Jezebel (42 page)

A few members of the Hen
House cast her speculative looks through lashes, that were most
likely fake, and then with dismissive flicks of their professionally
styled tresses, they promptly dismissed her.

Used to being on the outside
looking in, Yvonne brushed off their unified disregard. She didn’t
take a leave of absence from her graduate studies or sublease her
apartment for the rest of the year for them anyway. She’d
uprooted herself at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, albeit
temporarily, for Robbie. And her loyalty to her best friend helped to
heal the sting of their brush-off and motivated her to get into the
game.

“
Posso auitarla?”

Yvonne looked up and up
until finally meeting the gaze of a man who reminded her of Don
Corleone’s henchman Luca Brazi. Boxy and wide, he blocked the
reserved box’s roped-off entrance.

Why
even bother? Nobody was getting past The Human Refrigerator!

Not knowing a word of
Italian, Yvonne fumbled with the access pass around her neck, holding
it up for him to see. The ‘giant’ eyed the plastic ID
card skeptically. She almost turned around, happy to settle for the
cheap seats. At least they didn’t come with a gaggle of
gorgeous, but mean spirited women.

“
Mi
scusi, Signorina. Mi scusi!”
The giant stepped aside, allowing her to pass.

“
No
problemo!”
Yvonne replied in Spanish. One language was good as another wasn’t
it?

Yvonne felt like a freshman
on the first day of high school—all pimply faced and kinky
hair. Still, she lifted her chin and smiled, hoping to win them over
with her dimples. The combination of her pearly whites and twin
crescents embedded into her brown skin always worked back home.

Not with this crowd it
seemed as she scanned the first few rows. She took note of the
unoccupied seats, conveniently located in the center of each row, and
sighed. If four years of high school taught her anything, these
skinny heifers would eat their children before any of them would
shift over for her.

“
G’day! There’s
a seat up here.”

Yvonne glanced up at a
beautiful blond sitting several rows up and two seats from the end.
Her smile stretching in gratitude and resisting the urge to thumb her
nose at the hens, Yvonne took the steps two at a time. As she drew
closer, a feeling of déjà vu stole over her. The other
woman seemed vaguely familiar with her slender frame, high cheek
bones, wavy blonde locks and doe-like chocolate brown eyes.

Yvonne gulped. Her savior
was the face of Allure cosmetics! Only last week the woman’s
gamine profile had convinced her to buy the cosmetic line’s
Go-On Sheer-Stay-On Sheer lip gloss in jazzy pink.

“
I’m Keitha
MacDonald,” the woman volunteered, holding her hand out for a
friendly handshake. “And no my father’s name isn’t
Keith, damned Flight of the Concords.” Deep throated, yet
lyrical, the other woman’s Australian accent poured over Yvonne
like sunshine, a welcome respite this deep in the month of January.

“
I’m Yvonne
Floyd,” she offered taking Keitha’s hand in hers. “It’s
nice to meet you.”

Glancing down at the seats
below them, the other woman winked at her. Although the hens didn’t
look directly at them, their chatter had died down to monosyllables.
Only the children kept up their raucous caterwauling.

Keitha pretended to clear
her throat. “I’m Freddy MacDonald’s ball and
chain,” she said, her voice rising with each syllable. “Which
player are you cheering for?” Her perfectly, arched eyebrows
lifted, prompting Yvonne to play along.

“
I’m Robbie
Gutierrez’s fiancée.”

Satisfied she hadn’t
come to the match to cheer on one of their men, the chatter in the
box resumed.

Keitha settled back into her
seat, the black handkerchief-style sweater she wore draping elegantly
over her long limbs.

“
Now we can talk
without an audience.” She tipped her head to the side and eyed
her curiously. Disconcerted, yet relying on her script Yvonne steeled
herself.

“
So…you’re
Robbie’s fiancée?”

Yvonne nodded afraid she
might say too much too soon.

