Playing the Game (8 page)

Was it so incredible? Yes, Barry thought, it was. He wasn’t exactly known to be an impulsive person. He was more the compulsive type by far. But not this weekend.

“You got it,” Barry said.

“But…”

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. Just one of those things.” He didn’t sound convincing to himself either. Dave laughed at him.

“So, the great Barry Dennis has clay feet big time. You cheat on your girl, miss an entire weekend of working out and then oversleep for an important event—she must have been some woman.” The teasing smile on his friend’s face creased in lines around his eyes and mouth.

Barry looked at his best friend on the Celtics team—hell, his best friend period. He hadn’t seen much of his boyhood friends in years. Hadn’t had time or much in common. His life had been basketball 24/7 since he could remember. Judging by the look on Dave’s face, he was going to have to spill some details soon.

“She was. Who knows, maybe we’ll continue the affair—someday. But not until long after I’m retired from basketball. Then I might have half a chance at handling a woman like her.”

“That wild, eh?” Dave prodded, and leaned closer on his huge elbows.

“It was intense.” Barry didn’t want to say more. He thought about her. He liked thinking about her. But could he risk seeing her again? What was he really afraid of anyway? Of course he had to see her again, professionally, that is, for the interview he’d promised. He frowned now, worrying that maybe he shouldn’t have made that promise. Another impulsive move. He didn’t want to lead her on, but then he almost laughed at himself for worrying about her. She was definitely a big enough girl to take care of herself where men were concerned. He figured she had an abundance of experience. Not likely anything to worry about there.

Now Susan was another matter. Their relationship had been convenient for him, but she wanted more. He didn’t have any more for her. It was over and he knew it. He’d been restless and he supposed that’s part of the reason he took Roxanne home with him. But only part of it.

While Barry thought about Roxanne while he ate, Dave kept on a steady stream of play-by-play on his golf game that day.

“What happened to your last putt?” Dave asked with a grin.

“Me? I thought you said you’ve been living on the golf course this summer. If this is how you play when you practice you definitely ought to stick to B-ball,” Barry chided as they walked outside when they’d finished.

“Yeah? What about your drive on the eighth?” Dave reminded him.

“I planned it that way. I ended up with a par on that hole didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but who’s going to pay for that poor guy’s operation since you hit him with your flying two iron?” They both laughed at his exaggeration.

“Seriously, come out and play golf with me tomorrow morning. You could use the practice,” Dave invited him.

“I think I could use the hoop practice even more.” Barry resigned himself to getting back to the reality of his work regimen. Dave slapped him on the back.

“That’s what I like to hear. The old Barry’s back. Watch those wild weekends now.” Dave and Barry parted, walking to their respective cars.

It wasn’t until after he walked into the house that Barry realized Susan was home. Her bags were on the floor in the foyer. She must have caught an earlier flight than expected, because he was supposed to pick her up at the airport later that night.

He also remembered, with a groan, the condition he and Roxanne left his bedroom in that morning in their rush to leave the house. He suddenly felt pity for Susan. He knew that she loved him. They had lived together only five months because it was the only way he could maintain a relationship with a woman. She had always been loving and understanding from the beginning. He now knew that he had never loved her back. Their relationship had been nothing but a repeat of the mistakes of his marriage. He didn’t want it to end this way, but he was helpless to salvage the situation now.

He was still standing there in the foyer with his golf bag over his shoulder as she came down the stairs. Her face was tearstained and he didn’t know what to say, but he felt compelled to say something.

“Are you coming or going?” He gestured to the bags. She reached the bottom of the stairs. She wasn’t a petite woman, but she looked it next to him. She was average size with shoulder length blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She turned those eyes up to his now, and they were red and filled with pain. Then she answered his question with a catch in her voice.

“Can give me a reason to stay any longer?” She tried to smile, but only succeeded in looking more pitiful in her hopefulness, he thought.

