Page 46 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
“You were really good, weren’t you?” she said, embarrassed that she didn’t know.
“I was the best. When I was at the top of my game, no one could beat me.” She believed him. The arrogance had too much certainty behind it to be false.
“How did you start playing?” She turned in her seat so she could look at him while he spoke. The expressions on his profile were far more interesting than anything going on below.
“Just started,” he said with a shrug. “Neighborhood kids played in the street—I asked if I could play. No one else wanted to tend goal, so they let me.”
“Let me guess. Soon as they saw you play they made you permanent.”
A grin slid across his face. “Pretty much. After that, I played for whatever team I could until I was signed by Manchester for their academy team.”
“Your parents must have been proud.” Remembering the way her father used to beam every time Thomas or Linus achieved one of their many achievements, she could only imagine how his family had felt when their son joined the Premier League Under 16 program.
“Doubt they knew. I lived with foster families until I was old enough to live in digs at the academy. Never met my dad, and Mum couldn’t get off the drugs. The smack pulled her back every time.”
Dear Lord.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t even remember the woman at this point. She’s more of a blur than anything. What about your parents?”
“My dad died a few years ago and my mother…” Her mother wasn’t a topic the family liked to talk about. “My mom is an actress. Belinda Quinn.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“She played the sexy neighbor onThe Confidents.”
“Was that the show where some poor guy inherited a ton of money from somebody and they moved to a swanky neighborhood?” His bare-bones description was about as deep as the show. “I used to watch old episodes when I was a kid. Your mom was a looker.”
“She wassomething,” Susan replied. “Except into being a mother. My dad’s fault she got saddled with an albatross of a daughter.”
“She didn’t actually say that, did she?”
Susan put on a haughty voice. “Damn near ruined her figure, I did, and her career. Not to mention the whole messy business of kids demanding attention all the time. After all, what aboutherneeds?” She picked at the lint on her sweater. “My mother has what they call histrionic, narcissistic personality disorder. A fancy way of saying she’s a self-centered lunatic,” she said when he frowned. “Psychology’s a bit of a hobby for me. I’ve done a lot of reading.” A desperate attempt to understand why her mother didn’t want her. “Anyway, when she and my father divorced, she relinquished custody. We’ve shared maybe a dozen words since.”
“How old were you when she left?” Lewis asked.
“Eight. I came home from school and she’d gone. Last words she said to me were ‘Not now, Susan, I’ve got a headache.’”
“So both our mothers took a flyer. Lucky us, we have something in common.” Their eyes met and a beat of understanding passed between them.
Lewis cleared his throat. “Enough childhood talk. We’re here to enjoy a basketball game, right?” With that, he began explaining the action on the court.
The evening passed quickly. Watching the game, with its fast pace and athleticism, was a lot more fun than Susan expected. For someone who claimed to know only a little about the game, Lewis had a very keen grip on the strategy. She imagined he would sound marvelous explaining football too. No wonder he wanted to be a commentator.
By the third quarter, they were both on their feet cheering for three-point shots.
“Exciting, isn’t it?” Lewis remarked after two players came crashing together under the basketball net. “Gets the blood pumping.” He popped a piece of her popcorn into his mouth with a grin. “Clock ticking. Everyone rushing at the same fast pace in organized chaos. It’s fantastic.”
Susan took in the glow on his face. The first two times they met, he’d been clean-shaven. Tonight, a five-o’clock shadow covered his cheeks, turning his classic-looking features dark and dangerous. Add the adrenaline shining in his eyes and the result was breathtaking. He was clearly in his element.
“You’d be amazing on television,” she told him.
Her slip earned her a blush, enhancing what was already camera perfect. “Thanks,” he said. “Nice to know someone thinks so. If only the networks were as enthusiastic.”
If there was anything “Shrewsan” understood, it was being publicly judged without cause. Everyone was so certain they knew how she ticked. Without giving it a second thought, she squeezed his fingers. “We’ll just have to do our best to make sure you get a shot.”
On the floor, a buzzer rang announcing the end of the third quarter. While the players gathered around their respective benches, she and Lewis settled back into their seats. “I thought you said something was supposed to happen during the last quarter,” she said. “Your agent didn’t forget, did he?”