“
Can I tell you a
secret?” Keitha leaned in, her chocolate brown eyes boring into
hers. Without waiting for her permission, the other woman continued,
“no offense, but we were all wondering when a sheila would
finally show up. Robbie’s just too good-looking to be single.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m deeply in love with my Freddy,
but if I were single I would have gone after Robbie myself.”

Although she hated to
deceive this beautiful creature, who’d welcomed her while the
others had shunned her, Yvonne knew when she’d signed on for
this role she would need to jump into the deep end with both feet.

“
Well everyone’s
curiosity should be satisfied because Robbie Gutierrez’s fiancé
is here now.” Yvonne inhaled deeply and then released it with a
heavy dose of guilt. “In the flesh,” she said, and then
plastered a smile bigger than Texas on her face.

“
About time.”
Keitha playfully slapped Yvonne’s hand. “Footballers
attract women like flies to buttermilk, as you will—”

Keitha mouthed the rest of
her sentence because the crowd suddenly went wild, erupting into a
riot of cheers and cow bells as more than two dozen soccer players
wearing red and black jersey’s and black knee-length shorts
trotted onto the field. As if on cue, Roma Internazionale’s
fans began to sing the team’s fight song while their football
idols jogged around the perimeter. Even a few of the hens joined in,
chanting the anthem with awe-inspiring enthusiasm.

One young woman in
particular sang louder than the rest. Sporting dark tresses
professionally streaked with platinum and falling to the middle of
her back, her throw-me-a-sandwich frame supported a pair of snug
jeans and thigh-high boots.

Obviously, number sixteen
had wedded and bedded her because the halter top she wore had been
cut from one of his soccer jerseys. His name and number were
emblazoned across the front, instead of the back.

“
That’s Nicky
Merchant, she’s a famous pop star in the U.K. or used to be,”
Keitha snorted, rolling her brown eyes heavenward. “Have you
ever heard of her?”

Even though Yvonne
considered herself rather hip and quite familiar with pop culture,
she hadn’t. At her blank look, Keitha snickered.

“
No worries. No one
else seems to remember her fifteen minutes of fame either. You’ll
see and hear a lot of her, she’s a press hog and she tries to
sing at every gathering. Hopefully, she won’t sing at
tonight’s gala.” Keitha winked before turning her
attention to the coin toss.

Yvonne had been warned
football was an obsession in Europe, but she’d never seen this
much passion and zeal. Not even at one of her Uncle Ray Ray’s
Pop Warner football games.

From the initial kick-off,
the crowd grew frenzied with every faint, punt and drive. And each
time a team entered the goal area, the crowd came to their feet.
Despite all the flying sweat, grass and curse words, neither team
scored a goal at the end of the first half.

That all changed when Robbie
took charge of the ball with only five minutes left in the second
half. Yvonne glanced over at one of two jumbotrons positioned at
opposite ends of the field and sighed. Robbie had always been a cutie
pie, now he eclipsed just handsome and bordered on gorgeous.

His skin, a warm cocoa
brown, glistened with sweat that intensified his exotic coloring and
the tattoos running down his muscular arms. He’d cut his
naturally curly hair short on the sides and the top like a fresh
military recruit, drawing attention to his perfect angular features.
If he hadn’t followed his dream to be a professional athlete,
Robbie could’ve easily graced the cover of any male magazine.

Keeping the ball close, he
drove down the middle of the pitch, pulling the other teams’
players behind him like water down a drain. His lightning speed
carried him past the Edmonton Druids and an open shot at the goal.
Several yards out, he set himself up, took three quick steps, drew
back his foot and made contact with the ball.

Along with everyone else in
the stadium, Yvonne jumped to her feet.

Thousands of cell phones and
cameras flashed in unison. Their thunderous clicking and the nervous
shuffling of feet overshadowed any other sounds as everyone within a
five mile radius seemed to hold their breath.

His eyes on the ball, the
Edmonton goalie moved into place. As he dove to the left, the ball
suddenly curved out of his reach, slightly grazed his fingers and
then crashed into the net’s upper right side pocket.