“You don’t have to go now,” was all he could manage with any sincerity. He didn’t want to keep her under any illusions. He wasn’t the kind of man who would use a woman—or was he? Had he been using Susan all this time without realizing it? Taking her love and giving nothing of himself in return? He wouldn’t take from her any longer. He would let her go. Susan’s head dropped with his response.

“I think I should go right away.” She paused and seemed to have something more to say as she picked up her bags. He waited for her to speak.

“You can send the rest of my things…” She moved to the door and he turned to watch her go before she said what she had to. He wanted to say something more to her, something to make it up to her, but there was nothing.

“I always knew you probably didn’t really love me. Your only love was always basketball. I couldn’t get used to that. I hadn’t counted on there being other women too.” Susan’s voice trailed off and she turned to go out the door but he couldn’t resist asking.

“How did you know that I wasn’t in love with you?” He was astounded. She laughed without humor.

“It’s pretty obvious to anyone who sees you play basketball that that’s where your heart and soul is.” She sighed and then she left. His ex-wife had said pretty much the same thing.

He stood there holding his golf bag, not knowing what to do next. His weekend with Roxanne was over, but the repercussions were not. When the goose bumps sprang up, he felt very uneasy.

After an early workout the next morning, Barry felt better. Determined to get back to his schedule, he arrived early at the local college for a preseason practice. Only Coach Benson was there, in the office, reading the sports page of that morning’s
Boston Globe
. An immediate sense of dread assailed Barry when the coach looked up at him from behind the paper. John Benson sat at the desk with his expression holding a look of concern. It was the look that everyone on the team knew meant no good.

Barry took the seat next to the desk and didn’t say a word. He waited for the coach to say what it was he had to say.

“Have you seen this morning’s paper?” The coach shoved the paper in front of Barry’s face so he could.

“Note the lead on the article that was supposed to be about the charity golf tournament.” He prompted Barry to read it aloud.

“Basketball star Barry Dennis arrived late to the charity tournament yesterday, delaying the crowds and causing much speculation. Apparently the guru of basketball, the reincarnation of the work ethic, merely overslept.” Barry slapped the paper down. He was not a guru or a reincarnation of anything, he thought to himself, and if they thought so, then that was their problem. .

“And that was written by our friend, Kevin.” The coach nearly shouted. Barry couldn’t remember seeing him this agitated off a basketball court.

“Why such excitement about one minor off-season article in the Globe?”

“Because I think there’s more here than meets the eye. What is it you’re not telling me?” Barry was taken aback by the question. Things had gotten all out of perspective and it was time he set the record straight.

“There is absolutely no need to worry, coach. It’s not that big a deal. I met a woman. That’s why I overslept and why I didn’t work out over the weekend.”

“Didn’t work out?” Coach Benson’s voice thundered. Barry winced. He realized immediately after he had said it that he shouldn’t have.

“Calm down, Coach, I’m back on my regimen. I took one weekend off.” Even Barry had to admit that didn’t sound like him. The coach paused for a few moments and seemed to scrutinize him, weighing the matter, as if to determine the severity of the problem like he was a giant puzzle with a missing piece.

“Barry, you don’t seem to understand what’s happening here. I’m just beginning to see it myself and I don’t like it. Not one bit. But I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later—I was always hoping it would be later, when you were ready for retirement, not now while you’re in your prime.”

“Now wait a minute, you’re getting excited over nothing. As far as basketball’s concerned, nothing’s changed. I’m still dedicated, hard working, and the toughest damned competitor anyone will ever come up against.” Barry got up from his chair and began pacing, determined that he was right in his convictions. When he stopped pacing as he faced the coach, the man was shaking his head with almost a sad look on his face.

“But don’t you see, Barry? Basketball has been your woman all these years. You’ve carried on this love affair with basketball with such intense passion that you’ve become the best player ever to play the game. And I don’t want that to change, not yet. But you seem to have gotten distracted.” The coach waved at the paper.

“I was restless. I’m not anymore. It won’t happen again.”

