Special
Olympics organization, what a pleasure it’s been working with them
over the past two years as they planned for this very day and how
he hoped the athletes and their families would enjoy their time in
his beautiful city.

Sydney’s heart beat so hard, she feared she
might have a heart attack—right here, in front of thousands of
spectators! Her mouth felt plugged by cotton. Her tongue felt too
big for her mouth.
What if she couldn’t speak
?

She heard the words “volleyball champion” and
the tops of her ears burned. He was introducing her.
Introducing
her
.

Mayor Cortez placed his hand in the small of
her back and exchanged places with her, pushing her toward the
microphone. Her shoulders knotted. Visions of her high school
commencement speech careened and crashed to the forefront of her
mind. It had been five minutes on stage. Five minutes that felt
like yesterday, five minutes that ended in laughter.
Laughter
that still rang in her ears
. Her gaze darted out over the
crowd. Even her parents were embarrassed, ashamed she had looked
the fool, because it cast a poor reflection on them.

Sydney fumbled for the notes in her front
pocket and set them on the podium top. She stared out into the
crowded arena and smoothed out the folds from the paper, knees
threatening to crumble beneath her. She tried to smile. She tried
to think about all the tips she ever learned about public
speaking...visualize people in their underwear...imagine you’re
only talking to one person or a friend in the audience...

But none of them helped. She’d been here
before and knew what came next. Humiliation. She leaned forward and
her throat nearly swelled closed. “Hello,” she croaked, mortified
by the horrific break in her voice. She tried to clear her throat
with a swallow but the rock-hard lump wedged higher and tighter,
vocal chords felt severed, ripped. “I’m glad you came today.”

Damn it
—she sounded like a dying bird!
But she had everyone’s attention now
. The room had gone
quiet. She blinked. Dead quiet. Overhead the lights were too
bright. The smoke too heavy. The arena too big. “Miami is a great
place...” she continued, hating that tears burned behind her eyes
as her voice quivered. “You’ll have a great time here.”

Sydney wished someone would step in and save
her, wished she could stop and apologize for her embarrassing
display. She was completely unworthy for this position. She was a
nobody. She wasn’t a public speaker. She wasn’t a VIP.
She
shouldn’t be here
!

Clutching tightly to her notes, her hands
began to cramp. “I look forward to the events, seeing everyone...”
Unable to remember a single thing she wrote, she faltered. “I hope
you have a good time.”

She felt the Mayor push in beside her. Relief
mixed with shame as he practically yanked the microphone away from
her—probably couldn’t get her off the stage fast enough! Yielding
the podium, he said, “Thank you, Sydney,” followed by a few words
that escaped her.