While thunderous cheers
erupted around him, Robbie opened his arms wide in triumph, a scream
parting his lips. He spun around and ran back to the center of the
field and his waiting teammates, his arms trailing behind him.

“
Gutierrez...Gutierrez...Gutierrez,”
the crowd roared as his teammates scooped him up and lifted him in
the air.

“
Are those church
bells ringing?” Yvonne wondered aloud.

“
Of course, the Pope’s
a big fan of RI. Come on. Let’s beat the crush and meet the
team in the tunnel,” Keitha yelled, tugging on Yvonne’s
shirt sleeve.

Yvonne followed the other
woman out of the sky box and along the upper mezzanine, to a service
elevator guarded by two security guards practically dancing with one
another over the team’s one point victory.

“
Ciao, Bruno e
Antonio.”

The men stopped celebrating
and came instantly to attention.

“
Bonjourno,
Signora MacDonald,”
both of them chorused.

“
Great match, no?”
one of the guards asked, while the other pressed the elevator button.

“
Si
,
it was, Bruno. Hopefully, the rest of the season will be just as
stellar.” Keitha slid her arm through one of hers and pulled
Yvonne into her side. “Speaking of victorious let me introduce
you to my new friend, Yvonne Floyd. Robbie Gutierrez’s
fidanzata
.”

“
Gutierrez!”
Each of them took turns shaking her hand. “
Bienvenuti
a Roma
.”

As Yvonne thanked them, the
elevator doors slid open. With broad grins, the guards stepped aside,
allowing them to pass. In moments, the elevator dropped to an
underground tunnel beneath the stadium. Wild whoops of victory echoed
off the tunnel’s concrete walls, drawing both of their
attention. Once again, Yvonne fortified her nerves.

“
They look like a
bunch of boys,” Yvonne commented, somewhat leery of the men
barreling towards them, Robbie still held aloft their shoulders.
Spotting her, he yelled for his teammates to stop and let him down.
As if he were fine china, Robbie’s teammates set carefully him
on his feet.

Walking toward her with a
slow, yet confident swagger, Robbie gifted her with a dazzling white
smile. Despite their charade, her heart did an unconscious pitter
patter.

So, this is what being gay
did to a man? Amazing how being in touch with one’s feminine
side, could make a man seem inordinately more handsome. Yvonne, like
everyone else she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“
Hey,
gorgeous,” Robbie purred, pulling her into his arms.

The faint scent of expensive
cologne intermingled with grass and sweat tickled her nose. Slanting
his head to the side, he crushed his mouth against hers.

To any onlooker, their kiss
looked like a long wet one. In truth, Robbie only mumbled against
her lips. “Smile, you’re on candid camera.”

“
Cheese,” Yvonne
murmured, barely moving her lips. To up the ante, she closed her eyes
and clutched Robbie’s broad shoulders. Too bad their
arrangement would only be temporary, a girl could get used to this.

“
Golden Globes?”

“
Oscars,” Yvonne
chuckled, her laughter turning into a yelp and a playful swat on her
behind.

“
You were great out
there. I’m so proud of—”

Pop!

Yvonne scrambled away before
a shower of champagne bubbles flowed over Robbie’s head onto
his red and black Roma Internazionale jersey. Smiling like a child
on Christmas morning, he stood basking in his victory bath.

Yvonne beamed with pride.
He’d worked so hard to reach this level in his profession.
While every other kid in their old neighborhood played basketball or
baseball, Robbie adored soccer. A virtual pariah, he didn’t
have any fellow admirers. Still, he remained loyal to his sport of
choice.

Like most kids, Robbie took
the usual road in organized sports, playing in several soccer leagues
throughout Orlando, Florida. During his junior and senior year he
led their high school to the state finals in soccer, earning himself
a full ride to the University of Indiana where he helped the Hoosiers
win the National Championships in 2003 and 2004.