“Do you want to see the team therapist?” The coach was serious.

Barry stared, incredulous. Where Barry came from people didn’t see therapists. They gutted it out. They played through whatever was bothering them—and this was nothing anyway.

He laughed at the coach’s suggestion. “I don’t think so. Maybe you should see the shrink—this all seems to be bothering you way too much.”

“Maybe you’re right. What about the woman?” The coach spoke quietly.

“What about her?” Barry knew he was not known for one night stands or flings with hordes of women—he couldn’t be bothered spending the time and energy mostly. But he didn’t like the coach’s line of questioning into his personal life.

“Are you seeing her now?”

“I’m not planning on looking for trouble if that’s what you mean.” Barry smirked at the coach. It was only a half-lie. He wasn’t planning on seeing her socially, only for the interview.

The coach nodded his head. “A one night stand, eh? You know, I really thought you were above all that—I thought you were above the temptation of a tawdry affair.” The coach shook his head as if disappointed.

“You make me sound like some priest.” Barry was annoyed, but he wasn’t sure if it was with the coach or himself.

“You are in a way—a priest of basketball. Only you have a better deal than real priests do—you at least get to fool around.” He smiled, but not all the way.

“Just don’t let yourself get too distracted. If you start feeling restless again see the team therapist.” The coach handed him a card.

“Don’t worry, Coach. Have I ever let you down?” Barry’s mood lightened as he slipped the card in his pocket, thinking he’d sooner call Roxanne. The coach shook his head and stuffed the newspaper in the wastebasket.

“I suppose a little sarcastic publicity isn’t going to hurt us. Hell, it might even help cure you of your over-inflated ego problem.”

“Not a chance. No matter what they say, I know I’m indestructible,” Barry said.

“Now all we need is a cure for your over-active libido.”

“I hope to hell there’s no cure for that.” Barry thought of Roxanne again. He stood and left the room with a wave of his hand while the coach chuckled. Maybe he did hope there was a cure—for her. Thinking of her was becoming a distraction. But he’d overcome more important distractions than a woman before. He thought of his daughter. He had to be at practice in ten minutes to get taped and he forced himself to focus on that. It had never been so difficult to psych himself for basketball.

Roxanne sat with Laura at the wrought iron table on her deck overlooking the Atlantic. The bulky white sweat suit helped insulate her from the chill of the late October morning air. She spoke on her cell phone while her friend poured herself a second cup of coffee and pulled her navy cardigan more tightly closed.

Roxanne shivered. “It feels like winter already.”

“It was your idea to have coffee out here at this ungodly hour.”

They were both accustomed to early mornings and good coffee—ever since they went to college together. That had been almost six years ago. Roxanne went to work for a TV station and got Laura a job working in the Children’s Mercy Hospital’s fund-raising office. Roxanne had been hooked on doing volunteer charity work at the hospital since she was a child. They gave her her first big break as on-air talent at their Christmas telethon three years ago. That was when she met Don and his mother. Roxanne shook her head, remembering.

When she persuaded
Time Magazine
to do a profile on Dr. Oki and his research team the publicity coup helped double the funds for the good doctor’s cause. Ever since then she’d been nicknamed Midas around the hospital. Her reputation was an embarrassment to some of the development professionals because she was only a volunteer, an amateur. Luckily Laura, and even more importantly Laura’s boss, Harry, were both grateful for the help.

“Hey, snap out of it. About this annual holiday benefit party of yours, Roxy—we may as well get the business taken care of so I can justify my being out of the office all morning. Dr. Oki can’t make it the night you suggested. We just have to move it to the Sunday night.”

“That’s the beauty of holding the event at my house. We can have it any time. Move the date to the following weekend.”

Laura jotted some notes, then looked up with the wrinkled-forehead face of worry and said, “We’ll need all the money we can get. I was talking to accounting and the new building project is way over budget and starting to affect cash flow for operating expenses. They said it might even start affecting the cash flow for research soon too.”