Page 24 of Scoring Chance
Nine
It was her, God, and a blank canvas.
As Kimbra’s “Waltz Me to the Grave” blasted through her earbuds, Sydney began to sketch Quinn’s mural. She already had a few ideas to work on it – a definite giraffe, baseball diamond, and a stack of books. The other things would be more difficult to figure out.
She needed to know about his likes, his loves, his pet peeves, and his turn-ons. She wanted to know his favorite ice cream, if he liked coffee or tea, and what was his current Netflix addiction?
She didn’t want to be like some other artists who painted just the subject and that was it. No, she wanted to know the ins and outs, the ups and downs, the sideways and backwards. Why was this 24-year-old phenom so misunderstood? Or was that his intention?
Sydney sketched with a pencil, going through several in a box. She erased and started over. She cursed when she became distracted. She smiled when she finally got it right.
If she wanted to be honest, the mural was never about Quinn; it was all about Sydney. She knew the power of social media and the power of word of mouth. She wanted to prove she was beyond the hype of Instagram, Twitter, and the like. She wanted to shout to everyone who had purchased her artwork she was worth much more and that their art was going to be priceless.
Hopeful dreams, she thought.
It was incredibly hard to make it in the art world and many artists often held fulltime jobs while they did art shows and gallery openings. The public’s taste was fleeting and fickle with many people wanting to have the art free instead of paying the cost for it.
Despite the not-so hidden masochist feeling of being a creative, Sydney remained steadfast. She was bored when she worked at Macy’s and she often scribbled between waiting for customers. Now she was fulfilling her lifelong dream and the pressure was on.
The real question was – could she live up to her own hype?
~~~~~~
The baseball world was significantly different from the hockey one.
Sydney couldn’t explain it. It seemed each player was an entity by himself before he joined the team. She guessed she could say that about hockey and maybe all of the other sports. It was just strange. There was a definite star and then there was everyone else.
Quinn was a star but he definitely didn’t act like one.
If Sydney didn’t know better, she thought Quinn was part of the staff or someone’s overly-excitable kid brother. He genuinely asked about each player and engaged in a conversation that went beyond the typical, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’
He smiled and laughed a lot before it was time for him to get serious. When he did, he secluded himself into a hidden corner where no one bothered him. It seemed to be a rule had the rest of the team slowly made their way to the dugout. Sydney carefully watched how everyone acted and wondered if she should follow their lead but decided to stay back to watch Quinn from a distance.
In methodical fashion, Quinn took out his Legos and grouped them by size and color. Then, little by little, he constructed his Duplo train set.
“Fascinating,” Sydney whispered.
“Isn’t it?”
Sydney was startled by the other voice in the room and the brunette apologized to her. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“No, it’s fine. I just thought it was me and him in here,” Sydney held out a hand, “I’m Sydney Walker and I’m shadowing Quinn for the week.”
“Yeah, I heard about you! I’m a huge fan of your art, by the way,” the brunette shook Sydney’s hand, “I’m Bobbi Gibson, athletic trainer for the Dodgers.”
“Ohhh…” Sydney realized she was meetingtheBobbi that Quinn spoke to her about. His specialfriend. She was rather tall, curvy, with eyes that matched her dark hair. Her skin was so smooth and clear, it reminded Sydney of porcelain. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” Bobbi looked back at Quinn, who was constructing another Duplo set. “He accidentally left his Star Wars Legos at home so he has to work with the preschool version.”
“He always does this?” Sydney asked.
“Each and every game,” Bobbi noted. “If he doesn’t, he has a very shitty game. It totally messes up his concentration.”
“Wow,” Sydney wasn’t sure if she was fascinated or confused.
“Does Dean have any pre-game rituals?” Bobbi asked.
“He listens to a lot of hip-hop. He’s on a heavy 90’s kick right now.” Sydney thought about her boyfriend. “That’s all I know, really.”
