Page 70 of Tuxedos and Tinsel
Unfortunately though, it looked like she’d missed the end of his talk. The kids were breaking into groups for some kind of skills training. While the volunteers played shepherd, Lewis walked to a nearby bench and stripped off his sweatshirt. Susan’s eyes automatically sought out the strip of skin on his back that came exposed when his shirt pulled up. He had the most beautiful back. She loved watching the muscles play across his shoulders when he moved his arms. She loved running her hands over those shoulders too.
“Oh, man, you’ve got it bad.”
Hadn’t the agent moved on? Susan slid her gaze sideways. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
“The look on your face. You look like you’re worshipping the guy.” Susan rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong,” Ryder said. “If you look at him like that during the interview, there won’t be a person alive who won’t believe you’re not madly in love. Problem will be getting him to look at you the same way. The Lewis I know has trouble remembering girls’ names.”
So did the Lewis she knew. “That was when he was drinking,” Susan said. “He’s not the same person now.”
“Only, I’m not sure sobriety translates into acting skills. If he were really a one-woman man we wouldn’t be doing this crap.”
The man made a very good, albeit harsh, point. One that settled hard in the pit of her stomach.
“You needn’t worry. Lewis knows how to put on a show when he has to.”
“Good.” The agent started to stand, only to sit back down. “Hey, do yourself a favor, will you? Don’t get too sucked in by our boy.”
“Don’t worry,” Susan replied. “I’m not stupid. I know exactly where I stand with Lewis.”
Besides, his warning was too little, too late. She was already irreparably sucked in.
When Lewis was a kid and played his first game in net, he had been on top of the world. Sure, it was only a street game, but he remembered how it had felt like he’d won the World Cup. He’d succeeded and the neighborhood kids liked him. Over the years, he’d had many moments of victory, but as amazing as they were, none had the pureness of that first game.
Until today.
He lay prone on the turf, the smell of rubber backing tickling his nose. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m done.”
Thirty-six kids faced off with him. Thirty-six kids beat him and scored. Lewis had to work harder than he’d ever worked to make sure each ball just missed his outstretched hands. By the tenth or eleventh goal, the kids knew he was letting them win, but they didn’t care. If the laughter was any indication, they were having too much fun. So was Lewis.
Pushing himself to his knees, he blew the whistle around his neck. “All right. Fun as it’s been, we’ve got to pack it up.” A loud moan filled the facility, pumping him even higher. “What’s with the booing? You’re going to a Christmas party! With cake.”
That got them moving to the sidelines quickly.
A girl, who looked to be around nine years old, approached him. “Mr. Matolo? Can I take a selfie with you?”
“Sure. Give it over and we’ll take a proper one,” he said. How much things had changed. When he was nine, he barely knew what a cell phone was let alone had one stashed in his equipment bag. And when he was playing, he’d been too arrogant to give fans the proper time.
He stayed on his knees so the two of them would be the same height. Of course, as soon as the others saw what was happening, more came running over with their phones to do the same. Not all though. Several of the kids looked over and went back to their bags. Lewis noticed a couple pulling out scraps of paper including one who tore off part of his lunch bag. Some things hadn’t changed after all. There were still kids going without.
An idea came to him. Cupping his hands into a megaphone, he called into the stands. “Hey, Susie! Come here for a moment, and bring your phone.” He smiled as she got up and started toward the stairs. Susan didn’t know it, but she’d been his good luck charm. Knowing she was in the stands, believing in him, gave him the courage to tell his story. He loved the way she believed in him. Every time he looked in her direction, an empowering warmth spread through his insides. Different from the heat of attraction, it made him want to prove her trust wasn’t misplaced.
“Mr. Matolo? Can I have your autograph?” It was the kid with the torn lunch bag bringing him back to the moment at hand.
“Hold on for one minute,” Lewis told him. “I need to make a quick announcement.”
He cupped his hands once again. “If anyone wants to take a picture, but doesn’t have a camera, come get in line. My friend will take the pictures and have Mr. Redmayne send you a copy.” Surely the director wouldn’t mind doing a little extra to make sure the kids were happy.
While waiting for Susan, he signed paper scraps and several of the kids’ T-shirts. He was in the middle of writing on one kid’s shoulder when he noticed a shadow fall across the crowd.
“I owe you an apology,” Graham Montclark said. “I came by because Chris was a nervous wreck over hiring you. You never mentioned you were a motivational speaker when you made your offer the other night.”
“I’m not,” Lewis replied. “I simply told these kids the truth. If it stops one of them from making the same mistakes I made, all the better.”
The other man digested his words. Lewis hoped they’d come out as sincerely as intended. A word from Graham Montclark would be the in he needed.
“Do you have any idea how many stairs there are between the stands and this playing field?” A slightly out-of-breath Susan came walking toward them. From her adorably flushed cheeks, he guessed she’d run the entire way. “Not to mention security guards. I almost had to cheat on you in order to gain access. Hello, Mr. Montclark. Nice to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you as well, Ms. Collier. I was just telling Lewis here that he should consider a career as a motivational speaker.”
